Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Turtle Crossings


I have a confession to make. Every so often I see complete strangers on the street and I fight back the urge to run up to them and invite them to my place for a sleepover. Creepy? Yes.

Usually these people have large backpacks and look like they haven't showered in a few days. I get all nostalgic about my own time traveling and remember all of the people who helped me out, and the urge to pay it forward wells up in my throat. Steve recently pointed out that these people with big backpacks were likely on the their way to do laundry. Blindingly simple logic, but I had managed to overlook it. In my mind everyone with a pack was a worn and weary traveler looking for a place to rest their tired heads and my couch would be the perfect place! This, I'm sure, is a symptom of Couch Surfilis (like syphilis but without the rash).

A year ago I became a participating member of the Couch Surfing community and since then I've participated in almost every way possible. First I mastered the art of surfing, finding hosts all over Europe and the Middle East. Simple in theory, but a fine art in practice. In the beginning I surfed solo, staying only with couples or other women for safety reasons. Smart and practical but unnecessary based on my experiences and the people that I've met thus far.

When Steve met up with me we surfed together - and also stayed in a few hostels -for the remainder of our trip. When we weren't surfing, and sometimes when we were, we went to "meetings" (read: beers) to meet up with other surfers and hosts. It was a great way to meet people that lived in the city as well as travelers who had just been where you planned to go, or going where you had just been. To each other we would make invaluable recommendations, share a few drinks and, in less than a few hours, become unbelievably good friends.

After getting ourselves settled in Ottawa, Steve and I agreed that it was time we opened our doors to travelers passing through. To date we've hosted fourteen. Sometimes we share a meal, sometimes a beer, sometimes nothing more than stories. Sometimes they do the dishes and that makes Britt really happy (what's up with the third person???). We just said goodbye to two lovely sister's from Germany who had rented a car to tour the Great Lakes area. Talking to them last night we were discussing national parks and what they would see there. "You have a lot of turtles, no?" one of them asked me.

"Hmmm, well yeah, I guess... we have a few. I wouldn't say we have a lot." Maybe they don't have turtles in Germany, I wondered?

"But we see signs everywhere for them." Signs, now this was a new one to me. I had yet to see a turtle sign in my entire time in Ottawa. "It looks like this" she said, drawing with her fingers in the air....

"Oh, those are for speed bumps!" I laughed, she looked confused. I explained what I speed bump was. She joined me in my continued laughter. This moment was brought to you by Couch Surfing.

Last weekend Steve and I drove out to Alexadria Bay, New York. What was there? Not too much. Just our good friend, Adam, that we had met in Florence, spent more time with in Rome and have successfully kept in touch with since (thanks Facebook). Turns out he's from Syracuse New York, only four hours away - driving, not flying, which is incredibly close when you think about all of the other places that he could have been from. He drove two-hours, we drove two-hours and we met in the middle, Alexandria Bay, where we camped and paid tribute to our Couch Surfing introduction by hosting our own CS Meeting (read: drinking beer). This time Steve suffered the hang over the following day and I was off the hook.

Adam was nice enough to bring the lovely Alexa along with him. A fellow Iron-Manning american who provided hours of the entertainment that only real Americans can provide. Another lovely memory (and friend) sponsored by Couch Surfing.

2 comments:

  1. I love your blog! I'm so excited I met both of you!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hosting weary travellers--that is so nice...

    ReplyDelete