A Little Slice of Magic in Dali

I recently shared our pregnancy news on Instagram and was quite honestly floored by the wave of well-wishes that came crashing in. We are, quite simply, bubbling! It is the most wonderful news we’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing, and we’re soaking up every second of this new glow.

But, as you know, life isn’t always a smooth, sun-drenched path. While I love to share the joy, I want to be honest: the journey to get here wasn’t exactly plain sailing. There were losses that stung, doubts that lingered, and those heavy moments of despair and anger that catch you off guard — especially when you’re used to being a bit of a “goal-oriented” pair. I’ve been quietly penning down the highs and lows as they happened, and I’ll share those more deeply when I’m a little further down the road and can look back with a clearer heart. For now, let’s just say it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.

The moment we knew this little soul was stable and here to stay, we knew we needed to go. We craved a getaway to burst the “everyday” bubble; somewhere to escape the mundane and trade it for sweeping nature and thoughtful architecture. We have a deep-seated love for spaces — the kind that are so well-curated they practically transport you to another world.

Yunnan shot to the top of our list for one very specific reason: Muxi Huoshan

I’d seen whispers of this boutique hotel on the hill — a labour of love that took 12 years to build. Our interest was piqued, our bags were packed, and we were off.

This might just be my new favourite way to travel, and I think you’re about to see why.

We hopped on a flight from KL to Kunming for a quick two-day city fix before catching the train to Dali. The moment we arrived, we were whisked away by the resort drivers and began the long, winding sweep up the mountainside.

We even had a welcoming committee! A herd of local little friends blocked our path, reminding us that we were officially on mountain time.

Perched high above Erhai Lake on volcanic slopes, Muxi Huo Shan is easily Dali’s most extraordinary stay. It is the result of pure obsession by its architect-founder, Baxun. Think raw stone, weathered timber, and bold flashes of crimson. With only 23 immaculate rooms, it feels less like a hotel and more like a living, breathing work of art. It is Dali stripped back to its most elemental, and it is breathtaking.

Of course, before the grand tour, there was the small matter of lunch. We were absolutely famished and had practically ordered half the menu before the train doors had even opened.

We settled into a table laden with a steaming pot of pork ribs and white bean soup, crisp pea shoots, crispy golden tofu, aged beef, and —best of all— a deeply comforting claypot of stewed rice fragrant with cured meat and wild mushrooms.

If you favour the sort of clean, honest cooking that lets beautiful ingredients speak for themselves, you would have been utterly in your element.

It was, without question, one of my very favourite meals of the entire trip.

As lunch drew to a close, the staff reappeared carrying a custard apple for us to try, followed by a cheerful procession of fruit — pears, pineapples, oranges, mandarins and bananas — along with little jars of preserved plums, all offered with the generosity that makes a meal feel less like lunch and more like being welcomed into someone’s home.

We were then shown to our room — each one entirely different from the next — and were delighted to find the very one we had booked: a room with a charming sitting area and a broad terrace overlooking the still blue sweep of Erhai Lake.

The day, however, was far from over.

No sooner had we checked in than we were told a “moving water feast” – a traditional Bai communal banquet in which an endless procession of dishes is served in celebration — was taking place in the nearby village for a house-warming.

We were asked whether we might like to join and experience Bai hospitality for ourselves. Naturally, we said yes without a moment’s hesitation. After a brief rest and recharge, we made our way down to the village.

People drifted in and out in a constant hum of conversation; women stood over steaming pots in the open-air kitchen, men gathered around card tables in animated games, and a small group played traditional music nearby.

We were treated to a spread of Bai dishes and welcomed into the celebration as though we belonged there.

It was the kind of once-in-a-lifetime experience one dreams of stumbling upon while travelling —something no carefully planned itinerary could ever replicate, and one I would not trade for anything.

After lunch, the resort’s guide took us for a stroll through the village, a simple pleasure made all the more special by the fact that it felt entirely untouched by tourism, the kind of place where daily life carried on regardless of who happened to be passing through.

By the time we made our way back to the resort, the sun was slipping behind the mountains.

We decided to retreat to the bar for something warm.

There was hardly anything lovelier than sitting with a cup of spiced fruit tea (fragrant with cinnamon, orange and apple, and tasting remarkably like mulled wine without the alcohol!) as we chatted, recapped the day, and watched the last of the light fade.

At nine, we bade each other goodnight and retired to our room for a long bath and the sort of indulgent room service that feels entirely justified after a day like that.

The resort itself took on an entirely different character after dark; its corridors became almost theatrical by night — artfully composed with sculptures, curated objets, and a procession of graceful arches that made even the walk back to our room feel like part of the experience.

Strategically, we ordered supper first and then ran the bath… surely the only sensible sequence of events.

Sliding into the steaming water while dinner made its way to our room felt like the most glorious kind of indulgence.

After a long soak and washing off with the resort’s rather heavenly Frédéric Malle toiletries, (which smelled all velvety rose and spice!) we were quite ready for supper.

Naturally, we ordered noodles, alongside a comforting bowl of rice porridge and an assortment of pickles to nibble between bites.

We finished with yet more mandarins and a flask of sweet tea thoughtfully prepared by the resort.

With our bodies relaxed and our stomachs full, I returned to my book for a few quiet pages before finally surrendering to bed.

Thank you for coming with me to Dali!

Days like this don’t come around often, and this one was far too lovely not to share.

I have rather high hopes for tomorrow’s breakfast spread, so you simply must come.

Sleep well, dream sweetly, and I shall see you bright-eyed and well-rested in the morning.

Goodnight!

With love x