'Webel Webel' aka 'Webel' without a cause-a day in the life of an Airbnb host...

Day One: Webel without a cause…

or a cause too many...

Maybe it was the semi psychotic stare in the photo that should have been the give- away or the lack of coherent contact or perhaps the turning up two days late with only a couple of brief messages as an after -thought…

Well yes, I did suspect that my new temporary tenant wasn't going to be quite as straightforward as my previous paying guests.

‘Webel Webel’ as we shall call him (all will become clear briefly) finally turned up on the Tuesday morning at 9.am without any notice. He turned up alongside my disheveled, somewhat breathless friend who just happened to be carrying a tiny abandoned kitten, which had narrowly escaped death while darting amongst the manic morning traffic. I too was somewhat disheveled in my PJs with embarrassingly big hair, tripping on strong antibiotics, greeting both of them whilst making instant decisions (never a good idea in such circumstances-esp if you're me). 

So yes, instant decision number one: Leave said homeless kitten with me for a while just to add to the madness! 
One look at 'Webel webel' confirmed my previous suspicions-things were about to get crazier in Crazyville. 

We had spent most of the summer hosting paying guests in my bedroom (okay perhaps I should rephrase that before it gets dangerously misconstrued)I rented out my lovely double room with terrace and mountain views whilst I slept in the small back bedroom sweating my n**ts off! Meanwhile Audrey was shuttled back and forth between the grandparents and home depending on whether her room was rented out or not; well, needs must.

Now up to this point we had had quite a wonderful variety of nationalities and backgrounds and all in all, things had gone incredibly smoothly-almost too smoothly if you ask me. It just couldn´t last…

Webel webel was overcome with joy at the wonderful bedroom, the décor in the flat, my literary collection, the mountain views, my books on meditation and…me! Two marriage proposals on day one-that had to be my record.

Perhaps it was the ecstatic response at just about EVERYTHING, or the two BIG glasses of wine before midday with much enthusiastic shouting in a strange mix of French, English and some Spanish expletives thrown in, or the fact that every bill imaginable was about to exit my bank account the following day...
Well at this point I knew there was no going back-unless he WAS a dangerous psychopath, he would be part of the family over the coming seemingly interminable days…

I have to point out here (he hasn´t left yet as I write-my viewpoint may change over the next 48 hours) he seems like a nice person with a generous, good heart but he is simply mad as a hatter, nutty nutty and that coming from me of all people!

He insisted on making lunch for us, a nice gesture to be sure, but my stomach wasn't up to much hence the medication.
 All I can say is this; the wine (only him drinking), the overly creative chaotic salad he'd kindly made (yes, even the bloody salad was chaotic!), my mother and him competing to see who could speak the most and the loudest, combined with Audrey shooting me deadly looks across the table, made for a rather tiring affair-my jaw was aching from attempting to keep the inane grin on my face which was rapidly developing into a grimace. 
I was exhausted, and having turned down his marriage proposals stating two kids and two and half cats was more than enough for me-who needs a man? (a white lie to be sure) I escaped to my bed just as my mother escaped to her home and Audrey escaped to Math's class…

 I sank onto my bed with relief, put on some chill out tunes and began my positive affirmations: 'I can cope with anything life throws at me, I adapt to all difficult situations with calm and ease, I…'

 I was rudely interrupted by a loud crash, bang wallop, hysterical laughter, inane chatter and even louder singing in yes, you've guessed it, French and English. I daren´t move-I was frozen to my bed-what the f**k was he doing now? 

It later transpired he had no intention of resting so he´d decided to clean my house, in a manic fashion of course, rearrange my hallway, break my mop in two from the overly enthusiastic mopping and sing David Bowie ´Rebel Rebel´ VERY VERY loudly which in his French accent had now become ´Webel Webel´. 

I gave up-I just lay there, silently crying with hysterical laughter and wondering, what the hell do I do now?

My positive affirmations weren't working-I had the urge to escape from my own home, a rather disheartening feeling it has to be said…

When I heard the front door open and a polite embarrassed laugh from Audrey, I knew it was time to exit my shelter and confront the situation.
 My floors were gleaming (not that they were dirty before I hasten to add) my passageway had been dusted, swept, mopped and my décor rearranged (much to Audrey´s disgust) I didn't really need to hide my surprise as I think most people would be surprised by a complete stranger having cleaned and rearranged their home only hours after arriving…

He was sweating and grinning in a maniacal fashion which was really quite disconcerting. “You're on holiday, you should be resting, having fun” I tried convincingly. He shook his head, unable to stand still for more than five seconds. “I cannot relax I must move-I am stressed! Barcelona stress me!” 

Well yes, having one's tyres slashed and having to find a garage and accommodation on a Sunday with a paying passenger IS stressful to be fair and I'm trying to be VERY fair and understanding but bloody hell, I´m not Mother Theresa either. I thanked him and made my excuses to leave whilst encouraging him to take a walk and get some air. 

Unfortunately he returned before me with a 'gift'; I returned to my house to be confronted by a huge vase in the hall sporting three huge fake roses. Oh dear. Audrey glared at me from the lounge, "The moment he goes so does that! It's hideous and kitch!" She hissed at me.

 I went to check on the kitten-yes let us not forget that furry abandoned baby taking refuge in Audrey´s room. Audrey scuttled in after me, locking the door behind us, “Mum he HAS to go! He´s crazy! He doesn´t stop talking to himself and singing loudly. He´s weird!“ I had to agree that he was lacking in specific social norms yet he doesn´t seem bad and I didn't feel he was dangerous in any way or I would have chucked him out immediately but still…

My patience was being put to the test in less than 24 hours. “Let´s just give it a day or so and I´ll tell him he needs to be calmer as you´re studying hard and…” but the house was becoming more like One flew over the cuckoo´s nest every second.

I know I'm studying to be a therapist but that doesn't mean I want to live with my clients! Plus I had the feeling that the overly British PC attitude was rubbing off on me and occasionally wouldn't it just be nice to scream, "You are f**king doing my head in, shut up singing David Bowie as your French accent will ruin my Memories of said star forever!" I didn't of course but I did eventually throw a yoghurt at the wall in temper when it all got too much (organic natural of course)

Did I mention the tickling? Ah yes-he also has the tendency to creep up behind me and tickle my sides whilst laughing hysterically and shouting Webel Webel we are Webels! Yes, I kid you not.

I dunno but I don't think David Bowie or James Dean had that in mind when defining the term ´rebel´.  Maybe it was the magic mushrooms he took in Thailand or the French Vino or whatever he packs into his rallies but... Man! This was turning into my most memorable Airbnb experience ever...