Explore the World in Airbnbs
The drive up to Camp Noon is not for the faint of heart, so you were told. Arriving after dark was
also advised against, but you’re city people. You’d survived midnight walks through the Mission.
AC-less subway rides on sweaty summer days. The 5 freeway at 5PM on a Friday. What could
possibly go wrong?
The sun slips behind a canopy of trees as you inch forward, this is fine. You’re fine. Through
downed limbs and rollercoaster-steep, mud-filled roads, you inch forward, the last of the winter
light sinking farther and father, the river to your right guiding the way. You snake through back
roads, 5-, 10-, 15-minutes ticking by until you finally arrive at the base of your 48-hour home –
this must be the place.
The place it is, indeed, only you’re not quite there. The mountain – erm, driveway – looming
ahead scoffs your arrival. City people.
Back up – no, forward. Wait, too much – no, not enough. Is the wheel still on the road?
Six doors. Twenty-one windows – more if you count each french-style panel individually. It’s
charming, you know, in that curling wallpaper, angular windowsill, and pastel shades that exist
only in a generation long before yours kind of way. And this home, perched high in the forest, is
yours. At least for 48 hours.
That’s the beauty of Airbnb, you think. For a few days, a week, a month, even, you can belong
to someone’s history – to the memories made in the four walls that occupy their lives. For a
moment, just a moment, it’s yours, too. You’re every dribble of paint that’s ever splattered to the
floor. You’re every song that’s ever spun round and round on the record player. You’re every
meal shared around the splitting wood table, every coffee steeped in the French press – could
you pour another cup?
This gets you thinking, as the sun begins to rise the next morning, leaving in its path a fresh
pillow of fog, broken only by the tips of 300-foot tall Sequoia trees – that sometimes, the home
away from home isn’t just a resting place in the days that make up your journey, it’s the
destination; It’s the thing the journey is built around. Lofts, tree houses, villas, riads – each
boasting the kind of magic you can’t find tip-toeing through the carpet-lined halls of even the
world’s greatest hotels.
After your second night at Camp Noon you decide to look at the world of travel through a new
lens. You decide that, for a few days, a week, a month, even, you will belong to someone’s
history, making memories in the four walls that occupy their lives.
Inching back down the mountain – back up, no forward – your home away from home recedes
behind you, resetting for the next car to snake through the back roads, 5-, 10-, 15-minutes
ticking by until they arrive at the base of their 48-hour home. This must be the place.
Maybe you’d like to explore the world in Airbnb’s, too?
Settle into this cozy palace in the heart of Marrakesh. Let your fingers slide across the deep
blueberry shades of a glossy ceramic tile.
Escape to Kuta Utara, where a modern villa awaits your arrival. Bask in the sun before you slip
off to the pool for an afternoon swim – you live here, at least for a little while.