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At Home With House Swapping
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16306 |
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Section : |
LIFE
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| Issue
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3 / 1989 |
1,740 Words |
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Christine Liemandt Maddux
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The personals column leads some people to love and romance. It led me to two luxurious weeks in San Francisco through a house exchange.
The ad in the Minneapolis newspaper read "San Francisco couple, lawyer and teacher, desire house exchange for two to four weeks . . . Elegant, large S.F. home. References. Call or write . . ." I had heard about house exchanges before and was curious. Besides, it was February and freezing, so I called. The California couple turned out to be veteran house exchangers, and I was on the road to learning about a new way to vacation.
House exchanging has a documented history of more than twenty years in dozens of countries. In the usual house exchange, two parties agree to temporarily use each other's house, yacht, condominium, apartment, recreational vehicle, and possibly their car, while on holiday or sabbatical. No money need be involved, although exchanges arranged through agencies entail fees of $20 to $25.
The Californians sent me letters, a detailed description of their abode, a street map marking its precise location, and photographs of their home. They also sent a picture of themselves dressed for a night at the opera; I reciprocated with a shot of myself wearing a cocktail dress, poised with a glass of champagne. Not exactly candid camera material, but we all acknowledged that.
Then we got down to planning and organizing the exchange. I had a lot of questions. At the top of my list: What do house exchangers do about protecting their valuables during a trade? Handing your entire home over to the care of strangers is a disconcerting proposition. But on the other hand, possessions are going to be at less risk with house exchangers than they would be if left in an unoccupied house awaiting burglars. Also, people are likely to be careful in a stranger's house, knowing that the stranger is in their home.
The San Francisco coupled told me that a broken teapot was the only casualty incurred in their many exchanges, but they nonetheless suggested that I stow any items whose demise would constitute a crisis. Reasoning that a stripped house would feel rather like a hotel room and not the gracious alternative most house exchangers seek, I decided to leave my possessions as they were. The finely appointed Pacific Heights home that I walked into made me glad that I had not been overprotective of my good china.
It also gave me self-conscious flashbacks about the state of my home. Did I take that last load of laundry out of the dryer? Did I dispose of those few mystery dishes lurking at the back of the refrigerator? Did I ever get those missing doorknobs replaced?
A Home Away From Home
My gesture of leaving my guests a box of Godiva chocolates and a "Have a nice time" note paled next to my counterparts' genteel welcome. A friend of theirs chauffeured me from the airport to their home in a limousine. The caretaker of the building met me at the door and gave me a tour of the home, pointing out the dining room table set for dinner (with candelabra, fine napery, and unmistakably good china) and noting that beef bourguignon and champagne awaited in the
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