We recently came across a beautiful article that Behomm member Hurol Inan had written on his Substack publication Everyday Muse, the first of a two-part series about his experience as a Behommer. We were happily surprised to see how honestly he writes about his initial hesitation to share his Barcelona apartment with strangers ("I am happy to host close friends — but strangers? That felt different") and what six exchanges later have taught him about trust. Happy to share with all of you his article:

How would you describe your dream house? Where would it be? What would it look like?
Would you share it with others?

Take your time before imagining it. I wish to offer two small guides. It should be:

– So comfortable that you miss it while you are elsewhere.
– So beautiful that you cannot stop looking at it while you are inside.

Somewhere you don’t want to leave — not even for small errands.

I think I found one. At least a beach version of it.
It is Lica’s cabana.
But before arriving there, I had to learn something about sharing — and about trust.

The Unexpected Invitation

When Lica contacted me on Behomm — a home exchange site we both use — it took me seconds to agree to an exchange.

Behomm is an invitation-only community for people who care about design and the spaces they live in. Not luxury for its own sake, but intention — homes that reflect personality, care and aesthetic choices.

Behomm is not about luxury for its own sake,
but intention. Homes that reflect personality,
care and aesthetic choices.

At the time, I had only a remote chance of staying at her place. Hers looked fabulous, but distance made the possibility uncertain. My own apartment, however, was available as I was travelling.

I saw no harm in letting her and her family stay at mine.

They stayed. Everything went according to plan.

This was about a year ago.

Before leaving, Lica left me a generous gift. I was intrigued by her — and by her place. Visiting her cabana one day stayed in the back of my mind.

That opportunity arrived recently.

And I finally stayed there.

But to understand why that mattered, I need to return to an earlier hesitation.

Why We Hesitate to Share

Before I joined Behomm, I hesitated.

About three years ago, I was having lunch with a friend in Sydney. As I spoke about upcoming travel plans, he casually asked whether I would be exchanging my apartment in Barcelona while travelling.

I rejected the idea immediately.

It is my space, I thought.
I have paid attention to every detail.
I am happy to host close friends — but strangers? That felt different.

A day or two later, another friend asked whether my apartment would be vacant during the holiday season — and whether they might stay.

I wished he hadn’t asked.

Not because I didn’t trust him. I did. I liked and valued him. But sharing one’s home carries vulnerability. Trust is never certainty. You can never be one hundred per cent sure.

Still, the risk felt manageable. A friend who lived nearby could keep an eye on the apartment. Any problems could be remedied.

So I agreed.

In that moment, trust moved from idea to action.

The Psychology of Trust

Sharing a home is not a neutral decision.

It carries emotion.

A small sense of vulnerability sits at the centre of it. That vulnerability gives trust its meaning.
Without risk — even small risk — trust would feel empty.

Psychologically, trust works in an interesting way. When people are trusted, they often behave better. They rise to expectations. They become more careful and attentive.

Trust works in an interesting way. When people are
trusted, they often behave better. They rise to expectations.
They become more careful and attentive.

In life and at work, the pattern is the same. Being trusted creates responsibility. Responsibility often produces pride — and better outcomes.

That is why sharing something personal — like a home — can deepen relationships in ways ordinary interactions rarely do.

The Painting

They stayed.

From their messages, their appreciation was obvious. They noticed details. They commented on the artwork. They enjoyed the space.

One message stayed with me.

In the bedroom, there is a painting of a cinema — one of my favourite pieces. Something about it has always drawn me in. I often pause in front of it myself.

My friend wrote that his partner, a cinephile, could not stop looking at the painting.

Not just noticed it.
Not just liked it.

Could not stop looking at it.

That sentence settled something inside me.

It told me they were not simply occupying the apartment. They were experiencing it. Seeing what I saw. Enjoying what I enjoyed.

Homes are not just shelters. They are expressions
of identity. Every object reflects a choice.
Every painting tells a small story.

When others appreciate those details, they are not just admiring decoration.

Homes are not just shelters. They are expressions
of identity. Every object reflects a choice.
Every painting tells a small story.

They are acknowledging the person who created the space.

And something else happened.

Our friendship deepened.

Not dramatically. Not suddenly. But steadily — in the way trust grows when it is honoured.

Why Strangers Sometimes Behave Better Than Friends

Over time, I completed six home exchanges.

No problems.

Strangely, I had experienced more issues with friends than with strangers.

One left the windows open for a week while I was travelling. I returned to find curtains hanging halfway outside.

Another forgot to take the rubbish out. The apartment greeted me with a smell that lingered longer than expected.

Another had sex on my sofa — and left his underwear behind it. (I wrote about this experience in a story titled Someone Had Sex on My Sofa.)

Why does this happen?

Why do strangers often behave better than friends?

Mutual trust stabilises behaviour. Shared taste also matters.
People who appreciate beauty tend to protect it.

When strangers enter our homes through structured exchanges, roles are clear. Expectations are clear. Responsibility is clear. People behave carefully because they feel entrusted — not entitled.

Friends sometimes feel relaxed in ways that blur boundaries. Strangers remain attentive to them.

Platforms like Behomm create communities shaped by shared expectations. People value
belonging. They protect reputation. They respect the spaces of others because they hope others will respect theirs.

Reciprocity sits beneath it all.

I care for your home.
You care for mine.

Equality matters. Mutual trust stabilises behaviour.

Shared taste also matters.

People who appreciate beauty tend to protect it.

Sharing as a Human Act

At its heart, sharing a home is not only practical.

It is philosophical.

Sharing transforms ownership into stewardship.
A home remains yours — but becomes temporarily
entrusted to someone else.

Across cultures, hospitality has always been seen as a virtue.

To open one’s home is to say:

You are welcome here.
You are safe here.

That is no small gesture.

Sharing transforms ownership into stewardship. A home remains yours — but becomes temporarily entrusted to someone else.

Responsibility, when honoured, creates meaning.

And perhaps that is the real definition of a dream house:

Not only one we love living in — but one we feel confident sharing.

And perhaps that is where the story naturally leads next — to the place that helped me understand this more deeply.

Next week, I will describe Lica’s cabana as the second part of this story — the beach version of a dream house — and explore how design shapes not only how spaces look, but how we live within them.