Harbour Hotel in Sarande

😊 We hated this hotel. And not in the casual, “ugh, Mondays” sort of way—but in the genuine, counting-the-hours-until-checkout kind of way.

To be fair, the hotel does have a couple of strong points. It was “near” Ksamil—close enough that, if you squinted at a map and ignored scale, you could almost believe it. Parking was also conveniently nearby, though it felt like an escape room challenge: first, locate the front desk staff, then convince them to unlock it for you. Honestly, solving that puzzle might have been the highlight of our stay.

☹️ Sleeping for four was an exercise in discomfort. One of us had what was basically just a sheet thrown over a couch—I’m not kidding—while another was “treated” to a sofa armchair bed, which sounded better than it felt. Communication with staff often felt like a game of charades gone wrong. The outdoor swing chair was rusty, the windows looked like they’d given up on ever being cleaned, and the terrace door required the strength of a professional weightlifter just to budge. When we mentioned these things at the front desk, the response was simply: “impossible to fix.” Inspiring.

Noise from outside carried straight into the room, water damage festered under the fridge, and the WiFi had serious commitment issues—slow, unreliable, and constantly kicking us off. The pool didn’t help either: dirty, hidden behind another building, and plunged into shade just when you’d actually want to use it.

The little frustrations piled on, too. Parking needed a staff escort instead of a simple room key system, we were charged an extra 3% just for using a card, and a cappuccino cost €3—daylight robbery disguised as foam. Worst of all, when my card didn’t process due to a CVV typo, the manager flat-out told me I “had no money.” Not only untrue, but unnecessarily rude—and frankly the most memorable part of our stay, for all the wrong reasons.