The Story of Hotel Central
(Last updated: July 18, 2026)
A decade ago, a travel book about Macau hit the shelves that was different from the rest.
Written by British expat Jason Wordie, Macau Stories, Past and Present dug deeper into Macau than anything else on the shelf. There were obscure recommendations for Indonesian kue lapis and Brazilian caipirinhas, mentions of the quirky San Kiu Teahouse near Cinema Alegria and, of course, the Tian Hou Temple in the northeast of the city, a place I never knew existed until I read the book.
I figured this guy knew Macau inside out, until he mentioned, almost casually, that he always stayed at Hotel Central.
I nearly spat out my Madeira when I read that line.
Hotel Central? That Hotel Central? I simply couldn’t fathom why anyone would choose that place again and again.
And this was coming from someone who was proudly championing the San Va at the time, a bare-bones $140 hostel on the Street of Happiness. So let’s be clear here: the bar wasn’t exactly high.
But in 2013, Hotel Central was on its last legs. Review after review described it as old, run-down and seedy. It had degenerated into a budget option that still managed to let people down.
Everything I suspected about Wordie’s loyalty felt confirmed in 2016, when the hotel closed down, presumably for good.
Case closed. I was vindicated. Or so it seemed.
From President to Central: The Early Days
The story of Hotel Central starts in 1928, when it opened as the President Hotel. They could not have picked a better location, right on San Ma Lo next to Senado Square, in the commercial and social heart of Macau. It was also cutting edge: Macau’s first building with an elevator, a novelty so remarkable that locals would ride it just to say they did.
By 1932, new owners had renamed it Hotel Central. They also brought more glamour, with gaming rooms on the sixth and seventh floors, a teahouse, an ice room, even a small theatre.
In 1942, a vertical expansion gave it 11 storeys, making it not only Macau’s tallest building, but the highest hotel in the Portuguese Empire.
During the war years, guerrilla fighters reportedly hid out here. In 1959, Ian Fleming stayed at Central and later wrote about it in Thrilling Cities.
But prestige is fragile.
By the 1960s, newer hotels—especially Hotel Lisboa—had stolen the spotlight. Central lost its gaming concession and slipped into neglect. By the 2000s, the party was long over. Locals saw only prostitution and peeling wallpaper. Tourists remembered cramped rooms and service that matched the surroundings.
It had gone from the “highest hotel in the Portuguese Empire” to something close to an embarrassment.
The Greatest Comeback in Macau Hotel History
What followed is the greatest comeback in Macau hotel history.
After an eight-year, 400 million Mop restoration, Hotel Central reopened in 2024. Walking inside now, the reaction isn’t surprise so much as disbelief.
How is this even the same place?
Hotel Central isn’t a boutique hotel pretending to be old. It’s an old hotel, lovingly brought back from the dead.
What Hotel Central Is — and Isn’t
I say this with absolute confidence: the only person who should not stay at Hotel Central is someone who needs amenities.
There is no pool. No casino. No spa. No gym.
What they do have are rooms that start from around $700 per night, making it the best mid-range hotel in Macau, especially once you factor in location.
Per usual in Macau, rates will be higher on weekends, and other peak times of year like summer and holidays.
The hotel has 114 rooms in total, each tied to a different decade:
- 1920s floors (5–6): Early Art Deco, handsome and subdued.
- 1930s floors (7–8): Richer, darker and, in my opinion, the best-looking rooms in the hotel.
- 1940s floors (9–10): Cleaner, calmer and more classically elegant.
The 1920s
The 1920s rooms are where the hotel exercises the most restraint. Warm wood, olive-green panelling, cane headboards and brass fittings give them the air of an old private club after everyone else has gone home.
What impresses me most is the commitment. The television is boxed in wood and suspended from chains. Old newspaper pages run across the desk, modern conveniences disappear into custom cabinetry, and even the lamps look as though they were designed specifically for the room. Nothing has been allowed to wander in from 2024 and spoil the picture.
The bathroom continues the theme with white tiles, a black-and-white hexagonal floor, an enormous round mirror and enough brass to keep several people employed polishing it. It’s compact, but beautifully put together.
For me, the design almost goes too far. The room is minimalist, subdued, even spartan. Handsome, certainly, but also a little too well behaved. Weren’t the Roaring Twenties meant to be one long party? You wouldn’t know it from this room.
I admire the 1920s rooms more than I love them. Some guests will appreciate the discipline and calm. This Maven just prefers a little more action.
The 1930s
The 1930s rooms turn the lights down and the drama up.
Dark wood, burnt-orange curtains and black furniture give the room a rich, almost theatrical quality. Historic maps and newspaper pages surround the television, while an enormous photograph of old Macau stretches across the wall above the bed.
Even the wardrobes, with their louvred doors and cane panels, have been worked into the design.
The bathroom might be the best part. Glossy green tiles cover almost every wall, broken up by brass fittings and a black-and-white hexagonal floor. It’s bold, slightly moody and far more memorable than the usual beige marble box.
These rooms are compact, and all that dark furniture can make them feel tighter still. But they have personality to burn. If the 1920s rooms exercise restraint, the 1930s rooms finally start having some fun.
The 1940s
The 1940s rooms are softer and more elegant.
Cream walls, warm wood and heavy brown curtains make the room feel brighter and calmer, while the furniture looks as though it came from a very well-kept apartment. The freestanding wardrobe with ribbed-glass doors is particularly beautiful, as are the old photographs, green ceramic lamp and little marble-topped drinks cabinet.
Nothing screams 1940s, and that may be why the room works so well. The period comes through in the furniture, colours and small details rather than any obvious historical theme. You don’t feel as though you’re sleeping inside a museum display. You just feel as though someone with excellent taste decorated the room eighty years ago and somehow kept it in perfect condition.
The 1930s rooms have more drama. The 1940s rooms are easier to live in. Both are gorgeous; it just depends on how much action you want.
The Lobby
Most hotel lobbies exist to get a job done. You hit the front desk, do some paperwork, collect your key and leave. Hotel Central’s feels designed to make you stay. The reception desk almost disappears behind deep sofas, armchairs, table lamps, bookshelves and enormous arrangements of flowers.
Then you start noticing everything else. Typewriters, clocks, old books, a phonograph, a film projector and assorted pieces of Macau history are scattered throughout the room. There’s a lot here, but it never feels like someone raided an antique shop and dumped the contents into a hotel. Everything has its place.
It reminds me a little of the mezzanine at MacauSoul, which is about the highest compliment I can give any interior.
Sometimes, when I’m around Senado Square, I come upstairs and sit here for a while. I’m not staying at the hotel. I’m not meeting anyone or ordering anything. I just want to be in the room.
There aren’t many hotel lobbies capable of pulling people in from the street for no reason at all.
Macau hasn’t built one that’s looked so good since the original Lisboa. It’s on that level.
Rooftop Bar
The rooftop bar isn’t large, and neither is the menu. Nobody is coming here for a twelve-page cocktail list or a serious dinner.
They’re coming for the space.
At the centre is a wonderful neon-covered bar that looks like a cinema marquee crossed with an old roadside drinks stand. Red and green lights spill across the terrace, while cane chairs, tiny table lamps and old drawings of Macau keep the rest of the rooftop tied to the hotel below.
It’s especially good after dark. The neon comes alive, the city lights appear beyond the railing, and the whole place takes on a slightly surreal quality.
The drinks menu is short and fairly simple. I’d like to see more choice, but that isn’t really the point. Come up after dinner, order a cocktail or beer and give it an hour.
Daily Happy Hour runs from 5:30 pm to 7:30 pm with buy one, get one free drinks, while Wednesdays feature Ladies’ Night, where $98 includes unlimited drinks from a selected menu between 5:30 pm and midnight.
For a hotel with so few amenities, Hotel Central has somehow built one of the most memorable rooftop bars in Macau.
Final Word
In recent years, Macau has spent a lot of time pretending to be somewhere else. London, Venice, Paris. Pick a city and someone has probably copied part of it in Cotai.
Hotel Central does the opposite. It doesn’t borrow an identity. It recovers one.
They could have gutted the building, added some old photographs and called it a heritage hotel. Instead, they reinforced the structure, restored what could be saved and gave each pair of floors its own decade, mood and design language. The lobby didn’t need to be this good. The rooms didn’t need this much thought. Even the hallways didn’t need to change as you moved upward.
But they did it anyway.
If I were building a hotel in Macau, it would look something like this.
Back in 2013, I thought Jason Wordie had lost his mind.
But he wasn’t wrong about Hotel Central. He was just early.
The San Va is out.
Hotel Central is in.
Hopefully, for life.