WALKING INTO the reception area of the recently opened Columbia Beach resort one instantly recognises the presence of a real professional polish: not a superficial Mr Sheen type surface application, but a deep lustrous lovingly applied French lustre.
Few reception staff have seemed so happy in their chosen career, but then again not many work in such a pleasant environment.
Combine that with the bowl of fresh crisp apples set atop the reception desk, and you start to believe that all will be perfect, because here in this quiet backwater of Pissouri we have at last found the ‘Holy Hotel Grail’, the perfect comfort station in which to unwind, and relish the many treats ahead.
Both Vakis Hadjikyriakos and his wife Diane – the hotel’s architect and interior designer – have to be congratulated. Columbia Beach is one of those rare structures that manages to be both practical and graceful. It’s also perfectly positioned, with the entire resort nestling in a contented marriage with its stark hilly surroundings.
Diane the interior designer must be saluted – every thing reeks of quality and throughout the resort one can spot all the little quirky design touches that bring the Columbia Beach right up there in terms of holiday resorts.
It seems almost unimaginable not to be able to relax within the spa area, for within this temple of peace, perfect lighting casts a calming glow. The atmosphere was so serene.
Disappointment is a vast understatement to describe how I feel when my restaurant experience is negative. I do genuinely want every chef and entrepreneur to succeed when they open a new restaurant. That’s why it’s such a damned shame that the almost-perfect Columbia is let down by its food. This disappointment is despite the lovely rooms, luxury bathrooms, friendly and helpful staff and super beachfront setting.
Simply put, if one is paying the prices charged by the resort, then guests do deserve a much higher quality of cuisine: almost everything tasted like airline food. I’ll eat this kind of grub – but only if I can swallow a couple of knock-out pills and wake up in Sydney. Alas there was no such luck at the Dionysos Restaurant, just a relentless parade of over-produced, high fallutin’ dinner food. This was truly cuisine of the dispossessed.
Three dishes in and the mushroom soup was the only dish that came up trumps. My main course was so salty it was left untouched. My companions’ meals were no better, with the veal tenderloin voted as the only dinner winner. Alas at £24.50 per person just for the privilege of two dishes – no matter how delicious – is a bit steep.
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