Category 2 of 4 · 4 hotels

Capsule Hotels

The capsule format began as a practical answer to expensive urban land and has since grown a range of dialects. A cabin at an airport is not the same proposition as a bookshelf berth in Shinjuku or a wood-fronted cube in a Singapore shophouse, though all four ask the same trade: give up floor area, keep the bed, the lock, the light and the location. Bathing is shared in every case, and in at least one of these it is the main reason to book.

The four entries

Capsule Hotel Japan

First Cabin Haneda Terminal 1

Tokyo, Japan

Built inside an airport terminal, which explains almost everything about it. The cabins borrow their vocabulary from aircraft — First Class and Business Class berths, differing chiefly in floor area and bed width — and the whole floor keeps the hushed, carpeted quiet of a lounge.

A cabin is a private compartment rather than a sealed pod: solid walls, a roll-down screen instead of a locking door, a bed, a television, somewhere to put a bag. Bathing is communal, in large shared baths down the corridor, in the ordinary Japanese manner.

People use it for the reason you would expect. An early departure, a late arrival, a connection too long to sit out and too short to justify going into the city.

In brief

Inside the terminal
Cabin-class tiers
Large shared bath
24-hour arrivals

Capsule Hotel Japan

Anshin Oyado Shinjuku Ekimae

Tokyo, Japan

A capsule hotel that has quietly turned itself into a small bathhouse with beds attached. The upper floors hold a sauna, a cold plunge and a bathing area larger than the format usually allows, and guests tend to spend the evening there rather than in the capsule.

The capsules themselves are the classic thing, tidied up: a moulded berth in a stacked wall of berths, a screen to pull down, a socket, a light with a dimmer. Corridors are dark and carpeted and enforced-silent.

It sits within a short walk of Shinjuku station, on a street that does not sleep, and the contrast between the noise outside and the muffled floor inside is most of the appeal.

In brief

Sauna and plunge
Men-only floors
Walk to Shinjuku
Classic berths

Capsule Hotel Singapore

CUBE Boutique Capsule Hotel @ Kampong Glam

Singapore

Singapore took the Japanese capsule and gave it a lot more light. The cubes here are wood-fronted, generously proportioned by the standards of the format, and arranged in rooms rather than long corridors, which changes how the place feels the moment you walk in.

Each cube has a proper bed, reading light, power, a small shelf and a curtain or panel to close. Bathrooms are shared and hotel-standard rather than hostel-standard. There is a lounge downstairs where people actually sit.

Kampong Glam puts it among shophouses, textile shops and the Sultan Mosque, a district that stays lively well past dinner and is easy to walk out into at any hour.

In brief

Wood-fronted cubes
Shophouse district
Mixed and female floors
Common lounge

Capsule Hotel Japan

Book and Bed Tokyo Shinjuku

Tokyo, Japan

The gimmick is stated plainly in the name and then executed with unusual discipline: the sleeping berths are cut into a wall of bookshelves, so guests climb into a gap between the volumes. It photographs well and, less predictably, works well.

Two berth sizes exist, Bookshelf and Standard, both curtained, both with a light and a socket and not much else. The library itself is the real amenity — a few thousand titles, Japanese and English, and permission to read all night.

It is a hostel in structure, with shared washrooms and a check-in desk that doubles as a bar counter, and it treats sleep as the thing you eventually get round to.

In brief

Berths in bookshelves
Few thousand titles
Shared washrooms
Shinjuku