Dedicated adventure girl Olivia Palamountain is a devout hater of resort holidays. We packed her off for a stay in Sharm El Sheikh, where there is little else Call me contrary, but holidays that have been calculated to make life easier grind my gears. I’m the kind of person who enjoys the chaos of travel.
I want the freedom to roam, the chance encounter, the dodgy decision – after all, adversity on the road brings the laughs back home. Unsurprisingly, I would never, ever book a resort holiday. The Stepford Wives of the hospitality world, these controlled, manicured all-inclusive temples to indulgence are experts in what I don’t want.
From the groaning buffet spreads full of things that will never get eaten (nobody needs a chocolate fountain at breakfast) to the lazy buggy drives and the monotony of spontaneity-free days in ‘paradise’, even the tropical ones leave me chilly. It doesn’t help that resort life is all about ‘getting away from it all’ and I’m rubbish at relaxing. As my serene Greek housemate says: “You’re always doing something.
” Please, someone, show me how to lose myself at a resort where it’s impossible to get lost. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried. Travel writers are often beggars rather than choosers when it comes to their assignments, and while I’ve found myself at all-inclusives the world over, I have rarely come to a more generous conclusion.
The Four Seasons Sharm El Sheikh opened in the sprawling, purpose-built tourism destin.
