Took me a while to figure out the game, to get used to the pace of AIRBNB, and therefore, to manage almost automatically, the arrivals and departures. It’s been a long time coming, but I’ve changed since the day the first guest walked through the front door of my house.
Although I don’t take in tourists anymore, I still wake up in the middle of the night after having dreamed of Kamesh, an Indian guest with eyeliner and shocking pink leather pants. Or Amandine and Claire, two special French guests who dressed the same way as the Shining twin little girls. Because, even without horrifying nocturnal awakenings, I often think about those days with regret.
AIRBNB. I guess that was a troubled relationship full of sunlight and shadow. Actually, on second thought, it was not a relationship, but a Russian novel.
In the year of our Lord 2009, an inner spark pushed me, with curiosity, toward this portal. It was love at first sight.
With this traveling companion, I learned what it is to host someone. I’ve grown to love my house. Looking at it with the eyes of a traveler, I wanted to make some improvements on it, to give it the care it needed. Because if I didn’t join AIRBNB, I wouldn’t upgrade some rooms of my house or repaint the exterior to increase curb appeal.
I got in a fight with some guests, but most of the time I had fun, overwhelmed by the emotional swing that exploded every day in my place, while I was looking for Bob Dylan's "answer in the wind", without feeling heartbroken.
In the beginning, I made many mistakes. Hosting is dangerous. Hosting puts you off balance. I’ve been falling a lot, but I’ve always managed to bounce back. Armies rise and armies fall.
Watching how other people had described their home and reading many reviews was very useful to me in terms of clarifying certain issues. I got some ideas from them.
Bit by bit I took a positive and proactive attitude. It happened gradually, without my realizing it, that’s all.
I stopped believing in AIRBNB. I stopped playing. I stopped obeying orders. I stopped worrying about scores in a way totally determined by others.
After a time, I learned to understand the things guests valued most highly.
I learned to show them a little Italian hospitality.
I learned to respect the spaces and times of others.
I learned to understand when my guest needed silence and solitude.
I learned that the guest takes root in the heart of the hosts he meets.
I learned that hosting moves mountains.
Because in hosting there is no end, but always a new beginning.
With utopian stubbornness and boundless love
Emily