Hotel Insights for the Post-Pandemic Era

Over these three pandemic years, the biggest shift in travel consumption has been in habits.

When the pandemic first struck, we thought it would soon pass and everything would quickly return to normal.

But as three years slipped through our fingers, under the impetus of pandemic normalization, many consumption habits have undergone disruptive changes—some even irreversible.

As an observer and participant in the tourism industry, I believe that within every crisis there is not only danger but also opportunity. How to avoid the danger as much as possible, seize the opportunity, and even turn peril into promise has been my focus of study and reflection these past three years.

Take a brand I know well and love—the international icon Four Seasons Hotels. In 1991, after the Gulf War broke out, transatlantic air travel ground to a halt and the U.S. imposed business bans. Markets faced constant terrorism threats, and tourism was dragged to an all-time low. This ever-dominant hotel brand faced plummeting occupancy and massive layoffs. Yet just then, Four Seasons did not slash its advertising spend; instead, it bought up high-quality land at bargain prices and renovated old properties, leveraging its solid strength to achieve an overall brand upgrade.

How similar all this is to today. Right now, air transport is paralyzed, world trade is disrupted, markets may stall at any moment because of the pandemic—tourism is truly at its lowest point in history. As the global pandemic gradually eases, the tourism industry is poised to rebound. At this moment of impending growth and transformation, every move planned for the post-pandemic era becomes crucially important—every step is fraught with tension.

Hotel-serviced apartments that were once only available to long-stay residents or owners are now rapidly opening up to short-term guests. Not only can you find short-stay listings for many serviced apartments on Ctrip, but the booking process is just like a hotel room: enter your dates and you can browse and reserve. Hotels' own WeChat public accounts also vigorously promote short-stay apartment deals.

In the post-pandemic era, most travelers increasingly seek to avoid excessive contact with others. The social attributes hotels once took greatest pride in are being downplayed. When "contactless" becomes a rigid need, short-term rental services in serviced apartments become particularly attractive to customers.

Early this year I went to Guangzhou on business. Previously I would have chosen Rosewood Guangzhou, where exquisite and elegant rooms always evoke a feminine gentleness. This time I chose Rosewood Residences, because they were bookable on Ctrip, which made me curious about what would be different.

The Residences have 355 units, each with a private elevator. The elevator door opens onto a small foyer for that unit—you can change your shoes right there.

Service staff have a dedicated side door for delivering newspapers, food and beverages, and other services—all designed to put guests' privacy and undisturbed personal space first.

The room size is similar to a hotel room, but because it is brighter and more minimalist, it feels visually more spacious.

Every room has an open kitchen with a full set of cooking utensils. A bathtub is also standard. Most unexpected was the washing machine, tucked away in a discreet corner, not a hint of space wasted.

In my view, the floor-to-ceiling window views are better than those from the hotel rooms because the Residences are lower, offering a straight-on perspective of Canton Tower.

None of the hotel's other services are missing here, yet they're more personalized—for example, personalized lobby service, complimentary breakfast, afternoon tea, and drinks. Whenever you're hungry, you can drop by for snacks. The gym also has a dedicated rest area for apartment guests, and there are activities every day in the studio, offering residents more healthy lifestyle options.

As the country promotes pro-birth policies, family travel is set to become the main trend for domestic tourism in the future.

Although the hotel ecosystem appeared battered during the pandemic, occupancy rates at family-friendly hotels kept climbing, often reaching full capacity during holidays or weekends.

Again taking my Guangzhou trip early this year as an example: Guangzhou had just been downgraded from a risk area for barely two days when people who had been cooped up at home hastily packed up the family, loaded the car, and drove off for a nearby getaway. Qingyuan, just an hour from Guangzhou, was the top choice.

For non-Guangdong people, Qingyuan is known mainly for its chicken, and not much else. But the sister brand of Rosewood, New World Qingyuan Hotel, spotted the potential in this Guangzhou backyard market and got into the family business.

First, there are hot springs, a natural foundation for leisure and resort development. The hotel places great emphasis on guests' outdoor experience—hot springs, lawns, barbecues, swimming pools—creating as many spaces as possible for communion with nature.

Second, the hotel has invested heavily in activities. For children: a small vegetable garden, a toy house, a science base, a playground, and more. For adults: a games room, table tennis, archery, yoga, and meditation, among others. While children learn and play under professional supervision, adults can enjoy the slow pace of travel undisturbed.

Let's first analyze a few concepts of minsu (guesthouses):

1. Airbnb-style stays in other people's homes;

2. Minsu that started as inns in ancient towns and villages;

3. Influencer-driven minsu aimed at grabbing young people's attention.

Airbnb exited the Chinese market this year—a lamentable thing, but it also shows that the concept of staying in someone else's home is increasingly hard to promote in China. Ancient towns and villages mainly appeal to the post-80s and post-90s generations. Now that the post-95 and post-00 generations are the main force in the minsu market, homogenized ancient towns and villages no longer spark their interest.

With the rise of social media like Douyin (TikTok) and Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book), photo ops and check-ins have become essential travel components. Thus, influencer minsu are the lifeline of today's minsu market. During the entire stay, guests don't need to focus on their personal feelings; as long as they can snap beautiful photos, post them, and wait for likes. In the name of sharing an experience, their understanding of their surroundings often stems from others' perspectives.

In April, the pandemic stranded me in Yunnan. Unable to fly back to Beijing, I ended up spending a solid two weeks in Lijiang and Dali.

Over those two weeks, I revisited classic tourist spots: Dayan Ancient Town in Lijiang, Shaxi Ancient Town, and Dali Ancient Town. Each old town hadn't changed much—similar architectural styles, not much difference in what was sold, just far fewer people. No tour groups, and the minsu inns were virtually deserted.

Erhai Lake in Lijiang, however, was bustling as ever. Whether in the famously popular Shuanglang or newly developed areas like Haidong, stylish young men and women dressed to the nines, each with a photographer and a convertible sports car. Every minsu had its own Instagrammable spot. At one I stayed at, Tinghua Island, a water swing fulfilled the dream of a flowing white dress photo—the wait for a photo slot alone was over an hour, and rooms were booked out half a month in advance.

Of course, today's Erhai is a different concept from the old Erhai. The old Erhai, catering to post-80s, followed a bohemian artistic youth route, retaining some elements of local indigenous culture. A succession of "Sanmaos" in red dresses jangling with jewelry were what put this place on the map.

Today's Erhai caters to post-00s, going for a Santorini style: all-white houses built along the hillside, planted full of flowers, lawns laid down.

At sunset, accompanied by the melodious strains of a violin and seagulls taking flight, you could easily be in Greece.

In the newly developed Wenbi Village, I stayed nearly a week at a minsu called Muxinbao. This is a minsu that opened during the pandemic, with an investment of tens of millions, betting on a travel boom in the post-pandemic era. For them, the pandemic is a good time for iteration and upgrading—honing hardware and software, polishing a good product, is the number one goal right now.

Rustic wooden tables and chairs, pour-over coffee pots, white canvas tents, strings of star lights, a bonfire at sunset—this camping trend, gathering steam since the pandemic began in early 2020, has only grown stronger, as if every middle-class person harbors a camping dream.

Lakesides, grasslands, deserts, mountain peaks… all the off-the-beaten-path, once little-known destinations have become temporary bedrooms for campers. Falling asleep under the stars and waking up to sunlight—this way, souls trapped by the pandemic are released back into nature.

While in Lijiang, I visited Baisha Ancient Town. For frequent Lijiang travelers, this is a new world—not yet commercialized, its living environment is much better than other old towns.

Three commercial ventures nearby caught my eye: a hotel, a minsu, and a ranch, all focusing on camping and the great outdoors.

The Wuyu Lan Hotel, overlooking Baisha Ancient Town, goes big on vintage. Every corner, from guest rooms to public areas, is scattered with curated mid-century treasures brought from around the world. Each room has a unique angle for viewing the Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.

The hotel features Naxi-style luxury wild camping. In addition to an artistically striking bar shaped like a tent made of redwood, you can also choose to sit under a canvas tent at a long wooden table laden with freshly grilled wild foods: chargrilled gray rabbit leg, pork belly roasted with Pu'er tea, rushan (a local dairy product) spread with osmanthus-infused sauce, ancient-method brown sugar rice cakes, delightfully chewy Naxi cold jelly, handcrafted baba bread, and crispy tofu pockets… then brew a pot of Yunnan black tea over charcoal. Your gaze takes in the vast expanse, while your heart brims with contentment.

At a higher altitude than Baisha Ancient Town is Stone Loft, a minsu located where Mr. Rock—who wrote "Shangri-La"—once lived. The house, built of stone, steel, and solid wood, surrounded by transparent floor-to-ceiling glass, feels exceptionally back-to-basics.

The relaxation area for guests isn't the lobby but a tent pitched in an alpine meadow. You can lie down, sprawl, roll around freely—or sip tea, play guandan (a card game), or simply sit quietly and soak in nature.

In Baisha Ancient Town, Hutuwo is hidden behind a wooden gate. Open it to discover a sudden vastness: horses and sheep, mountains and water, coffee and tea, and tents scattered here and there.

The owner, with poetic flair, dug a small lake on the plateau, and over it placed a pure white piano. To the naked eye, the lake seems a bit small, but the camera reveals how stunningly beautiful it is.

Camping, for travelers eager to escape crowds and enjoy a quality vacation, is a fresh choice.

Currently, the growth of glamping (glamorous camping) is enormous—it could triple in the next five years, with the post-00 generation the fastest-growing age group.

While ordinary people are still questioning the concept of the metaverse, pioneers are already exploring metaverse travel and concept hotels.

Late last year, Marriott Bonvoy collaborated with three international artists—Tcrek, JVY, and Erick Nicolay—to create three NFTs, making Marriott one of the first hotel brands to issue NFTs.

In early May this year, the world's first metaverse hotel, M Social Decentraland, officially opened. It's part of the Millennium Hotels and Resorts group in Singapore; you only need to register an account to use the hotel.

In June, a domestic metaverse hotel was unveiled: the high-end hotel chain from Yuanzhou Tourism entered the Fractalfi metaverse and snapped up a large virtual building on the waterfront of the core area, Fractal Island.

Capital investors may not fully understand NFTs or the metaverse, but this is where young people gather. Where there's data, there are boundless possibilities.

Today's metaverse hotels focus not on stays but on meetings. When travel is inconvenient, people can don headsets from different countries and cities and hold immersive meetings inside the hotel.

Not only can you view meeting proceedings in 3D, but you can enter rooms like a real person, setting the scene according to different special themes. This interactive format may attract audiences far better than the often long and tedious offline conferences.

Zuckerberg has said the metaverse is a more natural way to participate in the internet. Once online, offline, and the Internet of Things are fully connected, could the next step for travel be to gradually shrink the real world and expand the virtual one? In the virtual world, not only can you browse and shop, but you can also stay comfortably.

In a real-world hotel room embedded with VR, through your eyes you see the metaverse world. You can go out to the terrace to feel the breeze, chat and drink with other guests, even arrange to travel together—a real-life version of "body still, heart far afield."

In the real world we now inhabit, environmental pollution has contaminated the air and oceans, causing global warming, mass species extinction, and rampant pandemics. Perhaps creating virtual worlds and high-tech sanctuaries is now the most urgent task of all.