Kathy Gibbon
When we built our house several years ago, we fitted out a studio space above the garage with its own independent entrance that could accommodate two people. The idea was to have a private place for our family and friends that we could also rent out to tourists when it suited us.
I had tried doing Airbnb in my last home a few times but didn’t have a private space for it. I was actually working out of town then and it only happened once that I was there when the guests were.
It turned out to be a delightful experience – an elderly couple from Germany who were traveling across the United States and deliberately chose accommodation that allowed them to live with people in their home so they could fully enjoy the American life.
They told me about a place where they were greeted by disinterested middle-aged parents who informed them that the Airbnb was their daughter’s gig to earn money for dance lessons. The couple stood awkwardly outside the front door until a sullen teenager came to escort them to their bedroom. They felt so unwelcome that they rarely went out.
They had other experiences – good and bad – which they shared while we ate breakfast together at my kitchen table. They were wonderful, even bringing gifts which included a small piece of the Berlin wall and a ruler with scenes from Germany.
Now we welcome people with some regularity, working around our family visits mainly from spring to autumn. I’m picky about who we rent to, trying to avoid anyone who disturbs the peace or abuses the space. While we’re here when they stay, we don’t always meet in person.
But I tell people up front that if they don’t have good reviews beforehand, we probably won’t rent to them. When they don’t, I ask them to tell me about themselves and/or produce a reference. I want to feel like they are functional members of society – which they represent themselves.
The way they respond tells me a lot. If they are open and doing everything possible to give me an idea of what kind of guests they would be, it will probably work.
Recently a 23 year old international student with no opinion asked to book. I told him that I needed to know more. “Well, I have to start collecting reviews somewhere, right?” he has answered. I explained that it was our house and for our sake and that of our neighbors, we could not rent to someone whose character was not clear to us. He replied, dripping with belligerence: “So tell me how is anyone supposed to get reviews if people don’t even confirm your booking?” Do not go.
It was the same with a young woman who wanted to come with a girlfriend. His answers didn’t seem genuine, so I told him that ultimately we couldn’t organize this weekend after all. She let me have it: I had no reason to interview her and waste her time just to back off before we finalized anything. She said she would report me. To be… precautions? Good. I was so glad I followed my instincts.
But overall, and maybe because of that process, it was a good experience.
I love that people who live in big cities come away saying they can’t get over the absolute silence of the night, or the brightness of the stars.
There are a few we’ve kept in touch with, including a retired couple from Maryland who came here at the height of the pandemic when they couldn’t travel to Greece as they usually do in summer (he’s a native and has family there) and we rented the studio sparingly at the time. They left for other parts of Michigan and then asked to come back for a few more days. We still exchange cards and texts.
It’s a big world, but it feels smaller when you can connect with people through travel. Sharing a small slice of what we experience every day is the icing on the cake.
Kathy Gibbons is a former city and editor of the Record-Eagle.
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