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‘Please, come visit us.”
Growing up in Saskatoon, these were words I would constantly hear from my mother when she was talking to our relatives from Vancouver.
“Not in the winter,” they would retort, completely unaware of her superb hosting abilities.
Sometimes, they came. She would spoil them with home-cooked breakfasts and trips to local attractions. They always enjoyed their stay – and why wouldn’t they? Travelling to see people rather than just a location infinitely improves the experience.
As I navigate my way to becoming an adult, I find myself uttering those words – “please, come visit me” – as I relocate to one-room apartments in South Korea, basement suites in Ottawa or back home to Saskatoon for our enviable summers.
There is an ulterior motive to this hospitality, of course: It’s nice to know that friends in Paris, San Jose and Tokyo are willing to reciprocate should I happen to show up in their city some day.
Never did this expectation of reciprocity become clearer than when my mother asked my Parisian friend if we could stay at her place even if it was five years before we came to Paris. This was after we hosted my friend for a three-day whirlwind visit to Saskatoon.
Five years is not a long gap for us. It wasn’t until 17 years after we hosted Viviana, an exchange student from Costa Rica, that my mom and I went to visit her for a weeklong New Year’s vacation. Viviana is married now and her husband, Sergio, was probably wondering who these two women from Canada were. It was an exciting time for the couple: Viviana had just found out she was pregnant.
The first couple of days in San Jose were slightly awkward. Viviana had to work, so Sergio took my mom and I out for dinner and to meet his family. We enjoyed telling him stories of Viviana’s time in Canada. She had lived with us for six months. At the time, I was a slightly jealous eight-year-old only child, whereas she turned 18 during her stay, an occasion for which we threw her a surprise party.
Soon Sergio’s excellent English and his dry sense of humour, coupled with my mom’s inability to accept lulls in conversation, had us all cracking jokes and even enjoying controversial topics of conversation.
We were there when Sergio told his family that Viviana was pregnant. It was New Year’s Eve and he admitted he was “pretty nervous.” As he stood up to make the announcement, he said, in perfect English, that next year there would be “someone else” joining them. His family, misunderstanding his English, looked at my mom and I in confusion. Only when Viviana repeated the news in Spanish did the eruption of cheers and tears occur.
When leaving Costa Rica, my mom and I insisted that Viviana and Sergio come visit us with their child in Canada any time, even if it took 20 years. Sergio suggested we take some of his mom’s homemade passionfruit dessert home with us, and said they would come to Canada to pick up the Tupperware. I have no doubt that someday they’ll find themselves visiting us in Saskatoon, forgoing some of Canada’s more recognizable locations to visit us in our humble city.
In visiting friends, I have often chosen to re-explore cities rather than to seek out new lands. I happened to visit my Parisian friend without my mom as well. There’s something unique about staying with a local. Instead of planning my day around museums and cathedrals, I enjoyed drinks at a local neighbourhood bar, going for dinner at my friend’s dad’s house and eating Moroccan couscous at an unexpectedly cool restaurant with her friends.
I still haven’t been to Monet’s house at Giverny, nearby, but hey, my mom and I still have five years before the invitation to stay with her in Paris expires.
Sometimes, I’ve hit it lucky. When a friend told me she was moving to Iceland and that I should visit my heart sank. I couldn’t envision myself going there just to visit her. But when a roommate begged me to join her on a road trip in Iceland, I couldn’t refuse. After all, I knew we had a place to crash in Reykjavik.
My friend was delighted we visited, and was able to join us on our adventure as we drove our Chevy Spark around the country amid blowing snow and extreme weather warnings. Having her on our trip gave us more knowledge of the local culture, plus we also had a working cellphone in case our car was blown off of the road. We’re now able to reminisce about our adventure there, a joy that can only happen when you choose to visit someone you know.
I’m not the only one who feels this way. My Parisian friend visited me again this summer. We went on a road trip to Portland, Ore., but the best days were when we were just hanging out, remembering our times together.
Maintaining friendships with people around the world takes effort, but going to visit the people you know can cement your relationship. If someone offers to host you, it’s probably genuine, so take him or her up on it.
I’m about to move to Haiti for six months. Won’t you please come visit me?
Marie Dumont has arrived to do development work in Terrier-Rouge, Haiti.