Villor i Treasure Island

"If you’re dreaming of a warm Fijian welcome, look elsewhere — this hotel offers the hospitality of a haunted house and the organizational skills of a damp paper bag. We arranged in advance for an airport pickup. They didn’t show. Not even fashionably late — just vanished. After several increasingly desperate calls, someone eventually rolled up, nonchalant and unapologetic. Upon arrival: no one at reception. It felt less like checking into a hotel and more like trespassing in an abandoned office building. The rooms? A tribute to incompletion. Beds half-made, pillows AWOL, and towels… stained. Not “oops” stains — cryptic, forensic-lab-level blotches. We considered using our shirts to dry off. Then came breakfast. A few limp slices of toast, coffee that tasted like it had lost the will to live, and a fruit selection you could fit in a shirt pocket. It was less of a meal, more of a dare. We were woken before 8 a.m. by chainsaws, presumably landscaping the massive power plant with oil tanks right next door — a relaxing industrial soundtrack to match the rest of the stay. Perfect for fans of mystery stains, foodless mornings, and the creeping sense that no one actually works here. Otherwise, spend your money somewhere that remembers it’s in the hospitality industry."