Hotels, Not Airbnb
In an age in which Airbnb has become almost synonymous with modern travel, my own preference remains decidedly old-fashioned: I choose hotels. This is not the result of habit, resistance to change, or a failure to appreciate the appeal of private rentals. I understand the allure perfectly well. Airbnb promises intimacy, novelty, and the seductive idea that one is not merely visiting a place, but inhabiting it. For many, that is part of the romance. Yet after decades of traveling alone throughout the world, I have come to trust something less romantic and far more enduring: the value of professional hospitality.
Travel, especially solo travel, is often idealized as an expression of pure freedom. And it is. But those who travel alone for long enough come to understand that freedom is sustained not by improvisation alone, but by wise structures. Where one stays is not incidental. It shapes the entire emotional and practical architecture of a journey. Lodging is not simply a backdrop to travel; it is the place to which one entrusts one’s rest, one’s safety, one’s belongings, and, in subtle ways, one’s peace of mind.
That is why I have never stayed in an Airbnb.
For me, the matter begins with security, but it does not end there. A hotel offers an ecosystem of reliability that private rentals rarely equal: a staffed front desk, a concierge, on-site maintenance, housekeeping, and the reassuring knowledge that when something goes wrong, one is not left to negotiate alone with distance, delay, or uncertainty. This matters profoundly when one is traveling independently, especially in unfamiliar cities or foreign countries. The older I become, and the more I travel, the more I value not just beauty or convenience, but accountability.
There is a particular kind of exhaustion that can accompany travel, even joyful travel: delayed flights, unfamiliar transit systems, language barriers, sudden illness, a misread map, a neighborhood that feels different at night than it did in the afternoon. In such moments, a hotel is more than lodging. It is a point of orientation. It is a place where help exists not as an abstraction, but as a person standing a few feet away. That, to me, is not a minor luxury. It is part of traveling intelligently.
I also remain unconvinced by the notion that an Airbnb necessarily offers a more authentic encounter with place. Authenticity, as travelers often invoke it, can be a misleading ideal. One does not come to know a city merely by sleeping in someone else’s apartment. A city reveals itself through attention, movement, conversation, observation, and time. I can stay in an excellent hotel and still walk its neighborhoods, ride its public transportation, browse its markets, sit in its cafés, and absorb its rhythms. In fact, I often do so more confidently because I know I am returning to an environment designed to support the traveler rather than test her endurance.
And support matters to me. I choose hotels in lively, interesting areas, preferably with access to public transportation, because I want both immersion and ease. I want to be able to step into the life of a city while knowing that my return will be straightforward, safe, and comfortable. I appreciate the practical graces that hotels continue to offer without apology: a room that is cleaned each day, fresh towels, breakfast on site when available, and staff who can answer questions no algorithm can fully anticipate. Even extensive research before a trip cannot rival the value of current local knowledge. A seasoned concierge or hotel employee often knows more about what is actually happening in a city that day than any travel forum or guidebook ever could.
This is not simply a matter of convenience. It is a matter of preserving one’s energy for the true purpose of travel. I do not want to spend precious time solving lodging problems, waiting for a host to respond, wondering whether an issue will be fixed, or improvising my way through avoidable complications. I want my attention available for discovery: for museums and neighborhoods, for history and architecture, for unexpected beauty, for the quiet pleasure of being fully present in a place I have never been before.
To say that I prefer hotels is not to disparage those who prefer Airbnb. Different travelers value different things. Some seek domesticity, informality, or the pleasures of temporary habitation. I understand that. But my own travels have taught me that what appears adventurous is not always wise, and what appears conventional is not always unimaginative. Hotels, at their best, offer something deeply underrated in contemporary life: competent care. They make room for independence without requiring unnecessary vulnerability.
Perhaps that is the distinction that matters most. I do not choose hotels because I am fearful. I choose them because experience has refined my understanding of freedom. Real freedom in travel does not come from surrendering oneself to uncertainty for its own sake. It comes from creating the conditions in which one can move through the world with confidence, curiosity, and steadiness. After decades of traveling alone across continents, I have learned that good judgment is not the enemy of adventure. It is what makes adventure sustainable.
So yes, in a cultural moment enamored of Airbnb, I remain loyal to hotels. Not because I lack imagination, but because I have traveled enough to know what serves me best. In the end, I do not need my lodging to perform authenticity. I need it to provide safety, professionalism, local knowledge, and peace. That is not a failure of daring. It is the privilege of experience.
I can also adapt this into a polished letter-to-the-editor, a blog post, or a Facebook post with a more concise but still elegant tone.
