A few weeks ago I was cursed with finding an issue of Israeli TimeOut magazine in some place the devil planted it. He obviously roofied me beforehand, which is why I can't even remember where I found the damn thing. Perhaps I wouldn't be so negative about TimeOut if they hadn't deleted my passionately-hatred-infused comment on their facebook wall.
Anyway TimeOut, you failed at your Kim Jong Il-ly (?) (RIP) antics because it turns out your followers would much rather read my crappy reviews of your abominable recommendations than look at pixelated pictures of badly decorated food. Long story short, the satanized copy of TimeOut that landed in my talons recommended that readers check out the "oasis of thermal spring activity" that is the Gaash Spa. Those were (almost) the exact words TimeOut used although I can no longer be sure since I drenched the copy in garlic and kerosene and threw it into Eyjafjallajokull. The utter trauma that followed my visit to this so-called "spa" induced bouts of literary paroxysms which resulted in the review below, posted here by popular demand of those who had the time to be warned before TimeOut pretended it never happened. Just remember: words are probably not enough.
Anyway TimeOut, you failed at your Kim Jong Il-ly (?) (RIP) antics because it turns out your followers would much rather read my crappy reviews of your abominable recommendations than look at pixelated pictures of badly decorated food. Long story short, the satanized copy of TimeOut that landed in my talons recommended that readers check out the "oasis of thermal spring activity" that is the Gaash Spa. Those were (almost) the exact words TimeOut used although I can no longer be sure since I drenched the copy in garlic and kerosene and threw it into Eyjafjallajokull. The utter trauma that followed my visit to this so-called "spa" induced bouts of literary paroxysms which resulted in the review below, posted here by popular demand of those who had the time to be warned before TimeOut pretended it never happened. Just remember: words are probably not enough.
Nov. 12, 2011. I don't know where else to write this so I'm going to help myself to this space.. In your last edition you recommended readers go to the Gaash Spa, with its thermal springs whatnot. I was looking forward to an awesome day of hangover marinating. and HOLY. SHIT. Does anyone go to these places before they get recommended? Timeout goes out to hotels, all sorts of upscale establishments--I think the cover of the next issue needs to feature an official apology for that recommendation, just for the sake of saving your reputation. I honestly refuse to believe that anyone could have gone to that place and not died from some flesh-eating disease and then written an ad for it in anything for anyone other than their worst enemy.
We arrived at the place and the first thing I saw was a manky towel on the floor covered in hair and dirt. Whatever. The further we ventured into this atrocity the more i felt the situation being morphed into some sort of horrible low-end communist sanatorium trip to hell. When we entered the actual "spa", I think I shat a chicken. In one sentence, they took a rural village in the middle of some third world country where people have no teeth or hygiene, multiplied it by 1000 in size and grossness, and crammed said people in a 10 meter pool. Oh and on top of that these hoards I mean HOARDS of people were consuming really gross food all over the place--including in the pool, on the massage chairs, etc. The air was so thin and disease-ridden that I was holding on to whatever oxygen molecules I think were caught in the creases of my sweater.
Anyway, the only way I can erase this memory from my head would be to get hit by a jumbo jet. I sincerely hope I was one of the very few who actually read that thing, but I BEG you please don't subject people to something like this again. It will take weeks of counselling before I'm ready to touch TimeOut again. You owe me a pint.
We arrived at the place and the first thing I saw was a manky towel on the floor covered in hair and dirt. Whatever. The further we ventured into this atrocity the more i felt the situation being morphed into some sort of horrible low-end communist sanatorium trip to hell. When we entered the actual "spa", I think I shat a chicken. In one sentence, they took a rural village in the middle of some third world country where people have no teeth or hygiene, multiplied it by 1000 in size and grossness, and crammed said people in a 10 meter pool. Oh and on top of that these hoards I mean HOARDS of people were consuming really gross food all over the place--including in the pool, on the massage chairs, etc. The air was so thin and disease-ridden that I was holding on to whatever oxygen molecules I think were caught in the creases of my sweater.
Anyway, the only way I can erase this memory from my head would be to get hit by a jumbo jet. I sincerely hope I was one of the very few who actually read that thing, but I BEG you please don't subject people to something like this again. It will take weeks of counselling before I'm ready to touch TimeOut again. You owe me a pint.
Because no camera could handle what I had witnessed without shattering into a million pieces, I am sans photographic evidence. However, I scoured corners of the innerwebs in search of something that could come close. Nothing did. Although something vaguely reminded me of that experience, sending shivers down my spine....
Be warned!
