Why let one room in a two-room apartment go to waste, when you can open your doors and let wanderers and wayfarers from around the world stream in? That’s what Capetonian Lena Sotherin did, and this what she has learned from her experience.
Being a single thirty-something has a lot of perks. But living alone hasn’t always been one of them. I live in a two-room apartment in Cape Town, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never worried about choking on a chicken bone and dying without anyone knowing for days, or weeks even.
I thought about sticking it out and maybe getting a cat for company. Living alone was supposed to be grown-up and what all the cool kids did, right? Besides, after the end of my 10-year relationship, wasn’t it best to be alone for a while?
Well, I learnt that ‘being alone’ doesn’t mean you have to feel lonely. As luck would have it, the universe agreed. And the answer, at the suggestion of a friend, was to offer my room to people from all over the world.
I contacted a foreign language school that provides courses complete with food and board in rented apartments. For the duration of their stay you provide, basically, a hotel service.
I gave it a bash, but found that playing ‘mom’ to young students wasn’t really my thing.
Nevertheless, I loved the ‘foreign-ness’ of the foreigners themselves and so, for the past three years, I’ve rented the space out to young (and sometimes not-so-young) travellers looking for a quiet spot close to the CBD.
The stays range from three months to a year, and to date I’ve enjoyed the company of Germans (lots of them!), Argentineans, Swiss, Spaniards and Swedes. If they’ve signed up to my place before arriving in SA (many of them first stay at hostels to get a feel of the city before looking for a room), they’ll usually bring me a little gift.
My favourite remains a bottle of Aromat, which a young Swiss handed over with some pride, along with a kilogram of his country’s finest chocolate. The little red-topped white shaker with the recognisable yellow and greet label rested in my hand for what felt like hours while I tried to settle on an expression.
It had to be a good expression because he was watching my face for any hint of delight at this fantastic Swedish product that wasn’t available anywhere else in the world.
‘Ah…’ I offered carefully. ‘Ah!… Yes! This is … great?’
‘Ja! Great! Ja!’ he nodded enthusiastically. ‘Very delicious!’
Indeed. I have to admit I was thrilled he had brought it into my home, as my growing food snobbery wouldn’t stand for the tasty goodness of garlicky MSG on my shelves.
Another student taught me to juggle and another got me to kayak. One taught me more card games than I have space in my head to remember and another fell in love with my best friend and stayed.
Each new personality doesn’t just bring new experiences, but also brings insight into a new part of the world. Nights have been spent armchair traveling with Google Earth and Street View, as my housemate shows me through the town they’ve grown up and lived in, where they went to school and their favourite parts of their city.
What has been very interesting is learning to open my home without feeling like I am losing my space. It’s been a lesson in welcome, abundance, and sharing.
I’ve been amused to see what different nationalities consider valuable as tourists. The Swiss laugh at Table Mountain and consider it a little hill they run up in the mornings. But they stand in awe of the ocean and can’t get enough of it.
The Argentineans think the mountain is the most incredible thing in the world, but yawn at the coastline, beaches and ocean. Without fail they all agree that South Africa is one of the most beautiful countries they have ever visited.
It’s really like experiencing the wonder of your surroundings, including the events, festivals and ‘things to do’, through the eyes of a visitor. Through their excitement and fun, I am constantly reminded of what an amazing city I live in and have become more active in enjoying everything Cape Town has to offer.
I stay in contact with some of them. The Swiss and I stay in touch (he was here for the longest and I think he’ll return). He occasionally sends me dazzling pictures of his hikes through the Alps. I’ll be ooo-ing and aah-ing about the fairytale landscape, but his little response notes are always the same: ‘It is beautiful yes. But I miss Cape Town.’
The flow of people, personalities and energy through my apartment also reminds me that change is nothing more than flow. And the ability to adapt to this flow without losing your centre is what can make it a growing and nourishing experience.
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