Dear fellow traveler, this is not your typical hotel guide, but despite the sometimes gloomy tone of my writing, the rooms and establishments mentioned are, regrettably, quite real and open to guests. 

And I feel that it is my solemn duty to disclose that to recommend a hotel where the sheets are laundered is one thing, but to recommend a hotel where the sheets are occupied by the restless dead requires a great deal of grueling research and combing through dusty archives while ignoring the frantic beating of one’s own heart. You will not be surprised to learn that I have never spent a single night in any of these doomed establishments, as I have a steadfast rule against sleeping in places where the room service is delivered by a specter who perished in 1922.

It is a well-known fact that traveling across the European continent is generally considered a romantic endeavor. People often pack their bags with the foolish expectation of enjoying flaky croissants in sunlit cafes, admiring Renaissance architecture, or gazing out over the misty peaks of the Alps.

I am writing to tell you that this is a grave mistake. Behind the continent’s picturesque facades and cobblestone charm lies a terrifying tapestry of ancient dread. The hotels of continental Europe are not merely places to rest your weary head; they are architectural traps where history refuses to stay buried. From the crumbling castles of the Rhine to the eerie, blood-soaked valleys of Transylvania, European innkeepers have spent centuries welcoming guests who never truly checked out. If you possess even a modicum of good sense, you will close this page, unpack your luggage, and spend your evening doing something entirely safe, such as alphabetizing your socks. If, however, you insist on peering into the dark, shadowed hallways of Europe’s most haunted accommodations, do not say I did not warn you.

This distressing article is, at its heart, merely a list of hotels, and in a vain attempt to render it remotely useful to you, fellow traveler, I have provided hyperlinks for each establishment, featuring their geographical coordinates via Google Maps and a portal to Expedia for reservation purposes, should fate allow.

I have selected Expedia because it is there that I orchestrate the booking of most of my hotels. I find it to be a relatively painless way to keep organized, I often find reduced rates there, and I earn reward points to be hoarded for future travels. Furthermore, certain hotels bestow minor perks to those who book through Expedia – such as a room upgrade, a complimentary bottle of wine, or restaurant credits upon your arrival. Benefits, eligibility, and availability vary, so check individual hotel listings carefully. 

It is my solemn duty to inform you that these Expedia links are, alas, affiliate links, meaning if you choose to book through them, a small amount of money may find its way into my empty pockets. Thank you.

Naturally, the Google Maps link will invariably direct you toward a multitude of alternative booking options. You are, of course, free to patronize another website should their prices prove drastically more economical, though you must ensure it is a website you trust – a rarity in this world. Alternatively, you may wish to book directly with the hotel itself, particularly if you are trying to accumulate loyalty points for a hotel chain you frequent in your endless wanderings.

If you’re in search of more information about destinations in Europe, read Italy’s Beautiful Disorder: A Travel Guide, Spain: A Cautionary Travel Guide, and Exploring the Real Switzerland: From Chaos to Perfection, or check the More Dismal Destinations page for a full list of countries I’ve covered.

Dragsholm Castle (Dragsholm Slot, Denmark)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

A historic Danish fortress and very damp place to encounter the deceased. Dragsholm is said to be plagued by three distinct phantoms: the Grey Lady, the Earl of Bothwell – who was imprisoned here and is said to have gone mad during his captivity and now terrifies guests with the sound of phantom horses and a carriage in the courtyard – and the tragic White Lady. According to legend, the latter was immured in the walls by her own father after falling in love with a commoner. During renovation work in the early twentieth century, builders reportedly found a small skeleton concealed inside a wall, apparently dressed in the remains of a white garment. Whether those remains belonged to the unfortunate woman of the legend is another matter entirely, but it does make one realize that some family arguments are never truly resolved.

Hotel Burchianti (Florence, Italy)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

Florence is celebrated for its art, but this hotel is celebrated for causing guests to look at the ceiling in absolute terror. The hotel has long been associated with reports of the translucent figure of an old woman knitting in a chair, a spectral maid tidying up the rooms when no one asked her to, and a phantom child skipping down the corridors. The most notorious location is the Fresco Room, where travelers have reportedly described a freezing sensation accompanied by the feeling of an invisible weight pressing down on their chests – a terrible alternative to an extra blanket.

Castello della Castelluccia (Rome, Italy)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

This historic castle, built on the site of an ancient Roman villa, proves that Roman history is far too long and full of bloodshed to make for a peaceful night’s rest. Local ghost stories associate the castle with an alchemist who was supposedly struck by lightning in the central tower, a messy end that has left his spirit wandering the grounds in a state of permanent agitation. To make matters worse, the ghost of Emperor Nero is also said to roam the nearby area, accompanied by a pack of phantom hounds, ensuring that any evening stroll will be thoroughly ruined by classical tyranny.

Dalen Hotel (Telemark, Norway)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

A grand wooden palace where one’s sense of dread can properly stretch its legs. This lakeside establishment is famously associated with the English Lady, Miss Greenfield. According to the hotel’s enduring legend, she arrived in the late nineteenth century and was given Room 17. A newborn’s body was later discovered there, and Miss Greenfield was accused of a crime that never reached trial. She subsequently took her own life in England, leaving behind a story of crying children, a pale female apparition, and a presence that supposedly refuses to leave Room 17.

Parador de Cardona (Cardona, Spain)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

Perched atop a formidable hill, this medieval fortress offers breathtaking views and a soul-crushing atmosphere. If you are foolish enough to stay in Room 712, you may find yourself sharing it with the ghostly remnants of the castle’s most tragic legend. According to local tradition, Adalés, a Christian noblewoman, fell in love with a Muslim man and was imprisoned by her father in the Torre Minyona, where legend says she died of grief. Room 712 has since become notorious for reports of unexplained noises, voices, and furniture mysteriously gathering in the center of the room – a clear sign that the dead are just as terrible at interior design as they were at staying alive.

Grandhotel Giessbach (Brienz, Switzerland)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

Nestled beside a roaring waterfall – a sound useful for drowning out the screams of the living – this historic hotel is a monument to fading opulence. It is said to be haunted by Horace Edouard Davinet, the Franco-Swiss architect who designed the Grandhotel in the nineteenth century and died in 1922. There have been reports of unexplained footsteps echoing down the grand corridors, while local ghost stories claim that Davinet never quite abandoned the building he helped create. Even in the breathtaking Swiss Alps, apparently, architects are not always granted the luxury of retirement.

Hotel Union Øye (Norangsfjorden, Norway)

Map | Learn more and book on Expedia

A spectacularly gloomy fjord-side retreat where the scenery is breathtaking and the history is heartbreaking. This remote wooden hotel is famously associated with the ghost of Linda, a heartbroken servant girl. According to the hotel’s enduring legend, she fell in love with Philip von Moltke, a married German officer serving Emperor Wilhelm. After he tragically took his own life, Linda received the news in a letter and subsequently drowned herself in the fjord.

She was found wearing a bridal gown and flower crown, and her spirit is said to remain in the Blue Room – or Linda Room – where guests have reported hearing the sound of her weeping, sensing a chilly, sorrowful draft, and finding that she has thoughtfully – or perhaps menacingly – opened and closed the door while they slept. It is an ideal destination for anyone who likes their luxury served with a side of eternal despair.

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There is a phrase in the French language, “la petite mort”, which translates to “the little death,” and though it is usually used to describe something entirely different, it is an apt description of the feeling one gets when realizing they are sharing a hotel room with a centuries-old phantom who does not respect personal boundaries.

Now that we have completed this grim tour of Europe’s most hospitable nightmares, you are left with a choice. You may pretend that these stories are merely folklore designed to frighten gullible tourists, or you may accept the unsettling truth: that Europe is a continent built upon centuries of secrets, and some of those secrets have checked into the room right next to yours. As you prepare to lay your head upon your pillow – whether you are in a boutique hotel in Paris or safely tucked into your own bed at home – remember that a locked door is a marvelous deterrent for the living, but entirely useless against the dead. 

I would wish you sweet dreams, but under the circumstances, that would be a malicious lie.