#10062019

[nightmerii]

Seninle geçirdiğim bir seneyi bir günde unuttun'

[inconspicuousfangirl]

#Lunanoona so ready for 🍞! 🐕😍 #10062019 https://www.instagram.com/p/B3b2GNaAtY-/?igshid=48dhxumez1sn

[failedimitator]

I came back home today. Airbnb sent me a notification asking me to rate my stay in Lisbon, and I’m a little conflicted. 

My host was lovely. He was very accommodating. When I changed my arrival time, he made sure the room was ready by the time I got there. He has smart lock system that’s super convenient. Not to mention he’s super responsive via text.

The room is also exactly as advertised: A small cosy room with balcony overlooking the street.

The walk from the metro to the apartment is a little longer than I would like, but the weather was cool while I was there, so the walk wasn’t uncomfortable. 

So what’s the but? The but is that I didn’t really have a nice time staying there through no fault of my host.

You see, the apartment has three rooms (although I suspect it was originally two but the living area was also converted into a room). The host and his girlfriend were in the master. There was another couple in the middle room, also travelers. And then me. Between us, we had one toilet.

Again, I’d like to say that the toilet was always sparkling clean. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was just me -- my personality, specifically. It was tough sharing these close spaces with people who I felt have more ownership of the spaces over me (the host and his girlfriend -- it’s their space; and the traveling couple were there before me).

So the majority of the time, while I was home, I stayed in my room. Quiet. Trying not to make a noise. Neither be seen nor heard.

I realise this says more about me than it does my Airbnb, but... I don’t know really.