Coming here again in the spring, this inn remains the highlight of my trip.
Imagine having had a rough trip: the cold, intense population density, and tough business meetings. Weary, you get off a late flight with sore legs. You trudge over to the inn, turning the final corner into its warm lights, past the usual check-in time. You have no idea how things could go; some hotel receptions can be rather unpleasant. Your first brush with Xishu is its simple double glass doors, and the sight of a giant panda statue. You totter past it gingerly, unsure if anyone is awake at such a late hour.
Ah.
But someone is.
A youthful girl smiles gently at you over the counter, ”Hello. Check in?”
You smile awkwardly, unsure, ”Yes, I know it's late...”
”No,” She responds softly, ”It's ok. Could I get your passport?”
There wasn't a fuss. She smiles and gets to work quietly, clicking away. You set your luggage down and look around. Behind you, you notice the little courtyard, a cultural icon of traditional chinese architecture. A small fountain sputters, fairy lights are strung above for the spring festival, casting a surreal ambience over everything. Wind chimes jingle faintly. You draw a breath at it all. Small tables and chairs are laid out, welcoming you.
”Your room key,” You turn around to see the youthful girl at the counter smiling gently with a keycard. She briefs you in the same calming tone; wifi, breakfast, washing machines, and even a map of attractions all planned out.
You thank her, reminded of your travel fatigue, and head on up. Your footsteps are dampened by carpet, going in hallways of soothing chinese wooden interior designs. The inn is quiet at this hour, unlike the large hotels that have kids or travel groups. You tap your keycard to get in your room... And a small welcome basket awaits you. Apples and oranges, sweets, tiny little spicy sichuan snacks. The aesthetic of the room remains faithful to the inn, throwing you back down the memory lane... to Japanese ryokans, to Bali's traditional guest villas, or to vacation cottages in Europe.
But something is a little different.
Instead of stripping technology and modern convenience, this inn has woven it into its design. Air conditioning has been set for you. Smart toilet seats detect your presence and keep itself clean. Shower buttons are easy to understand, with a single easily controllable hot water lever. Even the mirror at the bathroom sink detects your presence and lights up, with a heating coil that prevents it from fogging on mornings.
You wash up.
Sleep.
The next day, you wake for breakfast, barely after the sun had broken the steel gray of dawn, now you witness the inn's courtyard in the day. Nobody is seated outside yet in such low temperatures, but you take a moment to look around and just soak in the ambience.
Uninterrupted.
When you finally turn towards reception, you notice a pair youthful girls at the counter. Both quietly smiling and unassuming. Calming, instead of the forced professionalism at other hotels.
There's something real here. A sincerity. A genuine kindness that permeates, perhaps from proximity to the monastery? Perhaps the unique historic district? Perhaps the owner and managers made it this way.
The girls check your breakfast options again, in case you might have changed your mind. You totter into the resturant, barely awake, but a fresh cup of nespresso hits you quickly, a familiar aroma from home in a land 12,000km away from home.
And then fruits.
Milk.
Toast bread.
Butter!
Sichuan noodles in the morning.
Exotic dumplings.
Eggs sunny side up.
By the time breakfast is done, you know you will be returning here again.
And again.
I have.
I've made friends with the hotel staff.
I hope you will too.
And if you love the people and place as much as I do, I hope you, too, will give it your best shot.
If you've read this far, I hope we meet in this distant land.
Some day.
