“I hadn’t even mentioned Airbnb because I thought you already knew, what with you two being globe-trotters and all!”

Liza had been unable to host us, but had looked into a number of alternatives to help us, although without success. Fortunately, Madleina, Ladina’s cousin whom we had visited two weeks earlier in the Silicon Valley, had told us about Airbnb, a community-based platform for subletting and subrenting everything from a bed to a villa. We had ended up finding the cheapest bed we could possibly hope for, given New York’s crazy accomodation prices.

Liza (Elisabeth by her real name, but it’s damn too long!) was another old friend of mine, who happened to be in New York at the same time as us. She was greatly enjoying her stay, and, as an art lover, loved the fact that she was able to go to all the museums of the city for her work. We took the opportunity to spend a fabulous evening and make a few cultural visits together.

“So now you’re staying in Brooklyn?”

We were, de facto, Brooklynites for a week.

Airbnb felt really different from having a room in a hostel, and even from Couchsurfing. We sometimes met our host but, our relationship being primarily a business one, we had no social obligation or duty to spend time with her. In a sense, we were flatmates, and thus independent from any host.

As such, we really had the impression of living in Brooklyn, even for such a short time. We got to know the neighborhood by heart, where to shop for cheese or fruits, or which trains would take us back home after a day in the city. It felt right. It felt like a home away from home.

The relaxed atmosphere of the neighborhood was, on top of that, a welcome pause from the constant hectic bustle of Manhattan. Families were living their daily lives all around us, adding a touch of charm to the location. And the culture of Brooklyn, eventually, seeped into our skins.

 

Oh and in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Liza, we did stumble upon something that arrested us.