Mi Casa Es Tu Casa: the highs and lows of Airbnb

Sitting at the kitchen table in Paris

Hotels are like vanilla ice-cream -- you generally know what you're getting. Some vanilla ice-cream can be watery or grainy. Some can be as smooth as velvet. But it's never horrible. The same can be said for hotels. If you make a reservation at a Hilton, a Marriott, a Four Seasons, or an Embassy Suites, you have a fairly good idea of what you're getting. It will be pretty clean. There might be a gym or pool. The reception desk will be open 24/7. You pull your car up, unload and go to your room. If you need to know where the nearest ATM is, or how to take public transportation, answers await at the front desk.

Airbnb offers none of these assurances. "Clean" is in the eye of the beholder. To find an ATM or learn the local transport system, turn to your phone or guidebook for answers. Gyms are unlikely, and pools are rare. There is no bellman to unload your bags, and just finding the place can be a scavenger hunt. You may have to schedule a time to meet your "host" to get the keys -- what if you're early? Stand around and wait. What if you're late?  I had a nerve-wracking trip in Vienna because check-ins couldn't happen after 8:30pm, and our flight was scheduled to arrive at 6:00. We had to go through customs, get our luggage and rental car and then find the apartment. If anything went wrong, I'd have to find a hotel late at night. (Everything worked out, but I didn't appreciate the uncertainty.) 

I am currently sitting in an apartment in Paris. It is full of the daily detritus of the owners -- clothes in the closet, toothbrushes by the sink, old food in the freezer. We are on the fourth floor with no elevator. Hmmm. 

So why do we do it? Why not go straight for the simple luxury? The choices at the hotels are simple -- valet or self-park, breakfast included or reduced room rate, use points or pay cash. Finding a "just right apartment" can take weeks of searching. And even then, there's a little bit of rolling the dice.

The living room in Paris

We go for the vacation rental because it's more like "living" and less like "traveling."  At home, I am usually the first person up, and Mason is usually the last person up. Mike and Colin drift into the kitchen somewhere in between. When we have stayed in hotels, Colin and I have been known to whisper in the bathroom in the morning, trying to figure out if we should go to the lobby to read while we wait for the others. Ugh! That means getting out of my jammies! With time differences, we might be hungry when the kitchen isn't open. Or just be hungry for a tiny snack, not a plate of fries. 

At our own apartment, we have space -- space to sleep and space to hang out when we're awake, space to be together and space to be apart. We have our own food, and a place to cook and eat the local food. We can have breakfast at 5:30am if we need to -- long before the hotel restaurants are opening. We can eat in our jammies. It's a helluva lot cheaper than going out for breakfast.

While hotels are like vanilla ice cream, vacation rentals are like a box of chocolates -- "you never know what you're gonna get." Most of the time, we're willing to take our chances, and live like the locals.