On my recent trip to Japan, I found myself staying in apartments listed on Airbnb for the very first time. For those who are unaware (though I wonder how many of these people could still exist), Airbnb is an American company that operates an online marketplace for people to lease or rent short-term lodging. Now, my close friends would have known that I had almost always chosen to stay in hotels whenever I traveled, and thus it was with much hesitation that I agreed to give Airbnb its turn in the spotlight. All in the name of experimentation! Or so I declared. And quite unsurprisingly, I left Japan with renewed conviction that Airbnb was far from my preferred choice of accommodation. Then, when I shared some of my thoughts on Airbnb with various acquaintances, I was on several occasions dismissed as either being too fussy, or too wealthy. While I would vehemently deny the latter, the former got me thinking… Is fussiness a bad thing? At what point do we transcend the level of having personal standards and become fussy, so to speak?
In any case, allow me first to examine Airbnb a little. From a simple idea birthed by former schoolmates Brian Chesky and Joe Gebbia back in San Francisco in 2007, Airbnb has evolved to become the second most valuable startup in America behind Uber. Its Series F funding round in early 2017 valued the company at USD $30 billion (SEC filing here). How did Airbnb become so immensely successful? Essentially, it rode the wave of tech startups “disrupting” traditional industries, and became one of the poster children for the “sharing economy”. Through its website, Airbnb connects homeowners or tenants with spare apartments, or space within an apartment, with users seeking short-term accommodation. Simple enough, right? Hardly. I would argue that it pays to examine the concept of the accommodation offered. The founders conceptualized Airbnb as a means of earning extra income to meet the rent of their loft apartment at the time, and they did so by placing an air mattress in their living room and inviting travelers who were unable to find lodging in the city. In other words, it was “home-sharing” in its purest, but monetized, form. By 2009, according to Wikipedia, the website’s content had expanded from air beds and shared spaces to a variety of properties including entire homes, castles, boats, manors, tree houses, tipis, igloos, private islands and other properties. Fast forward to today, a significant number of homeowners, or “hosts” as they are termed on Airbnb, manage a series of apartments or properties specifically for the purpose of short-term rentals, a move decried by the hotel industry as operating “illegal hotels”. Can we still describe this as “home-sharing”?
The concept of “home-sharing” was certainly not invented by Airbnb – I believe people have been opening their homes to wary travelers for a long time, whether or not it involved a small compensation. In an alternate form, homeowners have also been renting out their vacation properties through various channels for many years. What Airbnb pioneered was a global, commercial platform where anyone, upon the submission of certain documents and basic identity verification, could monetize the space in their apartments and properties. It is this commercialized aspect of short-term rentals that has arguably led to all of the problems surrounding Airbnb today. Because in many metropolitan cities, consecutive short-term rentals generate greater income than a single long-term rental, homeowners have found the economic incentive to manage properties for the sole purpose of listing them on Airbnb and renting them out to travelers. As a result, residents in many cities have complained about a plethora of issues including noise, nuisance levels, safety, and increasingly, housing prices (being that the use of apartments for commercialized short-term rentals shrinks the supply of available homes for residents). Meanwhile, hotel industry participants have, under the threat of competition, criticized Airbnb as being unregulated and unchecked, and sent their lobbyists to call for a level playing field. The ongoing struggle between residents, hoteliers and Airbnb have prompted the governments of various cities and countries worldwide to institute regulations in order to address the aforementioned issues. These regulations range from outlawing Airbnb almost entirely, to placing caps on the number of days within a year homeowners are allowed to rent out their properties, as in cities such as New York, London and Amsterdam. Airbnb continues to battle these regulations in its search for legitimacy, and as the situations in the various cities are fluid, it would be best to turn to Google to obtain a recent update.
At this point, one might be tempted to ask, what exactly does the commercialization of short term rentals and the legality of Airbnb imply for travelers? After all, these issues seem rather removed from the circumstances of a traveler seeking accommodation in a foreign city or country. I should state that I am not attempting to advocate for either side of the legality debate. Rather, my belief is that the legal issues and the associated problems on the community caused by Airbnb should be not dismissed so easily from the minds of travelers. In a simple, two-choice model, a traveler could choose to stay in an empty apartment or home listed on Airbnb, or reserve a room in a hotel. In other words, from the perspective of an individual traveler, Airbnb listings function entirely as a hotel alternative. The traveler should, from an economic standpoint, choose the option that maximizes his net utility, or the benefit that he derives after subtracting that option’s cost. How then does the legality of Airbnb enter this calculation? The reality is that Airbnb continues to operate in legal grey areas in many cities, particularly in cities that have yet to create specific legislation designed to regulate Airbnb. Thus, travelers staying in Airbnb-listed properties in these cities have to subject themselves to these legal uncertainties. On another hand, there are hosts who choose to skirt existing regulations when listing their properties, and travelers are none the wiser, as it is presumably impossible to ascertain from Airbnb’s website whether the host of a certain listing is compliant with local rules, though countermeasures are currently being considered. So, by choosing the Airbnb option, travelers could, in the worst case scenario, be partaking in illegal activity or, in other cases, be subjecting themselves to legal uncertainty. Of course, I recognize that there are also jurisdictions in which Airbnb can operate legally.
There is little Airbnb can do alone to address the complaints of residents in regard to noise, nuisances, safety and housing prices. It is, after all, just a facilitator that earns a commission with every stay. To my understanding, Airbnb does require users to submit certain personal information and can thereby screen travelers to a certain extent, but it cannot directly control many of the impacts of short term rentals on the community. Some hosts have taken to request travelers to avoid any interactions with neighbors, and to claim that they are friends or relatives of the host. It is clear that these are not complete, effective solutions. Instead, travelers are burdened by having to “tiptoe surreptitiously” around the neighborhood, as was what happened to me while I was in Japan. Supporters of Airbnb may argue that this is a small price to pay, but I must admit that the feeling of such a burden is not one I would seek while on vacation.
Nevertheless, Airbnb remains today an extremely popular option among travelers, particularly “millennials”. I have often wondered why this is so, and from my observations, I believe the two greatest reasons are the relative affordability of Airbnb listings and the greater variety that Airbnb provides. In fact, almost all my personal acquaintances who choose the Airbnb option do so simply because it is cheaper. I have found in my own investigations that this is can be true, and it makes sense in theory as well. Given a hotel room and an Airbnb-listed room of similar quality, the cost of offering the Airbnb-listed room is lower due to the absence of various overhead costs, such as the costs of professional staff, hotel facilities, etc. Thus, homeowners are theoretically able to list their properties on Airbnb at a lower price than hotels can offer similar spaces. In this manner, the affordability argument revolves around the view that Airbnb-listed properties are stripped-down forms of accommodation, i.e. accommodation without the “bells and whistles” that hotels typically provide. Meanwhile, the greater variety associated with Airbnb often stems from the fact that travelers can rent alternative forms of properties. Whereas in a hotel travelers are limited to choices of rooms and suites, on Airbnb they can rent entire homes, villas or exotic properties. This variety is certainly beneficial to travelers in large groups as it enables the entire group to stay in a single property. Airbnb is also a superior option for travelers seeking exotic accommodation. So, I have to admit that Airbnb does serve the interests of a certain subset of travelers, such as budget travelers and travelers moving in large groups.
Is it always true, however, that Airbnb listings are cheaper than hotels in popular travel destinations? A number of studies published online have gathered data in attempts to find out the answer. Statista, using data from German hotel reservation website HRS and Airbnb tracker AirDNA, found that the average room price on Airbnb is cheaper than hotels in 9 global cities (infographic below).
Meanwhile, Time’s MONEY claimed to analyze data from nearly 300 cities in the US and discovered that there were less than 40 cities where the average rate for an apartment on Airbnb was cheaper than a hotel (link here). In a more global study, the website Busbud found that Airbnb rentals were cheaper in 2015 in 16 of the 22 cities examined (link here).
Still, why do I continue to personally shun the Airbnb option? In short, it is because I fuss over the little things. And, to use a somewhat cliched phrasing, it is the little things that make all the difference. Before I elaborate, allow me to emphasize that my personal experiences with Airbnb-listed properties in Japan may not be representative of the experiences of many other travelers, but they nevertheless do point me in a certain direction. It is easy to proclaim that Airbnb-listed properties often lack the facilities or amenities that many hotels provide, such as swimming pools, gyms, business centers, restaurants and bars. We may not utilize every single one of these facilities every time we travel, but the optionality is clearly valuable. Putting aside these conspicuous facilities, however, I would argue that the “little things” are even more important to me. These range from physical objects like newspapers and maps in the lobby, superior toiletries, fresh towels and linens every day, to services such as wake-up calls in the morning, transport arrangements, luggage storage and the concierge. I must say, the concierge is possibly one of the most underutilized services in a hotel these days, due to the accessibility of information on the Internet and travel blogs. Call me a fossil if you wish, but I still often enjoy conversing with the hotel concierge about the local restaurants, watering holes and other attractions, as I can sometimes obtain valuable insights and perspectives. In addition, I often rely on the concierge’s aid to make reservations, particularly when I do not speak the local language (this is particularly important in Japan where many restaurants specify that they only accept reservations from foreigners through the hotel concierge). It is a great pity that many hotels have ceased to employ dedicated concierges these days, and instead have the reception/check-in staff double as concierges.
Of course, I recognize that hotels do not provide these material comforts and services equally. Bad hotels provide very few of these, while luxury hotels provide all the bells and whistles you could possibly imagine in the race to attract affluent travelers. Extreme luxuries such as butlers, private infinity pools, exclusive “clubhouses”, jacuzzis and spas are a pleasure to have around, but as alluded to above, it is often the little things that make a hotel stand out from the crowd, in my humble opinion. Sometimes, a warm smile from the receptionist or concierge when I return in the evening is all that is required to make my day. At other times, the knowledge that I can pick up a phone or run down to the reception when I need to borrow some stationery or a pair of scissors, or have the hotel staff send me the items I accidentally leave behind in my hotel room, gives me great reassurance. When I do think back to my favorite hotel experiences, I find myself favoring the human touch more than opulence and luxury. Perhaps the staff had left fresh flowers or fruits in my room, perhaps they inquired about my day as I passed them along the corridor, or perhaps they kindly offered me some refreshments upon noticing I just stepped off a plane! Can I expect such things from an Airbnb-listed property? Maybe there are some hosts out there who greet travelers with warm hospitality, and maybe there are some hosts who would happily send you your forgotten items, but can I reasonably expect these things from most of my Airbnb stays? I do not possess any empirical statistics, but my instincts tell me that I can trust a hotel more than an Airbnb-listed property to provide the “little things”. So, the question is perhaps consistency and reliability.
I also acknowledge that there is inherent subjectivity in the “little things” that I embrace. After all, the definition of comfort can vary from traveler to traveler. There is a certain level of comfort that I have come to deem basic or necessary, after having traveled as much as I did (which is honestly not a lot, in my opinion). Heated water in the bathroom, clean towels and linens, a tidy smoke-free room, and concierge service are unquestionably the most basic of my demands, with the rest falling somewhere in between a necessity and a luxury. Other guests may very well deem different things essential. I searched online for information on what hotel guests demand from their stays, but I found nothing close to a global consensus. In its 2014 Hospitality Industry Study, which was centered on the US adult population, Gallup published some interesting insights into the preferences of hotel guests divided into 6 market segments, ranging from “economy” to “luxury”. Examples of these insights include the fact that “economy” customers value responsive hotel employees who can solve problems, while “luxury” and “upper upscale” customers consider the look and feel of the hotel as one of the most important factors for first and repeat visits. For more information on the Gallup study, follow this link.
My experience with Airbnb-listed apartments in Japan certainly helped me to determine the features of a hotel stay that I have come to take for granted. I knew I was not going to get concierge service going in, of course, but I did not find myself expecting weird odors, shockingly late check-ins and early check-outs, and spotty air-conditioning, among others. I also realized that one of the last things I would want to be caught doing after stepping off a long flight early in the morning is roaming the streets with all my heavy bags and luggage, searching for public storage because I could only check into the apartment hours later in the afternoon. While people travel for different reasons (more on this in a future post), I think most of us can agree that we would like for our travel experience to be as stress-free as possible. Hence it completely baffles me how travelers who opt for Airbnb deal with the mismatch between their flight and check-in/check-out timings. Overall, I must say that my Airbnb experience in Japan was not horrible by any standards, but it was the lack of the little things that irked me, so much so that when it was time for me to check out of the Airbnb-listed apartment and into a proper hotel for the last three nights of my stay, I left early in the morning and marched straight to the hotel to deposit my luggage, all with immense relief. Then I immediately tasked the concierge with a restaurant reservation and stepped out into the cool Japanese morning, feeling like there was a load off my shoulders, and knowing that I could return anytime in the afternoon with my luggage and reservation waiting for me. Well, I guess there literally was a load off my shoulders, but I think you get the point. And I did all of that before 10 a.m. in the morning. Take that, Airbnb.
My poor attempt at humor aside, am I being fussy by scrutinizing the “little things” during my travels? What does it actually mean to be fussy? I’ve found the definition to vary slightly, but the general idea behind fussiness involves the presence of high standards about particular things. Fussiness is also sometimes linked to the idea of perfection, or being perfectionistic. Because there is no objective method to determine whether a set of standards is high or low, and because perfection is also often subjective, it stands to reason that there is no impartial test for fussiness. So we rely on a relative sense of the standards involved, and perhaps on an observation of how many times a person rejects various alternatives in favor of his ideal. I have no desire to defend my standards and argue that I’m not being fussy; in fact, I’m quite willing to accept that I am fussy about my comforts when I travel. Do I think there is a perfect hotel or vacation rental? Certainly not, I do not believe they even exist. But do I pay attention to detail and have a particular set of standards that I have developed over time through my travels? Most certainly. Are my standards higher than those of most other people? Perhaps.
It has been pointed out to me, on multiple occasions, that fussiness is a luxury at its root. I am of course fully cognizant of this. After all, the ability to be fussy necessitates the resources to afford it. In times of extreme need, we cannot afford to be fussy. Perhaps for some travelers, Airbnb-listed properties are all that they can afford, and it comes as no surprise that they would then champion the presence of Airbnb. For me to turn to hotels each time I travel, I have to ensure that I can afford to do so. Recall that the rational traveler should seek to optimize his net utility, and that would require him to take into account the cost of the accommodation. So, what is optimal for a budget traveler may not be optimal for me. Since I value various “little things”, and since I derive much negative utility from having to drag my luggage around the streets unnecessarily, just to cite one example, I am inclined to pay for these comforts to the extent I can afford them. We all know these material comforts and services do not come free – wages need to be paid and facilities need to be maintained. If I had unlimited resources, I would assuredly pick the option that would generate for me the greatest absolute utility (it may not be the most expensive hotel, for we all should know that the most expensive frequently does not imply the best). But I do not, and therefore when I travel, I attempt to select the hotel that I feel has the greatest odds of meeting my basic comforts and then maybe a little more. It may be a hotel that has made a previous trip comfortable and pleasant, it may be a hotel that is part of a larger chain with a well-established reputation, or it may even be a tiny, boutique hotel for which I have encountered glowing reviews. Whatever the case, I seek to ensure that my travels will be as stress-free as possible, so that I may focus my energies on the true goal(s) of my travels, rather than dealing with unsatisfactory accommodation. The best hotels, in my opinion, do their best to ensure quite simply a comfortable stay and a good night’s sleep.
Which brings me to my final question, is it bad to be fussy? Is fussiness inherently a bad thing? Now, I do not wish to wade into the philosophical debates of morality or relativism, at least not at this point. There are multiple ways to interpret the “wrongness” of being fussy, but let us focus for now on the negative consequences that fussiness brings. One of the most oft-cited criticisms of fussiness is the difficulty one places on the people around him, which in many situations cannot be denied. In the course of rejecting alternatives and insisting on a particular set of standards, one could very well impose on others and generate conflict. So this could be viewed as a potential negative result of being fussy. Fussiness is also often said to lead to close-mindedness and a fear of new experiences. I can certainly see how this could be true. If we were to be dogmatic and uncompromising in every situation, we could very well miss out on learning opportunities and new perspectives, and instead continue to reinforce our own preferences. One author even goes so far as to denounce pickiness as a moral failing, albeit in the limited context of picky eating (essay here). According to him, picky eating involves an irresponsible level of fallibilism with respect to taste, which in turn leads to a life full of blandness and banality. A little extreme perhaps, but close-mindedness nonetheless remains a legitimate concern in a broader context.
It is rather interesting to examine how fussiness is perceived in popular culture today. While individuality and “being true to oneself” is increasingly celebrated in the mass media around the world, it seems that fussiness, or pickiness, is more often than not portrayed as an evil, or at the very least a nuisance. Fussy, picky, fastidious, persnickety, pedantic… you get the idea. These are terms often used interchangeably and in a context of disapproval. A cursory Google search brings up articles mainly of two different topics, in a roughly equal distribution: picky eaters and how to correct/deal with them, as well as single men/women who are too fussy and are destined to end up in life alone. Sound familiar to you? Apparently, in popular culture, being fussy is to make extremely particular food choices and to only date people of a particular “type”. So, while we are encouraged to have our quirks and “personalities”, we are supposed to suddenly become spontaneous, flexible and therefore “fun” when we are out eating and enjoying the company of other people, or risk being unloved? Does this not seem somewhat… hypocritical and a double standard? That is not to say that having a set of high standards or strong preferences does not have its issues, as I have already acknowledged above. I would go further to venture that it is not the presence of a set of high standards that is inherently bad, but the manner in which we apply those standards to the real-life situations that we encounter. For example, are we going to be uncompromising in all regards and thereby create conflict with others, or are we going to seek to uphold our standards to the most reasonable extent, while being mindful of new experiences and different opinions? In a recent interview, Richard Quest, a CNN anchor and frequent traveler, spoke about his hotel preferences and said that he saw himself as unforgiving, rather than unreasonable. Unforgiving, of course, also has negative connotations, but his words stuck with me. As someone who travels far more frequently for business, he had developed a set of standards on which he proudly insisted. Does that make him pedantic and close-minded?
It is often said, also in popular culture, that we should appreciate the little things in life, these being different from the “little things” I discussed above. Allow me to ask, how are they different? Apparently, when we are encouraged to appreciate the little things in life, we are actually being asked to pay attention to small gestures from friends or family, or small objects and occurrences that often go unnoticed, with the specific intention of obtaining happiness. There’s nothing wrong with that, per se. But again, compare and contrast: we should pay fine attention to the little things we already possess in order to be happy, but we should not be fastidious about our preferences and we should not be fussy while seeking to correct an unsatisfactory situation? It seems, to me, to be a little too convenient. Are there certain little things to which I need to pay attention, while ignoring others? I find this to be difficult to carry out in practice, for I am in general a rather observant and detail-oriented individual. So I pick out the “little things” not just when I travel, but also, for example, when I dine in new restaurants (food is not everything to a restaurant, you know), or when I visit new places, or even read a new book. I cannot simply bring myself to appreciate the little things that give me pleasure, but then close my eyes to the little things that go awry. If anything, the passing years have helped me to grow more confident of my own preferences and ideals. But, and I emphasize, I pray that in the process of upholding my preferences and beliefs, I do not become unnecessarily pedantic and dogmatic, and I do not end up rejecting new experiences and learning opportunities. While I may have already sampled Airbnb once, and I will not rule out ever staying in an Airbnb-listed property again, I know for now where my heart lies!
