Hey Shitstains,
How’s the weather in Cambridge? “Spring,” am I right?
Anyway, welcome to this week’s edition of “Abreast on Abroad.” In my last letter, I discussed how my decision to “cross the pond” ultimately hinged on the ability to wander the world. What can I say? I dreamed of becoming the next insta-travel-baddie and street-cart-chocolate-mousse-connoisseur (so worth the hype, by the way).
Now, with two months down and three more to go, I’ve been hopping across borders, meeting new people, and trying enough food to eventually roll myself off this continent. But I digress.
This week’s letter is all about travel smarts—specifically, why choosing the right place to stay can make or break a trip, inspired by one magical experience I’ve had thus far.
Picture this: you’re studying abroad in Paris. It’s a dream. It’s worldly, it’s cultured, it’s French. But while France is great, you’re in Europe…so you kind of have to plan a fun vacation every weekend. As a student, it’s less expensive thanks to generous discounts, and springtime generally means it’s off-season for tourists. Ryanair and Easyjet exist. Instagram is alive and well. But where do you stay?
On the one hand, you’re exploring a new destination in your free time, turning every weekend into a mini vacation. On the other hand, you’re twenty years old, so who do you think you are? Life is all about finding that delicate balance—a beautifully, delusional balance, at that. So, what’s the sweet spot? Airbnbs.
For those unfamiliar, Airbnb is arguably the greatest app on earth (Hey, Harvard grad and Airbnb co-founder Nathan Blecharczyk ’05—I’m a huge fan. #Veritas #HarvardStudentDiscount?). And for those who haven’t read the Airbnb Harvard Business School case study—Little Miss Takes One Entrepreneurship Class and Thinks She Knows Everything—here’s the gist: the app allows you to rent houses, apartments, and rooms directly from verified hosts.
This business model cuts out a physical middleman and allows guests to book directly with home-owners. I’ve found this one-on-one communication creates a more personal (and often safer) experience—especially when a host is renting out their own home for short-term stays.
Overall, I love the app for a fun splurge weekend. Generally, Airbnbs are more affordable than a hotel and have higher quality accommodations than other similar options, or as I like to call it: #MoreBangForYourBuck.
All in all, it’s perfect for a student traveling on a budget, who doesn’t want a hostel, but who prioritizes safety and privacy—plus I love cosplaying as a local.
Note: The way some people swipe on dating apps is the way I scroll through Airbnb and Zillow. I am a glorified real-estate stalker and love to play “House” with real houses. Highly recommend.
Now that we’ve established that, one of the main requirements for using the app is basic literacy, aka being able to read the fine print. Upon reflection, my boyfriend—Sam—and I, seem to have trouble with that.
Sam is also studying in Europe, so it’s easy to meet up over certain weekends. It’s important to mention this up front because a big part of what I am about to share is my—cough, cough Sam’s—fault.
We wanted to go to Amsterdam—canals, waffles, bicycles, oh my! A short train ride away from Paris, I was told the city is a must-do trip in your twenties. However, our egregiously wholesome weekend took a real turn when we rolled our suitcases right into the city’s Red Light District (crack a book or ask Siri, because #NotMyJobToExplain) and right up to the steps of our Airbnb. Sweet.
Now, because I love you guys, I won’t exaggerate—we were at least a street or two over from the heart of the neighborhood. But let’s just say, you could definitely still sense her presence. As a native New Yorker, very few things scare me—including The Red Light (#feminism). What did shake me, however, was opening my Airbnb window and locking eyes with another house’s Peloton.
Imagine climbing the steep, side-entrance steps of an idyllic, Dutch-style house, excited to check into what was described as an “Urban Oasis Studio,” only to realize that: a) the microscopic room, tucked off a random hallway, looked nothing like the “studio” listed—major difference coming from a New Yorker, and b) someone could stare directly into said room while some chick named Jacki (spelled just like that) welcomed them on their “ride to the soul.”
I know what you’re thinking: Just suck it up and close the blinds. It’s safe, it’s cheap, it’s quiet, you already paid, and you can’t get a refund. Wrong, to the safe and quiet part—but we stayed.
After a lovely night at incredible local spots—planned, researched and executed to perfection (you’re welcome Sam!)—we decided to rest our heads before our next travel day.
That was the plan, at least.
As soon as we returned, I could tell our Airbnb host was having a little gathering. Good for them, #YouGoGlenCoco. That is, until the party abruptly ended, followed by hysterical screams in Dutch, glass shattering, and frantic running up and down the stairs, located directly above our room—charming.
While Sam remained calm, I started panicking, convinced something was wrong or someone was in danger. Desperate for answers, I immediately grabbed my phone and translated the shouts. While I don’t know Dutch, I could ultimately deduce enough from “bastard,” “whore,” and my personal favorite, “buffoon”—quite possibly one of the most underrated words in the human language.
What were we supposed to do? We’ve all been there. So, we threw on “Despicable Me” and quietly waited until a ripe 5 a.m. for the dust to settle. I then kindly requested a late check-out of three versus noon due to the “neighbor’s noise” (#GirlsGirl), and before we knew it, we were on our merry way back to Paris and Fife.
Was this a fluke accident? Yes. Is it a reflection of Airbnb? No. Is it wildly hilarious in hindsight? Absolutely. This is all to say this tale is more of a share than a cautionary one—but what can we learn?
One, always check the neighborhood or location of where you are going to stay. As brokers preach, the three most important things in real estate are “location, location, location.” Two, read the reviews; they are there for a REASON (If you scrolled past the three, five-star reviews on top, you would find a million others reflecting on the violating view. #thanksNathanB). Three, and this is the most important one, if you are traveling with another person, and you have a talent for planning, you use that talent and plan everything yourself (love you, Sam).
Overall, I think this one stay provided me with enough horror-story travel content for my time abroad, so on your next journey, make sure to stay smart, do your research, but remember “it’s all for the mems.”
Thank you for reading about my “ScareBnb” story, and check out next week’s column, “Kim K. Cosplay: The Full American-in-Paris Experience.”
Xo,
Sadie
Sadie Kargman ’26 (sadiekargman@college.harvard.edu) is currently starring as your favorite Shitstain in Paris.