I could not have thought of anything worse than camping, even the “comfortable” kind. Yet this is exactly what my wife, who is much more outdoorsy than I, was trying to convince me to do.
Glamping – a portmanteau of “glamorous” and “camping” – is camping, but with elevated versions of all the typical amenities pre-prepared and waiting for guests on-site. Think Instagrammable tents complete with mattresses and blankets, ready-to-use barbecue grills, and (clean) toilet and shower facilities within manicured grounds.
The activity’s popularity around the world has skyrocketed in recent years and continues to do so as more people seek out convenient “back to nature” experiences in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, without having to slum it.
According to market research company Arizton, the glamping market in the United States, valued at US$561 million in 2023, is projected to grow to US$1.3 billion by 2029. A 2025 Consegic Business Intelligence report projects a similar surge in Hong Kong, where the market is estimated to grow to US$210.3 million by 2033 from US$85.5 million in 2024.
Still, it did not appeal to me.
As someone who had camped only a handful of times, and for whom the mental wounds left by moist, muddy, music-festival nightmares were easily reopened, the idea of glamping paled in comparison to a night in a mid-tier Hong Kong hotel – for which the cost is comparable.