The Elusive Quest for Tranquility that AI cannot provide

wishful thinking

There’s a certain irony in driving thirty minutes out of Austin to find peace, only to discover that tranquility is as elusive as ever. They call it Dripping Springs—a town that promises open spaces and a respite from the relentless pace of city life. My wife and I envisioned a quiet weekend getaway, a chance to think, perhaps put pen to paper without the usual urban interruptions. But as with many escapes, reality had its own plans.

The Airbnb, touted as a serene retreat, looked ideal in the pictures. Except in reality, the location backed up to a state highway along with a noticably misrepresented view of the place when you arrive. The whoosh of cars passing by became a constant reminder that solitude is hard to come by. Inside, the hum and buzz of the two refrigerators and the cyclical sigh of the air conditioner filled the supposed silence. It’s funny how, in the absence of city clamor, the small noises become amplified—a refrigerator becomes a freight train in the quiet of the countryside. Simple filtering for these particulars are not part of the Airbnb search experience.

At one point, I realized I’d forgotten my preferred toothpaste. “We could just run home and grab it.” After all, home was only half an hour away. But that simple act felt like an admission of defeat, a thread unraveling the very fabric of this attempted getaway. Returning would circumvent the purpose of leaving in the first place—a surrender to the convenience that binds us to our routines.

Yet, amidst these minor disappointments, the stay offered a treasured passage of time on the back patio. I sat there, watching big puffy clouds float lazily across the sky. There was a simple joy in letting time drift, unhurried. I watched a few videos recommended to me by real people—friends whose suggestions felt like a connection to the world I had momentarily left behind. I delved into a book by Cory Doctorow, his narratives pulling me into different realms, and even found the clarity to write this piece for this week’s post.

When I stepped outside to explore the evening, a cacophony of young dogs barking and howling across the highway greeted me. Their fervent calls echoed in the open air, soon joined by the distant shouts of someone trying to restore order. Our host’s dog chimed in, a local participant in this cross-highway chorus. It struck me then—the interconnectedness of disturbances. One triggers another, a domino effect of disquietude. If only the indoor noise sources could be quieted on command.

This brings me to the advancements of artificial intelligence that companies like Airbnb are investing in heavily. Their emphasis on AI seems more about efficiency and safety—who can argue with that for both hosts and guests? A $200 million acquisition aimed at enhancing experiences, personalizing stays, predicting needs before they’re even articulated¹. But as a member, what I truly want is a better way to find the right place for a getaway with my criteria. Seems like a natural language interface would be in order here.

I’m biased. It’s clear I have a more idealized, perhaps romantic, view of a getaway with my wife—a beautiful location, quiet both inside and outside, with trails to wander and vistas to admire. That kind of nuanced search isn’t available through the traditional user interface. The algorithms, for all their sophistication, can’t grasp the subtleties of human longing.

I admit I’m spoiled. I know of an Airbnb nestled in the North Olympic Peninsula, with breathtaking views, cool weather, amazing trails, and a quiet beyond belief, through personal experience. But that sanctuary isn’t a mere thirty-minute drive from home. As humans, we decide on trade-offs, weighing convenience against desire, the practical against the ideal. Perhaps that’s where AI falls short—not in its capacity to process data or predict patterns, but in its inability to take risks on our behalf.

As the evening settled, I listened once more. The dogs had quieted, the persistent drone of the highway diminished, and for a moment, there was a hint of the serenity I had sought. Sitting on that patio, I found value in the simple act of being present. To my surprise, the day’s clamor seemed to have quieted down. At times I do wish I wasn’t so sensitive to my surrounding sonic field.

In the end, the escape wasn’t about leaving the city or silencing the world around me. It was about finding small pockets of peace amid the chaos. Sitting on that back patio, watching the clouds float by, I’m reminded that tranquility isn’t something you stumble upon—it’s something you carry within. Maybe the imperfect symphony of barking dogs and distant highways is just part of the tapestry of life. It’s not easy for me to accept, but perhaps there’s value in embracing these imperfections. After all, the moments of quiet I did find were all the more precious because of it.

¹ Airbnb’s $200 Million AI Acquisition Is Redefining Your Next Vacation with New Tech Hires

Note: the picture at the top is from Pixabay not our Airbnb stay (I wish).