The Full Suburban: Staying in Amish and haunted Airbnbs

I’ve done a bit of traveling lately, so I’ve seen my fair share of Airbnbs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with what an Airbnb is, I will explain: People who you hope are not serial killers will open up their homes or rental properties to you to stay in while you’re traveling.

And then, for a fee often much less than the cost of a hotel room, you can have access to things like multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, a washer/dryer and leftover condiments in the fridge. The Airbnb concept is heaven sent for a big family like mine, and it’s a great alternative to expensive hotel rooms that usually don’t have enough space for us anyway.

When my family went back East last month for spring break, I had three main criteria for the Airbnbs we stayed in: they must be cheaper than a hotel; they must have excellent reviews; and they must be short at least one bed for the size of our family (saves money and builds character!).

The first Airbnb of our trip was the one I was most excited about. It was right in the heart of Amish Country – in Intercourse, Pa., to be exact – and was located on the upper floor of a home occupied by a retired Amish-Mennonite couple.

From our upstairs window, we could see farmland for miles and numerous horse-and-buggies drive by, which absolutely blew my kids’ minds. As we got settled into our little apartment, I started opening doors to figure out what was a closet, what was a bathroom and so forth and was startled when one unlocked door led directly into the home of our Airbnb hosts.

Snippets of their conversation wafted upstairs as I quickly shut and locked the door, wondering if they had as easy access to our apartment as we had to the rest of their home. A few minutes later, there was a brief knock on the outside door before Lena, the homeowner, let herself in to say hello, which was equal parts disquieting and heartwarming.

One of the perks of staying at this Airbnb was the fact that we were given full access to the backyard, where the family had constructed a gigantic swing set that allowed my boys to swing higher than should be legally allowed for any human child. Lena’s grown daughter even came outside to give my boys a hearty push.

The next morning, I stepped into the modern – if not sparse – bathroom to take a shower. The Amish are not known for their commitment to excellent water pressure, and the first part of my shower felt more like splashing around in a drinking fountain than getting a good old 21st century rinse. All in all, though, we gave a big thumbs-up to the Amish Airbnb.

Another memorable Airbnb on our trip was the one we stayed at on our last night. The house itself was in a quiet neighborhood, but the inside was a confusing cacophony of decor inspiration.

“I can’t figure out what they’re doing with the bedrooms,” George remarked after scoping the place out. “It’s like they’re trying to have a theme, but then they’ll put something in there that throws the whole thing off.”

For example: one room would be decorated with palm fronds, Roman columns and a bust of Buddha. The room next door would be decked out with elephants, a jungle scene and a copy of the Declaration of Independence. It was very odd. It didn’t help any that this house came complete with a creepy basement, a feature of which none of the Dittos are particularly fond.

All of us agreed that the basement was definitely the most likely place for us to be murdered on this trip, which was unfortunate, since I was the one who had to head down there, again and again, to dry a batch of towels that we’d used at an indoor water park earlier in the day. Thankfully, doing laundry in creepy basements is not new to me.

I did laundry in the spooky basement of the historic apartment building Logan and I lived in when we first got married; I did it in the unfinished and most definitely haunted basement of our 100-year-old Craftsman when we lived on the South Hill; and now here I was doing it in the rented home of someone I hoped was not a serial killer.

You’ll be happy to know that we returned home from that trip completely untouched by murderers, for which I am grateful. And I continue to be a fan of Airbnbs, both for their convenience and for the quirky, local flavor they add to any vacation. The leftover refrigerator condiments are just a bonus.

Julia Ditto shares her life with her husband, six children and a random menagerie of farm animals in Spokane Valley. She can be reached at dittojulia@gmail.com.