Your guests ask you the same five questions

It's 11 p.m. A guest arrives the day after tomorrow and has just messaged to ask how to get to you from the airport. You type the answer. You have typed it thirty times already this season, almost word for word, and you'll type it again tomorrow for somebody else.

That isn't hospitality. It's unpaid work you are doing on your website's behalf.

The questions never change

Pull up your last twenty exchanges with guests who hadn't arrived yet. The same handful of subjects will be there, in no particular order:

• how to get here from the airport, and how long it really takes;
• whether bags can be dropped off when the flight lands early;
• whether there's parking, and whether a car is worth renting;
• what's nearby, and where to eat the first night;
• what to bring, and what's already waiting in the room.

Every question a guest asks is a page you haven't written. It isn't that your guests are disorganised. It's that the information exists nowhere except in your head.

A "Before you arrive" page, and it's done

It doesn't have to be beautiful. It has to be accurate, short, and live at a fixed address you can paste into a conversation in two seconds.

Write it the way you answer: in the first person, with the landmarks people actually use. The name of the road, not GPS coordinates. How long the drive really takes, not what the map says. What you'd tell a friend landing for the first time.

Then put the link in your confirmation message, automatically, the moment a booking comes in. The guest reads it calmly ten days out instead of messaging you at 11 p.m. the night before. It's the same logic behind the WhatsApp message that converts instead of eating your evening: prepare the answer once, serve it a hundred times.

It gets read on a phone, usually on a bad connection

This page has a very specific reading context: a phone, in a taxi or a queue, on roaming data that barely moves. It's the worst loading scenario there is, and it belongs to your most committed guest, the one who has already paid.

Shared hosting in mainland France routinely takes 6 to 8 seconds to appear from Miami. Google measured that 53% of mobile visitors leave after 3 seconds. An arrivals page that won't open is a phone call landing on your mobile in the middle of service. Keep it light: text, two or three photos, and no interactive map that loads three megabytes to show one pin.

And it exists in both languages. An American guest who gets a link in French doesn't translate it. They message you.

What it sells without looking like selling

This is the benefit nobody expects. A guest who reads "airport transfers can be booked here" ten days before the flight books one. The same guest, offered a transfer at the desk on arrival, has already taken a taxi.

Extras sell before departure, not on arrival: transfers, a welcome basket, equipment hire, dinner on the first night, an excursion. One line per extra, one way to say yes, and a logistics page has quietly become a sales page. It's one of the blocks we build as standard on our hotel and guesthouse websites.

Measurable, not promised

We don't promise anyone the first page of Google, and this page won't fill your rooms on its own. What can be measured comes down to two numbers you can track yourself.

The first: how many logistics messages you get per week in high season. Write it down now, before. The second: how many extras you sell before arrival rather than at the desk. If the first drops and the second climbs, the page has paid for itself, and you have your evenings back.

Our website pricing is public, lead times included — or get your quote within 24 hours and be ready before high season.