Hotel melancholia
aeon.co
aeon.co
You can have meaningful relationships in cyber-space but bandwidth is higher in meatspace. Hence the feeling of isolation.
It's getting better though, most new or recently renovated rooms have bigger windows, lighter colors, and stronger lighting.
Even if I weren't visiting people, I don't think I'd want to stay in a real residential home through airbnb. I think I might lean towards a more business-y bed and breakfast place though, instead of a hotel.
Also, hotel rooms, during the day, tend to be where one is when travel isn't going well. I used to think five-star hotels were a waste of money; why would someone pay $300+ more per night just to have a fountain in the lobby? But now that many of my friends are having children, I understand it. If you're traveling with kids (increasing your likelihood that someone gets sick, or just exhausted) then you need the 4- or 5-star accommodations that you don't need if you're a young person who'll use it as a crash pad only.
Hotel rooms, then, are places associated with misfortune: travel ruined by someone getting sick, an unexpected layover due to travel delays, or landing in a city where one feels unsafe due to local conditions like crime or dangerous weather. If your travel goes well, you're only in one to sleep. If it goes poorly, you spend an order of magnitude more waking time in it.
In many ways, constant travel is really wonderful: I'm almost always saying 'hello' to new friends, and 'hello again' to old ones. At the same time, though, you're constantly saying goodbye, as well...
Being disconnected from friends and family, being too narrowly focused on work, or actively avoiding human entanglements as the author admits, is a perfect framing device for melancholy. Whether this takes place in a home or in a hotel is simply a matter of setting.
Having held a travel-intensive consulting position in an earlier part of my career, I absolutely identify to the melancholy of constant dislocation. However, now that I work primarily at home, I do miss the occasional changes of scenery and am looking forward to my upcoming vacation overseas.
The moral of the story is that balance matters, as does context. Too much constant motion produces alienation. Too little produces boredom. And it's much easier to look forward to a personal trip than a business trip, because the former is much more directly rewarding. As important as it is to travel, it's just as important to have a sense of homecoming when it's over.
I've had to stay in hotels a few times over the course of my travels and it's just been a drag in comparison. No matter how tasteful they are, hotel rooms just feel like prison cells with their kischy decor, activity binders, and 1970's televisions. They're cold, clinical spaces that that exist in a sort of diorama dimension outside the jurisdiction and influence of the real world. And they're more expensive, too.
All. day.