Experience the incredible beauty of Dali at the Dali Ancient City Mercure Hotel

## Dali Ancient City Mercure Hotel: On the Border of Noise and Tranquility I've always been wary of the term "boutique hotel." This wariness stems from many disappointing experiences—those so-called "boutique" places often just slap a coat of cheap paint called "design sense" on ordinary rooms, coupled with exorbitant prices. However, the Dali Ancient City Mercure Hotel is an exception. Like an unpretentious hermit, it carves out a haven of tranquility in the hustle and bustle of the ancient city, while maintaining just the right distance from the hustle and bustle of city life. The location of Mercure Hotel is quite meaningful. It is not located near the most lively Foreigner Street in the ancient city, nor is it at the foot of Cangshan Mountain, completely isolated from the world. Instead, it is located in the northeast corner of the ancient city, about a ten-minute walk from Renmin Road. This ten-minute buffer zone is wonderful—far enough away from the noise of late-night bars, yet able to integrate into the pulse of the ancient city at any time. Every morning, as I stepped out onto the bluestone road, I would always meet Bai grandmas carrying fresh Rushan cheese at the entrance of the alley; in the evening, I would often brush shoulders with children returning home from school. The hotel has become an intermediary between me and the real Dali, providing shelter without severing contact. The architecture itself is a modern interpretation of traditional Bai residential buildings. The layout of three rooms and a screen wall is still there, but the designer boldly opened up some of the space, allowing light to flow freely in the room. The room I stayed in was called "Yunqi," a two-story building with a view of the Cangshan Mountains from the window. The most surprising thing was the patio. The design of four waters returning to the hall is in line with Feng Shui. When it rains, sitting on the veranda and watching the raindrops fall into the pool, I feel like time is going backwards. However, the brilliance of Mercure Hotel lies in the fact that it does not deliberately restore the old—the mattress is from King Koil, and the bathroom is from Duravit. The comforts of modern life are cleverly woven into the texture of traditional architecture. The service staff has a rare "moderate enthusiasm." They will offer a cup of welcome tea made with Cangshan Sydney pears upon check-in and remember guests' favorite breakfast flavors, but they are never overly attentive. This sense of propriety reminds me of Dali's local "leisure" culture—neither overly enthusiastic nor deliberately alienated, maintaining a comfortable distance. One day, when it rained heavily, the young lady at the front desk silently hung an oil-paper umbrella on my door; another day, when I casually mentioned that I wanted to try authentic raw hide, the butler hand-painted a map of a small shop that only locals knew about. These subtle cares are more touching than the standardized "five-star service." The hotel breakfast is an excellent window to observe the operator's intentions. The choices at Mercure Hotel are not extravagant, but everything is exquisite: Rushan cheese is freshly baked, Erkuai is freshly steamed, and even Xidou powder is freshly ground with a stone mill every morning. The best thing is the floor-to-ceiling window in the restaurant, which frames the morning scenery of Cangshan Mountain into a dynamic ink painting. I often spend the whole morning here, watching the clouds wander on the ridge, and I don't feel the passage of time. This "slow" experience has become a luxury in today's fast-paced travel style. The Mercure Hotel after nightfall has a special charm. The lighting design is extremely skillful. It is not as bright as day like a city hotel, but uses hidden light sources to create layers of light and shadow. A few paper lanterns in the book bar are warm yellow, illuminating the ancient books on the wall; the ground lights in the courtyard are hidden, outlining the outline of the stone path. Sitting under the century-old plum tree, the noise of the ancient city night market can be faintly heard in the distance, but it is like a layer of frosted glass, blurred and gentle. This "controllable sense of distance" may be the most valuable feature of Mercure Hotel—it allows you to have both the tranquility of a hermit and the curiosity of a traveler. On the day of departure, the butler gave me a bag of osmanthus black tea made by the hotel itself. One late night after returning to the city, when the hot water opened the dried flowers, the sunshine and plum fragrance of Dali suddenly traveled through time and space. Only then did I realize that a real boutique hotel never conquers you with luxurious facilities, but uses an unspeakable aesthetic of life to plant unforgettable seeds in your memory. Mercure Hotel is such an existence—it teaches travelers that true luxury is not splendor, but to resonate with an ancient city in the right position and with the right attitude.