A Love Letter to Airbnb

Dear Airbnb,

I love you. I truly do. You have changed the way I travel and experience every country, and for that, I’m truly grateful.

I will never forget my first encounter with you. Sweeping views of Table Mountain, an infinity pool that blended almost perfectly with the Atlantic Ocean, an apartment built around a natural geological formation – you were perfect for our honeymoon, and we enjoyed a million dollar view for the fraction of a price we would pay in a hotel. We felt safe there, despite the many warnings we’d heard about South Africa. From then on, we were sold.

I love how you are so full of character. From light-filled beachfront hideaways to colorful heritage shophouses to Scandinavian-inspired lofts, you’ve allowed me to learn a little something about the people who have designed these living spaces and the cultures they are inspired by. Thanks to you, I get to stay in the local neighbourhoods and live like the locals do. Gone are the the days of checking into homogenous hotel rooms that all smell the same, look the same, feel the same – you’ve spoilt me with your quirks and surprises and you’re my first choice. Always.

I love how you’ve introduced me to so many new and amazing people. You’ve shown me what hospitality should look like, and it’s all your fault that now, I’ve fallen in love with so many more cities. Cinnie. Saatia. Sem. Colin. Jono. My travel memories are no longer just associated with places and things, but with the hosts who have shared their best recommendations, stories, and time. You’ve allowed me to feel like a local in any part of the world and it’s true – I do belong anywhere.

More importantly, you’ve also helped me to build wonderful memories with the people I love. We longer retreat to our little hotel rooms at the end of the day, but instead we can cook together, watch a movie, snuggle close to the fireplace or soak in the hot-tub under a starlit sky. And I know I’m gushing, but seriously, it’s all thanks to you.

As I’m writing this, I’m sitting in my Mongolian yurt… in Melbourne. More specifically, it’s in the backyard of a terrace house in Fitzroy, Melbourne’s hippiest neighbourhood. I didn’t think the words “yurt”, “Melbourne” and “me” would ever come together in a sentence and yet, they have. It’s been a little weird, and cold, and I can hear every patter of rain as if it were next to me

but I love it and wouldn’t choose to stay anywhere else. So once again, thank you.

//

P.S. If you wanna get in on the Airbnb lovin’ and need a little motivation, here’s $25 to get you started. Trust us. You won’t regret it (: