People often come to my office asking for technical advice about developing short-stay accommodation. The questions are always the same: How do the land use rights work with the zoning? What may I or may I not do? How would the structure work? How do the foundations work? How does the drainage system handle stormwater, or get the toilets to flush?
All valid questions. But if you’re thinking of developing short-stay accommodation on your place — let’s say you’ve got a farm or some land — my advice is something different.
Be a Guest Before You Become a Host
Experience these places. As many as you can. As a visitor, as a user.
Try the five-star ones. Try sleeping under the stars. I’ve stayed in all kinds of accommodation — I’ve slept under the stars on the bank of a river, and I’ve slept in five-star hotels in Berlin. Each of those can be a great experience, because a great experience is about measuring expectation against the product — against the thing itself.
So visit as many places as you can, from the five-star right down to sleeping next to a river and everything in between, and measure your experience of each. When you then develop your own short-stay accommodation, tweak it. Add the little things. Maybe it’s something as small as a tea bag, or a box of matches to light a fire. Maybe it’s something big. But if you focus in on the experiential side, you’ll find yourself working on what’s achievable rather than dwelling on what’s lacking.
A Case in Point: Where We Stayed Last Night
The place we stayed in last night may not be for everybody — and to their credit, they advertise quite clearly on the website exactly what it is.
It’s a homebuilt structure. A bed, a double bunk behind it, a rudimentary little table, a small fireplace inside. Outside, there’s a bathroom with a shower — hot and cold water — a little basin, and a beautiful outdoor tub.
Could it be more five-star? Sure. Did I have fun having a bubble bath out in the open under the stars last night? Yes, I did.
That’s the point. Experience the rustic, the glitzy, the glamorous and the unglamorous. Out of all of it, you’ll begin to get a feel for the kind of user experience you want to offer your own guests.
The technical stuff is a dime a dozen — you can buy that in. What you can’t buy in is your own personal understanding of what you, as a human being, would want. Align your product with that, and you’re set.
The Architect’s Eye: How the Place Is Put Together
Of course, I can’t switch off the technical eye entirely. For those interested, here’s how the structure works:
The floor is OSB. The cabinets and joinery are made from decking planks. The walls are a combination of corrugated iron and hessian — hessian for the ceilings — with Flexite (a fibre cement board) along some walls. The windows are rescued steel frames, including French door windows, with light fittings from Builders Warehouse. The steps are decking board, though the plank spacing is wrong — too bouncy. External cladding is cut-off pine end strips. The roof is a very simple mono-pitch, which leaked inside last night — I don’t know why. The whole structure sits on gum poles set into a concrete pad. I don’t like that detail; it’s going to rot. There’s foam filling the gaps, and the ground level is too high in places.
None of that is meant unkindly. It’s a homebuilt place that delivers exactly the experience it promises — and that’s the lesson.
The Takeaway
Get out there and experience these places. That’s what matters. The technical knowledge can be bought in, but the feel for what makes a stay memorable — that has to come from you.
