Sunday Territorian

Really, every Airbnb is the same


I’VE spent a good chunk of time in hotels and Airbnbs, I’m still on the fence about which I prefer. Hotels seem to offer more glamour, well, perceived glamour at least, but Airbnbs allow you to have a trot around in someone else’s life for a bit. I think it’s probably just a grass is always greener thing, but I’m starting to think Airbnbs might be my favourite. With hotels you’re stuck dodging housekeepi­ng and it’s hard shoving your snacks in the fridge around the mini bar items. Airbnbs allow you to imagine, what it would be like to actually live there, that place you’ve eaten breakfast at by the surf shop could be your new coffee local. Unlike when you’re in hotel you’re not walking in someone else’s shoes, you’re just a tourist.

I love the “realness”, yes let’s call it that of some Airbnbs, the ones I can afford anyway all share these same certain cornerston­es;

A thin, twisted fry pan, singular. How do you even twist a frypan?

Really big plastic cooking utensils, with ergonomic shapes I’ve never seen before, like someone’s made an artist’s impression of a slotted spoon. They’re always space-age looking, but also inevitably not that useful.

A thimble of olive oil in the bottom of the bottle, yet a full, mostly untouched bottle of some other oil I have no use for, such as avocado oil.

A 1kg pack of white sugar, but only trace amounts of salt and pepper. There’s always a packet of rarely useful herbs, too, like who left behind the hardly touched packet of cinnamon quills? What were you cooking on holiday that you didn’t need salt and pepper for, but it required a cinnamon quill?

A block of knives on the bench, literally nine knives, none of which can make their way through a tomato. Each knife blunt, except the tiny little paring knife, that you end up using to cook everything.

A large canvas photo in each room of what the view would’ve been if you’d sprung for the more expensive place on the beach. Then again some places just have their own theme, too, you could be in a townhouse in Cairns, but for some reason it’s Parisian-themed, with red velvet curtains and Eiffel Tower art.

Airbnbs bring back the childhood surge of excitement after you’ve got in, as you go from room to room planning what activities you’ll do where and which bed you’ll sleep in.

On the matter of getting in, there’s always a few steps, Airbnbs love a box on the back of a post, enter the six digit two letter code to get the five keys, then rotate through them multiple times to find the front door key. Until you hand them over to your partner and say, “I’ll get the bags from the car”.

I can never leave an Airbnb without wiping down some surfaces. Logically I know a cleaner is coming, however the doesn’t stop me from giving the bath a bit of a spray and a wipe out. I can’t help myself. Well if it was my Parisian-themed townhouse in Cairns I’d want people to do the same for me.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Australia