My Dear Brazilian House Guest

I felt like a teenager all over again, except I was breaking all the rules in the strangest of ways. Instead of having a mega house bash in the absence of my vacationing mother I hosted only one guest. In fact she was a total stranger. Under normal circumstances this would have NEVER happened. Mostly because my beautiful mother would never allow it. A stranger staying in the house is a humongous no-no, a head-shake in a right to left motion accompanied by a dyed-in-the-wool, stone, cold stare. Had my mother been home my request to host would have been met with the most skeptical questions. “What if she is a killer? Where is she from? Why can’t she find a hotel again?”

Don’t call me naïve, yet. I wouldn’t just let anyone in my place or my mother’s place. There’s certainly got to be a bit of screening involved. I’ve gotten requests in the past of which I passed on before tempting to convince my mother that this is a type of “good karma” service. However, with all my past requests denied and my mother being away all the necessary fuel for the fire was in place when I received Lyara’s request in my inbox. With unimaginable excitement at the prospect of hosting for the first time ever, I answered her request with a YES.

Me and Lyara at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, FL. Photo: Museum patron

My dear Brazilian house guest was everything, but a killer. She was joyful, conversational, human, open and very pleasant to have as a visitor in our two bedroom apartment. I offered her my air mattress and opted to snooze in my mother’s big bed. After all there was no one else there to fill the space. In the mornings, over breakfast, we’d discuss her previous travels leading her up into Tampa. We also gabbed about life in São Paulo, Brasilia and various parts of the South American country. I’d always wanted to go to Brazil, but now more than anything. It is so rare to meet someone with such an invested interest in their country’s culture. For my dear Brazilian house guest her journey is not all play. As she travels in new lands she looks deeply at other cultures and into programs that could work well in Brazil. Sigh.

Oh, I could dazzle you all day with how exquisite she was to have here for three fun days last week, but I feel as though you wouldn’t get it. You wouldn’t understand unless your heart is big and you’ve couch surfed before. Like my mother and boyfriend, you probably think me crazy to just let some random explorer into my abode. My heart is big though and maybe even a little wild, but it is mostly filled with the spirit of hospitality. I’ve been the girl in the remote village and even in the big city welcomed not by friends and not by family, but by complete strangers. I’m only thankful that I can return the favor even if for one time only for my dear Brazilian house guest.

Now I must prepare for the guest of honor; my mother flies back home tomorrow.