Hosting as a Form of Travel
When you can’t hop on a plane, the next best thing might be setting the guest room and seeing your city through someone else’s eyes
One Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, I found myself floating in the water at a beach I’d been avoiding all summer. As the most popular beach in the area, in the height of the busy season, I’d assumed it would be overcrowded and unpleasant. I was wrong. Even with plenty of people, it felt spacious. My friend, who was visiting from New York and laying next to me in the sand, was stunned by the beauty of the whole scene. I was kicking myself for not having gone earlier–my morning hike and swim routine could have been upgraded weeks ago!
The whole weekend was like that, a refreshing reset. I hadn’t seen this friend in over a decade, but a few weeks prior she spontaneously booked a trip to our new home. Her arrival gave me an excuse to prepare a beautiful dinner spread, try a new vermouth I’d been eyeing, and open a couple of bottles of special wine my husband and I had been saving for just the right moment. We spent our first full day hiking to my favorite beach with the dogs, stopping at a local restaurant for lunch, and taking a new route back home. I took her to a boutique I’d been meaning to visit and found a jaw-dropping sequined dress perfect for an upcoming wedding in Lisbon (the theme is Cosmic Spice Mélange, so it won’t be your ordinary wedding…). We had fresh sea bass and tuna at a restaurant on the sand, after enjoying a glass of Catalonian wine on the terrace of the hotel I’d been wanting to visit for weeks.
It’s wild how quickly we adjust to our surroundings. For the first couple of weeks after moving in to our relatively new house, I’d wake up and forget my phone upstairs, sitting in awe of how peaceful the mornings in our living room felt. I’d sit out in the garden simply because of the novelty of having a garden. My husband and I went out to eat almost every night, excited to fall in love with new restaurants. Now, I check my phone first thing when I wake up and I never make my way into our garden during the day. I see the dust on the floor instead of noticing the 17th century arches in the ceilings. We don’t go out to eat during the week, reverting back to our old habits of cooking dinner and watching TV or reading after. I still find our house and town breathtaking but I don’t give myself many chances to have my breath taken away. This is normal, our home environment loses its luster when the rhythms of everyday life creep back in and it stops feeling like we’re on vacation.
When a friend comes to visit, though, you can go on vacation in your own city. You have the perfect excuse to visit the restaurants you’ve saved on Google Maps, to finally try that wine bar or shop, to take the scenic walk home.
When I lived in New York, I loved watching tourists experience the city for the first time. On the subway, a Dutch family would be giddy about the Empire State Building. A Spanish couple would board the Staten Island Ferry, excited for the Statue of Liberty and a heaping plate of Italian food afterward. Most New Yorkers roll their eyes at those landmarks, but seeing someone else’s joy made me fall back in love with the city every day.
A few years later, in Lisbon, I rented a two-bedroom, three-bath apartment with bright blue and yellow traditional tile along the walls, wooden beams, and a modern kitchen. I knew one person when I arrived. Within hours, I met my now-husband, but until I built a local community, I invited my friends to come to me. This was during Lisbon’s big “moment”--flights from New York were as easy as flying to California, and everyone was curious about Portugal.
For six months, I don’t think more than six days passed without someone staying in that guest room. Normally, I like my space–only child, quiet time enthusiast–but this was different. The bedrooms weren’t next to each other, guests had their own bathroom, and most were happy to explore on their own when I was working. Those months remain my favorite in Portugal. I saw so much more of Lisbon than I ever would have alone. I wouldn’t have met my husband if I hadn’t been out that first night, meeting friends-of-friends at the restaurant where he worked as sommelier. Left to myself, I probably would have ordered takeout and picked up wine from the shop.
Now, in the house of my dreams, in the town of my dreams, we’ve set up another ideal guest space, a large room on the bottom floor with its own bathroom and garden. We immediately urged friends to visit. Within four weeks, two friends stayed for a week; we visited three new vineyards, a handful of restaurants, and even a town I’d been wanting to see for five years. Then came the New York friend from the start of this story. A week later, another good friend and her boyfriend arrived (they’re here now). September will bring my half-sister, my husband’s brother, and a friend from California.
In a world where travel costs are high, schedules are tight, and many of us are still catching up with friends we haven’t seen in years, hosting can be its own form of travel. If you’re looking for a little bit of that travel spark but don’t have the time or ability to scratch the itch, invite someone you want to reconnect with to stay with you. It’s incredible how seeing your own house and city through someone else’s eyes makes you excited all over again to be where you are.
Absolutely love this - thanks Amy!