25 June 2008 |
Playa Fiesta, Arenal Den Castell, Minorca, Spain
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Hotel |
A$35/£17 per night |
40° 1'17.85"N 4°10'46.22"E |
Room + breakfast and evening meal |
Package deal for 2 adults (both included) |
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The hotel has a pleasant enough pool area, although we heard a lot of grumbles about insufficient beds we found no difficulty finding empties (perhaps because we prefer the shade) with Thomson entertainment staff organizing gentle water games, quiz and darts competitions. The evening entertainment was geared to the customers. We listened to about a minute of Benny Hill type nudge-nudge-wink-wink stuff before escaping - I'm not sure why we were there in the first place. We were the youngest guests in the hotel by at least 15 years. Well, almost. There was another couple about our age who joked with Peter in the lift that in case of emergencies, only the under seventies got rooms on the top (6th) floor. There was also a very happy young gay couple who were having a ball camping it up in the dining room to encourage the sideways looks and tut-tuts. Good on them. More than one older couple tried to adopt us. And some of the women were topless around the pool {shudder}. Words couldn't describe the breakfast orgy - unbelievable amounts of food being shoveled down throats and all the time, hundreds of post-breakfast tablets lined up on tables waiting to be taken. Some people had fistfuls of them. |
And then there is the evening dress code. It's acceptable for men to wear cheap, badly fitting, polyester slacks. It's also perfectly acceptable for them to wear raggedy stone washed jeans with their backside hanging out of them. It's even acceptable to wear trackie bottoms (I kid you not). It is not, however, acceptable to wear a shirt and dress three quarter pants. I remember having a similar thing once in Melbourne - Peter was almost refused entry into a very casual pub restaurant for wearing sandals. Not flip flops - $350 dress sandals while all around were people wearing synthetic $5 runners. But they were shoes, I was told. No they weren't. They were runners, and if you can wear runners why can't you wear sandals. Show me the written dress code. Of course there wasn't one. Here in Spain, I couldn't be bothered, and I always knew that the sole pair of long trousers we've been trailing around with us for the last year would come in handy one day. Couldn't let them get away with it altogether though, so in an act of civil disobedience, I blatantly wore my flip flops (also not allowed) to dinner every night. Nobody bothered me. Unfortunately. And it was no holds barred at breakfast, with more swim-wear, singlets and shorts in the restaurant than you could poke a stick at.
In all, the Playa Fiesta could be a great hotel, and I'm sure a lot of people think it is. The pretentious dress code and entertainment is geared strictly towards it's target audience and that audience seemed to be very happy with it. I should say that the average age did seem to come down a bit towards the end of our 6 nights, but the younger (all things are relative) people seemed to be a bit bewildered at the older crowd and the the entertainment program remained the same. I'm sure our parents would have loved it here. Just not quite the thing for us. Yet.