Camino Real Hotel

Originally the Hotel Paso del Norte when it opened in 1912, this historic hotel has been a landmark in downtown El Paso for over a century. The Tiffany stained-glass dome in the bar is a treasured architectural feature. El Paso ranks third in the nation for ghost sightings, with 197 reported in one year alone.

The Camino Real Hotel, originally the Hotel Paso Del Norte built in 1912, stands as El Paso's most elegant repository of ghosts and sorrow. This National Register landmark witnessed the Mexican Revolution from its terrace—wealthy refugees like former Chihuahua governor Luis Terrazas rented entire floors to escape the violence, bringing families and servants while watching skirmishes unfold below. The hotel has hosted Amelia Earhart, Gloria Swanson, Eleanor Roosevelt, and apparently, spirits who refuse to check out.

The Woman in White remains the hotel's most famous specter, her tragic origin story echoing through the decades. According to legend, a bride-to-be was devastated when her fiancé ran off with her bridesmaid on their wedding day. Overwhelmed by betrayal, she threw herself from the hotel, her white gown billowing as she fell. Now she wanders the basement and corridors, forever wearing the bridal garments of her ruined ceremony. Men who encounter her presence report smelling beautiful perfume, while women sense only a foul odor accompanied by inexplicable nervousness.

The Pancho Villa Room carries its own supernatural charge—lights flicker whenever the revolutionary's name is mentioned, as if his spirit responds to recognition. On the upper floors, phantoms from Villa's army have been spotted reenacting the violence of those troubled times, their uniformed figures marching through walls and vanishing around corners.

Room 727 generates particular dread, with guests reporting being shaken awake by invisible hands in the early morning hours. The tenth floor sees constant activity, and visitors throughout the hotel describe whistles echoing down the elevator shaft from floors that have been sealed for years. Children's whispers and giggles have awakened guests who find themselves alone in their rooms—remnants of families who sought refuge in the hotel over a century ago.