Amelie K.: How to get kicked out of your Airbnb in 48 hours – Part 1

Actually, we just wanted to fly to Barcelona and start our Erasmus stay. Actually. However, the fact that we would almost end up homeless was definitely not on our to-do list.

Our journey began on June 26th at Salzburg Airport. The group consisted of Flo, Florian, Vanessa, and me (Amelie). The anticipation was huge, expectations were high, and our hunger after landing was even bigger. Therefore, our only goal was to get to the Airbnb as quickly as possible, drop off our bags, and finally get something to eat. If only it weren't for the minor detail that we first had to travel across Barcelona to a hotel just to pick up the keys to our apartment.

When we finally stood in the stairwell of our accommodation around 10 PM, we thought we had the hardest part behind us. Wrong. Not a single key fit. After about an hour of trying, cursing, and slight desperation, we called our host, Miri. Unfortunately, she knew just as little as we did about how to open the apartment. At some point, Flo came up with the idea to just ring the neighbors' doorbell (at 10:45 PM!).

Luckily, a friendly Spaniard opened the door. First, he explained to us that the door on the right belonged to a restaurant and the one on the left to a storage room. Our apartment? Nowhere to be found. For a brief moment, we were convinced we had been scammed and would be spending the next few nights on the beach. But then the neighbor led us to the first floor and actually showed us our real apartment door. Surprise: we had simply been looking at the wrong doors- well, not entirely our fault, since Miri had told us those were the right ones.

Relieved, we dropped off our suitcases and immediately went out to eat. Only later did we take a closer look at the apartment. The floor was dirty, the bathroom was completely covered in limescale, and overall, the apartment had the charm of a long-forgotten construction site rather than a premium accommodation. Nevertheless, being quite optimistic, we decided to just buy cleaning supplies the next day. How hard could it be? But the day also had a lovely surprise in store for us. There was a spontaneous fireworks display on the beach.

The next morning, it turned out the apartment had a few more surprises in store for us. Still, we didn't let it completely ruin our mood and headed to the supermarket to buy cleaning products.

The front door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly a crucial question arose: Who actually has the apartment key? The answer was terrifyingly simple. We all looked at each other at the same time and had exactly the same look on our faces – and what do you think, who had the key? That’s right, nobody had it. So, our rather introverted Flo had to call Miri again, who this time sent a locksmith. On the phone, the whole thing was supposed to cost 30 euros, but on-site, it was suddenly 50 euros. We decided to go for some creative price negotiations and simply handed him the originally agreed-upon 30 euros.

Meanwhile, an important part of our team was still missing: Stefan. He was still on vacation and wasn't supposed to arrive in Barcelona until Sunday. Of course, we told him over the phone that our apartment was completely uninhabitable. He didn't believe a single word, obviously. So, we played a little joke on him and used AI to send him a picture of a completely moldy couch. To us, it was just a joke-at that point, we still thought we could get everything under control with a bit of

However, when we went through the apartment more thoroughly later on, we quickly realized that our joke wasn't that far from reality. Our so-called premium accommodation was a total mold factory. Mould in the fridge, mould in the washing machine, mould in the dishwasher-to be honest, until then, we didn't even know that household appliances could be mouldy like that. But hey, you learn something new every day. And that wasn't all: in the kitchens drawers, we found knives with food residue, and several bowls and pans were anything but clean.

After several spontaneous crisis meetings, we finally decided to contact Airbnb. After all, we felt a little bit ripped off by this apartment. Our desired compensation started at around 700 euros and, after some intense discussions, suddenly escalated to 2,250 euros. How we arrived at that amount, we still don't really know ourselves to this day. At that point, though, we thought that was the peak of our chaos.

Spoiler: It wasn't.

To be continued on Vanessa's blog…