There are more ways to stay somewhere than most people consider, but these are the five I actually have real experience with, and none of them are objectively “best.” They work for different kinds of travelers, or honestly, different versions of you depending on the trip. Here's what each one actually gives you, what I'd double-check before booking, and the things I still remember about staying there.
Hotels have quietly become the new third place, a low-pressure spot to just be around people without planning a whole outing. Some do it with a DJ and an actual party at the bar. Others are just a good coffee counter or a lobby built for coworking, somewhere you end up talking to whoever's next to you. You get to pick the energy, not commit to a scene.
Hotel is also the broadest category on this list by far, since a Four Seasons and a basic airport hotel are both technically “a hotel.” What stays consistent no matter the price point is the bones: a dedicated front desk, housekeeping, easy check-in and check-out, and real privacy. What changes completely is everything layered on top.
My first Ritz-Carlton stay caught me off guard. It had a full resort feel, daily activities and all, which is not what I expected from “just a hotel.” It's the clearest proof I have that “hotel” can mean almost anything depending on what you're paying for.
My friend and I once smuggled in liquor because we didn't like what the resort was pouring, and they didn't allow outside alcohol for some reason. We got back into our room acting like full ninjas, stifling laughter the whole way. It remains one of the funniest nights of that trip.
If a fully scheduled week with zero decisions sounds like heaven, you're wired for this one (my Resters, this is your sign). If it makes you twitchy within a day, you're the other half of the room. Both are valid.
My first solo vacation was LA, and I booked a shared Airbnb where the host lived in the home. She was a professional aerialist, and the night I got back from a concert, eating tacos on her couch, she performed for me. Dinner and a show. Literally.
My hostel in Costa Rica had a private room and private bathroom, so I got to ease in. Bed was hard as a rock though, which is not what you want the night after a surf lesson when your whole body already hates you.
I still spent time in the common areas and talked to people. My booking even came with a lovely breakfast at their in house restaurant. It was louder than my other stays, but nowhere near what I'd heard hostels can be. Some are built for that full party, everybody's-best-friend energy. Mine wasn't, and honestly, I was relieved. I needed some quiet.
My B&B host in Jamaica told me on day one she'd look after me like I was her own daughter. I figured that was just something hosts say. Then I misplaced my passport in an excursion car and didn't even realize it was gone. She got it back and brought it straight to my room herself.
I called my mom crying because that really jolted me to the reality that I was traveling alone and needed to be more observant (she cried too because you mean you lost your passport and didn't even know and now you're calling me crying and I can't help my baby?!). Took a nap after that and felt so much better, because it turns out that's what confidence actually looks like sometimes. Not never messing up. Messing up and still finishing the trip.