I don’t know about you, but to me, travelling and staying at somebody else’s house is already uncomfortable. No matter how pretty or big the house is, you always feel like you have to ask permission for everything and are somewhat obligated to follow your host’s schedule, so as not to seem impolite. I stayed at a friend’s house this summer in Colombia, and he was the best host ever, but still, seven days in, I couldn’t wait to be in my house or at least on my own for a minute. I can’t even imagine what being a guest in a bad host’s house must be like. The mental relief of staying with someone you know and feel comfortable enough with to grab something from their fridge or sleep as much as you want is enormous.




