"Before I start, a little context. We’re reasonably well-travelled, early fifties and definitely not snobs. We don’t expect rose petals scattered before us or a butler called Jeeves ironing our socks. We just like decent service, a clean room and, occasionally, the drink we actually ordered.
First impressions were genuinely good. We walked into reception and were greeted with a lovely non-alcoholic welcome drink. Lovely. Refreshing. Civilised.
What followed was a strange check-in procedure. I’m still not entirely sure what happened, but eventually we were given a room, so presumably we passed the test.
Sadly, the reception experience didn’t improve during the week. The staff were generally rude, ignorant and clearly put out that guests kept approaching the reception desk wanting reception-related things. We reported our TV wasn’t working a couple of days into the holiday and were assured it would be fixed. On the morning we checked out, it still wasn’t working. Perhaps they were waiting for a part.
Our room was very tired and desperately in need of a refurbishment. After speaking to other guests, however, we got the worrying impression that ours was actually one of the better rooms. The bathroom looked as though it had been refurbished more recently and was definitely an improvement. Unfortunately, taking a shower required a very specific placement of towels to create a flood barrier as water flooded across the bathroom floor. Still, nice tiles.
There is a sign clearly stating that reserving sunbeds is “FORBIDDEN”. This is excellent news, however you still need to be awake at 6am to reserve a sunbed.
By 6:30am the sunbed battle is well underway. Towels appear mysteriously on beds while their owners disappear for several hours. If you’re thinking of wandering down at the leisurely holiday hour of 8am, forget it. You might as well lie on the pavement outside reception.
The music around the pool is loud - very loud.
At 9am, a gentleman arrives with a laptop and a speaker the size of a commercial refrigerator. His mission is simple - to destroy hearing. The volume is extraordinary - the music enters your body and rearranges your internal organs.
Want a relaxing morning by the pool?
No.
At 9:03am, you’re listening to a dance remix at a volume normally used to interrogate prisoners.
I realise this makes us sound old. We’re not. We’ve been to concerts. We’ve been to clubs. We’ve stood next to speakers.
That said, the animation team were actually very good. Friendly, enthusiastic and genuinely tried to get everyone involved in the activities. Credit where it’s due.
The bartender in the foyer RDB Bar was a fascinating character. His greatest skill was disappearing behind the bar whenever anyone wanted a drink. The main reason we visited this particular bar was to have a drink in a proper glass rather than the plastic cups used around the pool — which we completely understand for health and safety reasons.
Sometimes we got a glass.
Sometimes we got plastic.
When questioned, our mysterious bartender would shrug and explain that was all he had.
Making drinks was also something of an adventure. You could order the same drink three times and receive three entirely different creations. It was less cocktail bar and more alcoholic lucky dip.
The buffet restaurant staff were good and worked incredibly hard, particularly during busy dinner periods. Unfortunately, the food itself was pretty much the same every day for lunch and dinner. Food labelling wasn’t great, which does add an exciting element of jeopardy to mealtimes.
One morning I confidently added what I thought was brown sauce to my omelette. It was fig jam. I ate a fig jam omelette at a five star hotel. Nothing wakes you up quite like an unexpected fruit omelette.
You are also allowed to book one lunch and one dinner at the beach restaurant, La Voile, and one dinner at the à la carte restaurant, Mona.
At La Voile, don’t bother asking for a gin and tonic with your dinner. They don’t serve spirits. This is despite numerous bottles of spirits sitting visibly behind the bar. Presumably these are decorative ornaments. Or perhaps they’re reserved for people who are actually paying for drinks.
Which brings me neatly onto a recurring theme of the holiday: if you’re All Inclusive, you increasingly get the feeling you’re considered a second-class citizen.
It was my wife’s birthday during our stay, so we deliberately saved our visit to Mona, the à la carte restaurant, for her birthday evening. A little treat - or so we thought.
We both had a pasta starter, which was perfectly fine. For my main course I ordered the mixed grill. What arrived was genuinely embarrassing. Three very, very, very small pieces of burnt meat, almost inedible, a thin sausage and some vegetables that appeared to have lost the will to live.
We did manage to get a gin and tonic, although the waiter made it quite clear through facial expression and body language that we had presented him with an enormously complicated administrative problem.
The standard options were house wine, beer, water or fizzy drinks. Any deviation from this appeared to trigger a minor emergency.
The couple at the table next to us also asked for gin and tonics and were flatly refused. The gentleman eventually went to the foyer bar to get them himself. This is five-star service with a strong DIY element. Luckily, the mysterious bartender was in a “glass” mood that evening.
Now we come to a delicate subject.
My wife had been struggling with her bowel movements for a couple of days after we arrived.
To put it bluntly, she couldn’t poo.
On day three, she disappeared into the bathroom and I knew progress was finally being made when I heard some rather concerning grunting noises coming from the toilet. Eventually she emerged looking noticeably happier and proudly announced that she had finally “had a clear out”. Wonderful news.
Unfortunately, the net result was a skid mark of such magnitude that it appeared to have been professionally welded to the toilet bowl.
We flushed.
It remained.
We flushed again.
Still there. And still there the next day.
This was particularly surprising because we apparently had the best cleaner in the entire hotel. We knew this because every time we saw her, she proudly informed us:
“I VERY GOOD CLEANER.”
And to be fair, she was a lovely lady.
However, despite her self-awarded five-star cleaning status, the Great Skid Mark of Monastir remained proudly in position on the day we checked out. I like to think it’s still there now.
A small part of us, forever in Tunisia.
It wasn’t all bad…..
Walid, the excursion rep — and whatever you do, don’t call him Wally because he didn’t seem to appreciate it — is a genuinely nice fella. We booked several excursions with him and the more you book, the better deal you can negotiate. Friendly, helpful and one of the people we actually enjoyed dealing with.
The outside bar staff were excellent and worked extremely hard - despite the poor quality alcohol.
The beach itself is lovely, with clear water, and the gentleman working on the beach was incredibly helpful. He’ll even fetch drinks for you and certainly deserves a tip for his efforts.
The Royal Thalassa Monastir could be a very good hotel. It’s nowhere near the 5 star it proclaims to be.
The location is good, the beach is lovely and there are some genuinely hardworking and friendly members of staff.
Unfortunately, tired rooms, bizarre service, repetitive food and the constant feeling that All Inclusive guests are somehow an inconvenience really let the place down.
Would we return?
Probably not. Although part of me is tempted to go back just to see if the TV has been fixed. And, of course, to check on the skid mark."
