Travel brochures don't always give you the real story. They're written wearing rose-tinted glasses, laced with euphemisms and peppered with jargon to catch out even the savviest of travellers. To save you from disappointment, we've decoded some of travel's most common advertising tropes.

If you're told the hotel is a "stone’s throw" from the beach, the nearest bar or the bustling capital, best double-check the map. In almost all cases, you’d need an Olympic-worthy throwing arm for this statement to ring true. It likely translates as "close, but not as close as you might hope."

This hotel is far away from everything. Days will pass without sight of a single car, and you’ll need to shell out for two buses or a taxi to reach the nearest town. There’s nothing left to do but indulge the peace and quiet, and rue the day you opted for “half board” over “all inclusive”. The same applies to “secluded”, or any place that is “tucked away” or “nestled” anywhere.

This is a thinly disguised way of saying the area is miles from the centre of town with few attractions of interest. Expect a smattering of hipster-friendly cafés, some shipping containers serving street food and an hour’s bus ride to the stuff you came to see.

See “conveniently located”, read “noisy”. Whether your bed is rattled by the sound of planes overhead or you’re kept awake by the drunken yodelling of pie-eyed party goers, most would swap a little extra “convenience” for a good night’s sleep.

This is a cryptic way of saying “there’s very little to do here – in fact, you’ll probably struggle to find a decent cup of coffee.” While an hour wandering the cobbled alleyways of a “sleepy” town may seem idyllic at first, you’ll likely be itching to get back on the tour bus in no time.

“Cosy” is common code for small. The bed will take up the room's entire expanse and you'll be able to touch opposing walls with your arms outstretched. Stow your case in the en suite to maximise space and, in future, beware of this word, and “compact”, “intimate” and “snug” too.

...and enjoy the extra price tag, too. The sea views so boldly advertised in hotel brochures rarely come for free. Shell out the surplus pennies or spend your week looking onto a car park or the opposite hotel block.

You'll need not enter the pool for a dip (you’ll be soaked by the spray from cannon-balling children), and boldly striped beach balls will be flying every which way. The night’s entertainment will be punctuated by the sound of crying, and you’ll trip over buggies on your way to the morning buffet. If you’re not bringing along little ones yourself, think twice before booking.

Most brochures use the phrase “all inclusive” awfully loosely. What’s “inclusive” is usually tepid beer, a questionable buffet and cocktails that are one part sugar, one part water and one (much lesser) part cheap booze. The nice-looking à la carte restaurants on site will be excluded from the price of your package, as will that relaxing spa treatment you’d been looking forward to.

You’ll see your buoyant rep waltzing around the hotel lobby for most of your holiday – and they’ll insist they can accommodate your every whim. But when you need them most, there’ll be a cheerful plaque announcing their absence perched on their desk. You’ll not see them for the rest of your trip.

If you see this on a tour company website, you can relax: expect to see a series of crumbling sites evocative of a bygone era. If you see this in a hotel brochure, beware: it may well be a hint that the hotel hasn’t seen a lick of paint in 10 years.

When spotted on a hotel’s website, this throws everything else into doubt. An alternative reading may be as follows: “The decor is dated, the buffet is bland and you’ll be miles from any amenities. But you’ll have a nice lake/beach/mountain to look at, so no need to worry about the rest.”

When it comes to tours, “jam-packed” usually equals overstuffed. You’ll be ferried between a string of sights and be given a long-winded explanation of each one, before a harried guide bundles you back onto the bus. The sites will be inevitably blur into one, and you’ll collapse in your hotel room at the end of the day tired, tense and none the wiser.

It has to be said: in some places, the track is beaten for a reason. While overtourism is a very real problem, and you may well gain something from going beyond the obvious, it’s worth doing your research before you get sucked in. Otherwise your vision of exploring somewhere underrated and little-touristed could manifest itself as a train of random locations that give you little insight into the destination. 

When read on a tour website, “private” scarcely means what it does in day-to-day use. On a “private” transfer, you’ll find yourself elbow-to-elbow with a group of fellow tourists you met just that morning. You’ll pass pleasantries about the weather, while privately lamenting the lack of air con, the sticky leather seats and the two-hour drive ahead.

“Scenic” in this context could mean one of two things. Scenario one: you embark on a picturesque journey where the countryside spools out before you. Option two: you endure a white-knuckle ride along a road carved into a mountainside and you spend the entire time praying for your life.

Guides are duty bound to showcase the best of their destination, and any “free time” on a tour is given sparingly and begrudgingly. It usually equates to about 45 minutes, during which time you must not stray beyond a given radius. You’ll normally spend it circling the same main square. You’ll then hurriedly purchase a trinket before rushing back to avoid the wrath of your tightly-wound tour guide.

You can cipher “low-key” as quiet. A few drifting punters will prop up the bar, which is otherwise dotted with empty pews and bored staff. Come for a swift half if you’re keen for some quiet, but otherwise think twice.

Sometimes, of course, the places advertised in your brochure as local favourites truly are just that. Other times visitors desperate to rub shoulders with residents fall foul of a marketing ploy specifically designed to get them through the door. Do some research before you go, and check out our tips for travelling like a local. 

Most people planning a beach escape have visions of a golden crescent lapped by gentle blue waves. The travel brochure will do everything it can to conjure that ideal – so, if it mentions shingle, you best believe there’s shingle. A tiny slither of sand will likely give way to vast stoney strips, so make sure you pack some beach shoes.

Airlines often play it fast and loose with the word “free” too. Your complimentary on-board wi-fi will likely last a maximum of 30 minutes, at which point you’ll need to pay a fair-sized fee to continue your usage. Best tune in to an in-flight movie instead.

Unless you pay the big bucks, it’s unlikely your legroom offering will be truly "generous". Sure, if advertised as such, the space may be so ample that your knees are not tickling your chin – but don’t be disappointed if they're still pretty close to the seat in front.

Most in-flight menus stretch to some form of pasta pot and a chicken club sandwich. If a menu is described as “extensive” it may well mean it’s a little lengthier than most, but don’t expect to be spoilt for choice. You're 40,000 feet in the air, after all.

“Low season” can sometimes mean “no season”. Depending on the destination, you could be in for changeable weather, reduced hotel staff and closed attractions. If you pick the right place, though, savvy travellers can find great off-peak deals – just make sure you do some digging before you book.

This is a travel brochure favourite. But at certain times of year, a destination may be more sun-scorched than sun-kissed, and you may spend your holiday hiding in your hotel room rather than basking on the beach. Don’t rely on brochures to give you the local forecast – check the weather before you book and make sure you pack appropriately.