Let me begin by applauding "Alia Beachfront Resort" for its remarkable talent in misdirection. According to the website, we booked a "beachfront" experience, visions of ocean breezes and sea views danced in our heads. In reality? We were promptly ushered to their "sister property", a charming little compound nestled a solid 10-minute walk away from the beach. Turns out, at Alia, "beachfront" is more of a state of mind than an actual location. Our room welcomed us with a bustling community of ants who, by the looks of it, had been paying rent longer than most guests. And the so-called “private plunge pool”? A chlorine-soaked science experiment. Within an hour, our once-vibrant swimsuits had been transformed into faded relics of color, a true chemical marvel. The overpowering stench of bleach made it clear this was not a place for swimming, but for sterilizing surgical tools. The bathroom? A masterclass in structural unreliability. Fixtures literally fell off the wall upon contact—just in case you wanted an interactive design feature. And the shower? Why have a separate bathing area when you can flood the "entire" bathroom floor every time you try to rinse off? It’s not a flaw, t’s immersive water-themed chaos. A sort of spa-meets-sinkhole vibe. For those wondering about in-room security, don’t. There was no safe. Because why would you want one of those? Every basic hotel on earth has one, even the lovely 10-room boutique spot we stayed in during our first night in Rhodes Old Town managed to provide that basic amenity, along with actualclean sheets, and a bed that didn’t feel like a suspension bridge. The towels, naturally, deserve a special mention. They appear to have been washed and dried on a gravel road, offering the texture of coarse sandpaper with the drying efficiency of a napkin. Perfect for exfoliating your entire body whether you asked for it or not. Breakfast? A tragic culinary event best described as “inedible.” The staff, while polite, seemed completely untrained, well-meaning but clearly out of their depth when it came to actual hospitality. Oh, and let’s not forget the nightly entertainment: stray dogs taking over the pool and lounging on the furniture like they’re executive members of the loyalty program. One even barked and lunged at us while we were walking the grounds at night. Nothing like a touch of fear to round out your luxury experience. We weren’t alone in our disappointment. We were part of a large group of friends attending a local wedding, all of whom had their own horror stories to share. Every. Single. Couple. From ants to flooding showers to awful food, the complaints were consistent and unanimous. Even the guests who did manage to stay at the "actual" beachfront property (yes, it does exist) weren’t impressed. Peeling paint, overgrown weeds, and a vibe of general abandonment made it clear that the problems aren’t location-specific, they’re systemic. The absolute best part of our stay? Check-out. That glorious moment when we left Alia Beachfront Resort behind, vowing never to return. If this is what passes for “resort luxury,” I’d hate to see their idea of rustic. This is a hostel at best. Anyone considering staying here is wasting their money, and vacation time.