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Day 440 of 1827: Learning About Communication the Hard Way

Day 440 of 1827: Learning About Communication the Hard Way

Ooh, I just noticed that Airbnb lets hosts leave private feedback for me.  How exciting!  I wonder what they’ve been saying…

Oh dear.

Hm.  It seems that I could be better about communicating with my hosts.

To be fair, I’ve been improving on that a lot lately, and – let’s be honest here – sticking with hosts who speak my native language has helped considerably.

But this week, I learned a particularly valuable lesson about expressing my needs in a relationship.

So, at the place I’m staying, there are (or rather, were, but we’ll get to that part) a couple of dogs who live out front.  And they’re… well, they’re not pleasant.

Somewhere along the line, they got it in their heads that it’s their job to guard the property from strangers, and they are not shy about letting you know that.  As soon as I start walking up the stairs running up the side of the house, they spring into action, jumping in front of me and barking, with their tails straight up.

Now, you might be wondering what sort of madness compelled me to stay at a place with such terrifying creatures menacing me every time I enter and leave.

Well, as it happens, despite their aggressive stance, these dogs seem to be scared of humans.  When they start barking, you just shout right back at them, and they get out of your way in a hurry.

I won’t lie; they made me pretty nervous, but I sucked it up and dealt with it for a few weeks.

Now, credit where it’s due; I think my Airbnb hosts did get a sense that I was uneasy with the situation, but we never really talked about it, so I can’t exactly blame them for not doing anything about the problem.

But then it happened.

Last week, I got back from a late evening out with some friends.  It was somewhere after 11 at night, and I pulled into the driveway.

The light at the front of the house wasn’t on tonight, so as soon as I shut off my motorcycle, the world was plunged into blackness.

And in the darkness, I could hear the sounds of four-legged creatures beginning to rouse themselves.

I approached the side of the house (thankfully, there was a light shining in the back!), and as soon as I turned the corner, the dogs jumped up and began barking.

But something was different this time.

Oh, yeah, they were making lots of noise and a big show of blocking my way to the back door just like usual…

… but… are they snarling at me?

This is new.  I don’t think I like this.

But what choice do I have?

So I played my part in the routine and started shouting at them to get out of the way.

And… maybe I imagined it, but I could have sworn they were just a bit slow to clear the path this time.

At this point, I’m pretty freaked out.  It’s late at night, I’m being confronted by a couple of angry dogs, and the only defense I have against them seems to be losing its potency.

I begin to climb the stairs, and one of the dogs starts to follow very close behind me, growling and snarling.

Now my escape route is cut off.

And here I am.

In the jungle.

In the middle of the night.

Being stalked by vicious animals.

My only means of getting away is now cut off.

And even if I could reach my motorcycle, I would have to turn it around to escape, during which time I would be completely vulnerable.

No, I have no choice but to keep going.

Don’t run.  You’ll only make it worse if you run.

Just… one step at a time.  Nice and easy.  No sudden movements.

Geez, I really wish the dog behind me would stop that.  I swear, he’s going to go for my ankle any second now.

It was the longest 10 steps I’ve ever climbed in my life.

Finally, I reached the door and slipped through, slamming the bolt into place as I shut the heavy gate behind me.

The next morning, I was… well, I needed some time to recover.

The following morning, I realized that I did not want to leave my room anymore.  I was so afraid of the dogs that I couldn’t even bring myself to step into the common area of the house, let alone go outside.

Well.  This is no way to live.  I need to deal with the situation.  Now.

I found one of my hosts and told him about my experience the other night (in slightly less dramatic terms, but I think I managed to communicate my concern).

His response was not exactly reassuring.

He offered to escort me past the dogs if I needed to enter or leave the house, but he didn’t know of anything that could be done if I came by when he or his wife wasn’t around.

Now to be fair, I think I caught him off-guard.  Since I arrived here, I’ve been pretty laid-back, haven’t really had any complaints… and now, seemingly out of the blue, I’m freaking out that one of the dogs is going to put me in the hospital.

In retrospect, I can imagine it would be a bit jarring if I were in his position, so although there may have been better ways to handle that situation, I can certainly understand his reaction.

In the moment, however, I was ready to hop on that moto, ride away at top speed and never look back!

So, before heading out for the day, I went back into my room and packed my suitcase, and I spent a few minutes reaching out to other hosts on Airbnb.

By the time I got into town and settled in to start my workday, I had already received responses from a couple of hosts (seriously, Airbnb rocks!).

I sent a booking request to one host who had a really nice-looking place on the edge of town.  The only problem was, she seemed to be having difficulty accepting my reservation.

So she reached out to one of her friends to ask for help.

And that friend happened to be…

I swear I’m not making this up.

…one of my hosts at place I’m staying now.

Well.

This is awkward.

A few minutes later, I got an email explaining that they actually have been looking for a new home for the dogs for awhile now, and they might have found someone able to take them as soon as this afternoon.

Oh.

Well.

This is awkward.

Fortunately, the other Airbnb host was relatively understanding about my situation — well, actually, I think she just didn’t quite know what to make of the whole thing… and to be honest, I wasn’t so sure that I did, either.

But sure enough, when I got back to the house that evening, the dogs were gone, and my spirits were lifted.

Who knows?  Maybe if I had been more proactive about letting my hosts know about the difficulties I was having with the dogs, last week’s incident could have been prevented.  Either way, it’s fair to say that things could have gone a lot better.

It’s certainly given me a lot to think about.

At least, with the dogs gone, this is actually a very beautiful and calm place, and I’m looking forward to the remainder of my stay here.

Meanwhile, my time in Puerto Vallarta is almost done; this part of the world isn’t quite working out for me the way I was hoping, and I’ve decided to push my return to Chile up by a couple of months.  My flight leaves on the 13th (which happens to be a Friday; good thing I’m not superstitious!).

Until then, I’m gonna enjoy as much horchata, picadillo and pozole as I can!

fight breaking out between two tigers
See, now if I had teeth like that, none of this would have happened.
Check out Five Years Abroad on Facebook for more photos from Puerto Vallarta and Mismaloya!

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