Home
exchanges, with an international language of their own, can
be rewarding
Paula
Brook
Vancouver
Sun
Saturday, July 19, 2003
CREDIT: Bill Keay, Vancouver
Sun (Above Photo)
Above: Meanwhile in France,
the Nickerson and Rogers clan -- Emily, 12, Hugh,
10, Barb Rogers and Ryan Nickerson -- cools down poolside
at the Crests' Aix en Provence condo.
CREDIT: Bill Keay, Vancouver
Sun (Above Photo)
Above: Florian, 14, Christine,
Sebastien, 10, and Bruno Crest relax on the deck of
their exchange home in Vancouver.
The
other day, while walking my dog round the block, I heard
what sounded like mild French expletives (mon dieu! c'est
impossible!) emanating from a huddle of strangers standing
in the driveway of my neighbours' house. They were trying,
with mixed results, to attach a bike rack on to the back
of my neighbours' Volvo. They were not my neighbours, by
a long shot.
Other
strange things have been happening around here lately. Small
children are speaking German in the cul-de-sac. A Belgian
family appears to have car-jacked a friend's van. Out of
the blue, British kids are being called in for tea.
And,
most puzzling, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, when my neighbour
Ruth Wilson would normally be out pruning her roses
or tracking her kids, I found her on her hands and knees
inside her front closet, putting six years' worth of mud-caked
soccer cleats into a storage bin.
The
English family is coming next weekend, Ruth explained to
me in a gasping voice. They'll need the space -- and the
Wilsons will need their space when they invade the English
family's home in the village of Bishops Stortford, near
Cambridge. Ruth sincerely hopes someone over there is busy
crawling through their closets, getting caked in sweat and
dust.
Yes,
this is one of those stories about home exchanges -- close
to the top of my "not another one of those stories" list,
just below Camping With Kids. I've managed to avoid writing
(and reading) about home exchanges for several years now,
fearing it might be too easy to actually sign up for such
a thing and that I would then become overwhelmed with tasks
such as, well, cleaning out my closets and learning how
to install bike racks using French instructions while unhelpful
neighbours stroll by with their poodles.
It sounds
more like work than a vacation to me. Bring on the Four
Seasons, I always say, and up to now my family has felt
the same way. But this summer, with so many of our friends
dashing off to exciting European locales and our normally
dull piece of Pleasantville becoming something of an exciting
European locale in return, my husband and kids seem to be
softening to the idea.
Like,
everyone is doing it -- why not us? Sure it's extra work,
they figure. But Mom doesn't mind!
And
this is how I spent the better part of last week: lining
up next summer's house exchange. I'm hoping for a luxurious,
quaintly crumbling European villa in a town dripping with
history but not too Crusade- or Inquisition-oriented, by
the sea if possible in I, F, E or O, with apl, pv, ae, cs
and nearby cl.
For
those unfamiliar with the listing language of HomeLink
International (I trust there are still a half dozen-odd
Vancouverites who are not yet ee's -- experienced exchangers),
the above code stands for: Italy, France, Spain or Other,
with all appliances, private setting, car exchange, convenient
shopping and cultural attractions nearby.
Having
put my $180 down for HomeLink's Web-plus-catalogue
listing, I was able to use more or less the same abbreviations
to describe our house -- okay, with a bit more flourish.
You want to make your place sound irresistible while still
in the realm of the possible (for a Vancouver suburb). My
worst nightmare would be leaving our "upscale hideaway in
forested ravine" spit-polished and beautiful after months
of back-breaking housework, only to land in a "colourfully
converted 200-year-old Belgian barn," livestock included.
Jack
Graber, who runs the 17-year-old HomeLink Canada
from his North Vancouver home office, assures me that swaps
from hell are rare. Perhaps one in 500 goes sideways, he
says, and of those very few are nasty enough to spoil a
vacation. Graber offers trip insurance to cover worst case
scenarios.
Generally,
if there's a problem it's got to do with different housekeeping
standards, he says, and (neurotic) people (like me) just
have to loosen up a bit. He didn't say those parenthetical
bits, but I heard it between the lines and suspected my
husband had got through to him about my dust and clutter
phobia. Never mind. Even the most shambling European villa
can't turn out as bad as the Quadra Island fiasco Graber
had to troubleshoot a few years ago -- one of the worst
housekeeping imbroglios he's ever untangled:
A yuppie
couple from Vancouver arranged to swap their downtown condo
for a waterfront cottage on Quadra Island that looked idyllic
in the listing photo. They arrived to find Dogpatch -- old
and fusty with a couple of skeletal cars dominating a weedy
garden. The Vancouverites took one look and fled.
Nor
were the Quadra folks impressed: "What a bunch of spoiled
city brats," they complained when Graber called to follow
up. With regrets, he deleted their "little piece of heaven"
from the listings. "I just couldn't have other people heading
over there."
Fortunately,
as you'll read in the gushing HomeLink testimonials,
most matches seem truly to be made in heaven. Same goes
for HomeLink's main competitor, Calgary-based Intervac Canada.
Between the two of them, close to 2,000 Canadian households
are linked to more than 20,000 exchangers around the world.
It's the numbers that make it work. Odds are pretty good
you will find people with similar needs, tastes and phobias
somewhere out there.
The
Nickerson-Crest swap is a classic. The Crests
are the French family who did finally manage to get that
bike rack on to the Nickersons' Volvo Cross Country, and
have been happily riding the North Shore trails and canyons
for the past three weeks. Also golfing, swimming in the
Nickersons' pool, and visiting Vancouver Island.
The
Nickersons, meanwhile, have been making good use
of the pool at the Crests' condominium complex on the outskirts
of Aix en Provence, staying cool through one of Europe's
hottest summers on record. They have driven the Crests'
Renault around France and into northern Italy. They have
played boules with the Crests' friendly neighbours who've
steered them to the area's best art galleries and museums
-- just as the Crests have joined in on our block parties
and barbecues.
This
is one of the big things about house exchanges: as Ruth
Wilson puts it, "you're a little less like the tourist in
the zoo, looking in."
All
these families are ee's, which gave them a leg up on successful
swapping. They know exactly what to look for in an exchange:
likeminded, similarly sized families whose homes, neighbourhoods,
cars and assorted playthings (bikes, golf and tennis equipment,
camping gear...) suit their tastes and vacation plans.
All
this information is shared through the listings. Ryan
Nickerson, wife Barb Rogers and children Emily, 12,
and Hugh, 10, advertised their "charming new house with
pool & ocean views, many places of interest," car included,
non-smokers, private pool, nearby beaches, tennis, boating,
etc. Hugo and Christine Crest and their sons Florian,
14, and Sebastien, 10, listed their "big luxury apt, private
pool & garden, panoramic view," car included, non-smokers,
cultural attractions, golf, tennis, etc.
A string
of letters atop each listing indicates preferred dates and
destinations -- a crucial piece of information that ought
to be scanned first, as I learned after spending a whole
afternoon mopping drool off the pages of my 740-page HomeLink
catalogue. That 19th century stone mansion in central Barcelona
(all mod cons, plus piano, plus use of second home!) belongs
to an extremely arty ee who is looking for something equally
arty and fabulous in Greece, Great Britain, France or Italy.
What a loser.
For
my money, there are not nearly enough European exchangers
with Canada on their mind. Ruth Wilson, also an ee
with four exchanges under her belt, says it's important
to be flexible for this reason. "You might not find exactly
the right match in, say, France or Italy. But what if the
right family in England finds you? You want to be open to
that."
Which
is how she and her husband Dave and their two teenaged
children landed in Bishops Stortford, though they'd have
preferred France this time, having done England twice before.
"So we'll spend two weeks in England and one in France,
instead of the other way around," she says. "The important
thing is getting a good feeling about the family, because
it's all about trust."
In fact,
she could have nailed down her longed-for flat in Paris
this spring if she hadn't already jumped at the English
offer last winter. The "perfect" Paris listing came up too
late; she had already struck up a relationship with the
English family; it would have been so not nice to pull out.
Building
trust takes time, effort and a conscience. The listing is
the easy part. The real test is relationship building --
through frequent, detailed correspondence to nail down the
many, many details of a good exchange.
My family
is not a bit fazed by this prospect. "Mom loves to write,"
I've heard them say.
Just
zeroing in on the right offer can be daunting, and risky.
Typically, Vancouver listers get dozens of offers, and Graber
expects the publicity around our Olympic bid to boost interest.
To narrow your prospects, he recommends personal contact
with the top contenders -- by phone, fax or e-mail -- to
glean more specific information on their home, family and
neighbourhood, to ask for references and discuss things
like touring options in the area.
Once
you've found your ideal swap, you sign a formal exchange
agreement that gets a lot more specific on issues such as
telephone/computer charges, housekeeping standards, use
of food staples, arrangements for meeting guests on arrival,
and liability for damages. As your swap date approaches,
you have to get busy fulfilling all those promises, plus
cleaning up and clearing out -- leaving drawer and closet
space, putting fragile items away, preparing instruction
manuals for household items and stocking up on maps and
guides to attractions in the area. (Like I said, bring on
the Four Seasons.)
Last
minute: you prepare a breakfast for your sleepy-head swappers
to enjoy when they roll out of your Downy-fresh sheets on
Day One. A gift basket with local goodies is also a nice
touch. The Nickersons left the Crests fresh-cut flowers,
maple syrup and handmade chocolates. The Crests left the
Nickersons 18 bottles of good French wine. Eighteen.
So I'm
thinking, maybe I could get the Crests to start spreading
the word when they get back to Provence next week. They've
done exchanges in Europe, Florida and Quebec, and in their
books Vancouver is "the best!" Such friendly people. So
much natural beauty.
So why
not come back, I ask them -- and take our house next time?
They laugh politely and tell me how nice it will be to explore
more of Canada (than one two-block area). In lieu of homes,
we exchange business cards. It's a start.
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