Each room is different. Some face the river, some open onto the courtyard. None are the same, and none are very large — this is a small hotel, after all.
A long, low room with shuttered windows opening onto the river. Cedar tub, a writing desk angled to the morning light, and a view of the boats drifting toward the bridge.
Step from your bed onto warm stone, past the frangipani, into a small private courtyard with a stone bath warmed at dusk by the housekeeper.
A bright loft above the courtyard. Tatami mat flooring, sliding paper screens, and a deep soaking tub set into the eaves.
Two low beds separated by a folding shoji screen. Quiet, north-facing, with a hand-thrown washbasin and a brass reading lamp by each pillow.
Named for the verandah that runs the length of the room — a place to sit with tea before breakfast, watching the alley wake up below.
A small room for one. Built-in desk, a single soft bed, and a high window that catches the afternoon. Made for writers and slow travelers.
The quietest room in the house. A stair descends to a sunken stone bath fed by mineral water; above, a sitting room and a bed angled toward the moon.
Our detached cottage at the end of the garden path. Two bedrooms, a private sitting room, and an outdoor cedar tub among the bamboo.