Sometimes a business trip is simply the reason to go somewhere you might never have gone otherwise.
For us, it started with the EO Global Leadership Conference, a few days in April that brought entrepreneurs together from around the world. Since we were already traveling that far, my husband and I decided to turn those few days into almost three weeks of adventure through Ireland and Scotland.
I have always loved mixing business with pleasure, but this trip was different.
For the first time, we left with only a few hotel nights booked.
We had a direction, but not much of an itinerary.
We figured it out as we went.
And that may have been the best decision we made.
Not Following the Usual Route
We took smaller roads. We chose smaller towns. We tried not to change hotels every night just for the sake of covering more ground.
If we liked somewhere, we stayed.
If something sounded interesting, we went.
And if the plan changed, that was completely fine.
For someone who designs for a living—and therefore spends a remarkable amount of time planning things down to the inch—it felt wonderfully liberating.
It also changed the way I experienced hospitality.
I wasn’t rushing through hotels trying to see everything. I had time to sit. To notice. To talk to people. To see the details that can easily disappear in a larger property or a faster trip.
That became one of the biggest lessons I brought home to The Guild Haus:
You have to live hospitality to design hospitality.
Irvine to Irvinestown
One of our first unexpected connections came in Northern Ireland.
Before the trip, I had been digging into my family history and had traced one branch of my family to Irvinestown, near Enniskillen.
I had known the family connection existed. What made me laugh was finally discovering the name of the town.
Irvinestown.
I live in Irvine, California.
What are the chances?
So naturally, we went.
There was something powerful about driving through a place I had researched from thousands of miles away and suddenly seeing the roads, landscape and countryside connected to my own family story.
That detour then helped pull us farther north toward Donegal.
And once again, one thing led to another.
A Perfect Day at Slieve League
In Donegal, we hiked Slieve League.
It happened to be one of those rare, nearly perfect weather days—the kind that makes you feel as though the entire trip somehow conspired to put you in exactly the right place at exactly the right time.
The cliffs rise dramatically above the Atlantic, with enormous views across Donegal Bay.
Somewhere along the hillside we met a local gentleman who had lived there his entire life.
We stopped and talked.
Nothing scheduled. Nothing curated.
Just two travelers and someone who knew this landscape in a way we never could, standing together looking out over the water.
Those are the conversations I remember.
Travel has a way of reminding you that despite different countries, accents, politics and histories, we are usually much more alike than we are different.
Yeats, an Artist and a Scent I Couldn’t Forget
Later, near Sligo, we stopped at Drumcliffe, the final resting place of W.B. Yeats beneath Benbulben.
It could easily have been a fifteen-minute stop.
Instead, we met a local artist.
We started talking. I bought one of her pieces. She was warm, interesting and completely engaging—and somehow the conversation wandered into fragrance.
Her shop smelled incredible.
She introduced me to Bergamask by Orto Parisi, a scent I loved and then promptly forgot to order when I came home.
Months later, while writing this story, I remembered it.
So I finally ordered it.
Very expensive.
But apparently memory has a scent—and mine now costs quite a lot.
I love that something as simple as a conversation in a little shop can travel home with you months later.
A piece of art.
A fragrance.
A person you may never see again.
That is part of hospitality too.
Breakfast Might Be One of the Most Important Rooms in a Hotel
One thing I kept noticing throughout the trip was breakfast.
Not the grab-a-waffle-and-rush-out-the-door version.
A real breakfast.
Coffee being poured.
Thoughtful food.
People lingering.
And because breakfast is often included at these smaller hotels, almost everyone comes downstairs at approximately the same time.
Something happens.
A person two tables away asks where you’re from.
Another couple joins the conversation.
Suddenly six tables are talking.
The accents can become so thick that you’re not entirely certain you’ve understood every sentence, but everyone keeps going anyway.
We talked about where we lived, where we were heading, adventure, weather, occasionally politics—and inevitably the fact that Scottish and Irish weather can apparently experience all four seasons before lunch.
Those breakfasts reinforced something for me as a hospitality designer:
Design can create the conditions for connection without forcing it.
The size of the room matters.
The distance between tables matters.
The pace matters.
The coffee matters.
And the permission to linger matters.
Pitlochry: Small, Warm and Uncomplicated
In Pitlochry, we stayed at a small inn and spent more time hiking and simply being in the town.
It wasn’t about finding the biggest attraction.
It was the intimacy.
Talking with other travelers. Meeting people at breakfast. Having dinner without needing to orchestrate an entire evening.
Smaller hotels often reveal things that can get lost at scale.
You notice the chair someone selected.
The art.
The lighting.
Whether the fireplace actually makes you want to sit beside it.
Whether the person greeting you cares that you arrived.
The little things become the big things.
Links House: The Hotel I Kept Thinking About
Then came Dornoch.
The landscape alone was extraordinary—vast beaches, Highland light, the famous golf course and a feeling of space that seemed almost endless.
And then we stayed at Links House at Royal Dornoch.
This was my favorite hotel of the entire journey.
Not because it was the grandest.
Because it was perhaps the most thoughtful.
The interiors had this beautiful balance of traditional, vintage and modern. Plaids referenced Scotland, but with unexpected colors and combinations that kept them from becoming predictable.
Everything felt layered rather than decorated.
Warm rather than themed.
Collected rather than cookie-cutter.
We had dinner in the library area, which felt intimate and completely natural.
And then there was Fraser Carruth.
Fraser has been part of Links House since its early years, and there is something about the way he welcomes people that simply makes the place work.
His daughter was at the front desk during our stay, equally warm and generous with recommendations.
It felt personal.
You weren’t being processed through a hotel.
You were being welcomed into one.
That distinction is enormous.
We can design the architecture.
We can select every fabric, light fixture, piece of stone and chair.
But ultimately, people complete the design.
The best hospitality makes you feel seen.
Living the Research
This is where travel and The Guild Haus intersect for me.
We believe you have to experience hospitality firsthand to design it well.
You have to sleep in the room.
Sit in the lobby.
Notice whether anyone actually uses that beautiful chair.
Eat breakfast.
Order a drink.
Walk through the arrival sequence carrying luggage.
Listen to the acoustics.
Watch where people naturally gather.
Notice where they don’t.
Talk to the staff.
Talk to other guests.
And then we bring those experiences back to the studio.
We share them with our team.
The plaid at Links House becomes a conversation about how to reference place without resorting to cliché.
The breakfast room becomes a conversation about designing for spontaneous connection.
Fraser becomes a reminder that service and design are inseparable.
A bar in St Andrews becomes inspiration for warmth, layering and storytelling.
Travel becomes part of our collective design library—not simply photographs saved to a folder, but experiences we have actually lived and can share.
St Andrews: Sometimes You Just Stay
Eventually we reached St Andrews and Seaton House.
We had planned to continue on to Edinburgh.
We didn’t.
We were having too much fun.
Seaton House sits beside the Old Course, with views toward the first tee, West Sands and the Royal and Ancient Clubhouse.
Bob put his name in to play the Old Course.
Randomly won - 2 days ( while others waited the week)
And somehow Scotland gave him almost perfect golf days.
The wind settled.
The weather was beautiful.
And, perhaps most miraculous of all, he made it through the Old Course without losing one golf ball.
Apparently magic takes many forms.
Meanwhile, I found my own version.
I swam in the North Sea.
Twice.
Not exactly normal behavior for me, which may be why I loved it so much.
There is something about cold water that eliminates every thought in your head except:
I am definitely alive.
We took bicycles and rode around St Andrews. It happened to be graduation day, so the town and university were filled with students and families celebrating.
I loved watching it.
Knowledge.
Possibility.
People beginning the next chapter of their lives.
Again, completely unplanned.
Whisky, Sauna and the Art of Not Rushing
Seaton House also gave us another lesson in hospitality through someone who knew an extraordinary amount about whisky.
Not simply knowledge for the sake of showing expertise.
He was excited to share it.
That’s a different thing.
The best hospitality people invite you into what they love.
They make you curious.
They make you want to stay for another drink and ask another question.
Then came a wild sauna at Kingsbarns Beach.
Wood-fired heat.
Cold Scottish air.
The sea.
An experience that sounded slightly questionable beforehand and completely brilliant afterward.
And then on to Crail for coffee and something sweet.
Nothing monumental.
No bucket-list attraction.
Just a beautiful coastal village and something delicious.
Perfect.
What Came Home With Me
I didn’t go to Ireland and Scotland expecting to come home changed by hospitality.
I went because of the EO GLC conference.
We added an adventure because we were already going that far.
And somewhere in those almost three weeks, the journey became much more than that.
I came home rejuvenated.
Connected to my husband.
Connected to my family history.
Connected to strangers whose accents I occasionally struggled to understand.
Connected to landscapes.
Connected to ideas.
Connected to a group of 1,200 entreprenuers.
And more aware than ever of the small details that make a place memorable.
At The Guild Haus, we believe the best hotels make you feel seen, comforted, relaxed, cared for and connected.
Great interiors matter.
Beautiful details matter.
Food matters.
Service matters enormously.
But perhaps the real measure of hospitality is what remains after you leave.
A conversation at breakfast.
A man you met on a hillside.
A perfectly unexpected plaid.
A swim in very cold water.
A golf ball that somehow survived the Old Course.
A piece of local art.
And, months later, a fragrance arriving at your door because one wonderful woman in Sligo made her little shop smell too good to forget.
The magic wasn’t in following the plan.
It was in leaving enough room for the journey to surprise us.