Hosts from Hell

The day is closing in on me as the seasons shift and the temperature drops. Those cold shivers are making their way into my bones and the thickness of my clothing is increasing by the day. Minced pies prematurely line the shelves of supermarkets next to the halloween pumpkins as a little reminder that winter is near.  But despite the difficulty that the cold brings, one does have to appreciate that cosy feeling; being inside, engulfed by warm winter duvets and clouds of pillows, wearing your wooliest socks and watching a good autumn movie (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KaHmg4ulyfE).

LBD and I have moved into our new, sexy refurbished 2 bedroom apartment; a process that has been chaotic and stressful but worth every moment to get the results of a home that we reeally want to spend time in. And ooh my days, how greatly we appreciate living in a comfortable house that doesn't have the lingering smell of fish seeping out underneath mysterious closed doors... Let me rewind a little bit. 

Just as summer slipped by..

So I arrived back in the UK after a long 2 day whirlwind of a journey from Kuala Lumpur to Delhi, through Dubai to London and then finally to Bristol. I watched summer spin off about halfway through the second flight, floating down onto one of the glorious mountain ranges that I gazed at from our tiny portal in the sky. As our lease wasn't due to start for another 10
days (and the number of bags I'd left for my future self to pick up was exceeding my capabilities) I'd organised for us to stay at a convenient Airbnb that was close to uni and our new place. How simple it all seemed.
After a nurturing pit-stop at my grandmas in London, I rode back to Briz with an old friend L, catching up on our extreme summers and listening to some good tunes. I opted to stay at hers for the night, enjoying comfort and company and delaying the move to our 'lovely' new Airbnb. Uni started first thing the next morning and the reality hit couldn't have been more intense. I broke my first sweat running to the catch the bus as I nervously glanced at the time on my dying phone, trying to figure out how late I was going to be and where the hell I was supposed to go. AH! The rat race had begun.

That afternoon, I went to meet our hosts that had just made a free 40 pounds from our lack of appearance the night before. I was shown into our dingy room with its drab curtains and stained carpets. It was like stepping into a really depressing care home set in the 1930's... but there was a sure silver lining when I was told that there was 'fresh' water in the jug (... at least I didn't have to worry about mould in the water?) As I started to unpack my many bags, my phone rings and I hear a friendly and unmistakeable 'Good friend o' mine!' at the other end. My partner in crime LBD had arrived with a beaming smile and a backpack of belongings. I showed him into the house and my nose again crumpled at the strange odour of damp fish... the hosts J & E were standing under the door frame in the confined, dark hallway. LBD stood, polite and eager as ever with his hands clasped in prayer position introducing himself. We chatted about the small things in life until we accidentally hit a sore spot. Detecting the foreign accents of our hosts, LBD asked innocently where they were from, creating quite the unexpected reaction. "Jewish" E muttered, while J began hysterically repeating "No! No! No! We do not talk about that!". We apologised and the energy of the hallway became tense, the conversation quickly moved on to practicalities. We'd realised a few days before arriving that the kitchen was unfortunately not one of the public areas of the house listed online for guests but we'd been offered hot meals for 5 pounds each... The offer was quickly retracted following this dip in conversation, instead it was suggested that if we were on a budget, we hopped on the lunch offer at the local supermarket that was available around the corner until 6pm. As much as the thought of stale egg and cress sandwiches thrilled me, I settled for a ready-made soup from Co'op. The host E and I ran into a spat when I stepped back into the gloomy hallway and asked if there was a microwave available, she responded defensively, revealing her phobia of microwaves and repeating that we were not allowed access to the kitchen. Oh dear...

LBD and I sat on our beds, hoping that the negative vibes would disperse and not foreshadow a difficult 10 days. Host J came up to our room and knocked on the door holding a saucepan and offering to heat up my soup as a one off favour. He stood lurking in the shadows of the doorway, eerily eyeing LBD through the slim crack of light... I thanked him, passed over my soup and politely turned down the offer to watch a movie downstairs. We danced to the silence of our eerie room, wondering what all the other guests were doing and eventually dozed off in the comfort of our damp beds. 

We followed a strict routine. The noise curfew was 10pm and there was a sign in the shower reminding us to only be a few minutes. Breakfast was between 8-10am and for 20 pounds/night we received an exciting assortment of 3 pieces of bread and a choice of spreads that got recycled daily. The first breakfast that we made on time was on day 3 and our bread was going stale from oxidisation having been left in a sandwich bag since we'd arrived, mm. I swigged some instant coffee and ran to catch the bus to work, late again. The week was wavy; rajasic moments of mania, seeing old friends, getting back into daily struggles and living in-between houses to avoid our situation... The energy would then drop into a tamasic lethargy, burnt out from the the race. 

Escapes to the park

On the third day, the uncomfortable environment of the Airbnb took its toll, so we decided the money wasn't worth it and tried to cancel our booking. The policy was a 50% return unless the hosts were happy to refund it all. I crossed my fingers, took a deep breath and called them up with a cheery tone. It didn't take long to realise that if we left now, we weren't going to get our money back for the next 7 days. J responded aggressively, shocked that I'd even consider breaking the policy and promising to report Airbnb for their lack of professionalism. Suddenly his tone changed, "we'd be happy to have you". I pictured a cheshire cat looking at me with a wide sarcastic grin... oh the superficiality that can exist in hospitality "Oh we'd be thrilled to stay."
The 10 days finally came to a close and the story reached its climax. It was 8.30am and check-out was at 10, we were well prepared having been warned we were not to out-stay our 'welcome'. Our bags were packed and ready to go into the garage where we were to collect them at 7pm exactly. I'd even managed to fit in a spot of yoga on the smelly, stained carpet that I was growing so fond of, the fishy odour had almost started reminding me of home... and then it all kicked off.
I had 5 minutes to make a piece of toast, gulp a cup of coffee and return my key before the tight schedule of the move-in day began. My partner in crime hadn't returned the night before and had misplaced his key (that he later found). This sent E into hysterics and I was quickly launched out of my satvic state with a rapid pulse as I desperately tried to ring LBD. With one hand I buttered my toast and with the other I held my phone, attempting to shout over the rising noise in the room. Their remarks had become personal attacks, from what 'pigs' we were (leaving 4 mugs in our room) to how hilarious it was that I did Yoga. Hospitable host #2 soon joined in "Who do you think you are, asking us where we are from, you are racist!" 1 minute left before I had to get the bus.

MOVING HOUSE!

LBD agreed to arrive before check-out to discuss the key-issue in person. I put the phone into my pocket, handed them my key and began walking away from E that was red with rage and asking to be taken to the health clinic. I got halfway down the street before I hear "NO! Come back here!" She didn't want our stuff in her garage anymore so began to open the door, threatening to leave it all outside. "We are going to report you to the police, the health centre and your university for racial hate crimes." That's when my body started to shake... the thought of our macbooks, passports and money sitting on the street with nowhere to put them and having to deal with false accusations of racism on top of collecting a house of furniture and moving in. AHHHH.
Needless to say, they had nothing to report. I did not go back at 7pm that night, so LBD and our mate T experienced the last of the love. They returned having experienced another wave of insults and some insight into their mysterious ways (when they revealed having had their car keyed a few times...) Our report on the matter was taken down from Airbnb as it did not follow regulations, so E & J will continue to exist according to their profile as 'open-minded, fun and sporty individuals'; but for anyone looking for a temporary home, I'd suggest looking beyond the devil horns of 32 Filton Grove. 

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjFaenf1T-Y