I love using AirBnB
Like, a lot.
I’ve used it in places like Copenhagen, St. Thomas, Utah, Lake Arrowhead, and Hawaii. And while I’ve always had great experiences, I was always with someone else and we had the whole place to ourselves. Trust me – having a flat/apartment/house to yourself while traveling is a wonderful commodity. Being able to relax and stretch out while traveling can help you recharge and settle in. There’s something magical to be said in cooking your own meals to give your wallet and GI tract a break.
The Booking
Sometimes having a whole place to yourself for a weekend getaway, especially when you’re planning on being out and about for 95% of the time, can be a bit of an overkill. When I was planning my trip to Boston for a much-needed solo getaway weekend, lodging was causing me the most stress. I scored an epic flight deal from Salt Lake City, thanks to an Instagram account I follow, and was hoping to keep the rest of my expenses down. I scoured the web for days on-end, weighing options and hotels, winding up on the AirBnB website.
I started looking at the private room options, a little nervous as I clicked through a variety of listings, unsure of what I was really looking for. Even though I would often stare at the map of the greater Boston area, I had no real grip on where everything was in relation to each other. Sure, I saw the plots on the map and could trace them with my mouse, but anyone who has stepped outside before can tell you that actual cities look starkly different compared to their 2D counterparts. As per standard, most hotels seemed to be clustered in the center of the city, with most of the private room options scattered closer to the colleges and outskirts of town.
After adding a few “favorites” to a list, plotting them out on a printed map, and checking which ones were within walking distance to the metro station…I was ready to commit. I clicked “BOOK.”
**GASP**
The Buildup
Having never stayed in a private room from the AirBnB website, I had a lot of apprehensive thoughts run through my mind in the weeks leading up to my trip. I knew the layout of the property and the walking distance to the nearest metro station, which was great, but what was it going to be like walking in that first time? Was it going to feel like a hostel with multiple travelers staying there? Would there be people milling about in the common areas? Are there curfew hours when I need to be back? Basically – was I going to have all the freedoms I am accustomed to when I stay in other lodging options?
Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long until my host reached out to me with a detailed map and directions to the place, a brief introduction to herself and her property, and a few other items of what to expect.
And then I got another email from her with more information.
And another.
Wait, was it going to be like this the whole time I stay at her place?
Granted, the emails all had purpose and great information that I needed: the property had hard wood floors and shoes weren’t allowed upstairs – did I have slippers I could bring? If not, the host could provide. Did I take breakfast? If so, what time and do I like bread?
Oh, dear.
My interest in booking a private room was rooted in the fact that I wasn’t going to be spending much time there. I essentially needed a spot to put my bags down, set up my laptop at night, and sleep. What all was going to be involved in my stay?
The Arrival
During my pre-arrival communications with my host, I was told that check-in wasn’t going to be until around noon. Since I was going to be arriving in Boston before 7am, going on a whale-watching cruise, and relying on public transportation, I had absolutely no idea the EXACT time that I was going to arriving at my accommodation. I mean, would you? Probably not. I provided my host an approximation of arrival and promised to text when I finished my whale-watching tour.
I’m not sure why it was even a big deal, but I was nervous as I boarded the subway, heading for my accommodation. I think every horrible scenario that you read about on Facebook and Buzzfeed articles ran through my head: was I going to wake up in the middle of the night with someone sitting in my room with me? Was my lock going to work? What if…? You get the picture.
Then, something happened. I stepped out of the metro station into the rain-soaked neighborhood, put one foot in front of the other and smiled. You know what, I told myself, this is going to be awesome. And if I don’t like it, I know better for next time. If I don’t feel right about the living situation, I’ll find a hotel. If my sixth sense kicks in and tells me to bolt, I’ll do so quickly. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. My spidey-sense was not needed.
The Stay
This post isn’t a review on my host or the specific accommodation, but she immediately put me at ease and showed me around the house. My room was on the 3rd floor, which turned out to be a converted attic. The door locked, I had a desk and fresh flowers next to my bed…it was everything I needed and could have asked for at that price. It was weird to have to wait my turn for the shower and carry my toiletries with me to and from the bathroom every morning and night. It almost reminded me of the times I spent in hostels and having a communal bathroom.
I was provided my own key to the front door and had no problems coming or going. If someone was in the kitchen or front room, I chatted briefly with them before trekking up 2 flights of stairs to take stock of my day, avoiding the squeaky stairs if it was late.
The Verdict
When I travel, I tend to have a short amount of time to experience a city/state/country. Often times, I’m out really late at night and am out the door in the mornings before most people on vacation even dream about waking up. As such, staying in a hosted accommodation presented a little bit of an adjustment period. I had another guest room directly below mine and had to remember to take extra precaution to step lightly, keep my music down while I worked, and try not to run into anything (trust me – waking up in the middle of the night for a potty-run in a new environment takes some getting used to).
And while it’s not a deal-breaker, staying in someone’s personal home while they are living their own life was a little awkward for me. I found myself constantly in an internal struggle between the social obligations to interact with my host and the other tenants versus my own travel goals of staying out as late as I want, keeping my own schedule, and the constant yearning for freedom. It was a new dichotomy that was strange to experience fully for the first time.
Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful experience renting a private room from AirBnB. My host was attentive, responsive, and truly went out of her way to make her guests feel at home. But sometimes it felt like I was intruding on her personal space…even though she willingly rented out my room. Have you ever listened to the comedian Jim Gaffigan’s sketch called “House Guest?” Take a listen and maybe you’ll see why I probably won’t be making private rooms my go-to for traveling in the future. Unless I get a private entrance, but I won’t be holding my breath…
Have you ever stayed in a private room you found on AirBnB before? What was your experience?
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