Airbnb: Goodbye, My Sweet

Derelict motel, Vaughn, New Mexico. July 2013.

From South Louisiana to Arkansas, on the way to Missouri. October 2017.


I can love someone but still break up.


Airbnb, I loved you, but we're finished.

You had my email address. You had my phone number. At our multiple rendezous, you had my credit card number. You had my photo.

But all of a sudden these weren't enough. You wanted government photo ID. You wanted a new photo. And then another. It didn't matter that I had a sterling track record of good references from past hosts.

Think about it, Airbnb. Do you take my security any more "seriously" than Wells Fargo? Than the IRS? Yahoo? Equifax? The National Fucking Security Agency?

Yet you want me to put all this juicy data in one convenient spot for hackers: photo, government photo ID (!), credit card, phone number, email?!

You haven't been hacked yet? Sweetie, it's only a matter of time. Or it's already happened, only you don't know it yet. Or haven't told us yet.

And it's not as if the sick man who shot and killed so many people in Las Vegas would have been stopped by your new requirements. Remember him? The guy who booked lodging through Airbnb?

What you're doing is, in fact, irresponsible, because in the name of security theater (like TSA confiscating my new tube of toothpaste), you're exposing all of your Airbnb hosts and renters to inevitable hacking.


I grieve for the loss of our years-long relationship, but you're just too risky for me.

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: La Iguana Perdida: My Room

Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

When I looked at the "lake view" from my La Iguana Perdida room, I laughed. Not in a derisive way. In an appreciative, cosmic-joke kind of way. It was like when I sat down on the bed the first time in the Al Uruba Hotel, hidden away in a corner of the Gold Souk in Dubai, and I burst out laughing from the absurdity of discovering that my "mattress," regardless of the fact that it was wrapped in fabric, was surely a table top.

Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

So anyway, yes, I had a lake view, visible when I stood up and slid my gaze across the corrugated tin roof. I liked it.

Let me show you around the rest of the room:

Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

Room, La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

I liked the shelving and the generous door hooks. At the head of my bed were a lamp, an electrial outlet, and a shelf. The hostel provided the blue towels on the shelf. 

For $10, I was very happy, indeed.

As mentioned previously, my main regret was to not have brought a small electric kettle with me so I could enjoy coffee whenever I wanted, instead of having to wait til the restaurant opened at 8 a.m.

There was one interesting incident that occurred in my room. One night, while I lay in bed reading, it came to my consciousness that my bed seemed to be swaying ever so gently and sporadically. It was so slight to almost be my imagination, but no, it was real. Was it my neighbors, having sex? Rather quietly, I'd say, but with enough oomph to cause some movement on the stilted building? Or was it an earthquake, certainly common enough in Guatemala? At a certain point, I did hear a sound that might have signaled a climactic finish... or which could have been a tectonic sigh.

It remains a mystery.

Lake Atitlan, Guatemala: La Iguana Perdida: Introduction

View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

La Iguana Perdida offers accommodations for just about any tourist budget, from $6 per night for a bed in a dorm, to $47-61 for a luxury suite (depending on number of people in the suite). I chose the private room with shared bath at about $10.

I'm unsure how to categorize La Iguana Perdida. It has sleeping rooms, yes, with tastes for the hostel crowd and the private cabin crowd. Plus a restaurant and a bar. And auxiliary businesses such as scuba diving, language lessons, local artisanal instruction, tours, and spa services. Maybe I'll call it a resort.

La Iguana Perdida (LIP from now on) offers pleasant spaces where you can just be.

View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

There are hammocks in a covered patio where you can just sway and look out at the lake.

Or close your eyes. Or look at the ceiling.

Pleasantly doing nothing at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

There is a comfortable library or low-conversation space in a room off the restaurant/bar.

There are chairs with cushions that line a stone pathway, with a line of flowering shrubs between you and the lake, where you can sit and drink your coffee or tea, and just watch the lake, the comings and goings of launches and people, the movement of clouds across the volcanoes.

There are tables and chairs in the restaurant proper and in the covered veranda that invite community chat or board games or dining.

There's an open patio with a firepit and chairs just outside the restaurant/bar.

LIP seems to attract readers, based on my observations of fellow guests during my stay.

There is no wifi. However it is possible to use one of the wired resort computers, in a room designed for this, for a small fee. 

The LIP staff are friendly and helpful. I received prompt and useful replies to my email queries before I booked my room and before I arrived at the resort.

View from La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

The original owner of the resort - way back before anyone would call it a resort - is now an elder gent, and he lives on the premises full time, I believe. You can often find him in the evenings sitting on one of the chairs on the open patio that has the fire pit.

In my experience, the food offered by the restaurant was pretty, but not particularly memorable. It did have a satisfactory boxed red table wine. The coffee was unobjectionable.

A lunch at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

The hot in the "hot showers" was unreliable during my stay, and there was a bit of a trick to turn them on and find the sweet spot for hot.

A shower at La Iguana Perdida, Santa Cruz, Lake Atitlan, Guatemala. April 2016.

The lack of wifi and the disloyal hot showers weren't all that bothersome. What hurt me to the quick was that there was no access to coffee before 8 a.m. Ouch. It would have been helpful to have a little electric kettle with me.

Overall, LIP is a good place to go to be easy in the world for awhile while pleasantly avoiding doing much.

On the Road: In For the Night

Silver City, New Mexico. In for the night.

The New Thing I Collect From Hotel Rooms

To-go coffee cups.

Used to be that hotel rooms only offered little styrofoam cups in the rooms (other than ceramic mugs).

Now they provide the nice reinforced-paper coffee cups, sometimes with lids, sometimes not.

I like.

Dixie Perfect Touch Hot Cup

I don't collect the shampoos and conditioners anymore, and usually, not any soap, either. But if there's lotion, I still take that.

Oliver Lee Memorial State Park: My Temporary Home

Hello! Thanks for dropping in to my temporary place in the Tularosa Basin!

(And between you and me, I'm happy you've only got the two legs.)

Let me show you around.

So here's a pretty good view of the campsite shelter. Not all the sites have them, but they're a must to keep the sun at bay and also protect me from the rain, although a fellow camper said when the rain hits really hard, there can be veritable creeks running right through the living room.

The tablecloth there? Every day, a hummingbird stops by and re-confirms that, no, these aren't real flowers. I bought this tablecloth in the Yukon more than 15 years ago when my daughter and I took a road trip to Alaska.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Here you can see a view of the Sacramento Mountains behind my site. 

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

And here's my living room. The table I bought from friend Jackie at her garage sale when she moved to Tennessee. That Playmate cooler figures prominently in my road trip pack list.  The plastic trash bag affixed to my chair - the campsites are bereft of places to attach things like trash bags, clotheslines, and the like, though I did learn of one trick from a fellow camper. More on that later.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

This is the view from my dining table: the Tularosa Basin.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Since I've been in the area, I've seen six tarantulas, a rattlesnake, and other ominous-looking critters.

This visitor just barged right in without asking. We agreed that if I left it alone, it'd leave me alone.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico

On the way back from a ranger talk, I saw this long rattlesnake crossing the road.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico. Rattlesnake.

When I first arrived at my campsite, I found these four pennies on the picnic table. In case they were somehow maintaining order in the universe, I left them on the table, though I did rearrange them in a fashion more pleasing to my eye. There's a lesson in there somewhere.

Oliver Lee Memorial Park, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

The Model Budget Motel

White Sands Motel, Alamogordo, New Mexico

I stayed for two nights in Alamogordo at an example of a model budget motel.

Price: $50

Here's what I loved about the White Sands Motel, none of which you can take for granted in a budget motel:

• Clean
• Mini fridge
• Microwave
• Free wifi (secured)
• TV
• Coffee maker
• Deadbolt + locking handle
• Shower curtain with a crisp, bright design
• Ample-sized desk for laptop or meal (only one person, tho)
• Extra thoughtful touch: A power strip on top of the desk so no need to crawl around floor or behind clunky furniture for a free outlet
• Extremely comfortable bed (although bed comfort is such a personal thing, it's difficult to standardize the concept)
• Attractive exterior and landscaping
• Burly ice maker
• Air conditioning 
• Pleasant management

The breakfast is OK, nothing special, but the value of the place isn't in the breakfast, it's in all the details above. In fact, most "free" breakfasts are of dubious value.

White Sands Motel, Alamogordo, New Mexico

If I were to ding the motel on anything, it would constitute raising a 97% level of wonderfulness the last 3%, which seems almost churlish on my part, but even so, here goes:

• Ceiling fan to replace the so-so ceiling light
• Bedspread design is pretty (and clean), but it's such a busy and dark floral pattern, I found it easy to "lose"small items on it, such as the room key, because they disappear into the pattern.

There's no pool, but that's not really on my radar, though it would be for some.

White Sands Motel, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Note: I have received no compensation for writing about this motel.





 

Rootless Relocation, Part 9: Roof Over My Head

About a month before I left Missouri, I started looking for possible places to live in Alamogordo.

What I didn't want

I knew I didn't want to live in a free-standing house. Didn't want the yard maintenance, mostly. On a lesser level of concern, I wanted my abode to be one among others rather than standing solo. Felt more secure.

Also, while acknowledging that Alamogordo is basically a desert land, I didn't want my immediate environment to be like a barren parking lot, bereft of any landscaping.

I didn't want to spend more than $500 per month.

What I did want

The perfect-world scenario would be a furnished casita in someone's back yard. Barring that, I wanted: 

• Apartment, one or two bedrooms
• $500 or less rent
• Some charm
• Some attractive landscaping on the exterior - no water-sucking lawn needed, but certainly indigenous shrubs and other plant life
• Within Alamogordo city limits (as opposed to nearby Tularosa or La Luz)
• Landlords who maintained their property well

The above were must-haves.

I also preferred a place without carpet, so I wouldn't have to buy a vacuum cleaner.  Every durable good I buy, I'm going to have to get rid of in a year, so I'd rather not accumulate stuff like that unless absolutely necessary.

Where I looked before I came to Alamogordo: 

• Craigslist
• Apartment complexes that have websites
• Real estate companies that have rental properties listed on their websites

I had no luck looking for properties on the local newspaper's online site.

Also, websites such as rent.com - waste of time in places like Alamogordo.


Once I arrived:

The afternoon I arrived in Alamogordo, I looked at potential apartments:

Visited the apartment complex that looked the most attractive to me in my distance search. Priced under $500 for both one and two bedrooms. The one bedroom had a "den" that could accommodate my guests. Beautiful landscaping. Pool and small gym. Alas, no vacancies at the moment, but I was able to look at a two-bedroom empty apartment that would soon have a new tenant. The manager gave me a head start in some energy-cost realities in Alamogordo. Because it's so hot and because this complex uses refrigerated air (versus the swamp coolers), summers are very, very expensive energy-wise. He noted that the ground-floor apartments were easier to cool than the second-floor spaces. I completed an application on the spot so I could be ready if someone should decide to move out at the end of this month.

Looked at three apartments offered by a real estate company I'll call Sweetheart Realty. This is because the receptionist called me sweetheart. The way it evidently works in Alamogordo is, if you want to look at some apartments or other rental properties, you go to the real estate office, let the staff photocopy your driver's license, they give you the keys and an hour to look at the properties, then return the keys to the real estate office.

So I looked at the three properties, each priced at about $450, and I was pissed. In two of the three apartments, the linoleum floors in the kitchen and bathroom had to be from the 80s, if not earlier. There were gouges in the floors. The carpet was that two-shaded brown short shag, also from the 80s. The counter tops had bare spots along the sides where the laminate had broken off. Didn't look as if the walls had been painted since the last tenants. The back "yards" were a barren slice of gravel and dirt, oppressed by the sun.  I took the keys back to the real estate agency and asked (in a neutral voice) whether the agency owned the properties or managed them. "Sweetheart" said it managed them, and I replied that I'd take a pass, as the owners did not maintain these properties; they didn't invest in their upkeep. I politely asked for the  photocopy of my driver's license and "Sweetheart" replied that the agency needed to keep it. I asked why, and she said "for our records." By this time, an agent had emerged from her office to conduct some sort of business. I asked the receptionist again, in a non-confrontational tone, "why"? And she responded "for our records." I tried one more time, "I understand you want it for your records, but why? What do you do with the photocopy"? For a third time, incredibly, Sweetheart said "for our records." The agent who'd emerged instructed her to give me my photocopy as it was clear I wouldn't be doing business with the agency. She was right, and I accepted the photocopy.

Note: Renters aren't serfs seeking the favors of a lord. Renters are paying for a product and landlords are selling the product for a time. A landlord wants to know a renter can pay the rent and give reasonable care to the property. In turn, the renter wants to know a landlord respects the renter and property enough to invest in its upkeep. A landlord who expects the renter to sign a one-year lease has a responsibility to assure the renter that he will keep his side of the deal by providing good maintenance. 

I visited another real estate agency, that I'll call The Good Company, about its rental properties, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. No "sweethearting" me here. When I was asked for my driver's license to photocopy, I asked if I could have it back when I returned the property keys, and the rental agent immediately agreed. I liked both properties. One had two bedrooms, the other had one bedroom but it had a charming, albeit tiny, enclosed courtyard with a juvenile tree. I returned the keys, said I was interested, but they were my second choices after the ones at the large apartment complex. The agent explained the application process, gave me an application form, and I was on my way.

With three possible options in my pocket, I turned my attention to a hotel for a couple of nights.

Motel

I'd already selected my motel option before I came, based on internet research. The White Sands Motel. Checked in. A killer place. Great wifi (secured). Clean, clean room. Nice mini-fridge and microwave. Coffee machine. Nice TV. Clean telephone. And here's a thoughtful touch: A power strip on the large desk that makes plugging in various electronics a cinch. No crawling under and behind clunky furniture. Immaculate, tidy, nicely landscaped, and colorful exteriors.  All for $50 per night. Fabuloso.

Camping

Also part of my lodging plan was to camp at the Oliver Lee Memorial State Park until I found a permanent place. So after I looked at the rental properties, checked into the hotel, and had lunch, I drove out to look at the park. Gorgeous. Gorgeous. And at 10 bucks per site, wow. It's about 12 miles from town, so there's a trade-off in convenience, but I'm not going to invest in a hotel til I move into an apartment.

On my drive away from the park, I saw a black tarantula cross the road. Think about it. This spider was large enough to grab my attention in the road ahead of me as it crossed. Gol-lee. I briefly revisited my camping plan. I'm not even going to find a photo to upload. Would just give me the shivers looking at it.

Istanbul: Quiet and Good

Istanbul

I stayed hermit-like in my room for most of the day. Working, napping, listening to podcasts. Repeat.

My room is small, but it has tall ceilings. The walls are the color of a cappuccino. The ceiling is white. Twin bed. One lightweight, colorful coverlet. A sink. A fan. A small desk and chair. A wardrobe.

Istanbul, Trabzon Restaurant

In the evening, I went to one of the handful of pretty-good places that are also affordable. It was the second time I visited this restaurant, called Trabzon Restaurant, a lokanta, which is within only a few steps of my hotel. It's like a little home-cooking place. Pleasant service; no hassle.

For lunch the other day here, I had chicken livers.

Tonight, I had eggplant and beef, a velvety dish, with a side of rice. Fresh bread. A cold soda. Nine lira (about $5 USD).

It wasn't something to rave about, but it was good. There were two different spices available on the table to jazz it up as I wished.  

Istanbul, Trabzon Restaurant