Let's face it. Times are tough. Lavish vacations are over, even for
people who used to be able to afford them. But that doesn't mean you
have to sit home this year.
You can travel all over the world on a
budget, swapping your house with someone who wants to come here. Eat
like a local, cook your meals in your new "home," and forget expensive
restaurant dining.
Sometimes, you can even trade cars, boats or RVs.
That's
how I, an underpaid single mom, ended up sitting at a café along the
Italian Riviera, gazing at the blue Mediterranean Sea while the kids
played on the beach in front of me.
Home exchange clubs existed
before the Internet boom. In the early days, you paid a small fee,
listed your house and found people with whom to swap via a big fat
listing book that arrived in the mail.
Now, of course, the Internet has made it all so much easier.
When
I first discovered the world of home exchanging, I thought it would be
a great way to see the world for free. Especially with kids, swapping
houses is a great way to travel. You can stay in homes where other kids
live, and your offspring will love playing with their toys, sleeping in
their beds.
Also, after I actually started home exchanging, I realized that the financial aspect of it was only one of its appeals.
We also met so many wonderful people and got involved in their lives in a way that never would have been possible otherwise.
Instead
of arriving at a hotel in a foreign country and being assisted by
employees, you arrive at someone's real home and meet their friends and
neighbors.
Instead of staying on a street full of hotels and
tourists, you are staying in a real neighborhood, surrounded by real
people who inhabit the country you're visiting. Frequently, there's a
yard for kids to run around in.
You get a much more intimate
taste of life in that country, not to mention the fact that, gee,
you're also saving a ton of money.
So, how does it work?
There
are dozens of home exchange clubs on the Internet. You can browse the
listings usually for free, read their rules and get an idea of whether
it's something that appeals to you.
There are usually three
different types of homes listed: A simultaneous exchange, where you
agree to trade homes at the exact same time; a non-simultaneous
exchange, where you can use their place anytime, for example if it's a
vacation home; or a hospitality exchange, where you are still in the
home, but welcome them to visit you and provide a place to stay.
All different types and levels of homes will be listed, from tiny apartments to mansions on private estates.
People will have photos of their properties, and also list the places they are interested in visiting.
In
general, people will swap like for like, so you can't expect to get a
huge mansion in the South of France if you're offering a little shotgun
shack in the 'burbs.
The further in advance you can plan your
vacation, the more choice you'll have. And if you can be flexible at
the last minute, you can sometimes pick up some good exchanges from
people whose plans fell through.
A lot of people ask me, "Aren't
you afraid of strangers coming in and cleaning you out while you're
gone?" I suppose that could happen, but realistically, these people are
giving you their homes as well. So they're not too likely to be
criminals.
Also, usually you'll be providing neighbors or friends
who can drop by and help your houseguests out with any problems they
experience, or just to say hi and welcome them.
Home exchanging
is popular with teachers, who have long summer holidays, and also with
people who live in far-flung places like Australia or South Africa.
When they travel, they take long trips and are looking to economize.
I
only had one negative experience with home exchanging, with a French
family from Montreaux, Switzerland. This was when I hoped to someday go
to the famous jazz festival there.
The family arrived and I
temporarily moved out of my house, crashing with a friend with the idea
that later they would pay me back with lodging in their gorgeous stone
apartment in the Alps.
But they turned out to be a pain in the
rear, the wife needed to be taken to the doctor, and I was appointed to
help her out, because she was a hypochondriac who decided she had
meningitis, when all she had was a cold. Then, they left me $50 for
some phone calls they made to Europe, but the real phone bill ended up
being $125 and they never paid the difference.
That was the one
sour note in my home exchanging history, and I never ended up going to
Switzerland, because right afterward I adopted my two kids, Michael and
Sandy, and jazz festivals lost their importance to me for a number of
years.
On the plus side, we met a really fun family from
Copenhagen, Denmark, who called me up at the last minute and said their
home exchange had fallen through and was mine available?
Well, I
wasn't leaving my house, but I had an empty back house available for
them if they were desperate enough. Yes, they said they were. So
shortly afterward, six people from Denmark showed up on my doorstep and
were promptly deposited in my back house, complete with air mattresses
to sleep on.
One of the six visitors was a tall, stunningly
gorgeous black man named Gigi, a high-fashion model who worked mostly
in the European fashion capital of Milan.
Gigi was also the son
of the late king of the African nation of Burundi. His mother had been
Danish, so after his father was assassinated, he moved to Denmark. His
partner Rikki liked to say he was still the crown prince of Burundi.
I liked to say that, too, and I enjoyed telling people that the crown prince of Burundi was sleeping on my floor.
The
entire family was so much fun to be around that I ended up taking them
to Rosarito Beach, so they could experience a day in Mexico. We parted
reluctantly, with many promises to meet again. I've never made it to
Denmark, but I still hope that someday we will.
The most fun
people I ever met, with whom I am still in touch today, were a couple
from Milan, Italy, named Stefano and Roberta. At the time, both of them
worked for Microsoft and traveled around the world doing home exchanges.
They stayed with my roommate Barb and me on a hospitality exchange, umpteen years ago.
We
had such a ball together that, the following year, they invited me to
come and stay with them in a gorgeous villa in Baja they had acquired
free through an exchange.
The villa had four bedrooms, three
fireplaces, two barbecues, a hot tub, golf course and a nearby
community swimming pool, so we weren't too miserable spending a long
weekend there.
When my friend Barb got married the following
year, she and her new husband spent their honeymoon in various homes
owned by Stefano and Roberta's family, including a vineyard house in
Treviso, outside of Venice and a villa in Verona, the town of Romeo and
Juliet.
Even though it had been years and years since I first met
them, and Stefano and Roberta had broken up and married other people, I
finally made good last year on my threat to go to Italy and went to
visit Roberta and her husband, Fabrizio and their kids at their urban
apartment in Milan.
Roberta lent us their vacant upstairs studio
apartment that they usually save for in-laws, where we could cook and
sleep on a foldout couch.
The apartment had a rooftop view of Milan from its terrace.
After
a couple of days touring the famous Duomo cathedral and other sights
around Milan, we took the train to Sestri Levante and stayed in
Roberta's vacation apartment on the Riviera.
The town of Sestri
Levante is a resort town for Italians. We never saw another American
the whole time we were there, and that was just fine with us.
Roberta's
apartment was small, with two bedrooms and a sofa-bed, but in a great
location in the middle of the little town, only two blocks from the
beach and the train station.
Every day, we took the train to
different locations along the Riviera. We also cruised to Portofino,
where I bought the most expensive piece of pizza I will ever purchase.
The actual cost has been blotted out of my mind by post-traumatic
stress.
The apartment allowed us to sprawl out and live like
Italians, buying our pasta at the market across the street, cooking at
home and saving scads of money.
Just as importantly, we got the feeling of being real Italians, in a real Italian neighborhood.
And the kids got to know the children of Roberta and Fabrizio, even though they couldn't speak each other's languages.
It's a great way to travel.
Contact the writer: 714-796-7994 or By Email
I almost had to pinch myself to believe it was true. We were sleeping
in an apartment on the Italian Riviera, one of the world's most
expensive playgrounds. And we were doing it for free.