Sevan's VIP Apartment: Your Dream Lakefront Getaway Awaits!
The Grand Imperial Hideaway: A Review That's Honestly All Over the Place
Okay, so I just staggered back from a stay at the Grand Imperial Hideaway, and, wow. Just… wow. This place. It's ambitious, that's for sure. Let's dive in, shall we? Buckle up, buttercups, because this is gonna be a ride.
SEO & Metadata Snippet (For the Search Bots, You Know):
Grand Imperial Hideaway Review: Luxury Hotel with Spa, Pool, & Accessible Features. Wi-Fi, Restaurants, & Safety Measures Highlighted. Perfect for Families & Couples. Wheelchair Accessible with On-Site Dining & Fitness Center. Keywords: Hotel Review, Luxury Hotel, Spa Hotel, Accessible Hotel, Wheelchair Access, Outdoor Pool, Fine Dining, Fitness Center, Family Friendly, Wi-Fi, Covid-Safe, Relaxing Getaway, Romance, Business Travel.
Accessibility: The Good, the "Meh," and the Potential for Triumph
Alright, let’s get this out of the way first: Accessibility. Bless their hearts, they try. The website promises a lot – "Facilities for disabled guests" – but reality is, as usual, a touch… well, uneven.
- Wheelchair Accessible: Yes and no. The main areas – lobby, some restaurants, a passable percentage of rooms – are generally accessible. Ramps are… there. Elevators exist. But the pathways can be a little narrow in places. And the pool access? Let's just say it could be significantly improved. I saw one poor soul navigating the pool deck with what looked like a miniature motorized tank. Made me both empathetic and green with envy because that thing was cool.
- On-site Accessible Restaurants/Lounges: Again, a mixed bag. Some restaurants have ramps and (mostly) accessible seating. Others… good luck. The fancy French place, "Le Fleur," was a nightmare. Tiny doorways, tables crammed together. My friend Susan – who’s in a wheelchair – nearly tipped over a waiter carrying a flaming crepe. Thankfully, no injuries beyond a bruised ego… and a ruined crepe. I felt terrible for everyone.
- Other bits: The website also states a lot. The reality sometimes differs. Need to get somewhere for a meeting? Good luck.
Internet: The Lifeline in the Cloud
- Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! (Yay!) It's actually decent. No annoying login pages constantly popping up. Surprisingly, the signal held strong even when I attempted to Facetime my cat. (Important priorities, people!)
- Internet [LAN]: They do offer LAN. But who's using LAN in 2024? I tried finding a cable, my room didn't have one.
- Internet Services: Okayish. Printing, if you absolutely must. But be prepared for a little back-and-forth and a slightly judgmental look from the front desk clerk.
Things to Do, Ways to Relax: From Bliss to Bland
- Spa: The heart of the resort, and the only thing that really made the whole place worthwhile. The spa itself is gorgeous: the pool view is beautiful. The treatments are… well, the body scrub was good. Like, really, really good. I swear, my skin hasn't felt this smooth since I was, like, five years old. My husband got a massage, and he said it was the best he ever received, and he actually likes it.
- Pool with View: A-freaking-mazing. Seriously. I spent an entire afternoon there, sipping cocktails, reading, and just letting the world melt away. The only problem? The music was a little… repetitive. After the 3rd hour of elevator music, I was ready to stage a protest.
- Gym/fitness: Standard hotel gym. Treadmills, weights, the usual suspects. I skipped it. Vacations are for sloth, dammit! Also I need a bath, and I wasn't impressed with those I took.
- Sauna, Steamroom, Spa/sauna: Standard fare. Decent.
- Swimming pool [outdoor] and Indoor: See above.
Cleanliness and Safety: Clumsy, but Trying Hard
This is where things get interesting. The hotel clearly took Covid seriously. They seemed to have thrown the kitchen sink to make sure all guests are safe, but the execution was… clunky, to say the least.
- Anti-viral cleaning products: They do use them, but as far as I could tell, so did the cleaning people.
- Breakfast in room: That was really a great feature to have.
- Cashless payment service: Always good to have!
- Daily disinfection in common areas: Overkill in some areas, but I'm not complaining.
- Hand sanitizer: Everywhere. Literally.
- Physical distancing of at least 1 meter: They try, but the buffet situation… well, more on that later.
- Rooms sanitized between stays: Yes.
- Staff trained in safety protocol: Yes, and sometimes, they're too cautious. I swear, the poor guy who delivered a bottle of water to my room nearly burst into tears when I didn't put on a mask. (I was inside!)
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: From Epic Fails to Surprisingly Delightful
- Restaurants: Okay, this is where the hotel really shows its personality. It's… complex. The "A la carte in restaurant" is a good option. There is a salad in restaurant, which I adored. There are plenty of restaurants that really need more staff. The poolside bar is a MUST.
- Breakfast [buffet]: Okay, the elephant in the room. The buffet was a disaster at times. People crowding around, grabbing at things… it was like the running of the bulls, but with scrambled eggs. There were also a lot of "Individually-wrapped food options."
- Bar: Standard hotel bar. Good cocktails.
- Room service [24-hour]: A lifesaver. Especially after a long day of… you know… reviewing hotels!
Services and Conveniences: A Mixed Bag of Helpful and Hilarious
- Concierge: Excellent. They helped me arrange a last-minute spa appointment and even tracked down a lost earring that I’d sworn I’d lost forever. (Turns out, it was in my suitcase… go figure.)
- Daily housekeeping: Super efficient.
- Elevator: Yep, they have one. Thank God.
- Luggage storage: Handy.
- Meeting/banquet facilities: I didn't use them, but they looked impressive.
- Gift/souvenir shop: Hilariously overpriced. I bought a t-shirt that says "I Survived The Grand Imperial Hideaway." Worth every penny.
- Laundry service: Fast and efficient. I’m not a fan of washing my clothes on vacation.
- Doorman: Very friendly. They made me feel like an important guest.
- Air conditioning in public area: The air conditioning was welcome, especially when my room's A/C was a touch… temperamental.
For the Kids: A Playpen of Possibilities… or Chaos?
- Family/child friendly: Yes, definitely. They have a kids' club, a playground… it looked like kid heaven. But also, maybe a bit chaotic. The lobby was often filled with screeching toddlers. (Just my personal preference, I prefer to not be screeched at when I want to relax.)
- Babysitting service: Available.
- Kids meal: They seemed to have catered to it.
Available in all Rooms – The Essentials
- Air conditioning: My room's A/C was spotty, but the others were reportedly great.
- Alarm clock: Yep.
- Bathtub: Yes. And it was a good bathtub.
- Free bottled water: Yay!
- Wi-Fi [free]: See above.
- Desk: Check.
- Complimentary tea: A nice touch.
- Blackout curtains: Needed them.
- Non-smoking: Yes.
The Verdict: A Flawed Gem, Worth the Exploration
Okay, so the Grand Imperial Hideaway. It's not perfect. Far from it. It's a bit chaotic, a bit overwhelming, and sometimes, just plain weird. But it also has a certain… charm. The spa is divine. The pool is glorious. And the staff, despite the occasional hiccup, genuinely try their best.
Would I go back? Absolutely. But next time, I’ll definitely request a room away from the kids' club and bring earplugs. And maybe a hazmat suit for the buffet. And definitely, definitely, my own crepe maker.
Rome's Hidden Gem: B&B 2 Passi Da Rome – Unforgettable Italian Stay!
Okay, buckle up, buttercup, because this isn't your grandma's meticulously planned travel itinerary. This is the raw, unfiltered, potentially disastrous, and definitely caffeinated chronicle of my VIP Sevan apartment adventure. Get ready for some serious mess!
Project: Sevan Serendipity (and Possible Self-Sabotage)
Location: Brand NEW VIP Apartment, Sevan City, Armenia (apparently "VIP" means they haven't quite finished the paint job yet, but hey, charm!)
Duration: 5 Glorious (and Possibly Existential) Days
Mood: Optimistic bordering on delusional. Fuelled by Armenian coffee and the faint hope I won't accidentally fall into Lake Sevan.
Day 1: Arrival & Apartment Appreciation (aka, "Is This Actually VIP?")
- Morning (Flight & Transfer): Ugh. Flying. Always the same. Trapped in a metal tube with recycled air and questionable peanuts. Landed in Yerevan, which, surprisingly, wasn't filled with angry pigeons trying to steal my passport. Smooth-ish transfer to Sevan in a taxi that smelled faintly of… something. Let's just say it was "character-building."
- Afternoon (Apartment Revelation): Okay, the apartment. Here's the truth: it's new. Like, really new. Think "freshly plastered walls and the lingering scent of construction." The "VIP" designation, I suspect, hinges on the panoramic lake view, which, to be fair, IS spectacular. There's a small balcony, which I'm convinced will be my happy place, even if the chairs wobble slightly. First priority? Coffee. Armenian coffee, thick and strong, hopefully to counteract my jet lag and the faint apprehension that maybe, just maybe, I'm in over my head.
- Rambling Aside: The paint color in the hallway… it's… a shade of beige that I didn't know existed. It's aggressively beige. It's the kind of beige that makes you question your life choices.
- Evening (Exploring the Immediate Vicinity & Attempted Supper): Walked around the immediate streets. Found a small restaurant. Tried ordering khashlama (lamb stew). The waiter looked at me, then at the menu, then back at me. I think he was genuinely surprised I even attempted to pronounce it correctly. It was delicious! And I was starving, so the slight burnt edges of the lamb added additional flavour. Back to the apartment, to recharge.
Day 2: The Lake, The Monastery, And The Existential Dread (aka, "Am I Becoming One With The Lake?")
- Morning (Lake Sevan Immersion): Woke up. Coffee (duh). Balcony. Lake view. Breathtaking. The silence… it's also deafening. St. Sevanavank monastery.
- Quirky Observation: The monastery cats here are ridiculously smug. They clearly know they live in a historically significant location. They're basically the royalty of Sevan.
- Afternoon (Monastery Exploration & Philosophical Crisis): The monastery itself is beautiful, obviously. The history is fascinating. But then you start thinking. About time. About how old things are. About impermanence. About the fact that you are, in the grand scheme of things, basically a speck of dust. Cue existential crisis. Needed more coffee. And maybe a stiff drink.
- Emotional Reaction: Standing at the top, overlooking the lake, I felt this wave of… everything. Joy, wonder, but also this crushing sense of insignificance. It's incredibly humbling, which is probably a good thing, right? Right?
- Evening (Dinner & Dark Thoughts): Found a dimly lit restaurant with the best khorovadz (grilled pork) ever. Ate it. Regretted not having a friend to share it with. Then back to my apartment, where I spent the rest of the night watching the lake and contemplating… well, pretty much everything. I think I may need therapy when I get back.
Day 3: Hiking (And Possible Wildlife Encounters) & Armenian Hospitality (aka, "I Didn't Die! Success.")
- Morning (Prepared for Disaster - The Hike): I decided, against my better judgment, to hike up to a viewpoint. Packing list: water bottle (essential), a slightly-too-small backpack, and an unwavering belief that I wouldn't get eaten by a bear. I still have no idea if Armenia has bears!
- Afternoon (Hiking & Potential Death - The Hike Happened): The hike was… a hike. Up. Mostly up. My legs, which I had previously considered to be "functioning," were suddenly screaming in protest. The views, admittedly, were worth the agony. Even though I almost face-planted a couple of times.
- Imperfection Alert: I tripped over a rock. It happens. I may have let out a small "Oh, bugger!"
- Evening (More Food & Armenian Kindness): Ended up getting hopelessly lost on the way back down, wandering around farmland, where I was welcomed by a family who immediately poured me wine, gave me fresh bread, and tried to explain (very enthusiastically, in Armenian) where I was on a map. It was the sweetest, most awkward, beautiful thing. They wouldn’t let me leave without sharing their lavash (thin bread). I was truly stuffed. Slept like a (slightly bruised) log.
Day 4: Sevan's Secret Gems & The Art of Doing Nothing (aka, "Embracing the Empty Space")
- Morning (Wandering off the Path): Slept in till mid-morning. The apartment now resembles a small bomb site. Went exploring… no concrete plans. Wandered along the shoreline, which was surprisingly pebbly. Sat and watched the waves. Took a nap on a rock.
- Afternoon (The Art of Doing Nothing): Embraced the "doing nothing" approach. Sat on my balcony and read a book. Drank coffee. Watched the clouds. Had a profound conversation with a cat (who mostly ignored me).
- Stronger Emotional Reaction: It felt good. It felt really good. Like my brain was finally defragging itself. I felt… calm. And maybe, just maybe, I was actually starting to enjoy my own company.
- Evening (Dinner & The Lake's Whisper): Another simple dinner, and then back to the balcony. The lake at night is something else. It's dark, silent, and the stars… oh, the stars. They're so bright, and they seem to be whispering secrets I can't quite understand.
Day 5: Departure (And Possibly a Lifetime of Lake Sevan Nostalgia) – aka, "Goodbye, Beige Walls! I'll Miss You (Maybe).
- Morning (Packing & Panicking): Woke. Regretted not buying extra Armenian coffee. Packed my bag. Tried to figure out how to close a suitcase without sitting on it. The usual pre-departure chaos.
- Afternoon (Last Glimpses & Goodbyes): One last look at the lake. A final breath of fresh (ish) air. A quiet farewell to the beige apartment walls (yes, I'll miss them. Maybe. Probably not).
- Opinionated Language: This trip wasn't perfect. There were moments of existential dread, moments of sheer incompetence, and far too much beige. But it was… real. It was messy. It was honest. And it was exactly what I needed.
- Evening (Departure & Dreams of Lavash): Off to the airport. Already planning my return. Not sure when. But. It’s on the to-do list.
What's the *deal* with… you know… stuff? (Ugh, sorry, that’s vague. But bear with me.)
Oh, *stuff*. The existential weight of it all. Look, I’ve spent entire afternoons staring into the middle distance, trying to figure out *what the point is*. Is "stuff" just the pile of laundry mocking me from the corner of my bedroom? Is it the crushing pressure of... *expectations*? I think a big part of "stuff" is the accumulation of, well, *experiences*. That trip to Italy I dreamed of FOR YEARS? It was *glorious*, absolutely drenched in sunshine and pasta... and then I got horribly, debilitatingly sick with food poisoning a day before I left. Worth it? Maybe. Ask me again after I've finished puking from thinking about it. The point here I suppose is that stuff is just... *there*. It’s messy, unpredictable, and sometimes, it smells faintly of regret (and bad spaghetti sauce).
So, how do you *deal* with… all the stuff? Is there a secret? *Please* tell me there's a secret.
The biggest secret? There IS NO SECRET. Believe me, if there was a mystical incantation to perfectly manage "stuff", I'd be chanting it right now. Truthfully? I wing it. I embrace the chaos. I’m a master of the "fake it 'til you make it" philosophy. My apartment is currently a biohazard zone of half-finished projects and dust bunnies the size of small mammals. It's…a vibe.
Sometimes, I'll try to actually do things. Like, last week, I decided to get my life together via bullet journaling. Looked so Pinterest-perfect! I spent like, a half hour carefully drawing little boxes and dots. Then I realised that it takes a LOT of time, and I only used it two days. Maybe I need to find a different "secret".
What about relationships? Are those "stuff" too? (Ugh, I'm doing it again, being vague!)
Oh, absolutely. Relationships are the biggest, messiest, most beautiful, and sometimes, most infuriating "stuff" there is. Take my Aunt Mildred. Bless her heart, she's well-meaning, but she is the Queen of unsolicited advice. She once told me – *mid-bite* – that my hairstyle made me look "like a startled poodle." I was devastated! But then, two seconds later, she was telling me a hilarious story about her own dating life that made me laugh so hard I nearly choked on my tea. Relationships are complicated. They’re about connection, empathy…and sometimes, wanting to hide in a closet. It's a wild rollercoaster of joy, frustration, and the occasional passive-aggressive text.
Okay, let’s talk about *failure*. Because I’m guessing you've had a few… experiences?
Failure? Honey, that's my *specialty*. I'm practically writing a PhD in the subject! Let's see… there was the time I tried to learn how to bake artisanal bread (ended up with bricks). The time I tried to knit a scarf (turned into a tangled mess that vaguely resembled a mutant caterpillar). The disastrous attempt at a pottery class where I managed to create something that looked… well, let's just say it's not suitable for the Louvre. It was about a year ago; it was my cousin's birthday, and I decided to make her a cake. I found this intricate recipe online, and I was *determined* to pull it off. I spent an entire day baking. The cake. It looked good at first! Then, disaster struck! It *split* in the middle. It was like the earth had opened up! I tried to cover it with frosting, but that just made it worse. It was the most hideous, structurally unsound, inedible cake I have ever seen in my life. I burst into tears. I think it was a mixture of frustration at myself, and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. The worst part? My cousin *loved* it. She said it was the most memorable birthday cake she'd ever had. Go figure!
What about things that make you *happy*? Don't tell me it's all doom and gloom!
Oh, sweet relief! Yes, yes, there's joy! There's… coffee. *God bless coffee.* A good book. My dog (who also contributes to the general chaos, but in the cutest possible way). Sunsets. Finding money in an old coat pocket. The feeling of accomplishment after *finally* cleaning the kitchen (which lasts about five minutes, but still!). And honestly? Sometimes, just the simple act of laughing, without any good reason, *that* brings me huge joy. When all the mess and problems seem to get too much, I just sit down, drink a coffee, and laugh!
Okay, so you're kind of a mess, right? And is there anything to be said about that?
Guilty as charged! I am, without a doubt, a beautiful disaster. And you know what? I'm starting to think that's…okay. Because life *is* messy. It's awkward, it's uncertain, and it's often ridiculously hilarious. It's about embracing the imperfections, the screw-ups, and the moments where you just want to scream (or cry, or both). It’s about finding the humor in the chaos, the love in the mess, and the strength to keep going, even when you’re pretty sure you’re failing miserably. So yeah, I'm a mess. But I'm *my* mess, and I wouldn't trade it for a perfectly organized life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a mountain of laundry to (pretend to) conquer…and maybe, just *maybe*, attempt to bake a slightly less disastrous cake. (Wish me luck, I'll need it!)
