The Travel Critic

It’s a bit like popping on “The Godfather” for the tenth time—still brilliant, still a masterpiece—but suddenly, you catch sight of the wobbling sets, the lines that don’t quite land, the ageing veneer. That’s how it felt returning to The Park Hyatt Abu Dhabi this time. My wife and I have spent more nights here than I can count, often as a reprieve from the gloom of British weather. It’s a place that made us fall for Abu Dhabi—the calm elegance of Saadiyat Island contrasting with the glitz of Yas and the Corniche’s forgettable offerings. But this time, it felt like revisiting a favourite movie that hasn’t aged well.

Once, this was an escape, a sanctuary—discreet, sophisticated, a hidden gem. Now, with the island blossoming in developments, it’s less secret, less special. But that’s not the problem. The issue is that the hotel itself is starting to flag, like a racehorse losing steam in the final stretch.

We arrive to find the dining options severely curtailed. The Beach House, once the hotel’s signature experience, is closed. No other restaurant has ever quite captured that magic—its casual chicness, overlooking the serene beach, was what set this hotel apart. Without it, the charm is diminished, like a Michelin-starred meal without dessert.

Breakfast, too, has devolved into a scrum. Where it used to feel like a leisurely indulgence, now it’s more like a cattle market. Tiny spaces to grab your pastries, coffee orders delayed or wrong altogether. Overflow seating spills out into the lower lobby—a sort of purgatory for unlucky diners, reminiscent of hospital beds in a corridor. No one’s happy to be there.

Then there are the cosmetic issues. Palm trees chopped down by the pool, leaving red sheeting to cover the stumps like hasty bandages. Mud and sand encroaching on the poolside area, clinging to your feet, tracking onto the sunbeds. The pool tiles, more grout than tile, remind me of my own ill-fated attempts at DIY before I called in a professional. Rust clings to the ironwork, the paintwork is tired. This place just needs a serious dose of TLC.

The rooms—well, we started in a golf course view room on floor two, but the reality was more like a roof-and-building-site view. After some back-and-forth, I gave in and paid to upgrade to a sea view. The rooms are still well designed, but starting to show their age. There’s a slight lack of the modern functionality you get from newer properties.

Even the gym, which was once top-tier, is starting to feel a bit dated. Some machines are out of order, though, to be fair, it’s still a very good gym by hotel standards. But over the weekend, the service slipped, as if the hotel just couldn’t handle the increased volume. Drinks not arriving with meals by the pool—just sloppy, really.

And yes, it’s the low season, so maybe some slack could be cut. But the place was ramping up, with sunbeds in short supply, which left me thinking: you’re either open, or you’re not. Make up your mind.

I think this might be my last stay here, at least for a while. Like that favourite movie that’s been replayed too many times, I’d rather remember it in its prime.