Trading lie-ins for lessons and cocktails for competition, two forty-somethings attempt to master tennis: proving that learning something new is far more fun when there’s five-star luxury waiting courtside.
There’s something deeply humbling about attempting to learn a new skill in your forties. Particularly when that skill involves coordination, stamina, and the kind of optimism usually reserved for people under the age of twenty-five. And yet, there I was, standing under the Cypriot sun, racket in hand, attempting (and I use that word generously) to return a tennis ball with something resembling grace.
Spoiler: grace did not make an appearance.
But let me take you back to the beginning, because like all good stories, this one doesn’t start on the court. It starts somewhere far more indulgent: wrapped in soft linens, bathed in luxury, and accompanied by the quiet thrill of knowing you’ve chosen very, very well.
Waking up somewhere extraordinary
There are hotels, and then there are places that feel like a destination in their own right. City of Dreams Mediterranean is unapologetically the latter.
From the moment we arrived, it felt less like Europe and more like we’d accidentally boarded a flight to Dubai, minus the jet lag, the long-haul exhaustion, and the existential crisis somewhere over the Gulf. Everything here is bigger, shinier, and just that little bit more indulgent than you expect on this side of the world.
We quite literally gasped as we stepped into the grand foyer: pristine marble underfoot, the casino glittering just beyond, and smiling staff ready to welcome us in. The air was softly scented, carrying with it an unmistakable sense of excitement.
Our suite was, quite frankly, ridiculous in the best possible way. A vast bed dressed in impossibly crisp linens, floor-to-ceiling windows letting the Cypriot light flood in, and a bathroom so beautifully designed it deserved its own postcode. Think indulgent toiletries, a deep soaking tub, and that rare, elusive hotel luxury: space to actually breathe. The suite is as intuitive as it is indulgent: coffee machine at the ready for slow mornings, curtains and blinds gliding open at the touch of a button, even the glass wall between bathroom and bedroom transforming at your command. And with generous wardrobe space throughout, there’s ample room for every outfit a stay this glamorous quietly demands.
The idea (that seemed like a good one at the time)
This trip, however, was not just about reclining elegantly and ordering room service (although, for the record, we did excel at both). The premise was simple: a girls’ getaway with a twist. Instead of just indulging, we would learn something new.
Enter tennis.
Now, I should clarify: I have not played tennis since school. And even then, “played” is a generous interpretation of events. My friend, equally optimistic and equally unqualified, agreed that this was exactly the kind of wholesome, empowering activity we should embrace. Because nothing says “women thriving in their forties” quite like willingly signing up to be mildly humiliated in sportswear.
Meeting a legend
Before we even set foot on the court, we had the privilege of sitting down with Marcos Baghdatis, former world number eight and, as it turns out, one of the most genuinely passionate advocates for the sport you could hope to meet.
There’s something rather surreal about discussing your impending tennis lesson with someone who has played at the highest level of the game. I felt a bit like I should apologise in advance.
Marcos spoke about tennis not just as a sport, but as something deeply personal: something that builds resilience, discipline, and, perhaps most importantly, joy. Alongside his wife, former tennis pro, Karolina Sprem, the pair have built a world-class academy within the City of Dreams, providing lessons for locals and guests alike.
This isn’t just about creating professionals; it’s about creating experiences. About giving people, of all ages and abilities, the opportunity to try, to learn, and, occasionally, to laugh at themselves. Which, as it turned out, was very much going to be our contribution.
The lesson (or: a lesson in humility)
The City of Dreams’ courts themselves are immaculate. Set against that endlessly blue Cypriot sky, they look like the kind of place where serious things happen. Where people with toned arms and impressive backhands gather to perfect their craft. And then there was us.
Within approximately three minutes, it became clear that our strategy, if one could call it that, was less “refined technique” and more “wild optimism”. Balls were missed entirely. Swung at with enthusiasm but little accuracy. Occasionally, and quite accidentally, returned.
There is a particular kind of laughter that comes from shared incompetence. The kind that bubbles up uncontrollably, dissolving any lingering self-consciousness. And somewhere between the missed shots and the triumphant (if rare) connections, we realised that this was, in fact, the entire point. Not perfection. Not progress, even. Just the joy of trying, at a beautiful hotel, in the Cypriot sunshine.
Our instructor, displaying the patience of a saint, gently guided us through the basics. Footwork, positioning, timing: concepts that sounded entirely reasonable until we attempted to execute them. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, something shifted. A shot landed. A rally lasted longer than three seconds. A flicker of competence emerged.
Briefly.
Recovery, the luxurious way
Naturally, such athletic exertion required immediate and significant recovery. This is where City of Dreams truly comes into its own. Because if you are going to attempt sport in your forties, it is only right that you reward yourself as if you’ve just completed Wimbledon.
Heading into the spa, I opted for a hot stone massage, where every trace of effort from the court quietly melted away under warm, practiced hands. It was the kind of treatment that slows everything down, leaving you floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. And just when you think it couldn’t get any better, you return to your suite, sink into that deep bath, wrap yourself in a robe, and let the relaxation linger just a little longer.
We ordered drinks. We lay on the bed. We replayed our finest (and by finest, I mean least disastrous) moments. And we agreed, unanimously, that we had earned dinner.
High stakes Glam
Before dinner, however, there was the small matter of the casino. Dazzlingly enticing, the air alive with possibility, there was no way we could walk on by. Now, I am not, by nature, a gambler. I like my money where I can see it, ideally on my plate or in my wardrobe, but there is something undeniably alluring about a casino. The lights, the energy, the quiet suggestion that, just maybe, you might leave richer than you arrived.
Reader, we did not.
We approached the tables with the kind of misplaced confidence usually reserved for people who have watched a single YouTube tutorial and believe themselves experts. There were moments: brief, glittering moments, where it seemed as though luck might be on our side. And then, just as swiftly, it wasn’t.
What followed was a masterclass in how to lose money gracefully. Or at the very least, how to laugh while doing it. Because if you can’t win, you might as well be entertaining.
We left the casino lighter in wallet but richer in anecdote, which, when you think about it, is really the only kind of exchange that matters on a trip like this.
Dinner worth dressing up for
Thankfully, redemption came in the form of one of the hotel’s standout experiences: Prime Steakhouse, complete with a well-stocked whisky bar.
One of several fine dining restaurants on site, Prime Steakhouse is the jewel in the epicurean crown at City of Dreams. The atmosphere struck that perfect balance: elegant without being intimidating, lively without being overwhelming. The kind of space where you instinctively sit up a little straighter, order a slightly better wine, and feel entirely justified in doing so.
The steak, quite simply, was exceptional. Cooked to perfection, rich in flavour, and accompanied by sides that deserved just as much attention: macaroni cheese, truffle fries, all the good stuff. And then there was the whisky bar: an impressive collection that invited exploration, even for those of us who are usually more inclined towards something sparkling.
We lingered longer than planned, as one does in places like this. Conversations stretched, laughter softened, and the day’s earlier chaos on the tennis court felt like a distant, delightful memory.
The luxury of doing something new
There is a particular kind of luxury that goes beyond thread counts and sleek bathrooms, although, for the record, those are very much present here. It’s the luxury of time. Of space. Of giving yourself permission to try something new without expectation. In your twenties, you chase experiences with a kind of urgency. In your thirties, perhaps with a little more intention. But in your forties, there’s a quiet confidence in choosing experiences simply because they bring you joy, even if you’re not particularly good at them.
Especially, perhaps, if you’re not particularly good at them.
Learning tennis at City of Dreams Mediterranean was never really about tennis. It was about stepping slightly outside of the familiar. About embracing the awkwardness, the laughter, the shared moments of “did that really just happen?” And then, crucially, about retreating back into a world of exceptional comfort, where every mis-hit ball is forgiven by a perfect meal, a beautiful room, and the knowledge that tomorrow, you can do it all again if you wish.
City of Dreams: A destination that delivers more
What makes this place truly special is its ability to offer both ends of the spectrum. The energy of the casino, the discipline of the tennis courts, the indulgence of the restaurants, and the quiet luxury of the rooms, all coexisting seamlessly. It’s rare to find somewhere that feels this complete. That caters equally to those seeking activity and those seeking absolute relaxation. And rarer still to find it within a relatively short flight from the UK.
Dubai has long held the crown for this kind of opulent escape. But here, in Cyprus, is something that feels just as polished, just as indulgent, yet infinitely more accessible.
Leaving (reluctantly, of course)
On our final morning at City of Dreams, I found myself lingering just a little longer. Another coffee on the balcony. Another peek out of those expansive windows. Another moment of pretending this was, in fact, my everyday life.
We spoke, as you do, about what we’d take away from the trip. The luxury, certainly. The food, without question. The casino losses, inevitably. But more than anything, it was that hour on the tennis court. The laughter, the effort, the complete and utter lack of dignity. Because sometimes, the best kind of getaway isn’t just about where you go, but about what you allow yourself to try while you’re there.
Even if your backhand needs a little work.
Fact Box
Where: City of Dreams Mediterranean
Location: Just outside Limassol on the southern coast of Cyprus, around 40 minutes from Larnaca International Airport.
Stay: Spacious, ultra-luxurious rooms and suites with floor-to-ceiling windows, plush bedding, and decadent bathrooms designed for serious unwinding.
Vibe: Think Dubai-level glamour meets Mediterranean ease: slick, indulgent, but with a laid-back Cypriot warmth.
Do:
- Take a lesson at the on-site tennis academy.
- Try your luck in the resort’s impressive casino
- Lounge by the pool or retreat to the spa for some well-earned recovery
Eat & Drink:
- A standout steak restaurant paired with an exceptional whisky bar
- Multiple dining options covering everything from casual bites to elevated fine dining
Why go: For a sunshine escape that blends high-end luxury with experiences, whether that’s learning something new, indulging a little too much, or both.
Best for: Girls’ getaways, couples, and anyone wanting a five-star experience without the long-haul flight.
Rooms from: As of March 2026, City of Dreams Mediterranean (Cyprus) offers 5-star packages starting around £835 for 4 nights (B&B)
Book: cityofdreamsmed.com.cy
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