This is a story of how a new arrival to Los Angeles found home—one short-term rental at a time.
It is a beautiful Southern California afternoon in early June, and I am standing on the deck of the Airbnb I have rented in the tiny beach town of Playa del Rey, looking out at the sliver of an ocean view and anticipating my first cocktail of the day as sunset approaches.
First, I wanted to see as much of Los Angeles as I could before I settled on a neighborhood, and I figured — given the city’s size and the difficulty of getting from one far-flung spot to another — the best way to get to know a neighborhood was to live there for a few weeks or so. So despite the challenges it might pose, and the potential pitfalls ahead, Airbnb would be my go-to housing option until I decided to settle down.
This Westchester Airbnb was impeccably furnished, but the commute to work took more than 45 minutes, including a change of buses. And then there are the quirks of the owners themselves. A few were phantom presences. I never heard from them from the moment I checked in to the day I left. Others seemed all too happy to have a guest on the premises. One owner texted me as I headed toward her place in an Uber, saying, “I have a couple of cold beers for you!” and then welcomed me into the bungalow behind her home, showing me how everything worked and suggesting nearby places to shop and eat.
Well, not always. During the end of my journey of serial stays, I walked up to an apartment on a quiet street in El Segundo . The living room was smaller and darker than I had been led to believe, and the bedroom was even smaller, barely holding the double bed it contained. And the bed itself had not been made; a comforter had just been tossed on top of a fitted sheet. Then I walked into the bathroom and found no clean towels. Instead, a pile of dirty ones filled a nearby hamper.
And standing there was a woman – curly-haired and probably in her mid-30s – charging her phone. “Who are you?” I screamed. “What are you doing here?”“Are you crazy? Get out of here,” I once again yelled, “I’m going to call the police. Now.”“I’m calling the police,” I said, tightening my towel and looking for my phone.
Brasil Últimas Notícias, Brasil Manchetes
Similar News:Você também pode ler notícias semelhantes a esta que coletamos de outras fontes de notícias.
100 Quotes On Business From The 100 Greatest Living Business MindsSelections from essays authored by entrepreneurs, visionaries and thinkers for Forbes' centennial.
Consulte Mais informação »
Hordes of Earth's toughest creatures may now be living on MoonThere might be life on the Moon after all: thousands of virtually indestructible creatures that can withstand extreme radiation, sizzling heat, the coldest temperatures of the universe, and decades without food. Based on an analysis of the spacecraft's trajectory and the composition of the device
Consulte Mais informação »
The Saddest Thing About Living In Our ‘Playdate Society’I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with our playdate society, but I do feel sorry for my daughter that she’s missing out on close-knit neighborhood friends.
Consulte Mais informação »
Chris Harrison Just Called Blake Horstmann a ''Dumpster Fire'' on TV and I'm LivingPoetry.
Consulte Mais informação »