Your rating of this hotel:
2.0
from 10
Hotel ratings by criteria:
Rooms:
3.0
Service:
2.0
Cleanliness:
4.0
Food:
1.0
Amenities:
2.0
I do not specifically write the English name of the hotel, since the last word in the name of the hotel, in Russian, absolutely accurately indicates its purpose. Beach, in the old Russian language meant punishment.
It is better to come to the hotel at night, then you can’t see the heaps of garbage surrounding the hotel, the dilapidated huts of local residents, the fence with barbed wire that separates the hotel from the ship repair office, which occasionally deafens the neighborhood with a sledgehammer battle against the side of an empty barge.
The friendly Hindu eyes behind the hotel reception look at you pitifully with deep sympathy.
When you open the door to your room, don't be alarmed, you didn't find yourself in a museum of used furniture, just the owner of the hotel wants to plunge you into the exotic life of the ancient Arab culture. Do not try to easily open the cabinet doors, you can overstrain or even worse get a splinter. The dim light carefully hides pieces of peeling paint and traces of someone else's cold.
Morning. A joyful discord of feathered beggars greets the rising sun loudly, anticipating hearty leftovers from tourists. The hotel will delight you with the constant monotony of the menu: breakfast, lunch and dinner - which you paid in advance, and as a gift, a herd of bald skinny cats surrounding you during meals is ready to share their bouquet of sores with you.
If you, nevertheless, managed to cram breakfast into yourself, hurry to the sea until your comrades in misfortune captured the sunbeds that remained intact. Heavy memories of Soviet resorts on the shores of the Black Sea make you throw a bunch of towels on sunbeds to indicate your ownership of sunbathing throughout the day.
Having taken a lounger, you will enjoy watching a flock of fishing boats proudly defile past you, carrying a bunch of nets and baskets, with a reliable return in the evening with a catch.
Meat fishermen, going to sea, cheer themselves up with the sight of naked female bodies, and the absence of striptease in the Emirates makes their weather-beaten faces break into a blissful smile.
Noon. The sun rises above the horizon and from behind the fence, driven by a refreshing breeze, spinning, a cloud of cement dust falls out from a nearby factory. The mournful voice of the muezzin, amplified by powerful speakers, calls you to prayer. Near the hotel there are many mosques and a cacophony of singing voices, interrupted by the faint cawing of crows. It's hot in the sun and you want to be in the shade, it's cold in the shade and you want to wrap yourself in a towel. Lunch time, but the memory of breakfast does not cause a great desire to eat.
By lunchtime, “white people”, local Arabs in white clothes and a camel rope on their heads, are pulled up to the hotel territory. It's the local elite who's come to get their fair share of striptease and beer. If lunch time falls on Friday, then by this time flocks of multilingual groups with large trunks seep into the hotel territory and, driving guests from sunbeds, capture the beach and a small pool. Friday is Arabic Sunday, when heat-worn Arabs, Hindus and other households strive for water.
Regardless of the day off, “husbands” also pull themselves into the shade to drink a bottle, a second free whiskey or vodka. Muzhi is a special kind of hotel guests who, driven by their wives, with a downcast look, came to no one knows where and why. They have one problem - how to quickly cure a hangover. They create an unforgettable entourage of a roadside tavern with shadows wandering aimlessly and spewing fumes.
Evening. The sun is setting and with the last rays, on the small territory of the hotel, every day, a landing of crab fishermen is landed. The crab fishermen are other hotel guests who have arrived by bus in search of an easy evening's entertainment in the murky waters of the shallows.
In their own way, they capture everything that you can sit on, waiting for the engine of a fragile boat to “grunt”. The male half of the crab fishers hangs along with the "shadows" over the bar. "All inclusive" means everything and you have to drink.
The motor “grunted” and with a cheerful laugh, the crab fishers dissolve into the night.
This is not the end, but only a prelude. They will return and then, the feast of greed will begin with the division of one crab for ten and a lively fight at the buffet, set for the guests of only one hotel, without taking into account the presence of crab fishermen.
The hotel has only two advantages: the presence of the sea and the sun, although in the Arabian Peninsula this goodness abounds in other places.
It is better to come to the hotel at night, then you can’t see the heaps of garbage surrounding the hotel, the dilapidated huts of local residents, the fence with barbed wire that separates the hotel from the ship repair office, which occasionally deafens the neighborhood with a sledgehammer battle against the side of an empty barge.
The friendly Hindu eyes behind the hotel reception look at you pitifully with deep sympathy.
When you open the door to your room, don't be alarmed, you didn't find yourself in a museum of used furniture, just the owner of the hotel wants to plunge you into the exotic life of the ancient Arab culture. Do not try to easily open the cabinet doors, you can overstrain or even worse get a splinter. The dim light carefully hides pieces of peeling paint and traces of someone else's cold.
Morning. A joyful discord of feathered beggars greets the rising sun loudly, anticipating hearty leftovers from tourists. The hotel will delight you with the constant monotony of the menu: breakfast, lunch and dinner - which you paid in advance, and as a gift, a herd of bald skinny cats surrounding you during meals is ready to share their bouquet of sores with you.
If you, nevertheless, managed to cram breakfast into yourself, hurry to the sea until your comrades in misfortune captured the sunbeds that remained intact. Heavy memories of Soviet resorts on the shores of the Black Sea make you throw a bunch of towels on sunbeds to indicate your ownership of sunbathing throughout the day.
Having taken a lounger, you will enjoy watching a flock of fishing boats proudly defile past you, carrying a bunch of nets and baskets, with a reliable return in the evening with a catch.
Meat fishermen, going to sea, cheer themselves up with the sight of naked female bodies, and the absence of striptease in the Emirates makes their weather-beaten faces break into a blissful smile.
Noon. The sun rises above the horizon and from behind the fence, driven by a refreshing breeze, spinning, a cloud of cement dust falls out from a nearby factory. The mournful voice of the muezzin, amplified by powerful speakers, calls you to prayer. Near the hotel there are many mosques and a cacophony of singing voices, interrupted by the faint cawing of crows. It's hot in the sun and you want to be in the shade, it's cold in the shade and you want to wrap yourself in a towel. Lunch time, but the memory of breakfast does not cause a great desire to eat.
By lunchtime, “white people”, local Arabs in white clothes and a camel rope on their heads, are pulled up to the hotel territory. It's the local elite who's come to get their fair share of striptease and beer. If lunch time falls on Friday, then by this time flocks of multilingual groups with large trunks seep into the hotel territory and, driving guests from sunbeds, capture the beach and a small pool. Friday is Arabic Sunday, when heat-worn Arabs, Hindus and other households strive for water.
Regardless of the day off, “husbands” also pull themselves into the shade to drink a bottle, a second free whiskey or vodka. Muzhi is a special kind of hotel guests who, driven by their wives, with a downcast look, came to no one knows where and why. They have one problem - how to quickly cure a hangover. They create an unforgettable entourage of a roadside tavern with shadows wandering aimlessly and spewing fumes.
Evening. The sun is setting and with the last rays, on the small territory of the hotel, every day, a landing of crab fishermen is landed. The crab fishermen are other hotel guests who have arrived by bus in search of an easy evening's entertainment in the murky waters of the shallows.
In their own way, they capture everything that you can sit on, waiting for the engine of a fragile boat to “grunt”. The male half of the crab fishers hangs along with the "shadows" over the bar. "All inclusive" means everything and you have to drink.
The motor “grunted” and with a cheerful laugh, the crab fishers dissolve into the night.
This is not the end, but only a prelude. They will return and then, the feast of greed will begin with the division of one crab for ten and a lively fight at the buffet, set for the guests of only one hotel, without taking into account the presence of crab fishermen.
The hotel has only two advantages: the presence of the sea and the sun, although in the Arabian Peninsula this goodness abounds in other places.
Translated automatically from Russian. View original
Comments (4)
leave a comment
Show other comments …
OTHER REVIEWS ABOUT THE HOTEL
- Review of Flamingo Beach Resort
- Relaxing hotel
- the beach is bad near the industrial zone
- For fishermen and no one else
- Flamingo Beach Hotel Survival Guide.
SEE ALSO