Pine River
February 2025 •
1
This place is an absolute masterpiece of incompetence. If negative stars were possible, this dump would deserve them all. Let’s start with the reception and club car staff—truly the worst I’ve ever encountered. The receptionists look like they’re personally offended by your presence, barely acknowledge you, and answer in one-word grunts. Their facial expressions scream, “Why are you even here?” Maybe they should consider careers where they never interact with people—like working with machines. Or better yet, staying home. And the best part? They don’t even speak English! There’s no room telephone, so you’re forced to call them using your Russian number, and they will tell you to message them on WhatsApp, where they take their sweet time responding—probably after running it through Google Translate. The club car drivers? Just as bad. They scream across the resort at night like it’s a frat party, then show up with a three-wheel junker meant for hauling trash and expect us to sit in the back. When we hesitated, they insisted. So we got in—and the seat collapsed. My friend injured his knee, and when we asked for a proper club car, they mocked us with, “Huh? You comfortable now?” Stunning professionalism. And if you think the ride would at least be smooth? Think again. They drive like maniacs, hitting every bump at full speed. It’s less of a ride and more of a survival challenge. The cabin is beautiful, but privacy? Forget it. The entire front has no curtains, and people constantly walk by. It’s like living in a display case. Now, the restaurant. I wouldn’t feed this food to a stray dog. Everything we ordered smelled and tasted like it had been sitting out for days. Avoid at all costs. And don’t expect easy transportation. No taxis, no Yandex Go. You have to ask the reception for one, which takes forever. Grocery shopping? You’ll need to walk 15 minutes or wait 20 minutes for a taxi. When we finally returned with bags of food, we waited 40 minutes in the cold for a club car. Oh, and the “kitchen” is laughable. One tiny electric stove, a single pot, a frying pan, salt, pepper, a few coffee capsules, bottled water, and—get this—one lonely Coca-Cola. If you want to cook, you’ll need to buy everything yourself. To top it all off, the bathroom and even the river outside smells sewage. So much for “fresh air.” And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse—checkout. We waited 30 minutes for a club car, and when the driver finally arrived, he actually told me to carry my own luggage. Excuse me? That’s literally your job. The only good thing here? The housekeeping ladies. They are kind, hardworking, and the only reason this place hasn’t completely collapsed. If you still choose to come (which I don’t recommend), please tip them well. They deserve it—unlike everyone else here.