Kyknos Beach Hotel and Bungalows

I had a back neck and head massage with Sofia, it was incredible, my first massage and I would highly recommend.

A 4 Star Hotel? We'd Say 3+ ⭐⭐⭐½ Let's start by saying that we genuinely enjoyed our holiday. It was just my wife and me, which quite frankly is the best company we could have asked for, and we're very good at making our own fun 😉. We also met some genuinely lovely and friendly staff, particularly the lady in the restaurant, and our room was kept clean throughout our stay. However, this is advertised as a 4 star hotel and, having experienced it, we'd personally rate it more like a 3+ at a push. There are plenty of good things about the place, but there are also quite a few things that we think need looking at if it is to really justify the 4 star rating. We arrived around 9:30pm and were given the hotel information at such speed that I'm fairly sure the guy on reception had somewhere else to be. It was delivered at Tasmanian Devil velocity. Blink and you'd missed half of it. Blink twice and you were apparently responsible for running the hotel. We were then left to find our own feet and work everything out for ourselves. A little more information on arrival would have been useful, a map, a plan maybe. As we arrived late, there was no food in the room. After travelling all day, something small to eat would have been appreciated (do you want a dry sandwich making?). Instead, our first evening became: FIND FOOD. FIND WATER. There was no bottled water provided and no hydration stations around the hotel either. Would you not think, after travelling, a nice cold water in the fridge? This is the first all inclusive hotel we've stayed at that doesn't have the room fridge filled daily with a selection of drinks 😬 Apparently the 4 star welcome package was, "Welcome! Now begin the treasure hunt." Nothing says luxury quite like arriving exhausted and immediately having to work out where you're going to find something to eat and drink. The smoking situation was another experience altogether. I would estimate that 90% or more of the German guests we encountered were smokers. I'm not sure whether smoking was included in the all inclusive package, but judging by the frequency and enthusiasm, it certainly seemed to be. On that note, if you're English and considering this hotel, be prepared to feel like you've wandered into the wrong country. In the whole time we were there, I think I heard two English accents total. This place is overwhelmingly popular with German guests, which explains rather a lot about the smoking levels. Cigarette after cigarette, all day long. You'd see someone finish one and, before the previous one had even had time to cool down, boom, the next one was lit. At times the smoke was so thick you could practically climb up onto it. Forget the hotel providing fresh Mediterranean air. The German smoking delegation had apparently brought their own atmosphere. Sitting outside was sometimes less "enjoying the sunshine" and more "standing behind a diesel tractor while someone burns the furniture." I'm pretty sure I developed a passive smoking loyalty card. Ten cigarettes inhaled, get the eleventh free. And then there was the friendliness. Or, more accurately, the remarkable absence of it. The number of times I would try to be pleasant, hold a door open, stop to let someone pass or move out of the way, only to be completely ignored, was genuinely astonishing. No thank you. No smile. No nod. Not even eye contact. You'd hold a door open and they'd walk straight through as though you'd been installed there by the hotel as part of the furniture. After a while I started wondering if I was invisible. Eventually I thought about putting a little sign on my forehead saying, "DOOR HELD OPEN. THANK YOU OPTIONAL." When you've got 90% plus of the guests smoking, and seemingly an equally impressive percentage having left their manners at passport control, it does rather become noticeable. If smoking were an Olympic event, this lot wouldn't just be taking home the medals. They'd be smoking on the podium. Then they'd light another cigarette to celebrate. The food itself was actually fine. We have absolutely no complaints about the food or the variety. There was plenty of choice and, for an all inclusive buffet, we found it perfectly acceptable. We're not expecting Michelin star dining when several hundred people need feeding three times a day. However, the chicken deserves its own paragraph. I'm not entirely sure what happened to it. It was tough. It was chewy. It appeared to have been cooked with the determination of someone trying to make a piece of chicken last until 2035. After a few bites, we genuinely started questioning its poultry credentials. Was it chicken? Was it a poultry substitute? Had someone accidentally served us frog? I've eaten plenty of buffet chicken over the years, but this was the first time I found myself chewing something while wondering whether it had once lived beside a pond. Everything else was absolutely fine. The chicken, however, had clearly chosen violence. Then we come to our private pool. Technically, yes, it was private. Practically? The Arctic Ocean. The water was absolutely freezing. Not refreshing. Not invigorating. Freezing. Sit on the edge with your legs in for long enough and they genuinely go numb. No joke. We weren't swimming. We were gradually preparing ourselves for cryogenic preservation. Now, we had paid a significant premium for a room with a private pool, so naturally you expect to actually be able to enjoy it. Even the neighbouring private pool wasn't exactly tropical. We watched them attempting to add hot water to it, which was probably the most exciting pool activity of the day. This really did make us laugh 😂. Then there was the small matter of sunshine. Our double style sunbed, positioned overhanging the pool, sounds fantastic in theory and looks amazing in the publicity photos 🤔. Private pool. Double sunbed. Sunshine. Relaxation. Except it received approximately 15 to 20 minutes of sunshine a day. And even then it wasn't proper sunshine. It was more of a tiny sliver. The sun basically poked its head around the corner, said, "You alright?" and disappeared again. The patio and pool were in shade for most of the day. We asked if we could move a sunbed onto the grassed area so we could actually catch some sunshine. Apparently not. So, having paid a substantial premium for the private pool experience, we ended up with a freezing pool and a sunbed that received about 15 minutes of sunlight a day. It's a bit like paying extra for a convertible and then discovering the roof is permanently welded shut. Around the main hotel pool there were plenty of loungers on the grass, although actually getting one was apparently a competitive sport. By sunrise, many had already been claimed by German towels. Some guests weren't reserving sunbeds. They were establishing sovereign territory. We eventually gave up and went to the beach most days to get the sunshine we had actually come on holiday for. The beach itself was small but not overcrowded and, to be honest, it was a welcome break from the freezing private pool. The view immediately next to our private pool wasn't exactly postcard material either. The hotel photographs certainly know their angles. What looks attractive and secluded in the pictures is, in reality, a rough wasteland type area right next to the pool. It's ugly and could easily be improved with some screening or planting to make the area look much more private and attractive. And speaking of privacy, we had a random man walking around in the wasteland next to our "private" pool. Not once, not twice, and I eventually had to go over and check whether he was camping out in there. Nothing quite says luxury and relaxation like lying beside your private swimming pool wondering who the bloke wandering around the side of it is. We were only missing a clipboard and a formal inspection. Then there was the sunbed itself. During the day, it was supposed to be our luxury relaxation area. At night, apparently it belonged to the cats. By morning it had become Hotel Feline's Premier Five Star Cat Resort. Cat hair. Paw prints. And the unmistakable smell of cat urine. It appeared the cats had considerably more fun in our private pool area than we did. Quite possibly an orgy. Perhaps they were the ones actually paying the premium. And then we come to the cicadas. Dear God. We have heard cicadas before. These were different. These weren't cicadas. These were chainsaws with wings. They were unbelievably loud, comparable to the noise of a chainsaw, from early morning until dark. And I mean all day. Not for an hour. Not occasionally. All bloody day. We actually had to sit outside wearing earplugs. At one point I expected someone to turn up wearing a hard hat and carrying a risk assessment. It was less "relaxing Mediterranean ambience" and more "someone has started a chainsaw and forgotten to switch it off." I've been on plenty of holidays and heard cicadas before, but I have genuinely never experienced them at this volume. So, would we return? That's where it gets complicated. Because we did have a brilliant holiday. We laughed, relaxed and enjoyed ourselves. We enjoyed the beach and, most importantly, each other's company. There were also some genuinely lovely staff who deserve recognition, especially the friendly restaurant staff and most, but not all, of the bar staff. Our room was kept beautifully clean throughout our stay. But the hotel itself gave us plenty of material for this review. The freezing private pool, the almost complete lack of sunshine, the unattractive wasteland view, questionable privacy, the filthy cat covered sunbed, the chainsaw level cicadas, the lack of drinking water facilities, and the relentless cigarette smoke all took the shine off what could otherwise have been a much more relaxing experience. None of these things individually would necessarily ruin a holiday. Put them all together, however, and you've got something approaching Hotel Survivor: Mediterranean Edition. We came for sunshine, a private pool, relaxation and peace and quiet. We got the German Smoking Championships, the Arctic Private Pool, the 15 Minute Sunshine Experience, the Feline Sunbed Takeover, the Mystery Man in the Wasteland, and the Chainsaw Cicada Orchestra. And somehow, we still had a fantastic holiday. That says a lot about us. It also says quite a lot about the hotel. There is definitely a good hotel here. The friendly staff, cleanliness and potential are all there. But if a few relatively simple things were addressed, such as better arrival information, easier access to drinking water, screening around the private pools, cleaner outdoor furniture, better consideration of pool temperature and sunlight, and some thought about the smoking environment, the experience could be significantly better. So, hotel, please take this review in the spirit it's intended. I'm laughing as I write it. But we're also hoping you're reading it thinking: "Bloody hell... they're right. We should probably sort some of this out." And if you do, we'll happily take the credit. Until then, we'll remember the holiday fondly. Mostly because we had each other. And because we packed earplugs.