Inside the spectacular world of Bill Bensley
Last year, my dear friend and GM, Salome Villaflor, of Little Oasis Hotel in Hoi An, Vietnam, casually asked me, “How many Bill Bensley hotels have you visited?”
I looked at her, doe-eyed, and replied, with all due respect, “Who is Bill Bensley?”
That question marked a turning point for me, as if I had been awakened—a renaissance of my preferences and perceptions of the beauty of hotels. My late father, Vincent Dayrit, made me appreciate beauty, creativity, atmosphere, and, of course, the people of the countless places I visit. Never had I imagined that a place could possess such an eclectic vibe, playfulness, and luxury that it would so thoroughly tickle my fancy.
Everything shifted when I finally visited Bill Bensley’s hotels—Bill Bensley, a Harvard-educated architect and hotel designer par excellence, whose creations transform travel into immersive experiences and unique stories. Rather than simply staying in his hotels, one immerses oneself in art. Each property invites curiosity, movement, and emotion. This year, I found myself magnetized to Bill Bensley’s art and narrative—not just for pleasure, but also with the purpose of seizing the moment.
That magnetism first brought me to Vietnam.
Among all the hotels I visited, the InterContinental Danang became one of my top destinations. It was in its lobby that I shot the cover of my recently published book, 60 Dream Holidays Around the World.
The mix of nature’s beauty and the splendor of a five-star hotel makes the resort ideal for lovers of nature. It offered the best of both worlds all at once. I spent my days in pure luxury—long, lazy mornings at the beach, shopping in Danang town, and gourmet food to accompany our hours of bonding.
Yet travel is not only about places—it is also about sharing moments across generations.
My two nieces, Alex and Sam Dayrit, insisted on going to Ba Na Hills, and their joy during the cable car ride over trees and clouds made me reflect on the bond between different age groups through travel. The giant hands, dramatic and surreal, felt like a symbol of how these places hold us for a moment before letting us go.
From the coast, our journey continued north.
Hotel de la Coupole Sapa, in the highlands of Vietnam, became one of the most unforgettable chapters. General manager Peter Neto graciously welcomed us to this magical property.
After experiencing Sapa, our dear friend Buddy Trinidad said something that stayed with me: “If I were to freeze four moments in my life to remember how special they were, it would be the birth of my three children—and my experience in Sapa.”
There was no exaggeration in his voice. Sapa does that to you.
At Hotel de la Coupole, days were filled with both adventure and surprise. My brother-in-law, Benny Soliven, had his luggage left behind and reported missing at Hanoi Airport. Sapa is five hours away by car, and we had resigned ourselves to the idea that it might never arrive. Nonetheless, the next day, almost like a tiny miracle, the suitcase was quietly rolled into his hotel room. Travel has its ups and downs, and sometimes its own elegance, so we laughed—relieved and amused.
Beyond the hotel, Sapa revealed itself in small discoveries.
One afternoon, we stumbled upon what felt like a clothing haven called the Sapa Market. We watched local artisans sewing garments one by one, each piece unique. Blazers and pants in different colors lay neatly arranged, surrounded by spools of brightly colored thread. There was something deeply satisfying about witnessing clothes being made slowly and thoughtfully. Each piece was extremely affordable and felt like a treasure rather than a purchase.
As day turned to evening, the town came alive.
The Sapa market was a feast for the senses. We sampled dried fruits and every kind of nut imaginable, browsed affordable jackets, vests, and vibrant local bags. Sunset marked the start of the food market’s activity—warm outdoor lights, the cooking of different dishes, and the mingling of people and laughter in the frosty air. Sapa fused together food, fashion, culture, and even cable cars, all under layers of mountain mist.
From indulgence and color, the journey shifted inward.
We drove six hours by a comfortable van to my favorite mountain resort, Legacy Yen Tu—MGallery. Another Bill Bensley masterpiece that blends 13th-century Vietnamese Zen Buddhism with luxury, it presented a surreal kind of challenge for me. Here, one can hear the staccato of one’s heartbeat and listen to gentle chimes that invite communion with one’s innermost sensitivities. Sacred and serene, its tranquility seemed heaven-sent.
Just two hours away from Hanoi, Yen Tu is not only a place, but also a challenge—and a magnificent dream. It took time for me to accept the truth that my family, friends and I had indeed climbed Yen Tu, approximately 1,700 meters above sea level. The charming GM Louie Huynh joined us on this challenging adventure. Each step felt like a conversation with myself—my limits, my fears, my faith. The ascent was a mix of walking and panting, deeply personal and humbling. Conquering the summit felt less like a victory and more like surrender. I emerged from Yen Tu changed—quieter, steadier, and more joyful within. One must experience the holy pilgrimage to this precious mountain. It is a life-changing event.
Now I realize I will follow the footsteps of Bill Bensley’s hotels for as long as I can. They are not merely places to go; they are memory keepers. Through them, I embraced the idea that travel is not about how far or how luxurious, but about the moments you carry in your heart—the laughter over missing luggage, the joy of standing atop a mountain, and the quiet pleasure of witnessing a beautiful handmade object come to life.
These are not just places I visited. They are places that have helped shape who I am.
