Case Study: the rise and fall of the Cotty/BarBAEdos Commune
A 2-part vacation rental story of inspiration and caution
Editor’s note: this is a case study from Eric Will, one of the founding members of an ephemeral community / traveling quaranteam that spent a winter in northern Canada and a second winter in Barbados. This is a long one, but packed with insights that will resonate with anyone living in community, winter retreat or full time.
Date founded: March 2020, and then again January 2021
Location: Muskoka, Ontario, then multiple locations in Barbados
Amount of space: 4 bed/2 bath, then 2 bed/2 bath + 1 bed/1bath garden suite, then multi-unit apartment complex
Rented
Governance: an intuitive, changing mix of democratic consensus and doocracy
Origins Part 1: The Cotty
In the early days of 2020, when the world was still normal, a new group of 8 friends began to form over a shared love of house music and good food. Our friendship developed quickly, and by the time the world shut down a few months later, we were spending nearly every weekend together. As panic loomed over the city of Toronto and toilet paper began flying off the shelves, one friend pitched an idea: her family owned a cottage up north, and if we wanted to, we could work remotely from there for a week or two to get out of the city for a while. Despite the freshness of our friendship, the idea was an immediate hit, and we quickly sorted out the logistics. WIFI was tested, grocery routes were planned, quarantine protocols decided upon. An expeditionary group made first contact with the cottage one weekend, confirmed its viability, and the rest of us followed. Once settled at the cottage, one fun-filled week turned to three, then 5, and as the bleakness of the Toronto downtown core saw no improvement, we saw no reason to return.
And thus The Cotty was born; for the next 3 months, a crew of 5 core members and a dog huddled away in the lake country of Ontario, working during the day, cooking extravagant family meals, making pillow forts, throwing private dance festivals, and cruising the local lakes on kayaks and motorboats. 3 additional satellite members, our bubble, made repeat appearances for weekends or the occasional week long stay during those months. It was a magical time.
Inner Workings:
We rarely needed official meetings; we spent so much time together in the same room that conversations around plans or decisions happened naturally. Decisions were either brought up for democratic consensus, or made in secret by a couple members then relayed to the remainder of the group (this was rarely an issue, as the plans made were almost always awesome and happily agreed to by all). An informal leadership arose in the friend whose family owned the cottage, acting as liaison between us and the cottage owner and guiding us around life in this small lake country town. We were privileged; we paid little to the owner for our stay (just covering utilities, as well as a few days of sweat equity cleaning boats at their local marina), and didn’t have to make a time commitment. Everything flowed pretty nicely; in fact, it was downright euphoric at the time. Conflicts amongst our group were rare and we fell into a routine that seemed to work well enough for everyone.Â
Most of us worked remotely, 2 of us taking sales calls all day, yet were able to work in the same room (a large open concept dining/kitchen/living room), most of us at one giant dining table, with 2 bedrooms available for calls/meetings when there were too many voices happening at once.Â
We initially used a spreadsheet to track finances, managed by one member who volunteered, but eventually transitioned to using the Splitwise app for all purchases, which was much easier and didn’t rely on one person to act as administrator.Â
We did a mix of individual and shared groceries that we attempted to equally share. We had access to a vehicle, so 3 members would do a giant Costco haul for everyone, and then each individual was responsible for going over the receipts and adding up the total that they owed. Utilities, gas, and the cost of any outings were all shared equally.
We did multiple family dinners per week, usually both weekend nights and one weeknight. All other meals were left to individuals to make for themselves. We were blessed to have a talented chef in our group who loved cooking for us nearly as much as we loved being cooked for. The rest of us would serve as her sous-chefs, and would clean dishes afterwards. My personal fascination and love for cooking sparked during these months, watching and learning from a talented cook and getting to see what good home cooking can really taste like.Â
Small chores were done on the fly in a relatively intuitive way; dishes were cleaned usually as we used them, and the dishwasher unpacked when needed. The occasional reminder was needed to clean up the kitchen, or avoid unpacking dishes in the morning when others were sleeping. Deep cleaning like sweeping and dusting was usually done on a semi-weekly basis, usually while the groceries were being shopped. Various larger, irregular chores (raking leaves, cleaning up the deck, cleaning the boats, etc) were usually tackled as a group as directed by the cottage's owner, and we were all happy to oblige.Â
Interlude
As the months passed, the lake thawed, leaves sprung from the trees. Summer sauntered its way towards Ontario, and word got out that restrictions would soon be lifting in the downtown core. We'd barely interacted with another human being in 3 months, and despite the magic of our experience we all decided it was time to leave the Cotty and make a return to the real world, at least for a while.
Life proceeded as normally as it could for the remainder of that year; we re-integrated into society, reconnected with other friends as much as we felt comfortable, and our group friendship remained strong. We continued our traditions of extravagant meals, dance parties, and throwing ridiculous birthday parties, though naturally these events became fewer and farther between due to the realities of living apart. A thought always lingered in the back of our minds, and occasionally in discussion - was our Cotty experience a one-off? Or could we make it happen again?
Around October of 2020, as temperatures fell, restrictions tightened and the looming sadness of a socially-distanced winter set upon us, the temptation to try again was palpable. The Cotty, now out of our price range due to a hot covid cottage rental market, was no longer an option for us. Was there another way?
Origins Part 2: BarBAEdos (aka Mamta's and the Worthing Fiya Commune)
Through a few strokes of luck, a new option for a covid escape plan suddenly became surprisingly realistic: Barbados. Warm, sunny, and desperate for tourism, the small island in the Caribbean was doing everything possible to make it easy for newcomers to stay, work remotely, and spend their money. The idea of attempting international travel seemed risky at first, irresponsible even, but thanks to the guidance from a couple connections who frequented Barbados as their regular vacation spot (and were also planning to visit that winter), we suddenly had the outline of a feasible game plan. This was real. This could actually happen.
The logistics and planning required to make the trip come together were substantial. Covid was still in full swing, and we had to jump through a lot of hoops with our jobs, our government, and the government of Barbados in order to reach the promised land. After weeks of planning, budgeting, persuading, strategizing, and cajoling AirBnb hosts to send us wifi tests from various rooms in their homes, 4 of the original Cotty crew bought our flights and committed to a 2-3 month stay in this new island home.
We planned one month in the first Airbnb (an airy one-floor cottage + garden suite about 10 minutes walk from the beach, which we referred to as Mamta's, after the owner of the Airbnb), with tentative plans to change locations as we explored the island more. We ended up staying for 4 months total, with about half in the first AirBnb and the other half in a rented apartment complex on another part of the island.
Once we cleared the travel and quarantine, Barbados quickly became everything we hoped it to be - surfing, midday dips in the ocean, rum punch on the beach, and of course, more extravagant dinners, dance parties, and birthday celebrations. Barbados was not immune from Covid and there was an ever-changing rotation of curfews, restrictions and house-arrest style lockdowns, but it hardly mattered. We were in paradise, outdoor dining was consistently allowed, and the local population was refreshingly cooperative to the government's policies (a stark contrast to the anger and defiance happening back home). We quickly made new friends; fellow covid escapees who became frequent visitors and official members of our bubble. As we transitioned to a new home halfway through the trip (a pair of stunning oceanside apartments that we managed to negotiate into a reasonable price due to lack of demand) we were overjoyed to find that the residents of the other units in the complex were as keen as us to create magic together.
Despite starting with only 4 core members, we began calling ourselves a commune due the extensive social circle we developed while on the island. We ended up with multiple layers of satellite members who stayed at nearby residences but frequented our home on a near-daily basis, 11 of which inhabited the same apartment complex at our second location (the crew we lovingly referred to as Worthing Fiya , named after the town of Worthing we were located in). There was also a larger community of friends who frequently visited and with whom we threw parties, had dinners, and traveled the island. Overall, there were around 20 members of the Worthing Fiya commune at its peak when restrictions were lowest. Needless to say, there was rarely a dull moment.
We had done it. Once again, we had escaped the worst of Toronto's darkest months and we were soaking in the co-living magic - though this time, the magic would not last.
Inner workings:
Without access to a car, group grocery runs became unfeasible and we did mostly individual groceries, with the exception of weekly family dinners. Our first location did not have in-house laundry, so we had to coordinate with a laundry service weekly to have laundry done and delivered back to us. Not everyone had a phone plan, so we had to coordinate the temporary activating of phone plans in order to make phone calls when needed.
Significant rent was being paid this time, and we transferred money to a primary payer each month. Not everyone could afford the costs up front, so arrangements between friends were planned out and agreed upon.
Finances and shared purchases continued to be tracked and remedied via Splitwise.Â
These locations required much more cleaning than the Cotty (hello sand and animals everywhere), so we tried multiple ways to handle chores. A few different systems were discussed and implemented but ultimately failed when they didn't meet the needs of the whole group. Some members ended up doing a lot more cleaning than others.Â
We had more working space in these island getaways, though the internet wasn't as consistent as we would have liked, resulting in some midday shuffling and the occasional phone call competing for volume with a movie night or conversation.
The Fall
In retrospect, what differentiated the BarBAEdos communes the most from The Cotty was an increase in people, complexity and decision making, which ultimately required more cooperation and more thorough communication, which we weren't adequately prepared for.
As the months went on, our paradise began being peppered with conflicts. There were more chores to do, more logistics to iron out, more external forces to contend with, and many, many more decisions to be made. Each of us had more invested into this trip, and higher expectations for what we wanted to get out of it. We had more options of things to do, and thus more differences in what we wanted to do. Different standards for cleanliness suddenly became apparent and a point of disconnection.
Our previous governance methods, intuitive and easy as they were, were not working as well in this new environment. Our previous method of some members making a decision on behalf of everyone suddenly began resulting in conflict and frustration. The core members were not often in the same room together without guests, so decision-making and discussion began taking place primarily in our Whatsapp group chat. As our community grew and grew, sub-circles within the community naturally developed, along with their own respective group chats, and situations involving who gets invited/who feels left out began resulting in hurt feelings.
Romantic relationships developed and strained, bringing their share of stress behind closed doors. Conflicts between friends arose, communication would break down, and a cold-shouldered tension would suffocate the group for days, causing a retreat to our respective alliances until a conversation or peace offering finally broke the spell. Things little and big began to pile up that weren't being properly addressed and repaired. The euphoric highs of our weekly activities and joyous moments with each other made it easy to try and sweep these moments of conflict under the rug. Our lack of privacy made it difficult to bring up our concerns in a way that didn’t feel like it was making the problem worse.
As 4 months drew to an end, it was agreed that it was time to go. For the most part, we'd all seen and done what we wanted to see and do. We missed our friends and lives back home. Much like the end of our Cotty experience, summer in Toronto was just about to break and the energy of the city was calling us. Yet the underlying truth was, various members of the core group were getting tired of each other. Space was desperately needed. Unfortunately, far from being over, the journey home required a stressful voyage and a monumental amount of decision making, cooperation and compromise to get back in the country. We had even arranged to do our 2-week quarantine together back where it all began - The Cotty, a place we knew and loved so dearly. Though we were excited to be back and tried to get back into our old routine again, even throwing an amazingly outlandish birthday party one final time, the tension among some members was palpable and conflicts erupted. In the end, we all made it back to our homes, but some relationships were pushed over the edge in the process.
Lessons Learned
As I have read through SuperNuclear and been inspired by the intelligent ways many of you have managed co-living, I see now all the things our crew did right, and all the ways we could have been better.
The things we could have improved, I believe, came down to communication and emotional intelligence.
We had unhappy people who didn’t speak up, and we had happy people who weren’t noticing or checking in with the others to make sure they were happy too. Being able to speak up for what you want, setting boundaries, or being able to notice when someone is under resourced/dysregulated and helping them get what they need, are critical skills in close relationships, and this becomes even more important in a web of close relationships. Otherwise, resentments develop, and trust/good intentions break down over time.
Unless you have an explicit method for decision making that makes it easy for people to express their disagreement, it’s best to have group discussions and decision-making in-person, not via group chat. It becomes too easy for disagreements to be misinterpreted, and for those who disagree to resentfully go along with the enthusiastic majority rather than rock the boat.
People have very different preferences for their level of cleanliness; being aware of and honoring those differences in each other is critical.
We (especially me) strived towards fairness in chores, responsibilities and financial matters, and I see now that idolizing fairness can cause more problems than accepting a degree of unfairness. (editor’s note: see Fairness is overrated and bragging is underrated from Phil)
We had a mix of structured analytical people and free flowing intuitive people, and we could have done a better job acknowledging those differences, celebrating them, and ensuring our solutions worked for everyone. Some people are uncomfortable without a plan, some people are uncomfortable with a plan, and this affinity varies across situations. Recognizing + honoring each person's affinity for planning and structure is important.
Though this likely has more impact in a community where new core members are being vetted and onboarded, I think explicitly deciding upon the values you want to all uphold is a beautiful idea, and would likely have been a point of connection when the going got rough.
The things we got right were many, but the highlights were:
Polaroid photos are the ultimate co-living memory maker. Take lots, choose a wall and stick them up as they are taken to build a wall of memories that will warm your heart in the moment and the future. Write captions on them for increased fun.
Mattresses on the floor with lots of pillows and blankets is the most underrated piece of furniture there is. Combine with couches and bed sheets to create a castle for movie nights, you won’t regret it.
Shared meals are one of the most beautiful opportunities for connection, and were our favorite tradition. If everyone eats relatively similar amounts (or the small-eaters are ok with the big-eaters taking more than their fair share, or you figure out a way to quantify it and charge it), then shared groceries is also highly recommended. It creates smaller, everyday opportunities for members to collaborate on a single dish or help each other with meal planning, which contributes to more magical moments and house unity as a whole.
Having one person who loves to cook is a godsend. Protect them at all costs and make sure they never clean a dish.
Another case study on this site articulated it best - "a shared commitment to maximum silliness". We gave silly and creative names to everything: items, locations, events, spreadsheets, group chats. Give things a theme. Develop your own language and slang. Decorate. Create ridiculous games with ridiculous prizes. Find the hilarity and obscureness in the smallest everyday things, and call back to them constantly. This was the collective effervescence that made our daily lives together so special.
Conclusion
Sadly, our friend group fragmented after returning home. Relationships changed, people moved to new cities, and the group chats fell into silence. Though we've all moved on to different lives, some of us still connected, some not, the months we spent living together will likely go down as some of the best months of our lives; they certainly will for me. And though I wonder wistfully if I'll ever have the chance to experience that kind of community again, the stories I read here at SuperNuclear give me hope for another shot at experiencing the magic of co-living again.
Editor’s note: If you enjoyed the read, Eric encourages you to check out TRIAGE?, a collection of original essays, commentary and fiction by his talented friend Nicky Shapiro.
Suggested further reading
 | A guest post by
|
I have one question from the excellent list of reflections at the end. Multiple times you mention people having different perspectives, and the need to honor those differences. But it's not clear what is meant by "honoring". For example, how do you honor different desires for cleanliness in a group? Or different preferences when it comes to having a clear plan in advance? I get that sometimes you can just find a middle ground, but that's not always possible if the needs are diametrically opposed.
The challenge with the idea of honoring all viewpoints - when this isn't specified - is a tendency toward wishywashyness and people-pleasing. Perhaps this is where having an agreed upon and clarified set of shared values is key, guiding decision-making once all viewpoints have been heard.
These are not communes, these are privileged people renting houses together and sharing expenses. Please come off it.