When Mike Kelly set up his first few Airbnbs in Fort Wayne, Indiana, in 2023, he figured it would be a successful move. It was meant to be an investment project for him and his daughter to work on together. But as more people moved away from bustling and expensive urban centers and landed in the Midwest, their hopes were quickly shattered.

The Fort Wayne housing market boomed. High demand for homes, coupled with the city's low housing stock, has kept costs relatively high — a Redfin analysis of housing data found home prices were up 9.2% in October compared with last year. The hot housing market has translated into higher property taxes, which is throwing off the short-term-rental business model. "The houses we purchased to turn into Airbnbs have been assessed so much higher than what we put into them that we almost can't afford to keep them," Kelly said. "The return on equity wouldn't be as high."

Owners of short-term rentals across the country have faced a similar reality, sharing stories of declining revenues over the past few years as the market was flooded with new rentals. AirDNA, an analytics firm that tracks the short-term-rental market, found that revenue per rental decreased by nearly 2% in 2022 and by more than 8% in 2023 due to an overabundance of units available for rent. AirDNA forecast that revenues would move back into the green in 2024 as the market corrected. But as short-term-rental owners felt signs of an "Airbnbust," some realized they needed to pivot.

On one end of the market, however, it's a different picture. While overall demand for short-term rentals rose just 1.8% in 2023, according to AirDNA's data, demand for stays priced at $1,000 or more increased by nearly 8%. For stays over $1,500, demand jumped 12.5%. In fact, demand for rentals costing over $1,000 a night has increased by 73% since 2019. While cheaper rentals are slowing down, luxury, niche, and themed stays are filling their place. Wealthy vacationers are increasingly going after luxe properties such as a secluded Malibu beach mansion or a modern cabin beset by pristine woods — like something off Cabin Porn. Meanwhile, Airbnb alternatives are jumping into the market to cater to the growing demand. A lust for luxury is propelling the short-term-rental market to new heights.

Over the past few years, more travelers have pushed back against the Airbnb model, complaining of outrageous cleaning fees, extensive cleanup requirements, and outright scams. As a result, some travelers have opted to stay in good old-fashioned hotels thanks to their consistent service.

These complaints, however, tend to focus on rentals on the low end of the market — the $200-a-night stay you might book to visit a family member or get out of town for a weekend. The luxury end of the rental market fills a different role. These spots boast plenty of hotellike amenities — such as contactless check-in, high-speed internet, bathroom toiletries, and coffee makers. Because of the high price point, luxury rentals also tend to standardize their cleaning services. Unlike a hotel room, though, a house or apartment comes with a lot more room to host guests, plus amenities such as a kitchen or private pool. When split between multiple guests for a night or weekend, some of the eye-popping price tags end up being surprisingly affordable.

Among high-income travelers, who made up an increasingly large share of vacationers this year, hotels are on the way out. Deloitte's 2024 summer-travel report found a 17-point drop in people who earn over $200,000 opting to stay at full-service hotels compared with the summer before. While middle-income travelers moved toward budget accommodations like bed and breakfasts and RV rentals, high earners shifted toward private-home rentals.

One brand capitalizing on the growing demand is Wander. Launched in 2022, Wander owns all of its 200 properties, each beautifully designed with stunning landscaping. Its founder and CEO, John Andrew Entwistle, had the idea of making a vacation rental feel like a luxury hospitality brand after a disastrous ordeal renting a cabin in Colorado. "The whole experience felt broken, the type of thing all of us has had at a vacation rental one time or another: The place didn't look like the photos. The beds were uncomfortable. The list goes on and on," he said.

He wanted a rental home with heart and soul, where the building was designed around the landscape and high-speed internet flowed across the house. Wander rentals are often in remote spots to give guests a sense of privacy and quiet. The cleaning service is standardized so guests don't have to worry about cleaning up after themselves, and customers can check in on their own through their smartphones. Every unit, which costs an average of $900 a night, also features sleek workstations for digital nomads.

Other travel brands have found similar success in the luxury market. There's Mint House, a cross between a hotel and short-term rental that has 12 properties across 10 major US cities. Visitor experiences are personalized — for instance, guests can request that the refrigerator be stocked with their favorite groceries before they arrive — and there's 24/7 customer care. The apartments, which can be studios or have multiple bedrooms, are priced similarly to hotels and feature bespoke furniture and decor, along with all the necessities of modern accommodations. To explain the brand's success, Christian Lee, the CEO of Mint House, pointed to the company's ability to provide consistent experiences. "Unlike other short-term listings that lack security and guest care and often require a guest to perform chores at checkout, all of our properties are professionally managed to ensure the utmost safety, security, and cleanliness," he said.

The luxuriousness only goes up from there. Rental Escapes, a full-service luxury-villa-rental company founded in 2012, offers over 5,000 villas in more than 70 destinations worldwide. They start at $500 a night — though most go for tens of thousands. Amase Stays, a collection of $10 million rental estates founded this year, creates bespoke experiences for its top-of-the-line properties, with dedicated concierges who can arrange everything from private chefs and spa services to customized excursions.

Chris Lema, a business coach and product strategist, is a Wander superfan. "These are places that are architecturally beautiful, and the land that they sit on feels like a national park," he said. He likes that the company provides attainable luxury — he's stayed in 13 different Wander locations and hopes to "collect them all," he said. He has even started planning trips around Wander rentals.

"I thought this is where Airbnb was going to go with its business model," he said. "If you go to Airbnb's website now, they have these different categories like 'amazing views' or 'lakefront.' But none of these rentals push forward on the issue of experience. There's the Luxe category — but it's not the same thing."

In Airbnb's Luxe category, homes might cost anywhere between $200 and hundreds of thousands of dollars a night. When the category launched in 2019, an Airbnb press release said the homes would have to pass a slate of design and experience criteria, including higher standards for cleanliness and amenities like towels and toiletries. Unlike at other Airbnb properties, a company representative has to walk through Luxe properties to verify them. Despite that, Lema hasn't been impressed.

"They seem to rank Luxe based on the niceness of the residence," Lema said, "but that isn't really the point of what that kind of experience should be."

An Airbnb spokesperson said, "We're proud to be the only travel platform that offers stays for nearly any desired travel experience." They added: "We're also proud of the growth of our Luxe category supply and look forward to expanding the offering."

So far, Wander's model is working out. It launched with only three locations, and two years later, it has 200 houses and an average occupancy rate of 80%, Entwistle said. By the beginning of 2025, Entwistle hopes to launch locations in Mexico and Canada.

Back in Fort Wayne, Kelly ended up pivoting his Airbnb business to cater to this demand for luxury. "We focus on four-bedroom-plus homes where groups can gather for weddings or reunions," he said. Houses with pools and hot tubs are especially desirable, he's found. Kelly has also amassed a thriving collection of themed Airbnbs. He designed one house to look like the childhood home of the fictional character Fawn Liebowitz from the cult classic film "Animal House." He's working on another rental themed around Indiana University sports teams.

"At the end of the day, the 'luxury' houses are more affordable than staying in multiple hotel rooms," he said. Plus, offering something unique, like a theme, helps homes stand out from the crowd. With the new focus, Kelly's Airbnbs are rarely empty, he said.

Part of the shifting demand stems from people viewing luxury rentals as a destination unto themselves — if the place you're staying is cool enough, you don't need to get out much. Others are drawn to them as a means to get away from the hubbub. "In today's globalized world, travel destinations have become more and more homogenous and tourist-burdened," Spencer Bailey, the editor of the new book "Design: The Leading Hotels of the World," said. "People are seeking out distinctive experiences away from the crowds and searching for a certain sense of intimacy, craft, and care." It's not just about top-rate service, intricate design, or even a Michelin-starred restaurant. "It's about being in nature, engaging in local culture, and creating discrete, felt experiences that encourage quietness and slowness, not an Instagram moment," Bailey says.

A private rental is often more secluded, meaning travelers can prioritize spending more time alone with their loved ones. "Travelers are increasingly wising up to the fact that time — and where, how, and with whom you spend it — is the greatest luxury," he said. Michelle Steinhardt, the founder of the luxury travel blog The Trav Nav, wrote about her recent stay at a secluded beachfront property rental in Punta Mita, Mexico: "Even though we were only a few minutes from the local town, our party felt like everyone else was miles away."

Increasingly, getting away from home isn't enough. We also want to get away from other people. For those who can afford it — or have enough friends — luxury-travel companies are more than happy to accommodate.

Michelle Mastro covers lifestyle, travel, architecture, and culture.

• Guests can sleep on the USS Cobia, a World War II submarine, at the Wisconsin Maritime Museum.
• The submarine is listed on Airbnb and can sleep up to 65 people in sailors' bunks.
• My stay was a memorable experience that gave me a newfound respect for US Navy submariners.

At the Wisconsin Maritime Museum in Manitowoc, you can descend a steep staircase into the USS Cobia, a US Navy submarine that sank 13 ships and earned four battle stars in World War II. You can walk through the rooms and learn about its history in combat from a US Navy veteran or self-guided audio tour.

Unlike other museums, you can also sleep there.

Through the museum's "Sub Bnb" experience, guests can book a stay on the USS Cobia via Airbnb and spend the night in the same bunks where submariners once slept during their wartime service.

For years, the Wisconsin Maritime Museum hosted Boy Scout troops and other large groups on the submarine, which can sleep up to 65 people. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit and large groups could no longer visit, the museum pivoted to hosting individual families. The experiences proved so popular that the museum has continued to offer overnight stays for large and small groups alike.

"The Sub Bnb was a business move in many ways for the sustainability of the museum," Wisconsin Maritime Museum director Kevin Cullen told Business Insider.

The cost of the Sub BnB starts at $500 per night, plus a $100 cleaning fee and an $85 Airbnb service fee for a total of $685. Business Insider paid a discounted media rate of $200 to report this story.

The funds earned from Sub Bnb stays help support the museum.

"Just by staying there, you get that authentic experience, but you're also supporting preservation for generations to come," Cullen said.

In December, I visited the Wisconsin Maritime Museum for an overnight stay on the USS Cobia accompanied by my dad, a maritime enthusiast.

Here's what it's like to spend a night on a World War II submarine.

The USS Cobia was visible from the parking lot when we arrived at the Wisconsin Maritime Museum for our submarine stay.

The USS Cobia was docked outside the museum in the Manitowoc River. The freshwater river has helped preserve the submarine over the years since it's less corrosive than saltwater.

Inside the museum, we were greeted by Mark Becker, a US Navy submarine veteran and museum volunteer who served as our tour guide.

Becker served on the USS Silversides during the Cold War.

Becker took us outside for our first proper look at the USS Cobia.

The USS Cobia sank 13 ships during its six patrols in World War II, earning four battle stars. The submarine also rescued seven downed American pilots.

After the war, the USS Cobia was brought to Manitowoc to serve as a memorial for submariners. The Wisconsin Maritime Museum acquired it in 1986. That same year, the USS Cobia became a National Historic Landmark and was added to the National Register of Historic Places.

It's not the first submarine to grace the shores of Manitowoc. The Manitowoc Shipbuilding Company, which was located just miles from the museum, built 28 submarines during World War II.

Standing on the deck, I was amazed by the size of the submarine.

Becker told us that the USS Cobia actually spent most of her patrols on the surface of the water, not underwater.

"Cobia is basically a gunboat that can submerge if she has to, not like a true submarine like I was on," he said. "Cobia was better on the surface. Faster, more maneuverable, and way more firepower."

The smell of diesel fuel became stronger as I walked down a set of stairs into the submarine.

The stairs didn't exist during the USS Cobia's wartime service. Sailors used ladders to enter and exit the sub through narrow hatches.

Becker said we were free to sleep in any of the bunks on the USS Cobia that we saw along the tour.

The first stop on the tour, the forward torpedo room, featured pull-out bunks where torpedomen slept.

The only exception was the captain's stateroom, which remained off-limits.

The captain's stateroom was not available to overnight guests out of respect for the rank.

Walking through the USS Cobia, the hallways were so narrow that I could barely lift my arms to my sides.

I couldn't believe that a crew of 80 men once navigated the submarine's narrow spaces for months at a time.

The hatches required some clambering to navigate from room to room and could have painful consequences if one forgot to duck.

Instead of doorways that could be walked through, the hatches required me to duck and climb through the small openings.

Becker said that during his submarine service in the Navy, he once hit his head while running through the ship after a call rang out for crew members to report to their battle stations.

"I didn't duck far enough, and, pow, I hit my head at the top of that thing," he said. "I damn near knocked myself out."

A perk of staying on the submarine overnight was the personalized tour, which included spaces not usually open to the public like the pump room.

In the control room, which contained the ship's navigational equipment and controls, Becker opened a hatch in the floor that led to the pump room. I climbed down the ladder to take a look.

The pump room featured air compressors, cooling systems, and pumps that removed accumulated water.

A laminated set of directions included 54 steps to operate the machinery. Becker said that crew members would have been working here all day and all night.

Becker also let us tinker around with some of the switches in the control room.

The USS Cobia has been so well maintained that many of its controls still work. The museum staff instructed us not to touch any of the buttons or switches while staying on the submarine to prevent any technical mishaps.

In the control room, Becker showed my dad how to pull the lever that sounded the "battle stations" alarm. I was surprised by how loud it was, but it needed to be heard over the roar of the submarine's four diesel engines.

After we finished our tour, we picked up our seabags containing all of our linens for the evening.

Each seabag provided by the museum included a pillow, a pillowcase, a fitted sheet, a top sheet, and a microplush blanket.

Sailors received similar seabags during their submarine service.

My dad chose a bunk in the forward torpedo room at the front of the submarine.

The night we visited the USS Cobia, temperatures in Manitowoc reached a low of 16 degrees Fahrenheit. Thankfully, the submarine was heated, and the forward torpedo room was the warmest on the ship.

I set up my bed down the hall in the "goat locker," where chief petty officers slept.

When the rank of chief petty officer was established in 1893, the officers' duties included managing the goats that were kept on ships to produce fresh milk. The goats were kept in the chief petty officer's quarters, which then became known as the "goat locker," according to the Naval History and Heritage Command.

Becker said that the nickname also poked fun at the senior officers, who were referred to as "old goats" since they had been in the Navy for a long time.

The goat locker contained five beds, and the mattress was surprisingly comfortable. The confined quarters reminded me of the night I once spent in a Dolly Parton-themed RV in Tennessee. Journalism is fun, kids.

My bunk featured its own light and a few drawers for storage — benefits that high-ranking officers enjoyed.

Most crew members only received one cubic foot of space for their personal belongings, but higher-ranking officers had access to more storage in their bunks.

We ate dinner in the ward room, where officers took their meals, held meetings, and spent their downtime.

We brought our own food and ate on the submarine, but there are several restaurants located near the museum for visitors who want to dine out.

It was surreal to step inside an active museum exhibit and eat dinner alongside the fake food displayed on real US Navy tableware.

Since the USS Cobia does not have working bathrooms, I went back into the museum to get ready for bed.

When guests sleep on the USS Cobia, the museum stays open for them all night. A staff member also sleeps at the museum to be available if guests need anything.

Staying on the submarine required going up and down its stairs and outside for every bathroom trip, which could prove difficult for those with mobility challenges or inconvenient for those who make frequent nighttime trips. The museum can also accommodate overnight guests inside the building if needed.

While brushing my teeth, I charged my phone since there were no easily accessible outlets on board.

There was no phone service on the submarine, either.

"You are in an entirely metal encapsulated vessel, therefore cell phone service and internet is not available on board," the email with our check-in instructions read.

Walking through the dark, empty museum at night was just as cool as I imagined it would be.

Ever since I watched "Night at the Museum," a 2006 film in which exhibits at the American Museum of Natural History come alive at night, I've wondered what it would be like to visit a museum after hours.

All of my "Night at the Museum" dreams came true at the Wisconsin Maritime Museum. We were given free rein to wander as we pleased.

Walking around the museum at night did feel different, similar to the way that watching a scary movie in the dark adds a certain gravitas.

We had the entire museum to ourselves, which allowed us to take our time looking through the exhibits.

I particularly enjoyed the exhibits about shipwreck artifacts discovered off the coasts of Wisconsin and the history of the Manitowoc Shipbuilding Company. Even though I grew up in Wisconsin, I had no idea of the extent of its maritime history.

In my bunk that night, I thought about all of the soldiers who left their families and homes to spend months on board the USS Cobia.

It's one thing to walk through a World War II submarine on a guided tour and imagine what life was like on board. It's another to fully immerse yourself in the experience by eating where they ate and sleeping where they slept.

I thought about what Becker told us during our tour as we walked through the crew's quarters — no matter how tough sailors seemed, the sound of tearful sniffles would always be audible at night.

"I don't care what ship it is — aircraft carrier, submarine — you're going to hear it," he said.

The next morning, I watched the sunrise from the deck.

I'd been a little bit worried about getting seasick on the sub, but I didn't notice much movement and felt fine the whole time. I slept from around 11 p.m. to 5 a.m. then found it difficult to fall back asleep due to the chilly temperature on board.

I took advantage of the early hour and watched the sun's pink glow start to peek through the clouds.

As the sun came up, I got a better look at the guns atop the deck.

The USS Cobia was equipped with three guns: a 50-caliber deck gun, a Bofors 40 mm gun, and an Oerlikon 20 mm cannon.

I noticed other details that I'd missed in the dark, like the name "Cobia" inscribed on the side of the submarine.

Cobia, pronounced KOH-bee-uh, is a species of fish.

I stepped back onto the walkway connecting the submarine to the museum to take in the full view, once again marveling at its enormity and history.

At 312 feet, the USS Cobia was almost as long as the Green Bay Packers' Lambeau Field.

The Wisconsin Maritime Museum provided us with breakfast in one of its meeting rooms.

Breakfast included instant oatmeal packets, granola bars, muffins, bagels, orange juice, and coffee.

After breakfast, we took a bit more time to walk through the museum, including an in-depth look at the USS Cobia.

The USS Cobia exhibit inside the museum featured an immersive audiovisual presentation set in a model of the submarine's control room. Voice actors and animated crew members reenacted the USS Cobia's sinking of a Japanese ship loaded with 28 tanks headed to Iwo Jima in 1945.

I commemorated my stay with a magnet from the museum gift shop that read "I stayed the night on the USS Cobia."

The magnet cost $5.95.

Spending the night on the USS Cobia was a memorable experience that gave me a newfound respect for US Navy submariners.

Cullen, the museum director, hopes that when guests stay on the USS Cobia, it sparks "a moment of recognition of the tremendous sacrifice that submariners in World War II underwent."

"That's what museums really are here for," he said. "The objects are witness to history — witness to tremendous tragedy as Cobia was in wartime efforts, but also witness to the tremendous humanity of those moments in time that I think connect us as people cross-culturally and cross-generationally."

I also asked my dad for his take.

"Sleeping in the forward torpedo room with the gentle movement of the floating sub and the ever-prevalent smell of old diesel fuel long expired gave me a small taste of what life on a submarine must have been like," he said. "Truly a unique experience and a must for all militaria aficionados."

Indeed, the smell of diesel fuel lingered in my hair and on my clothes after our stay — a souvenir of its own.

The tourism and travel industries are finally back on track, expected to make a “full recovery” to pre-pandemic levels of activity, the UN said earlier this month. As an indicator of that, Hostaway, one of the bigger software startups in the space, is announcing a giant round of funding to double down on growth.  The […]

© 2024 TechCrunch. All rights reserved. For personal use only.

Airbnb has its sights set on global domination. In earnings calls this year, its cofounder and CEO, Brian Chesky, mapped out what he sees as the short-term-rental giant's biggest expansion markets: Mexico and Brazil in the Americas; in Asia, Japan, India, South Korea, and China, for Chinese residents looking to travel outside the country; and further into Germany, Italy, and Spain in Europe, where it already has a stronghold.

What's connecting these scattered countries? Dave Stephenson, the chief business officer at Airbnb, says they're all places where the company's footprint is small compared to the amount of money people spend on travel there. The company is working on ways "to show up locally relevant," he says, "so that people think of why it's better to travel on Airbnb." Stephenson maintains that Airbnb, despite its name recognition, has a smaller footprint than hotels. The company says it has 8 million active listings globally, compared to, by one estimate, some 17 million hotel rooms. Airbnb aims to close that gap, continent by continent.

There's something else tying this far-flung strategy together: Airbnb is looking for new frontiers at a time when cities around the world are cracking down on the company and other short-term rental platforms, largely in response to complaints that short-term rentals draw (often unruly) tourists and displace locals. Barcelona, which has an estimated 20,000 Airbnb listings, has said it will ban all short-term rentals by 2028. Málaga will stop giving out new short-term-rental permits in dozens of neighborhoods. New York enacted a law in 2023 that wiped nearly all short-term rentals off the map. Other cities, like London and Paris, have been enforcing strict limits on the number of nights each year that a property can be listed for short-term renting.

For Airbnb, terra incognita looks more appealing as some of its terra firma becomes less firm.

When Airbnb was new and growing rapidly in the 2010s, there was little regulation on short-term rentals. Many did not anticipate how homeowners, and even renters, would turn Airbnb into overnight miniature business empires. But complaints mounted over the years. Residents reported that short-term renters often had parties that brought trash, noise, and general chaos to buildings and neighborhoods, even after the company barred guests from hosting large gatherings. Locals also blamed the lucrative rentals for pushing up housing prices. Housing costs are influenced by many factors, but in 2020, researchers found that Airbnb growth in the median ZIP code accounted for an increase of $9 in monthly rent and $1,800 in home prices, making up one-fifth of rent growth and one-seventh of property value increases. A report by the New York City comptroller found that between 2009 and 2016, 9.2% of the jump in rental rates could be tied to Airbnb.

At this point, dozens of local governments around the world have enacted laws regulating short-term rentals that are bespoke to their cities. This gives places where Airbnb is looking to expand the advantage of seeing how various regulations have started to affect housing availability elsewhere, should they want to move proactively. "Even though those places that Airbnb could be pushing into may not have a [regulatory] framework, there's at least these examples where governments have recognized the need to protect housing and implemented successful ways of regulating it," says Murray Cox, founder of Inside Airbnb, which scrapes Airbnb data to show its footprint in cities around the world. Cities could take approaches from other playbooks, such as requiring Airbnb to share data with local officials, zoning short-term rentals to more commercial neighborhoods, or allowing hosts to rent out primary residences a limited number of nights a year.

For Airbnb, the patchwork regulation around the world is both "a problem and an opportunity," says Cox. If rentals are curtailed in Paris, the company could look to expand to nearby cities or rural parts of France where there are fewer regulations. For Airbnb, that might mean moving into new countries. "They either can't grow or they're declining in cities or some parts" of their core markets, Cox says. "The only way that they can either maintain their revenues or grow is to push into other markets."

Airbnb isn't opposed to rules outright. If regulations are in place before the company expands to a new market, it could make the process simpler for hosts and guests and spare Airbnb from having to pivot and wipe tens of thousands of listings from its platform in one swoop after a new law passes. "We really do welcome sensible regulation," Stephenson tells me. "In a sensible, reasonable way, it works quite well." Airbnb is still pushing back against what it believes are overreaching regulations, like those in New York City. And despite the regulations, Airbnb is growing. Its revenue is up 10% year over year, and the number of nights booked grew, along with experiences, which include activities provided by local businesses and tour guides, by 8%.

But Airbnb's challenges don't stop at the regulations. It must also get people around the world to buy in. "Each country is going to have its own dynamics," Jamie Lane, the senior vice president of analytics and chief economist at AirDNA, tells me. In some countries, hosting strangers in your home wouldn't be culturally acceptable. Lane also says there are local competitors to Airbnb in some places "that have been impactful and made it hard for them to compete."

Those challenges are partially why Airbnb pulled out of hosting in China in 2022, wiping out 150,000 listings there. For one, the country's strict travel regulations around COVID-19 lasted longer than measures taken by most other nations, which created a drag on travel bookings. But Airbnb struggled to compete with Chinese companies offering short-term rentals long before that. The homegrown alternatives there included Tujia, which was designed to attract Chinese travelers specifically by anticipating peak travel times and rates, Melissa Yang, the company's cofounder, told CNN several years ago.

Chesky is more confident that Airbnb can win over the hearts and minds of the masses anywhere it goes. "Airbnb pretty much resonates pretty equally everywhere once there's the awareness," he told investors in a call earlier this year. "In fact, I could argue that Airbnb might resonate better in Asia because there's a younger travel population that's not predisposed to hotels, and they're on social media. And we are disproportionately on social media versus our competitors. So I'm very, very bullish about that."

While the company isn't telegraphing its expansion strategy in every country, one of its most obvious moves began in Japan this fall. Airbnb ran an ad in English last year promoting travel in Kyoto, but it ramped up its Japanese ads in October. It's looking to court young Japanese travelers who want to take weekend trips, showing photos of a family traveling to a sleek, modern cabin in a wooded area, where they sing karaoke. Stephenson says Airbnb has also learned that local travelers want proximity to onsens, Japanese hot springs and bathing facilities, so listings there now show nearby onsens.

Elsewhere, Airbnb has been implementing payment methods preferred by locals. The company recently added KaKao Pay in South Korea and Vipps in Norway, among dozens of other options. It may seem like a small step, but Airbnb thinks meeting people where and how they pay will make the service more appealing.

Researchers are closely watching Airbnb's ongoing spread. Bianca Tavolari, a researcher and member of the advisory board of the Global Observatory of Short-Term Rentals, a group of Latin American organizations focused on housing, says Brazil has lagged in regulating short-term rentals, though a court ruled last year that hosts must have explicit consent from property owners to list apartments or condos as short-term rentals. Airbnb shares some tourism trend information with local officials through its city portal, but researchers like Tavolari still have questions about Airbnb's full impact. "We are in the dark," she tells me. Yet "cities are seeing it as a great opportunity," particularly those that depend heavily on tourism dollars, she says, and thinking less about the long-term costs to residents.

Cox says he's "hopeful that some of these locations that Airbnb is planning to push to have already started thinking about" how they'll handle its growth. If Chesky's hypothesis is right, Airbnb could continue to spread rapidly once people in other parts of the world get used to couch surfing or navigating a hidden lockbox to let themselves into their rentals. Cities should be ready before more tourists start packing their bags.

Amanda Hoover is a senior correspondent at Business Insider covering the tech industry. She writes about the biggest tech companies and trends.

• Jenina, 36, and Adam, 38, spent about $60,000 building a tiny house in the Philippines countryside.
• They were inspired by the design of shepherd's huts in the UK, where Adam is from.
• Now, they're renting it out on Airbnb, and rates start at $150 a night.

Jenina, 36, and her husband, Adam, 38, have always wanted to own a tiny house in the woods.

The couple, who met as students at a party while studying in the UK, dreamed of having a cozy place they could escape to and reconnect with nature.

The two of them — who asked to be identified by only their first names for privacy reasons — were living in Bulacan, a province in the Philippines, at the time. Bulacan is about an hour's drive from the capital city of Manila.

Every weekend, they would visit the 22-hectare farm owned by Jenina's parents.

The couple always thought it'd be a good idea to have a small retreat there, somewhere they could bask in nature. The family farm is in Doña Remedios Trinidad, also known as DRT, in the Bulacan countryside. In July 2023, they turned their tiny-house dream into a reality.

"Initially, we envisioned this property as our personal holiday retreat— a sanctuary for relaxation," Jenina, who co-owns a digital-marketing agency, told Business Insider. "Being fans of tiny homes, we loved the idea of creating something minimalist yet functional."

Designed like a shepherd's hut

The couple was inspired by the design of shepherds' huts in the UK, where Adam is from, and decided to model their tiny home after it.

"We've always been fans of shepherd's huts for their practicality and charm. Their unique compact design inspired us, especially since they aren't widely known in the Philippines but are quite iconic in the UK," Jenina said.

She said they thought the distinctive style of the shepherd's hut would stand out aesthetically against the surrounding greenery.

The land was previously used as a pineapple plantation and to grow other fruit and vegetable crops. The couple made sure to build on a spot that was already cleared so that no trees had to be cut, Jenina said.

The whole construction process took about eight months, and the couple worked with a structural engineer and an architect to complete the project.

They said the hilly terrain of the plot made things especially challenging.

"We had to dig out four septic tanks and lay a solid foundation, bringing in a structural engineer to ensure the build was both secure and sustainable," Jenina said.

She said it was also difficult to transport building materials to the remote site, as it was miles from the nearest main road.

It didn't help that there was no electricity back then either, she added.

Sourcing materials was another major hurdle since finding unique items such as cast-iron wheels and frames required custom orders, which the couple collaborated on with a local architect.

"Managing the entire project ourselves tested our patience and problem-solving skills, but seeing the final result made all the challenges worthwhile," she said.

Turning it into a vacation rental

The two of them aren't the only ones who have hopped onto the tiny-house movement.

As housing keeps getting more expensive for people all around the world, tiny houses represent a cheaper alternative to real estate.

Six people who live in tiny houses previously told BI it was a way for them to improve their finances. Not only did they reduce their housing expenses, but living in a tiny house also forced them to reevaluate their daily spending habits.

"We evaluate what we buy a lot more carefully, which in turn ends up saving money from those 'I need to have this' moments. This allows us to invest back into our lives," Tim, a tiny-house blogger in Florida, told BI previously.

Jenina said they spent about 3.5 million Philippines pesos, or $60,000, to build the tiny house, including the cost of the landscaping around the structure.

The tiny house measures about 194 square feet and has a double bed, a sofa bed, a mini kitchen, and a full bathroom.

The internal and external walls are made of fiber cement, which helps keep the interior cool and comfortable even in tropical weather, Jenina said.

The curved roof is also crafted with durable Polyvinyl Chloride material that can last up to 50 years, she said — much longer than traditional roofing options.

Though the hut was meant to be their little getaway, the couple relocated to Cambodia in July this year after Adam accepted a job offer. He's a brand director for a luxury-goods company.

With the move, the couple also decided to turn their shepherd's hut into a guesthouse so that others could enjoy the space.

The tiny house — which can accommodate up to four adults — is available for rent on Airbnb or through their Facebook, with rates starting from 8,500 Philippine pesos on weekdays and 10,000 Philippine pesos on weekends and holidays.

The tiny hut is surrounded by plenty of natural sights that guests can enjoy, such as the Biak-Na-Bato National Park and the Verdivia Falls, a waterfall with clear pools popular for swimming and relaxing, Jenina said.

Their family members use the hut often, and the couple will always pop by for a quick stay whenever they're back in the Philippines to visit the family.

While living in the tiny hut permanently isn't in their immediate plans, they're definitely open to the idea in the future.

"Our favorite part of the hut is the stairs at the front," Jenina said. "From there, you can take in the breathtaking view of the mountains. It's the perfect spot to relax and connect with nature."

Have you recently relocated to a new country and found your dream home? If you have a story to share, contact this reporter at [email protected].

• 2025 should be a relatively calm year for Airbnb and Vrbo hosts, according to a new forecast.
• Occupancy rates are expected to remain the same or improve a bit, while supply won't increase much.
• Travelers are interested in houses with six or more bedrooms that cost relatively little per night.

Airbnb and Vrbo hosts can expect more consistency in 2025, according to a new report from industry analytics firm AirDNA.

"There's going to be a bit more stability," Bram Gallagher, director of economics and forecasting at AirDNA, told Business Insider. "The market is in a more mature phase compared to where it was five, even 10 years ago."

The short-term-rental market's roller coaster kicked off in 2020, when a surge in travel brought hosts record profits. An influx of new properties opened up, leading to a correction. Hosts have been adjusting their expectations ever since, sometimes lowering prices to remain competitive.

2024 has been an improvement for hosts in some ways. Demand for short-term rentals, as measured by the number of nights booked, grew 7% compared to 2023. Occupancy rates, the number of nights a month a rental is booked, declined from February 2022 to April 2024, but have been relatively constant since.

There are early signs that the more stable climate will translate to better returns for hosts in 2025. AirDNA measures a rental's expected revenue using a measure called RevPAR — or revenue per available rental, which combines a unit's average daily rate with its region's occupancy rate. For two years the average RevPAR declined, meaning hosts could expect to bring in less revenue than the year prior. RevPAR forecasts for 2025 have turned positive.

"We're going to be seeing some gradual improvement from here on out," Gallagher said.

Here are 3 predictions AirDNA has for hosts in the new year.

1. Occupancy levels will stay about the same

Occupancy rates went through a historic whiplash over the past four years. First, a lower number of overall listings following COVID-19 lockdowns met a nationwide surge in stir-crazy travelers looking for more space, which produced some of the highest occupancy rates in industry history — hitting a peak of 61.9% in February 2022.

Then, a flood of new properties spurred by an investor boom intensified the competition for bookings, pushing occupancy rates down to 54% in April 2024.

Rates settled around the mid-50s this year, and AirDNA expects occupancy rates to stay around that mark in 2025.

"It's such a slight increase, but we're going to be holding on to the gains that we've got this year," Gallagher told BI.

2. The number of new Airbnbs and Vrbos has slowed, so there's less competition

The post-pandemic explosion of new Airbnb and Vrbo listings is likely over.

"Supply is going to continue slowing, so you're going to have fewer new competitors next year to worry about," Gallagher told BI.

First, a tight housing market eroded investor appetite for new properties. Increasing regulations on Airbnbs and Vrbos in cities across the US and abroad over the past few years have also dampened new listings.

That's good news for hosts who already manage units.

"It's good for operators that are already in the market, because they've got barriers to entry that are already in place for anyone who wants to compete with them," Gallagher noted.

3. Large homes with relatively cheap nightly rates are likely to keep growing in popularity

One surprising trend from 2024 that Gallagher said is likely to continue into the new year is the exceptional performance of a certain segment of listings: multiple-bedroom homes that large groups can book cheaply.

AirDNA found that the largest growth in both demand and available listings in 2024 was for listings with six or more bedrooms in the "budget" category, or the cheapest 20% of listings ranked by price-per-night.

Gallagher explained that the uptick in interest might be a response to the comparisons some travelers make between hotels and short-term rentals.

"People are looking at the value proposition of renting six rooms at a budget hotel, compared to getting a six-bedroom short-term rental," Gallagher said. "It's been a change to the composition of short-term rental supply."

In recent years, some loyal Airbnb guests have claimed they are opting to stay in hotels more frequently due to issues like fees and chores.

Airbnb has intensified its competition with hotels in recent months, with one executive teasing that the company will soon start offering "hotel-like" amenities.

• Brian Chesky and Nvidia's Jensen Huang avoid one-on-one meetings with subordinates.
• "You become like their therapist," Chesky told Fortune.
• Yet one person who studies meetings said making an employee feel heard can have "amazing" outcomes.

Meetings are the main way Airbnb's Brian Chesky gets work done. Yet he says the one-on-one format with a direct report is fundamentally flawed.

"Almost no great CEO in history has ever done them," the Airbnb chief said in a recent interview.

That's because when an employee "owns the agenda," they bring up subjects managers don't want to discuss — and "you become like their therapist," Chesky said. Topics can also arise that would benefit other people at the company to hear, but instead, they're sequestered in a one-on-one.

Of course, there are certain times when a one-on-one makes sense, Chesky told Fortune in the interview — such as when an employee is having a difficult time personally and needs to confide to a boss privately.

But generally, he said, they're just not productive on a regular basis.

Chesky isn't alone. Although he has many direct reports, Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang also prefers to skip one-on-one meetings.

"I don't really believe there's any information that I operate on that somehow only one or two people should hear about," Huang said at Stripe Sessions earlier this year.

Making employees feel heard can have 'amazing' outcomes

While some leaders are cracking down, one expert previously told Business Insider that, when conducted correctly, one-on-ones can boost employee engagement, productivity, and overall happiness.

"The outcomes associated with effective one-on-ones are amazing," said Steven G. Rogelberg, an organizational psychologist who's also a professor at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte and the author of "Glad We Met: The Art and Science of 1:1 Meetings."

Rogelberg previously told BI that one-on-ones are more successful when the worker leads the conversation. He said managers should dedicate roughly 25 minutes a week and focus on the personal needs of employees as well as the practical aspects of the job.

Many managers avoid that first component, Rogelberg said, because it takes more effort.

But at the same time, workers need to do their due diligence, he said — showing up prepared to talk more than half the time. Some fruitful topics include: challenges, how a manager can better support a worker, and what's going well and what could be improved.

'Nitpicking sessions'

Chesky isn't the only boss who's over the one-on-one. In May, Aditya Agarwal, a former Facebook director, wrote in a post on X that after more than a decade of conducting such meetings with those who report to him, he determined they did more harm than good.

"They condition people to do spot checks on happiness and constantly be critical about things that aren't ideal. In practice, 1:1s descend into nitpicking sessions," Agarwal wrote as part of a thread.

Agarwal added that bosses should give feedback every three to six months rather than weekly. That approach, he said, could drive managers to pick up on patterns and give "holistic" guidance rather than weekly spot checks.

Three years ago, when Mark Goff and Phillip Engel had their first viewing of Château Avensac in the south of France, only one thing prevented the California couple from putting in an offer: Was it old enough?

The gate tower, supporting walls, and stone bridge at the estate's entrance date back to the original medieval castle built in 1320. But the main building — a 48-room château with sweeping views of the Gers, the rural, foie-gras-producing region of southwest France — was rebuilt in the 1820s. "The idea of the royals and the nobles, to us, is a very romantic idea," Goff says. "That's why we love 'Bridgerton.'"

In the end, they decided there was "just enough 14th-century château stuff going on" to fulfill their fantasies and make it their new home. The place was certainly big enough to host weddings and artist retreats, a business the couple was counting on to help pay for the extensive renovations that would be required. By the fall of 2021, Château Avensac was theirs for $1.2 million.

That's when reality set in.

The château had exposed electrical wiring, "nonexistent" plumbing, and stone walls that retained moisture. Everywhere they looked, there was something in need of work. So far, they've spent $500,000 updating the château's electricity, heat, and plumbing, fortifying the foundations, and replacing the roof. They've budgeted for $500,000 more. "Everyone said, 'You have to assume everything is going to be double what you expect.' And they were kind of right," Engel says. "We didn't really listen to that part."

All across France, there's a glut of châteaus for sale. While the average asking price is $2 million, smaller châteaus can go for a couple hundred thousand. A few, like the palatial mansion nicknamed the "Little Versailles of the Pyrenees," are even being given away. But there's a reason they're on the market: The properties are huge money pits.

Real estate agents say buyers should expect to set aside as much as 1.5% of the purchase price for annual maintenance, and significantly more if the château requires extensive renovations. And if the place is classified as a historic monument, as some 15,000 are, add to the process a small mountain of French bureaucracy. Plans require approval by the French minister of culture, and work must be done by designated specialists. In all of France, there are just 31 architects accredited to run these projects. What's more, the places tend to be woefully outdated and incredibly isolated.

"It's true, you can buy a château in France for nothing," says Adrian Leeds, an American real estate agent who's been in France for 30 years. "There's a reason for that: because nobody wants them!"

That is, the French don't want them. Americans very much do. "There was a razzia" — a plundering raid — "right after the pandemic," says Gonzague Le Nail, a French real-estate agent who specializes in châteaus. Most of the interest used to come from foreign buyers in the market for a second home, but now, Le Nail says, it's from families looking to relocate to the French countryside and use the château as their primary residence. Half the châteaus around Paris are foreign-owned, and inquiries from Americans are up across France.

The day they signed the deed of sale, Goff and Engel invited over all 74 residents of the town of Avensac and served them Champagne, impressing their new neighbors with the decidedly un-aristocratic sensibility they brought to their aristocratic new digs. A few months later, they hosted a "spooky Halloween" party. "They're very open, very nice, and very low-key," says Mayor Michel Tarrible, who's been a recipient of the couple's homemade cookies.

This was not Goff and Engel's first time taking on an extreme fixer-upper. In 2009, they bought a place in Sonoma County, north of San Francisco, that took a decade to renovate. They did much of the work themselves, much of it at night and on weekends. Goff documented the process on his blog. (Goff is a graphic designer, while Engel works in tech.) They ultimately sold the house for twice what they had put in.

Around 2020, Goff happened upon a #chateaulife vlog on YouTube, where a family was documenting the highs and lows of buying and renovating a château. He couldn't believe how cheap the properties were going for, and he pitched Engel on the idea of moving abroad.

"In California you can flip houses and make a lot of money," Goff says. "I knew going into this that it's not going to be like that. You do it because you want to live this kind of rustic, ruined lifestyle in the south of France."

Another chatelain, Abigail Carter, describes a similar trajectory: She had some experience transforming old, dilapidated homes when, as she puts it, she became "obsessed" with buying a château in France.

Originally from Canada, Carter and her husband lived in a succession of fixer-uppers in London, Massachusetts, and New Jersey as they moved around for work and grew their family. After her husband died in the September 11, 2001, attacks — he was visiting a trade show at the World Trade Center that day — Carter relocated to Seattle with their two kids. By 2021 she was living in a converted firehouse she'd renovated and wondering what was next for her.

She found her answer bingeing #chateaulife vlogs on YouTube. "For less than half of what you would pay here for a house, you can get an entire château," she recalls thinking. "I decided not buying a château in France was going to be more detrimental to my health than buying one."

Carter made two visits to France before finding a property she felt she could handle on her own. Château de Borie, a 12-bedroom château near Agen, had been vacant for four years. "It was almost like 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' with all the wires hanging," Carter recalls. But the place had good bones. Carter closed on the place in 2022, paying $610,000 and budgeting another $200,000 for furnishings and renovations.

Panic kicked in almost immediately. "My God," she remembers thinking. "What am I doing? Why am I doing this?"

Last year, an enormous cliff above Carter's property split open and rained rubble down on her property. It will likely take tens of thousands of euros to remove the debris and secure what remains of the cliff. "The cliff has been there for 300 years and it's been fine," she says. "Of course, I've owned it for a year and a half and this thing comes down on me."

But the experience has also been thrilling. "I'm bringing this house up in terms of its elegance again," she says. "French style doesn't change. It's very understated and very elegant."

Recently, a young family from Paris inherited a nearby château and began coming down for weekends. Carter says it's slowly dawning on them what it will cost to maintain it.

"They love it, but it's crumbling — literally crumbling," Carter says.

For many French sellers, what strikes Americans as romantic has come to feel like a curse. Château de l'Espinay, a 15-room manor in Brittany, has been in the family of Williams Henrys d'Aubigny for 250 years. His father, on his deathbed, made him promise never to sell. But at 79, he's overwhelmed by the time and money the property requires. He has no children of his own, and none of his younger relatives have any interest in moving to northwestern France to take over the place.

Henrys d'Aubigny, like many French owners who feel weighed down by history, is desperate to sell. But he's also prone to overvaluing what that history is worth. It's been five years since he listed the château for $2.7 million, and he still doesn't have a buyer. He estimates it needs $100,000 worth of renovations, though his real-estate agent says it's more like $1 million. There's mold, and only one functioning bathroom. The place is so expensive to heat that Henrys d'Aubigny sleeps in a guest cottage during the winter.

"He's very, very attached to his château," his agent says. "It's all he talks about. He thinks you can't put a price on culture."

For years, Henrys d'Aubigny has been holding out for a buyer who will love the place as much as he does. But then a couple from Ohio bought a château up the road; he came to admire their commitment and tasteful renovation. He now says his preferred buyer is "an American who's got a lot of money."

Most of the Americans who take on a château aren't looking for a European life of leisure. Their goal is to start a business. Carter, who just hosted her first retreat at Château de Borie, eventually hopes to generate $60,000 a year by marketing the romance of rural France to Americans and Canadians. She plans to host creative retreats for painters and writers, and "healing" retreats for widows. On her website, she sells château-themed T-shirts and art prints, and she has amassed 48,000 subscribers on her Chateau Chronicles channel on YouTube. In a recent video, she toured the grounds of her château and wondered aloud how this was all "somehow mine."

At Château Avensac, things have turned out to be even more difficult than Goff and Engel bargained for. Two years ago, Goff woke up from spinal surgery paralyzed from the chest down. The condition is temporary, but regaining the use of his legs has been a slow and difficult process, requiring five or six days a week of physical therapy. A wheelchair isn't the best way to move around a 48-room château, but Goff is making do.

Goff and Engel say they're on track to soft-launch their events business in 2025. They've also started selling château swag on their website, and they've set up a Patreon account so their fans can support the work they're doing to reclaim a part of France's history and culture.

"I live in a château," Engel reminds himself when he's feeling overwhelmed. "Yes, it's a crumbling château. But it's still a château. And there's something very romantic about that."

• Arkansas resident GT Hill purchased a missile silo, decommissioned in the 1980s, for $90,000 in 2010.
• He spent $800,000 over 10 years converting the space but doesn't recommend others try it.
• Initially hoping to make it a primary residence, Hill has made it into an Airbnb, hosting authors, acrobats, and YouTubers.

This is an as-told-to essay based on a conversation with GT Hill, a 49-year-old former director of technical marketing who lives in Vilonia, Arkansas. He bought a $90,000 decommissioned missile silo and turned it into an Airbnb. The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up in eastern Oregon, in the middle of nowhere, so I did welding and many other mechanical things. I was a jet engine mechanic in the Air Force and spent my primary career in technology. I worked for a handful of Silicon Valley companies as a director of technical marketing.

One day, I was getting my haircut in Searcy, Arkansas. These old guys were talking about the missile silos that were around Arkansas. I had never heard about these places that housed nuclear missiles, so I started researching.

Probably 20% of my interest was in the doomsday prepper aspect or the idea of preparing to survive in the case of a catastrophe. I'm not a full doomsday prepper, but I like the idea of being prepared for the unknown, including having food storage and some survival skills.

If you talk to the hardcore preppers, which I'm not, missile silos are not that great, depending on what you think is the worst-case scenario. If it's a Walking-Dead-style apocalypse, you don't want to be in a missile silo because then you're trapped inside.

Another 30% of my interest was in the modern archaeology aspect of owning something like this. I really wanted to dig it up and see what was in there. Initially, I intended to make it a house for my family.

Lastly, I was interested in owning a missile silo because it's just kick ass. The place has 7,000-pound doors. Its three floors are made out of a steel structure nicknamed "the birdcage."

It's on eight springs and actually hangs from the ceiling. And the reason is if it gets hit by a bomb, it allows the structure to shake to try to preserve the equipment and the people inside.

Thanks to the rattle space or the gap between the floors and walls, I can put my back against the wall and push the structure to get it to move.

I bought the historic silo for $90,000. It was decommissioned in the 1980s as part of an international treaty.

I found my missile silo, called Titan II, online. I started talking to the previous owner in January of 2010, and by August, I owned it.

Titan II was denuclearized after the US and Russia signed a 1979 treaty to limit each country's nuclear weapons. The US disarmed Titan II as part of that negotiation, called the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks II or SALT II.

They had to destroy the silo in very specific ways. They actually had to blow up the top of the structure and fill it in. So it was an underground structure, but completely buried.

I bought the nine-acre site in Vilonia, Arkansas, for $90,000, which was about a $30,000 premium over the land's value alone.

There were three main components. There's the silo itself, a 57-foot diameter structure or basically a 15-story building, which sits underground at 150 feet deep. Then there's a long tunnel connecting the silo to the center area that's 35 feet underground. The last part of it is the launch control center, which goes as deep as 50 feet underground.

The whole process was risky and expensive. I don't recommend people try to copy me.

Some people look at an old house and think, "There's no way I want to rebuild that." I liked the challenge. I knew we could build a pretty cool place. It just took a whole lot more money and time than I anticipated.

I finally got money and time together in October 2010. I rented a large bulldozer and an excavator, and then we started digging.

The whole facility was full of water. We could see water pouring out on top of us, so we had to figure out how to open the front door of the control center without dying. When the door popped open, a huge wave came over us. It was scary.

There were other challenges. The place had asbestos and methane gas at the top of the control center, where the crew quarters were. I recorded videos of the whole process, and you can actually hear my voice change because of the methane in the air.

I had much more time than I did money. It's not that I didn't have the money to do it, but when you get the money, how do you prioritize using it? Do you throw it in a hole in the ground or spend it on a vacation for your family? Or upgrade the current home you live in? I had to make many of those decisions over the 10-year renovation period.

After spending $800,000, we're probably netting $80,000 a year in revenue from the place now that I rent it out on Airbnb.

People ask what the hardest part about doing this was, and it has nothing to do with the work. It's the mental side. You're spending money on a hole in the ground, and you have nothing to show for it. It ended well for me, but the average person shouldn't do it.

It's not a great way to spend time or money.

We've turned the missile into an Airbnb and have hosted YouTubers, acrobats, and a writer who lived cut off from the world for 10 days.

We still live on the property, but we never moved in full-time. We'd spend some nights as a family there, either for fun or as a shelter from big tornadoes.

There are no walls and doors, so there's no real primary bedroom. The top floor has a king bed, a large, open shower, and a free-standing bathtub. The middle floor has two queen beds that we can move to make more space. Then, the kitchen and the living room are on the bottom floor, which also doubles as a dance floor and can turn into a club.

We host anything on the property, including meetings. If it's semi-legal and people want to do it there and pay for it, we're fine with it.

The first booking we got was in November 2020. It was a couple coming for their honeymoon, but they got a little too intoxicated at their wedding to make the trip. They sent their best man instead.

Our initial rate was $275 per night with a $75 cleaning fee. Since then, we've raised prices a few times, so now we're in the $400-$700 range for a one-night stay, depending on whether it's a weekday or a weekend.

COVID was obviously still going on when we started to list it, and I marketed the silo as the ultimate social distancing. There was this YouTube couple, Kara and Nate, with like 3 million subscribers, who came to stay in 2021. They were travel influencers who started doing van life during the pandemic.

I would say 70% of our bookings for the next year came through the video they made about their stay. Today, I would've paid an influencer couple like that $5,000 to stay for that kind of exposure. With them, it was just a coincidence.

I once intentionally locked a woman in there for 10 days straight. In 2021, an author named Lynne Peeples called me and said, "I'm doing a book on circadian rhythm, and I need a place that has absolutely no indication of time whatsoever." She wanted to see what would happen to her sleep cycle. Before her arrival, I had to ensure everything that told the time was covered; even the Netflix account couldn't show the time.

We've had acrobats down there for a charity event. We've had bands perform. We've had birthday parties and even some swingers. I'm a pretty open guy. Just treat each other and the place well.

The only thing we haven't had yet is a wedding. And a lot of the reason for that is because of the stairs. It's five flights down, and typically, everybody's got at least one older relative in attendance.

It's been a pretty terrible investment, any way you look at it, but it's become more than that. It's now part of my identity.

• CEOs at top companies have gone to the shop floor to learn more about their businesses.
• Laxman Narasimhan did time as a barista while running Starbucks, and Airbnb CEO Brian Chesky was a host.
• Here's what they learned from going undercover.

When Kelly Ortberg became Boeing CEO in October, he issued a rallying cry for company leaders: Get back on the factory floor.

He's not the only leader who thinks bosses are too far from the coal face.

Some executives have said those who regularly spend time on the shop floor have a greater understanding of their business and what pain points need fixing.

These CEOs have all gone undercover to either discreetly serve customers or experience service themselves. This is what they learned from it about their businesses.

Dara Khosrowshahi, CEO of Uber, drove and delivered for Uber Eats in 2022

Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi spent time picking up shifts as an Uber Eats delivery driver on an e-bike and an Uber driver for a spell in 2022.

He bought a secondhand Tesla Model Y to ferry riders around San Francisco and made deliveries using the alias "Dave K." He did this when the company was struggling with recruitment.

Khosrowshahi told The Wall Street Journal in April 2023 he was surprised how passengers would often discuss personal or sensitive information as if he wasn't there. While making deliveries on an e-bike, he encountered "tip-baiting," where customers offer a big tip but reduce it on delivery.

The experience showed him that the company culture was focused on customers and not drivers. "We didn't take pride in the driver product because very few of us drove," he said.

Khosrowshahi shared his findings at a companywide all-hands titled "Why we suck."

He said the meeting wasn't "pleasant" but that it led to a shift, telling the Journal, "We started celebrating employees going out there delivering, employees driving. It is a point of pride for employees now — when they drive they get a little badge on their corporate profile."

Laxman Narasimhan, former CEO of Starbucks, picked up a half-day barista shift once a month

Laxman Narasimhan said he spent six months immersing himself in all aspects of the company, including training as a barista, before taking over from Howard Schultz as Starbucks CEO.

When he took over the job, Narasimhan said he planned to continue working monthly half-day shifts.

In his first annual letter to staff in March 2023, Narasimhan said he wanted the practice to help "keep us close to the culture and our customers, as well as to our challenges and opportunities."

"I expect each member of the leadership team to also ensure our support centers stay connected and engaged in the realities of our stores for discussion and improvement," he added.

During his barista shifts, he burned his hand on a sandwich and had an egg bite explode in front of a customer. This prompted him to make several key changes, including sending more breakfast sandwiches to stores to avoid shortages, making packaging for egg bites easier to open, and sending fewer corporate emails to stores.

Brian Chesky, CEO of Airbnb, spent 6 months living in Airbnbs — and became a host

In 2022, Brian Chesky said he spent six months living full-time as a guest in a series of Airbnbs to promote remote work.

The Airbnb CEO last year told Fortune the experience varied greatly from place to place: some hosts would request he pay "giant" cleaning fees, and others handed him a chore list.

"I started noticing variability," he said. "I'd ask them, 'Why are you doing all of this?'"

After Chesky's Airbnb stays, he launched 50 features, Fortune reported, including Airbnb Rooms — individual rooms to rent instead of whole homes.

To promote these listings, Chesky put a guest room in his own San Francisco home on the app for free, from 2022 to March 2023. While the listing is no longer accepting guests, some of those who did get the opportunity in 2023 left glowing reviews.

"I feel like I'm reviewing Steve Jobs' personal iPhone," one guest wrote in a review praising Chesky for facilitating "a smooth check-in."

Tony Xu, CEO of DoorDash, makes monthly food deliveries

DoorDash CEO Tony Xu makes monthly deliveries as part of WeDash, a program begun in 2015 that requires salaried employees to carry out several deliveries a year.

Xu told "The Rideshare Guy" podcast last year that it had sparked ideas for improvement. He said the company had a Slack channel dedicated to issues people identify from WeDash, such as app bugs or getting the wait times for deliveries wrong.

Xu also said it helped him and his employees solve problems, in an interview on Stanford Graduate School of Business's "View From The Top" podcast in 2021.

"If you're at the surface level, you're never going to actually realize what the problems are," he said.

On the podcast, he also shared that he does customer service for the company daily, which he said can sometimes shed more light on areas for improvement than data.

"Sometimes, it's really hard just looking at the data to get to the digging," he said.

During a ride covered by The Associated Press, the company's CTO and Xu's cofounder, Andy Fang got lost during one WeDash delivery after the app prompted him to go to the wrong address.

Joey Wat, CEO of Yum China, says she spends 'hours' watching customers eat

Yum China CEO Joey Wat said that she covertly hangs out at its restaurants, including KFC and Pizza Hut to watch customers eat, sometimes for up to three hours.

These stakeouts have been helpful in coming up with product ideas, Wat told the 2024 Fortune Global Forum this month. "Some things you can observe directly from the customer and sometimes talking to the store manager helps," she said.

Wat added that she noticed many young people in China ate KFC fried chicken dipped into mashed potato.

"What we can do with that insight is get rid of the bone," Wat said, adding this was the impetus for the company launching the boneless "mash potato burger" in China.