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  • Originally a farmhouse dating from 1842, hosts Amanda and Chris recently renovated their historic Airbnb Plus home with the help of the @aphrochic design duo. What did they learn during the renovation? Simple swaps maximized the space, while pieces from nearby shops and artists celebrate Hudson's small town vibe.

Tap through our Instagram Story to see the transformation and learn how to incorporate these design tips into your own home.

Photo: @nicole_franzen
  • Warmed by handmade touches and found treasures, this 1959 trailer puts just the right amount of comfort between you and the desert. After a day of hiking the Bartlett mountain trails, connect with fellow travelers over pizza from the shared outdoor wood-burning oven.

Photo: @silviekubesova
  • Superhosts Kitty and Michael’s mushroom-shaped cabin seems to have sprung up naturally from the forest floor. Hike through the redwoods, hit the beach, or just kick back and watch the action at the “hummingbird airport”—the feeding station that welcomes hundreds of arriving flights every day.

Photo: @kaiyuemiao
  • This posh take on a shepherd’s hut puts the whole Lake District at your feet—and sometimes comes with homemade cheddar scones. But it raises some tough questions, too, like which scenic footpath to follow first and which award-winning pub to visit afterward. Sophie, your Superhost, is happy to help. ⁣
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Photo: @wild_sheep
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Jenny Fountain

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It was a Saturday night, and such a Sabbath as followed! Ex officio professors of Sabbath breaking are all whalemen. The ivory Pequod was turned into what seemed a shamble; every sailor a butcher. You would have thought we were offering up ten thousand red oxen.

I have given no small attention to that not unvexed subject, the skin of the whale. I have had controversies about it with experienced whalemen afloat, and learned naturalists ashore. My original opinion remains unchanged; but it is only an opinion.

For the strain constantly kept up by the windlass continually keeps the whale rolling over and over in the water, and as the blubber in one strip uniformly peels off along the line called the “scarf,” simultaneously cut by the spades of Starbuck and Stubb, the mates; and just as fast as it is thus peeled off, and indeed by that very act itself.

The men at the windlass then cease heaving, and for a moment or two the prodigious blood-dripping mass sways to and fro as if let down from the sky, and every one present must take good heed to dodge it when it swings, else it may box his ears and pitch him again.

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