It costs from £30 a night, is right in the heart of London, but there’s a catch – you can only just about sit up in bed
The largest “capsule” hotel in the world has opened – just not for claustrophobics.
Slap bang in the heart of London, it is packed with nearly 1,000 pods. While it boasts about being the biggest of its kind anywhere, its rates are anything but – a snip at just £30 upwards. Compare that to the swanky Ritz Hotel, a short walk away, where rooms can set you back £1,100.
The Mirror spent the night to find out just what it is like sleeping in what, as it turned out, felt little bigger than an over-sized box – with absolutely no daylight.
Capsules hotels are nothing new: the first opened in Japan in 1979 in the city of Osaka. Other pint-sized versions have opened in the UK, but none on this scale.
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The Zedwell Capsule Hotel is just moments from London’s bustling Piccadilly Circus – if you can find it. Arriving in the early evening, there was no obvious sign of the entrance. Nearby is Zedwell’s sister hotel – with bigger rooms – but it was soon clear I wasn’t the only one willing to give the capsule experience a go, with the concierge pointing a small group of all us in the right dirtection. And not backpackers willing to slum it – all were business folk.
Having eventually found the small door beneath some scaffolding and checked-in, it was up to my capsule.
If staying in a cramped capsule wasn’t off putting enough, the designers have decided to paint virtually everything else dark grey. Even the windows outside the lift were painted grey, and didn’t open. It added to the dystopian feel – like something out of movie Bladerunner.
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Guests sleep in dormitories – it reminded me of a storage unit corridor – ranging in size from eight to 100 capsules, with female only options available. The capsules are stacked two high. Mine was up a few stairs, with four others, all facing each other. No doors here. Instead, getting in means rolling up an office cabinet-like shutter.
Inside there is a mattress…and not much space for anything else. Each capsule is 220cm long, just 100cm wide, and a disconcertingly low 100cm in height – just enough to sit up in. That said, it had a socket, light, mirror, and an overhead fan – described as a “smart climate control” system but which appeared to be a simple fan that failed to keep things cool.
No en-suite facilities here: you wander down the corridor to a shared toilet and showers, which are good and plentiful. I made the schoolboy error of not taking my room card – twice – which proved a tad awkward.
And so to bed. I’ve never had a big issue with small spaces but, pulling the shutter down, and switching off the light, brought on the collywobbles. If you are in anyway claustrophobic, think twice.
I have to confess opening the shutter a little to see some corridor light, even if that did mean facing my neighbour’s entrance, right there. Talking of neighbours, who you are staying cheek by jowl with, there is real risk you find out knowing a little too much about their sleeping habits, just a few centimetres away. The capsules are said to have “noise reduction” and, while I could hear whoever was next door moving around, it was worked well in the main.
They also boast Hypnos mattresses and Egyptian cotton bedding, which more than did the job, and helped make for a good night’s sleep. But waking up in the morning, in pitch darkness despite the time, I was overcome with the urge to break out of my box and see the daylight. Emerging into the sunshine made me appreciate it a whole lot more.
Judging by how busy it was, the super-sized capsule concept may well capture the imagination. And for the price, it is a bargain. But staying in what must surely be among the smallest hotel rooms in Britain definitely won’t be to everyone’s taste.
