Your rating of this hotel:
3.0
from 10
Hotel ratings by criteria:
Rooms:
6.0
Service:
7.0
Cleanliness:
6.0
Food:
4.0
Amenities:
5.0
Was at the hotel in August 2013. When selling a ticket, the manager reverently rolled her eyes: “This is Belek! This is the land where Russian tourists are adored! ”(It’s as if I’m in Turkey for the first time and I don’t know the attitude of the natives towards the Russians) I flew from the Pegasus, at the Antalya airport, remembering the words of the guide, I was waiting for the airstairs with carpet tracks and bravura marches Orchestra of the Turkish Ministry of Defense. But everything is as usual: heat, white blouses of the Pegasus guides, a doubtfully white air-conditioned bus (“Inshallah! ) To the hotel. Yes, citizens, the hotel is not far away - some 20 minutes through the city of Belek. He is the first in the list of unloading tourists. "Belcon" is in an open field. On the left is a deserted place with howling winds and tumbleweeds dangling back and forth, on the right, a couple of hundred meters away, another Vera hotel. Most of the hotels are positioned as golf hotels, and there are countless golf courses around. The main building is a storey, appearance, not very similar to the tower of Sauron, behind it is a pool, behind the pool there are several two-story houses and a hammam. The check-in was traditional: we arrived at 9, checkout time 12, after waving a green piece of paper at the nose of the Turkish woman at the reception and a set of menacing phrases with the appropriate facial expression, settled at 14 o'clock. Immediately, a greyhound male appears as a hamamschik, for whom you are at first “respected and dear brother”, and after refusing the soap and snout procedure “damned giaour”. The number was given in a bungalow (if it can be called a “bungalow”). First floor, through the balcony you can go to the pool. Towels are provided in the hammam. The number is not so hot - for four people there is actually one room without walls. Considering that it also contains a shower and a toilet, the template breaks out of habit. Well, at least they fenced the bathroom with a glass wall with sliding (broken) doors. The room has two beds, two sofas, a dressing table with a mirror, LCD TV, a couple of bedside tables, a closet, table lamps (non-working) and a refrigerator (water is constantly delivered by the staff for free). There are no complaints about the furniture. But the sofas didn't work for me. I'm already tall - 1.90, so the sofa seemed to me adapted only for gnomes in the last stage of exhaustion. I had to sleep with my knees pulled up to my chest (preferably to my own). There are no complaints about cleaning, they cleaned it on time, cleanly and often. Even very often. Cleaners know only their native language, so the words “Senks, to the notes”, “danke, shpeter”, “yes, you got it already! ” just blink their eyes. The almighty dollar helps here too. In the bathroom, a hairdryer, soap, shampoo, paper are present and constantly added. For the service in the room - a solid "five".
The territory of "Belcon" is small... but what really is there - it simply does not exist. There are distances between the bungalows, a stunted fountain in front of the main entrance and a vast area in front of the entrance to the hotel. I would have found it. ) Apparently they are going to build something there. Car rental is located near the hotel. Cars are not so hot, such as UAZs in the state of "I will sell or exchange for beer. "
There are a number of shops in the main building. Assortment of trade: leather, souvenirs, bags, etc. , produced by the forces of the tailoring squadron named after Gu U Chi, Do L Chi and Ho Bba Na. The sellers, with the eyes of an honest merchant of Astrakhan watermelons in June, are especially unobtrusive.
The pool is clean, chlorine is not particularly felt, deep (1.60). For small homo sapiens there is a smaller pool with slides. Hills three, standard. In addition to kids jumping from the slides and adults. And they jump so much that Sergey Bubka would die of envy. Nearby is a "paddling pool" for absolutely peanuts. You need to borrow sunbeds in the morning and the earlier the better. For me, this problem was not (the room next to the pool, getting up at 6 am to listen to cicadas and poison the Turkish air with a cigarette, casually threw a couple of towels on the sun loungers), but the guests, those who came after breakfast played a pantomime a la windmill called “Wah-wah! Where are the free sunbeds? Attention, citizens! Towels from sun loungers can snitch. He himself became a witness a couple of times when angry families were looking for towels and their thief. The apotheosis was the case when a man with eyes like a cat from Shrek approached me and said: “Bro, we are moving out tomorrow, and our towels were stolen. You give us yours so that we can report to the administration, and then you yourself from whom cut it off! " I refused, because it is very different from the principles I outlined in the fifth grade in an essay on the topic “What should be a Soviet person” and clearly lowers my chances for the Nobel Peace Prize. Once a day in the afternoon in the pool, the animators arrange various tricks, such as: water polo (by the way, very exciting), throwing the ball into the ring from the water, standing on the mattress (captivates! ), water basketball (smiled). For the pool "Balcony" four.
Really got the night games by the pool, which lasted until two in the morning. The DJ with the voice of Levitan simply did not let me fall asleep. The repertoire is the standard “Aram-zam-zam”, English-language pop, and, unexpectedly, like the appearance of children with Kirkorov, Trofimov, who declares that he is used to smiling, and Natalie, who wants a son from someone. Until 2 nights you will not fall asleep guaranteed.
The composition of the hotel guests: 50% Russians, 50% Turks, 20% Anglo-Saxons, 10% other national minorities (the account was kept according to the Churov method, infa - 146%). Turkish women's swimwear is varied - from bikinis to towels in all places. Elderly Turks see off with greedy and dreary glances of Russian deusheks, of whom there are in abundance. What can you do: gray hair in the head - testosterone in the rib. There is a cafe next to the pool in the same building. I took pita bread there (8 tur. lir. ) And hamburgers for children (5 tur. lir. ) It didn’t stick out from the taste, Ismail at the Belorussky railway station makes it tastier. Right there (in the cafe) they provide computers with access to the Internet, a play station and other billiards.
The restaurant is big. There is also an open veranda, right by the pool. By the way, through the restaurant there is a passage to the lobby of the main building, and if the restaurant is closed, you have to go around the corner of the building. Turkish food - a lot, but not varied. Fruit is present. In the evening, fish-meat is baked outdoors. First, he receives a portion of the Turks, then his wife, children, brother, brother's wife, brother's children, aunt, aunt's husband, aunt's children, nephew, nephew's girlfriend, friend with whom he studied, friend's wife, their children.......only then all the rest . In the middle of the rest, several tables were reserved for the participants in the Miss Something There - 2013 contest. The girls came to dinner as they were: with ribbons, high heels, almost in bathing suits. The waiter escorted them all to the table to drink bitter, eat sweet and smoke funny. The contingent of ladies is a complete international: white, yellow, black. Miss, damn it, they don’t look so hot: some look like a cross between N. Krupskaya of the 1935 model and a pooping Pekingese. Involuntarily, with warmth, you recall Russian women who will stop an elephant on the move and tear off its trunk. The food is ordinary - pasta, rice, French fries. There were no problems with the stomach. Although, judging by the dissatisfied grumbling of the table neighbors, there is a chance to stupidly poison yourself or get a rich collection of moving passengers inside yourself.
The worst part of the hotel is the beach. I read reviews about a trip to it, they say, people using the shuttle from the hotel still wake up in the middle of the night screaming. Yes, gentlemen-compatriots - it's true. Trips to the beach are carried out on... on... I have no such words in the lexicon to describe this vehicle. Outwardly, it looks like an open tiny bus. Judging by its appearance and condition, it was captured by the Crimean Tatars from the archers during a raid on the Moscow Principality during the time of Ivan the Terrible (the inscription scratched with a nail on the side: “Vanek rules! ”) is also a confirmation and sold to the Turkish Sultan. This something runs to the beach every hour. The departure time depends on the appetite of the driver eating in the restaurant. Late - your difficulties. The situation is especially pleasing when people go from the beach to the hotel, wait for a tarantay, languishing from the 40-degree heat (there is nowhere to hide, there are no sheds), and the transport, unable to withstand the harsh Turkish exploitation, says “Quack! ” and breaks. Then the administration, in Turkish, leisurely looks for a bus from neighboring hotels and sends it for beachgoers languishing from the heat. About 50 mutants with brains baked from the heat fly into the bus, designed for 20 people, swearing sounds in all languages. Grandmother Siranush adds joy and love, hurrying to the bus with two ten-liter tanks, which also needs to go to the hotel. So a trip in a tarantay turns into an exciting and unforgettable walk. I strongly advise fans of extreme sports, BDSM and nostalgic for Soviet times. It is unrealistic to walk to the sea - it will take about 40 minutes to walk under the scorching sun.
The sea, as elsewhere in Turkey, is amazing. There are no jellyfish. Fish sometimes swim along the shore. The bottom is sandy, the beach too - Belek. There are enough sunbeds and zoos for everyone, as the majority of guests prefer to roast in the sun by the pool at the hotel. The relative purity of the sand. Well, how... In the morning they clean up cleanly ahead of time, in the evening it is already piled with cigarette butts and plastic cups. There is a bar with tables and chairs. But there's only pepsi, cola, sprite and water. Crouched in a corner was the kvass-like grandmother Siranush, a terribly sociable aunt. She bakes cakes on fire, optionally adds “Sir” (brynza) or “Kartoshka” (well, that’s understandable). Traditional banana, parachute, water skiing and other boats are offered on the nearby beach. The chain of beaches stretched in a long line. All of them belong to different hotels. Opposite the beach is a luxurious (judging by the facade) spa. Sculptures are placed at the entrance to the beach, probably the result of the heroin arrival of the sculptor. In theory, they should depict turtles, but in reality they look like Alien and Predator embracing.
I chose Perge-Aspendos from the excursions, although I have already been to Aspedos more than once. Perge is beautiful. The majestic ruins of the ancient city nearby turned out to be a carefully copied remake. among the ancient columns. Once again, the guides "pleased" me. The names of Macedonian, Caesar and Cleopatra flashed again in the context that these citizens wanted to make Turkey the center of their possessions. But since the marriage of Macedonian with Cleopatra was upset, and their son Julius Caesar intervened in the Vatican's war with Antarctica, somehow it did not grow together. To my timid questions about the year in which the just-narrated attack of the Thracian cavalry on fascist pillboxes took place, the guide arrogantly replied that his father, a historian of the first magnitude and generally the smartest person in Turkey, told him about this. So to me, once again it was experimentally confirmed that intelligence is not sexually transmitted. Pegasus needs to do something with the guides. Smack there, I don’t know, or don’t give vodka. Also, on the advice of the guide, we went on a night excursion on a yacht. At 23 a bus rolled up, 90% of the passengers consisted of smart boys and their sockets, which were warmed up with whiskey and cursed ineptly all the way. I was sincerely worried about the boys, thinking that they would not be allowed on board. The fears were in vain. The people drove up already warmed up, the average age of visitors to the yacht is 23 years old, the style of clothing for young men is a T-shirt and shorts, while the ladies used a rich stage role, popularly known as a “slut”. Alcohol was free, a group of half-naked dancers came out to dance, super-spectacular appearance which delighted the nano-contingent of the yacht, the power of which was somewhere around 10-15 kilozhirin. Music is the repertoire of a nightclub, but out of boredom, Vaenga is also a chanson. The people danced with might and main, like Jackie Chan under Kumar. Upon arrival at the pier, my guide and I wandered around the yacht among the piles of bodies, looking for passengers from our bus (the scene was reminiscent of an episode from Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky, when women, after a battle at night, by the light of torches, look for the bodies of their murdered husbands). "Belcon" was the first in the return stop, so I sympathized with the sad guide. The conclusion is that you shouldn’t take children on a yacht (enrich their vocabulary), people in years can go and look at this bestiary (unless, of course, “Let's Get Married” is on TV).
The departure went without incident. When we arrived at the on-duty Trade Center, which helps part with the dollars, all the passengers rebelled, telling the guide that they would not go anywhere. The guide groaned, waved his arms, but could not convince. And then everything is standard: the airport (departure without delay), “Dear Sirs, we are landing at Domodedovo Airport. Please don't get up and fasten your seat belts. " Lead clouds over Moscow. Traffic jam on the Moscow Ring Road. Hello Russian harsh reality.
Conclusion: budget hotel. Judging by the reviews, vacationers are not going to come here a second time. I support them. Once you can visit, the second time - hardly. In Turkey, there are "three rubles" and better.
The territory of "Belcon" is small... but what really is there - it simply does not exist. There are distances between the bungalows, a stunted fountain in front of the main entrance and a vast area in front of the entrance to the hotel. I would have found it. ) Apparently they are going to build something there. Car rental is located near the hotel. Cars are not so hot, such as UAZs in the state of "I will sell or exchange for beer. "
There are a number of shops in the main building. Assortment of trade: leather, souvenirs, bags, etc. , produced by the forces of the tailoring squadron named after Gu U Chi, Do L Chi and Ho Bba Na. The sellers, with the eyes of an honest merchant of Astrakhan watermelons in June, are especially unobtrusive.
The pool is clean, chlorine is not particularly felt, deep (1.60). For small homo sapiens there is a smaller pool with slides. Hills three, standard. In addition to kids jumping from the slides and adults. And they jump so much that Sergey Bubka would die of envy. Nearby is a "paddling pool" for absolutely peanuts. You need to borrow sunbeds in the morning and the earlier the better. For me, this problem was not (the room next to the pool, getting up at 6 am to listen to cicadas and poison the Turkish air with a cigarette, casually threw a couple of towels on the sun loungers), but the guests, those who came after breakfast played a pantomime a la windmill called “Wah-wah! Where are the free sunbeds? Attention, citizens! Towels from sun loungers can snitch. He himself became a witness a couple of times when angry families were looking for towels and their thief. The apotheosis was the case when a man with eyes like a cat from Shrek approached me and said: “Bro, we are moving out tomorrow, and our towels were stolen. You give us yours so that we can report to the administration, and then you yourself from whom cut it off! " I refused, because it is very different from the principles I outlined in the fifth grade in an essay on the topic “What should be a Soviet person” and clearly lowers my chances for the Nobel Peace Prize. Once a day in the afternoon in the pool, the animators arrange various tricks, such as: water polo (by the way, very exciting), throwing the ball into the ring from the water, standing on the mattress (captivates! ), water basketball (smiled). For the pool "Balcony" four.
Really got the night games by the pool, which lasted until two in the morning. The DJ with the voice of Levitan simply did not let me fall asleep. The repertoire is the standard “Aram-zam-zam”, English-language pop, and, unexpectedly, like the appearance of children with Kirkorov, Trofimov, who declares that he is used to smiling, and Natalie, who wants a son from someone. Until 2 nights you will not fall asleep guaranteed.
The composition of the hotel guests: 50% Russians, 50% Turks, 20% Anglo-Saxons, 10% other national minorities (the account was kept according to the Churov method, infa - 146%). Turkish women's swimwear is varied - from bikinis to towels in all places. Elderly Turks see off with greedy and dreary glances of Russian deusheks, of whom there are in abundance. What can you do: gray hair in the head - testosterone in the rib. There is a cafe next to the pool in the same building. I took pita bread there (8 tur. lir. ) And hamburgers for children (5 tur. lir. ) It didn’t stick out from the taste, Ismail at the Belorussky railway station makes it tastier. Right there (in the cafe) they provide computers with access to the Internet, a play station and other billiards.
The restaurant is big. There is also an open veranda, right by the pool. By the way, through the restaurant there is a passage to the lobby of the main building, and if the restaurant is closed, you have to go around the corner of the building. Turkish food - a lot, but not varied. Fruit is present. In the evening, fish-meat is baked outdoors. First, he receives a portion of the Turks, then his wife, children, brother, brother's wife, brother's children, aunt, aunt's husband, aunt's children, nephew, nephew's girlfriend, friend with whom he studied, friend's wife, their children.......only then all the rest . In the middle of the rest, several tables were reserved for the participants in the Miss Something There - 2013 contest. The girls came to dinner as they were: with ribbons, high heels, almost in bathing suits. The waiter escorted them all to the table to drink bitter, eat sweet and smoke funny. The contingent of ladies is a complete international: white, yellow, black. Miss, damn it, they don’t look so hot: some look like a cross between N. Krupskaya of the 1935 model and a pooping Pekingese. Involuntarily, with warmth, you recall Russian women who will stop an elephant on the move and tear off its trunk. The food is ordinary - pasta, rice, French fries. There were no problems with the stomach. Although, judging by the dissatisfied grumbling of the table neighbors, there is a chance to stupidly poison yourself or get a rich collection of moving passengers inside yourself.
The worst part of the hotel is the beach. I read reviews about a trip to it, they say, people using the shuttle from the hotel still wake up in the middle of the night screaming. Yes, gentlemen-compatriots - it's true. Trips to the beach are carried out on... on... I have no such words in the lexicon to describe this vehicle. Outwardly, it looks like an open tiny bus. Judging by its appearance and condition, it was captured by the Crimean Tatars from the archers during a raid on the Moscow Principality during the time of Ivan the Terrible (the inscription scratched with a nail on the side: “Vanek rules! ”) is also a confirmation and sold to the Turkish Sultan. This something runs to the beach every hour. The departure time depends on the appetite of the driver eating in the restaurant. Late - your difficulties. The situation is especially pleasing when people go from the beach to the hotel, wait for a tarantay, languishing from the 40-degree heat (there is nowhere to hide, there are no sheds), and the transport, unable to withstand the harsh Turkish exploitation, says “Quack! ” and breaks. Then the administration, in Turkish, leisurely looks for a bus from neighboring hotels and sends it for beachgoers languishing from the heat. About 50 mutants with brains baked from the heat fly into the bus, designed for 20 people, swearing sounds in all languages. Grandmother Siranush adds joy and love, hurrying to the bus with two ten-liter tanks, which also needs to go to the hotel. So a trip in a tarantay turns into an exciting and unforgettable walk. I strongly advise fans of extreme sports, BDSM and nostalgic for Soviet times. It is unrealistic to walk to the sea - it will take about 40 minutes to walk under the scorching sun.
The sea, as elsewhere in Turkey, is amazing. There are no jellyfish. Fish sometimes swim along the shore. The bottom is sandy, the beach too - Belek. There are enough sunbeds and zoos for everyone, as the majority of guests prefer to roast in the sun by the pool at the hotel. The relative purity of the sand. Well, how... In the morning they clean up cleanly ahead of time, in the evening it is already piled with cigarette butts and plastic cups. There is a bar with tables and chairs. But there's only pepsi, cola, sprite and water. Crouched in a corner was the kvass-like grandmother Siranush, a terribly sociable aunt. She bakes cakes on fire, optionally adds “Sir” (brynza) or “Kartoshka” (well, that’s understandable). Traditional banana, parachute, water skiing and other boats are offered on the nearby beach. The chain of beaches stretched in a long line. All of them belong to different hotels. Opposite the beach is a luxurious (judging by the facade) spa. Sculptures are placed at the entrance to the beach, probably the result of the heroin arrival of the sculptor. In theory, they should depict turtles, but in reality they look like Alien and Predator embracing.
I chose Perge-Aspendos from the excursions, although I have already been to Aspedos more than once. Perge is beautiful. The majestic ruins of the ancient city nearby turned out to be a carefully copied remake. among the ancient columns. Once again, the guides "pleased" me. The names of Macedonian, Caesar and Cleopatra flashed again in the context that these citizens wanted to make Turkey the center of their possessions. But since the marriage of Macedonian with Cleopatra was upset, and their son Julius Caesar intervened in the Vatican's war with Antarctica, somehow it did not grow together. To my timid questions about the year in which the just-narrated attack of the Thracian cavalry on fascist pillboxes took place, the guide arrogantly replied that his father, a historian of the first magnitude and generally the smartest person in Turkey, told him about this. So to me, once again it was experimentally confirmed that intelligence is not sexually transmitted. Pegasus needs to do something with the guides. Smack there, I don’t know, or don’t give vodka. Also, on the advice of the guide, we went on a night excursion on a yacht. At 23 a bus rolled up, 90% of the passengers consisted of smart boys and their sockets, which were warmed up with whiskey and cursed ineptly all the way. I was sincerely worried about the boys, thinking that they would not be allowed on board. The fears were in vain. The people drove up already warmed up, the average age of visitors to the yacht is 23 years old, the style of clothing for young men is a T-shirt and shorts, while the ladies used a rich stage role, popularly known as a “slut”. Alcohol was free, a group of half-naked dancers came out to dance, super-spectacular appearance which delighted the nano-contingent of the yacht, the power of which was somewhere around 10-15 kilozhirin. Music is the repertoire of a nightclub, but out of boredom, Vaenga is also a chanson. The people danced with might and main, like Jackie Chan under Kumar. Upon arrival at the pier, my guide and I wandered around the yacht among the piles of bodies, looking for passengers from our bus (the scene was reminiscent of an episode from Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky, when women, after a battle at night, by the light of torches, look for the bodies of their murdered husbands). "Belcon" was the first in the return stop, so I sympathized with the sad guide. The conclusion is that you shouldn’t take children on a yacht (enrich their vocabulary), people in years can go and look at this bestiary (unless, of course, “Let's Get Married” is on TV).
The departure went without incident. When we arrived at the on-duty Trade Center, which helps part with the dollars, all the passengers rebelled, telling the guide that they would not go anywhere. The guide groaned, waved his arms, but could not convince. And then everything is standard: the airport (departure without delay), “Dear Sirs, we are landing at Domodedovo Airport. Please don't get up and fasten your seat belts. " Lead clouds over Moscow. Traffic jam on the Moscow Ring Road. Hello Russian harsh reality.
Conclusion: budget hotel. Judging by the reviews, vacationers are not going to come here a second time. I support them. Once you can visit, the second time - hardly. In Turkey, there are "three rubles" and better.
Translated automatically from Russian. View original
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