It’s a formula that has been successful elsewhere. City of Dreams Mediterranean follows hot on the high-kicking heels of outposts in Macau and the Philippines, all owned by China’s only-slightly-Bond-villain-sounding Melco Resorts. The idea is that you never need to leave the resort, as it has all the pools, bars, restaurants, retail, glitzy evening entertainment, kidsy daytime activities and, yes, gambling, that you could want right there on site. (The nearest beach, Lady’s Mile, is fractionally too far to walk to.)
This particular edition boasts proudly that it’s “equivalent to the size of the Vatican City” (handy if the Pope fancies a house swap for his next holiday), that its conference facilities have a ceiling “equivalent to the height of two African giraffes” (handy if International Piggyback Animals Expo 2024 is still looking for a venue), and that its “gaming area is slightly larger in size than a Fifa World Cup football pitch” (handy if Fifa decides to play the next one indoors, on carpet, surrounded by gambling tables — to be fair, not impossible).
Wrest yourself from the roulette wheel, though, and you’ve got a very nice hotel to not quite get around to leaving. My room, on the seventh of 14 ziggurat-like floors, has horizon-wide views over the Akrotiri peninsula and its vast blue-lagoon-look salt lake, which shimmers in the heat haze in late spring, dries to a dazzling white in summer, and attracts brilliant-pink flamingos in winter. Inside, the room is light and airy, the decor muted and neutral in that pleasingly understated way that expensive hotels often aim for but don’t always pull off.
All that seems rather to emphasise the village-sized Vegas awaiting me downstairs every time I leave my room, the Walking Dead and Mad Max: Thunder Road-themed slot machines forever flashing and bleeping. But perhaps that contrast is the point. “We want guests to be able to chill but also thrill,” the director of marketing explains to me. “It’s about stimulation as well as sedation. You can be your Jekyll or your Hyde.” That, I think, could be quite an attractive proposition (though I am less convinced by the other strand of the resort’s philosophy he offers: “Why buy a $20 bottle of wine when you could buy a $200 one?”; most of the wine list is actually between £25 and £60).
You’d need to juggle your Jekyll-to-Hyde handover fairly carefully too, with some parts of the property keeping Hyde hours (the casino is active 24/7) and other parts a notch more Jekyll (breakfast finishes at a rather parsimonious 10am, which is annoying as I’m woken just in time to miss it each morning by “chillout” pop beats from the pool bar).
There are other elements Mr Hyde might struggle with: an “innovative myofascial massage with guasha natcare onyx [for] firmer and more radiant skin” at the splendid spa, for instance; or some slightly odd rules around the casino. Here, smoking is allowed (it smells like it too); gambling while under the influence of alcohol is allowed; ripped denim shorts are allowed; knock-off nylon sportswear is allowed . . . but turn up in even the poshest sandals and you’ll be turned firmly away. Which wouldn’t matter, but with the casino so central — both figuratively and literally — to the resort, I find myself unable to get to my lunch reservation (outside, on a lovely sun-washed terrace, in 30C heat) because no one can show me a route to the restaurant that doesn’t involve the casino and my footwear is displaying a dangerously provocative flash of toe.
When I do get to eat, I see that the gambling theme has been accidentally extended to the resort’s eight restaurants and bars: sometimes I hit the jackpot, other times not so much. At the Med-themed Oléa I lunch on soft-shell crab in a darkly magnificent squid-ink batter, along with a Cypriot rosé the colour of the island’s six o’clock sunshine, and the combination imbues the whole afternoon with the liquid-rose-gold light of perfect contentment (mains at all the resort’s restaurants start at about £16). Later, at Center Stage, my not-bad burger is served with a side of stale smoke and industrial air freshener wafting from the adjoining casino, and my seventh-choice drink, because so few of the beers, wines or even “signature cocktails” listed on the menu are actually available.
This may be because I’m visiting during the hotel’s “soft launch” phase — the big open is on July 10, when all of Cyprus, from the president down, will gather on the property’s (artificial grass) “event lawn” — so it would be unfair to dwell on a couple of little rough edges here and there, especially on a staff of 3,500, which apparently makes City of Dreams Cyprus’s second-largest employer after the government. But at the Asian-fusion Amber Dragon, the resort’s premium restaurant, the set of dishes I order — scallop dumplings with golden caviar dim sum; roasted honey-glazed iberico pork — bears so little resemblance to the set of dishes that eventually arrives that I rename it “Amber Gambler”. And, worse, I can’t find a single table that is out of earshot of the casino, its DJs and dancing girls.
Outside, things are a bit more peaceful — Edenic, even, in places, thanks to 130,000 newly planted trees and shrubs. Palm fronds sway like cheerful drunks in the breeze; blue and white agapanthus lend a Greek-island colour scheme; rosemary scents the evening air and makes my mouth water for the melty lamb kleftikos Cyprus does so well; oleander adds a stately, shapely grace notably missing from the patrons here.
The clientele is currently heavily gambling-focused, heavily Israeli — because it’s to here they travel from Israel, where gambling is illegal — and heavily . . . heavy. But the owners are expecting British families and groups of friends to be a big market too.
The pool is a lovely, big, free-form number, with shallow ledges where you can park your lounger for a feet-in-the-water cool down, and a sole-satisfying soft-sand edge. Beyond it is a surf simulator, water slides, high ropes course, low ropes course, crazy golf, trampoline park, adventure playground and zip line coaster — the latter like a normal zip line but with bends in, so you can soar like a lark, wheel like a condor, swoop like an eagle and, in my case at least, giggle like a happy idiot. Some activities are free; you can play mini golf for £6 and the zip line is £21.
The facilities are amazing then. City of Dreams has thought of everything — even those who yearn for a bit of actual Cyprus, with a nice shady, blue-window-shuttered lane of shops (albeit mostly high-end fashion boutiques). Make the 15-minute cab ride to Limassol’s old centre, though, and the real thing is a beauty. Winding byways conceal Orthodox churches, ancient mosques, tavernas, bars and shisha joints; and the old port, although modernised, still hosts a fleet of pretty little wooden fishing boats whose skippers will sell you a wrigglingly fresh red mullet or two if you’re there by 8am.
I take a tour of the region that also includes Kolossi, a thrillingly “proper” medieval Crusader castle, complete with drawbridge and boiling-oil holes, and Kourion, an ancient Greek complex where the highlight is a 2nd-century-BC amphitheatre overlooking the Delft-blue Mediterranean. Here, 3,000-odd toga types would have watched comedy, drama and (later, under the Romans) animal fights, which is possibly the only type of amusement missing at City of Dreams.
When I get back to the resort, on stage beside the casino is a band playing the Jessie J song Price Tag (“It’s not about the money, money, money . . . Ain’t about the ker-ching, ker-ching, ker-ching”, they sing — without apparent irony — as the slot machines ker-ching).
If, for you, a holiday actually is all about the ker-ching, this really could be your City of Dreams. Word of warning, though: there may be an issue at check-out if you insist, as the song does, that “we’re paying with love tonight”. They prefer cash.
Ed Grenby was a guest of City of Dreams Mediterranean, which has an introductory offer of three nights’ B&B from £296 (cityofdreamsmed.com.cy), and Limassol Tourism Board, which can arrange tours of the region (limassoltourism.com)
1. Mountain walking
Experience two landscapes — the coast and the Troodos mountains — on a self-guided, two-centre walking holiday. Your first base is Neo Chorio, handy for the Adonis and Aphrodite nature trails and sweeping sea views. Base two, inland, is Kalopanayiotis, close to a trail around the peak of Mount Olympus (Cyprus has its own).
Details Seven nights’ B&B from £805pp, including car hire (inntravel.co.uk). Fly to Paphos or Larnaca
2. Village life
Set slightly inland in the south of the island, Annis House is a listed stone building updated for the 21st century and is a lovely spot to soak up the slow-lane atmosphere of Cypriot life. The house, with its lemon tree-planted courtyard, is two minutes’ walk from Kato Lefkara’s village square, and it’s an easy stroll to its sister village, Pano Lefkara. The Sunvil rep Angela is a fount of island knowledge.
Details Seven nights’ self-catering for six from £927pp, including flights and car hire (sunvil.co.uk)
3. Historical tour
Cyprus has always been a stepping stone between Europe and the Middle East; people that have shaped it include Assyrians and Persians, Greeks and Romans, Crusader knights and Ottoman sultans. Explore the archaeology and history of both south and north on a small-group tour with Professor Lloyd Llewellyn-Jones, chair of ancient history and Persian studies at Cardiff University. Accommodation is in four and five-star hotels in Paphos, Nicosia and a mountain village.
Details Eight nights’ B&B from £4,270pp, including flights, transfers and some extra meals; departs on June 3, 2024 (martinrandall.com)
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