As they say, third time’s the charm. This old wisdom was once again proven right by my third visit to Wales, and by my third attempt to stay in an Airbnb.
First time I started to consider Airbnb was when me and my sidekick were moving to London: all practical stuff what it comes to moving between countries had to be taken care of in three weeks time, so it all got a bit hectic. Most stressful part was finding accommodation, so an Airbnb was a backup. We almost got a flat from a lady who was going to Hawaii for a month to surf (yeah, some people!) but then something else, a bit more long term came along, and here we are, in an old Victorian 3rd floor studio in Brixton.
Second time Airbnb-almost-coming-true-experience happened only a few weeks ago, as in a spur of a romantic idealism me and my sidekick booked a cute flat from Paris for a weekend. Ah, bonjour Paris, Eiffel Tour et toutes les croissants! I thought in a happily before finding out that this trip needed to be cancelled due to real life obligations, such as work.
So, third time it was: I pressed the precious button of “book”, and got the tingly feeling in the stomach: it’s booked, I’m going, nothing can stop me.
And this time, nothing did. So bonjour Wales it was!
Apart from seeing Wales, I was also curious about the Airbnb experience. How is it to enter someone’s home, make it your own space for a very short visit, and not to feel like an intruder?
Our host, Adele, gave us directions how to find the place: we met up in a nearby village Tybont-on-Usk (population 743) from where we followed Adele for about fifteen minutes to Avalon Lodge. The road was winding and narrow, we met a few cars on the road and squeezed pass them taking care of not to end up in a ditch (mind you, I have ended up in a ditch with my car twice before, and wasn’t keen on experiencing the charm of that for the third time). Coming from Finland and being accustomed to our cottage culture, I didn’t mind the remoteness of our lodging, whereas my Rio-born spouse always gets a bit anxious when civilization disappears from the rear mirror.
And this was going to be a proper, middle of nowhere experience – or was it?