Issue #31: What Makes a Hotel Truly Queer Friendly?

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Here’s the thing nobody really says out loud. Accommodation is the emotional wildcard of any queer trip.

Flights are fine. Activities are fine. But choosing where you sleep? That’s where the quiet fears live.

Not dramatic ones, just the subtle: Are we going to be stared at in the restaurant? Will we have to pretend to be “friends” at check-in?

Or the kicker; Is this going to be one of those places that claims to be inclusive then freezes the second you ask for a double bed?

Because the group tour life isn’t our vibe, we don’t have a cheerful guide smoothing over awkward moments. We’re doing it ourselves.

We want adventure, flexibility, stories. But we also want to know we’re walking into a place that doesn’t make us brace the minute we step inside.

So let’s talk about hotels, but not the cliché, “top 10 gay places to stay” churn.

As you know, I was a flight attendant for 10 years based in London. After all those years of check ins, overnight layovers/nightstops and polite small talk at reception, you develop instincts most travellers never get.

You know immediately when a place feels warm. You know when it feels stiff.

You see when someone is reading from a script when talking to other guests.

That radar guides everything I recommend for Outbound Adventures. So here goes, these are tips you can actually steal and try yourself.

Email (or Whatsapp) is only ever the starting point for me. I do send that first, friendly message asking whether they are LGBTQ-friendly and whether a double bed is standard, and I do pay attention to the tone of the reply.

I often use my personal email address and/or present as a couple, because let’s face it, if the hotel receives an email from LGBTQ travel brand, of course they will say they are gay-friendly. It’s bad PR otherwise.

But my process stretches far beyond an inbox. I want to understand how a place feels for you and me, not just what it looks like on a booking site.

So after the email, I start layering in what I call the real-world checks. Sometimes I pick up the phone, especially if I sense hesitation, because you can learn a lot from the way someone speaks when they are not typing.

I also tap into my network on the ground – contacts, local LGBTQ groups and fellow travellers who know the city far better than any website ever could.

Social media gives me another window into how queer guests talk about their stays, and I cross-reference this with genuinely LGBTQ-focused sites like Purple Roofs.

I read reviews differently too, looking for clues from travellers who share our lived experience rather than relying on generic five-star praise.

All of this helps me build a picture of whether a hotel feels welcoming in practice, not just in marketing.

Tone tells you a lot. And when you understand those things, you can predict whether a place will offer safety, ease and the kind of comfort that lets you actually enjoy your trip rather than awkwardly endure it.

One thing I learned very early on is that the price tag tells you almost nothing about how you will be treated.

I have stayed in boutique hotels that cost a small fortune yet felt cold the moment you walked in, as if the staff were performing hospitality rather than offering it.

Equally, I have turned up at mid range places that were so naturally warm and easygoing it felt like stepping into a friend’s home. Maybe you can relate to that!

Money can buy interiors and branding, but behaviour is what tells you whether you can actually exhale. That is what I pay attention to, because that is what shapes a queer trip far more than the nightly rate.

A proper London gem tucked just behind Tower Bridge. The building looks grand, but the welcome is all warmth. The staff here are genuinely relaxed about queer couples, not performative or over the top. It is the kind of place where you can arrive tired, a bit rumpled from the journey, and still feel like you belong.

They confirm double beds without hesitation and the breakfast room feels easy rather than stiff. Great for couples wanting comfort without the London attitude.

A brilliant example of why price does not predict comfort. Lugo itself is understated and historic, and this hotel mirrors that.

The staff reply to emails like actual humans, not copy-and-paste machines, and they were clear and confident about hosting LGBTQ travellers. The vibe is calm and friendly, and the whole place feels like a soft landing after exploring the Roman walls. Perfect for travellers who want solid hospitality without any fuss.

Lisbon delivers when it comes to queer friendly stays and Late Birds is one of those places where the atmosphere does most of the talking.

Warm hosts, thoughtful touches, and the kind of easy charm that makes you feel instantly at home. Lisbon hotels can sometimes lean too hard into aesthetics over welcome, but this one strikes the right balance. As a gay urban resort, you can hold hands at reception without so much as a blink.

Benidorm gets a reputation for being loud and messy, but this hotel sits above the sea like it has absolutely no interest in that energy.

Light, bright, and stylish without being precious. The welcome here is calm and genuine and the views are outrageous in the best way. Staff were reassuring and clear when I checked about LGBTQ guests and the whole place feels like a retreat from the madness below. Great for couples who want a beach escape with a little style.

The definition of Scandinavian ease. Set on its own little island, you arrive and instantly breathe out.

Again, staff are quietly confident, welcoming in that Swedish way that never feels forced, and completely unfazed by queer travellers. It is sophisticated without being snooty and the whole place feels like someone designed it to lower your shoulders two inches. Perfect for us who want culture and calm with zero awkwardness.

There is a quiet magic that comes from staying somewhere that feels right. A good hotel does more than hand you a keycard.

It gives you permission to soften a little. You feel it in the way you drop your bag, breathe out and suddenly realise you do not have to shrink or second guess yourself.

When the welcome is warm, you move through the city differently: you laugh a bit louder, you take the long way round just because the afternoon feels kind, you say yes to the unplanned drink or the spontaneous museum.

And when you head home, the stories you tell always begin with the place that held you well.

That is why I vet accommodation the way I do. I want you to have the kind of base that lifts your whole trip and makes you feel seen rather than tolerated. If you want that feeling for your next adventure, book a free chat with me, and we will shape it together.

That’s a wrap on this week’s issue. If you’ve ever tried to DIY a trip and ended up overwhelmed by tabs, or second-guessing what’s actually safe, that’s exactly what I help with.

Like this issue? Forward it to a travel-loving friend.

I’m Steve, your LGBTQ+ adventure curator. If you’re tired of rainbow-washed travel tips, rigid group tours, or just wondering where to go, you’re in the right place.

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