If I were to put myself in your shoes I might see bnb~hiouchi as one of the following:
a fantastically remote bnb set under looming trees on a rocky river bank;
a cozy lodge-like operation that is a jumping off point for hikes among enormous redwoods;
a perfectly situated spot for salmon and steelhead fishing;
or maybe, that place with the hot tub under the trees where I get to soak as well as look into a crystal clear water.
It is all those places and more.
Spend hours, days and seasons on the deck or beach as we do and you will see pods of otters, king salmon jumping in the twilight, bear tracks and then the bears, kingfisher, blue heron, eagles and osprey. Live here and life ceases to be a vacation where one might chance upon one of these sights. Live here and you will see this stuff over and over and over and over.
Cappuccino? Not here. Foreign cinema? Nope. Delicatessen, museums, jazz bars, or wood-fired pizza? Not a chance. Not even a GAP or BevMo! True, the Sunday New York Times we get. On Wednesday.
What I used to consume at will in New Orleans, LA, or Berkeley, places I’ve lived and loved, just isn’t available. Yes, the trees are formidable but the man-made stuff is MIA. Like, totally.
For me, therefore, guests play an important role. They drift in from places like Houston, Columbus, New York City, Portland, West LA and Chattanooga and shake off movie references, political viewpoints, and commentary of books and science like sand (unlike most rank-and-file residents I share a zip code with).
I’m not overly desperate for detail — the web does a good job of neutralizing distance — but sometimes it takes the informed jabberwocky of an aspiring playwright or academic or ER doc or venture capitalist to remind me there are still smart people in the world and that other fields besides innkeeping remain available to the average (or above average) Joe.
So welcome to bnb~hiouchi. Bring your career chops, your politics, your humor and your wit. It’s all welcome here.
And now, some recent contributors to the conversation . . .