Life’s Rich Pattern

Tall Travel Tales

BY LIZ FOSTER

Air travel will never be the same again. Just like post 9-11 when we became adept at glugging back water at the gate, and tense conversations with Security about the baby’s yoghurt being neither liquid nor gel (an argument you never, ever win).

Who knows what the new rules will be once the world rights itself – maybe retina scans linked to your vaccination report or donning a Hazmat suit before boarding a plane. But the international loss is our domestic gain, ably supported by the gig economy of letting out our homes. So now seems a good time to spell out my universal holiday rental pet peeves. • No bedside light. Or worse, the bulbs have blown. Sure you can lodge a complaint, but not so handy if you’re just there for one night. And please put lights on both sides of the bed to avoid the inevitable marital spat (‘let’s change sides of the bed just for tonight darling!!’) • Please provide toilet paper, soap, cling film, cooking oil, salt and hand towels for everyone. I’m more than happy to pay an extra $5 for this unparalleled luxury. There is nothing worse than arriving after a long drive, desperate for a wee, and – well you get it. • I realise the cleaner doesn’t have the time or wherewithal to sniff check every condiment in the fridge, but can we be sensible about what gets chucked. I once watched a cleaner at changeover sweep several full bottles of sauce and unopened food items into the garbage. Seriously – not necessary. • Bedrooms need storage. This is a grey area when people let their actual homes. It’s not okay to leave all your stuff in your wardrobe, secured with a Bunnings padlock. We once stayed in a beautiful boutique B&B, with storage comprising one small empty shelf. Three days of tripping over our full suitcases later, the gloss had worn off. • Ditto bathrooms. Unless you’re a backpacker relying on chiselled soap remnants from the shower cubicle, most of us bring multiple toiletries, causing a tussle within minutes for who gets the square inch of vanity for their razor/ toothbrush/magic skin cream. • Info on bin night and recycling options needs to be in bold and stuck somewhere prominent, not buried after the dolphin shots on page 7 of the Guest Guide. • A single washing line is not enough. On a beach holiday, wet togs and towels are a daily event. If you have to do a load of washing, your smalls end up draped on the dining furniture. • The following kitchen utensils are absolute musts: potato masher, sharp knife, tin opener. There’s no work around for their absence, as we discovered on one road trip years ago to a remote place with ingredients for Bolognese and bangers and mash in tow. (Note to self – when buying tins for a holiday, double check they have ring pull openers). • Do not list your three-bedroom house as a four bedder just because you’ve squeezed a bunk bed on the landing. The whole family tiptoeing to the bathroom past the sleeping kids is not a great holiday vibe. Though I’m all for ingenuity with creating bedroom space, like the garden igloo some students built in their Brooklyn backyard and rented out on Airbnb for $200/night. (The ‘chic dome-style bungalow dripping with alt-lifestyle aura’ - aka hollowed out pile of snow - failed to meet Airbnb’s occupancy standards.) All up we’re lucky to have so many options on our doorstep, and if we ever need reminding of the perils of air travel, a couple of episodes of Border Patrol will soon see you right.

Illustration by Grace Kopsiaftis

Liz Foster is a local writer and author. You can find more Life’s Rich Pattern features and more at www.lizfosterwriter.com