Have you, despite your best efforts, had a totally sh*t holiday? We did.
There were some highlights but they were somewhat overshadowed by the desolation of the bushfires, the misery of the drought, a stay in the worst hotels in Sydney and Jamberoo, and some general planning misadventures that meant nothing worked out.
So, without further ado, I give you THE WORST HOLIDAY EVER.
Staying at Song Hotel Sydney
It would be fair to say that I have been spoilt over the years but even now that I am paying for my own holidays, I assume that the bathroom will be in the same room as where I am sleeping.
This is not the case at Song Hotel, where you share a bathroom with God Knows Who, and you have to leave your room to do it.
Furthermore, the air conditioning doesn’t work so some management genius decided that they would wedge open the balcony door to let the ‘breeze’ in. What this unfortunate gap lets in is NOISE. Sirens, surprisingly good singing (to whoever sang John Farnham’s ‘You’re The Voice’, you should audition for X Factor) and lots of traffic grinding and braking through the night. I did not sleep. I did not enjoy my stay. The sad, free continental breakfast did not make up for how truly appalling this was.
The highlight was a therapeutic bitch session with an equally sleep-deprived, overheated, disappointed guest in the shared bathroom. I guess those shared spaces offer some amenity, after all.
Never stay here.
Staying at Jamberoo Lodge
As promising as the fancy sign at the entrance way is, ABANDON ALL HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER. We stayed over the New Year break and what these lousy operators failed to tell us is that the restaurant was closed. No dinner of any kind. What’s more, they also told us breakfast wasn’t happening, and then changed their mind several hours later after we’d already bought supplies to stuff in our warm little mini-bar.
Upon inspection, we were grateful to have not relied on their hospitality because there is none. The whole place looks like it is set up for a budget wedding for a groom named ‘Cleetis’ and a bride named ‘Chastity’. The pool is a milky soup of 99 per cent chlorine and the staff seem to care more about the clapped out air conditioner in reception than they do about their guests.
I left my swimmers in the room, a fact that became apparent the second I got home and unpacked our wet clothes. I called. I called. I called again. I messaged. But no, no one tried to help me. My swimmers are now being enjoyed by one of the cleaners, I assume. It’s my fault that I left my swimmers on the handle of the bathroom door. It’s their fault that they didn’t even bother to call me back. This is a huge fail.
Never stay here either.
You know how some holidays are fraught with disaster? This was one of them.
I hope your holiday was better than ours.
If not, and you got caught up in the horrifying fires like so many of my friends, I highly recommend you donate some money to these goddamn legends.