Trading Spaces

By Anthony Tusler

(Arranging a vacation home exchange is nothing new to many global travellers. People all over the world have met through classifieds, agencies or the Internet to trade their homes when they take a trip. But traditionally, the home exchange has not been an option available to people with disabilities, who may require wheelchair access or specialized equipment in their accommodations. Enter the “accessible house exchange,” an opportunity for people with all levels of ability to explore this cost-saving travel idea. It worked for writer Anthony Tusler in August, 2001.)


Our house trade in an English village had a wheelchair accessible kitchen. For the first time in my life, I could look easily into the pots while I cooked. The sink also had clearance for my wheelchair. Everything was at my height.

What? A kitchen with wheelchair access? A wheelchair traveller becomes grateful for lack of steps and a just-wide-enough bathroom door. Any other concession to access is a gift and fortuitous. I could not believe my luck. In England, 5,600 miles from my home, I had found an entire house that welcomed me in my wheelchair. I gloried in its ease and comfort for three weeks.

How does one arrive at a wheelchair paradise? For me, it was via an online Accessible Vacation Home Exchange for People with Disabilities at http://www.independentliving.org/vacaswap.html. This website has listings from people around the world offering their wheelchair-accessible homes in an exchange. It reminds me of the personal ads. Short or tall? Moonlit beach walks or opera? Paris or Auckland? Countryside or city? Just looking through the ads is a travel adventure. “Oh, Lisbon... I hadn’t considered that!” “Kansas? I don’t think so.”

Lyndi and I got so excited we decided to post a listing for our house. We live in northern California, in “wine country.” It is a beautiful area close to vineyards, the ocean and San Francisco. We thought our location would draw interesting exchange possibilities. Lyndi’s experience includes tourism promotion; mine is in college disability services. Our posting extolled the virtues of our location and specifics about wheelchair access. I added a sunlit photo of our living room with my two antique wheelchairs. We posted our home late in the summer of 2000, checked for new postings and hoped someone would contact us. We were wallflowers waiting for someone to ask us to dance.

We got one inquiry during the winter. It was an apartment in Paris. Our lack of ability to speak French made communication difficult, and the austere pictures weren’t compelling enough to inspire us to make the leap. Another inquiry came from a Manhattan apartment dweller. New York sounded good, but the timing was wrong.

In late May, another e-mail arrived. On the surface it was an unassuming message from Brenda Baker, an English woman in Warborough, a small village near Oxford. She asked about finding self-catering apartments with roll-in showers in northern California for the month of October. She had seen my ad and thought I might be a good source of travel information. First, I had to ask what self-catering meant. It’s the British term for a vacation rental with a kitchen. I gave the writer suggestions on finding lodging and warnings about the sheer size of California. (Many Europeans and some Americans do not have a frame of reference for the long distances between California’s different urban areas.)

She e-mailed back, and Lyndi answered. Out of friendliness, Lyndi provided information about ourselves, our house, the weather and travel tips – no one was talking about trading houses. As the relationship evolved, we began to think maybe we could provide Brenda’s California self-catering. Lyndi and I offered it to her. She accepted, on the condition we could make showering accessible.

Brenda’s house was custom-designed and built by her in 1991 with an open floor plan and wheelchair access. It’s located in the countryside, an hour and a half northwest of London. She included pictures in an e-mail. We were struck by the hardwood floors and open design that looked so much like our house. I was able to place photos of our home on a personal website for her to see.

As we got to know each other through the e-mails, we each felt better and more trusting about the other. As the likelihood of a trade got more serious I began to look critically at the messages. Is this person a flake? How responsible does she seem? Are my e-mails answered quickly? Does she respond to my questions and concerns? It has been a long time since I have been on a romantic date, but I was reminded of the fragility of a new relationship and the need to balance optimism with caution.

Soon our relationship was well enough established that we wanted to make something work for both of us. We liked each other. We liked each other’s homes. It seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. We determined that August might work. Suddenly, our lead time was just six weeks.

Then began the real work. The Sent box in my e-mail program shows over 50 messages to make the trade. Some of the communication was the product of three novices doing their first house trade. It took three or four messages for me to adequately explain some access issues, while other topics could have been better handled by leaving information in the house.

E-mail was an ideal medium for our planning and negotiating. The eight-hour time difference made real-time communication difficult, but an e-mail could be written and sent at any time. The writing and responding to e-mail helped me to think through my concerns and needs. We had clarity that I don’t think would have occurred with telephone calls, not to mention the cost savings.

Eventually, Lyndi and I realized we had to develop an owner’s manual to leave for our guests – on everything from whom to call if the washing machine breaks to how to turn on the computer. Much of it was overkill from two of us worrying about every little thing, but we now have it for the next time.

There were three main issues to negotiate – all of them disability-related. It tried the patience of each of us at one time or another. Our ability to communicate our concerns and respond to each other with patience, compassion and attention was the key to our successful venture.

Brenda uses different live-in attendants on a rotating basis for her personal care. In August, it would be a Czech. The United States required her to have a visa. We had to make all of our arrangements over the next few weeks, knowing that if the visa didn’t come through, Brenda would have to cancel.

Then there was the weather. Brenda has multiple sclerosis and hot weather can be difficult for her. In Sonoma County, where our home is, it can get into the mid-30s. I found myself becoming overprotective even after 25 years of teaching independence skills to college students. It was then that our solid relationship paid off. Brenda told me, politely, to back off and let her decide what would work for her. Thank goodness I listened and let her decide. Between the cool mornings, auto air-conditioning and a spray bottle of water, she did well.

The biggest issue was bringing my house up to the level of wheelchair accessibility needed by someone who could not use her arms to transfer. Brenda needed a shower chair. I found one to borrow. We didn’t have a roll-in shower, but she was willing to shower with a bucket and hose on the back deck, as she had in Cyprus the previous summer. (I was quickly learning how adaptable and adventurous she was.)

When she asked me to do a trial run through the house with the shower chair, I thought it wasn’t really necessary. It was a good lesson. The threshold to the back deck was ramped on both sides for my manual chair, but it wasn’t really very good for the six-inch, hard casters of the shower chair. I found and purchased an aluminum ramp on eBay that helped, but Lyndi and I figured there had to be a better way than showering on the back deck.

We realized that a carpenter could build a platform in the large stall shower in the master bathroom. The aluminum ramp worked to get in. With the addition of a hand-held shower, it was suitable for someone who used help with bathing. It is not the best roll-in shower in the world, but it worked for Brenda for three weeks.

As for me, I needed reassurance that I could find a doctor who knew something about disability issues. After repeated bladder infections I was very nervous about being away from my own support and doctors. Brenda researched my access to her health clinic and came back with explicit guidance about finding medical assistance in England. With her knowledge about urologists, disability and the English medical system, I was reassured.

Each of these three big disability issues had the potential to make the trade unfeasible. At each juncture we had to be clear with each other about our needs and their ramifications. As we worked through, we began to trust each other more and more.

When I told friends that I had found someone on the Internet to trade homes with, they were anxious for my safety (and maybe sanity). They didn’t realize how well Brenda and I knew and trusted each other after living through each other’s crankiness, hesitation, anxiety and excitement. I don’t think that the relationship needs to be as intimate as ours was, but a solid connection is critical for a successful exchange when disability access is at stake.

In general, because you are negotiating with another person with a disability, you have a good basis for understanding. But you still need to be explicit about your needs. Just as you would if you were going to a bed and breakfast or a hotel, assume that the other person needs to be told every detail. Then, ask for confirmation of how your needs will be met. This sounds somewhat harsh, but as you two work together you will quickly form a relationship and know whether it’s working or not.

Now we had to make our house generally suitable for visitors. We sorted and cleaned off the dining room table that had become a mail and projects area. We emptied a couple of drawers in each of the bedrooms and bathrooms. We found room in the closets. Our local hospice thrift store benefited greatly from this adventure of ours. We had developed enough trust by this time that we didn’t feel the need to hide the silver.

The final weeks before we were to leave were filled with planning what we were going to wear in Europe, getting a small camera, and trying to decipher the privatized British rail system for our travels after the house trade. I tuned up my wheelchair. Lyndi and I did a trial packing of our bags. I found out that my disability parking placard is honoured in the U.K., just as Brenda’s “Orange Badge” is honoured in California. We decided to keep our local newspaper subscription coming to our house. Brenda, as it turned out, did the same.

We also began to alert the neighbours, our friends and relatives that an English wheelchair user and her attendant would be staying in the house. We wanted them to be available to provide information, help and guidance on the local area. They were all delighted to help out. Brenda’s most memorable experience was an accessible hike to a redwood grove with our best friend.

The final arrangements were put into place. We found a college student to drive us to the San Francisco airport. We had planned to fly out at about the same time Brenda and her attendant arrived. Our driver met them at the gate and drove them home, with a sightseeing detour through San Francisco. We were picked up at Heathrow Airport by Brenda’s local taxi driver, who pointed out George Harrison’s estate on the way to our new home.

We had agreed to trade cars. It made my England experience so much easier, as Brenda left behind her back-up power wheelchair, which fit into the rear of her estate (station) wagon. I was able to have a power chair for sightseeing and walking the English paths. She took her day-to-day power chair to the U.S. It disassembled enough to fit into our sedan, giving her mobility. A check with our insurance companies confirmed that we would have coverage, at least for liability, at both ends.

One of the few items we physically mailed to each other was the face sheet of our automobile insurance. The other was a box of urinary supplies that I sent by airmail. It cost about $60 (U.S.) to send, but it was worth it for the convenience of not having to carry it on the plane. Brenda confirmed its arrival, which reduced my worries.

Finally, the hectic whirlwind subsided as we left for the airport. Anything that was undone wouldn’t get done. We arrived in London at six in the morning, incredibly jet-lagged and disoriented. I was so glad we didn’t have to negotiate strange roads in a foreign country while driving on the “wrong” side of the road.

We settled into our new home. The rewards of our hard work were immediately apparent. The house was lovely. The wheelchair access was unsurpassed. She left notes on where to find the nearest market and maps of the area. We each left dinner in our fridge for the other.

I loved having Brenda’s back-up power wheelchair for walks down to the village. I can get around all right in my manual, but for distance I really need electric or human assistance. I knew she would have a reacher or grabber for getting items off high shelves – she did. I could roll under the kitchen sink, the bathroom sink and the cooktop. The home was a total joy and felt comfortable from the first minute.

I knew that we would be trading homes and autos, but I had not realized the extent of the trade. I found that we had also traded friends, relatives and neighbours. On our second day we ventured out to the local supermarket. The woman just ahead of us in the checkout line turned and said, “Oh, are you staying at Brenda’s, then?” My wheelchair was the giveaway, I guess.

We were quickly known throughout the village as “the couple staying in Brenda’s house.” The first day, the housekeeper dropped by to explain anything in the house that puzzled us. Soon, the neighbours arranged to take us sightseeing. The proprietor of the local market quickly accepted us into the daily, local information exchange because we were a known quantity, being “Brenda’s house-trade people.”

What a relief finally to be on vacation and to realize how well it was all working. When we got back from our first jaunt to the supermarket, the phone rang. It was our house-trade partner in our house in the U.S. It was the first time we had heard each other’s voices. I thought, She’s English!

We were like excited teenagers on the phone after our first school dance. We could barely contain our glee, talking over each other as we described how well the trade was working. We each found the other’s house to work astoundingly well. Brenda said, “Aren’t we clever!”

We talked every Sunday. Now that we didn’t have to plan, we just enjoyed getting to know each other without a looming deadline. We got news about our neighbours and relatives who called Brenda and dropped by. We told her the latest about her son and his visits and calls. Previously, when travelling, I had felt anonymous. No one knew me. By trading houses and, to a certain extent, lives, I was known. I liked that comfort. At each step there was a friendly face or helpful friend to ease the transition.

Finally, the three weeks were over. Brenda was returning and we were off to York, Edinburgh and London. Having only seen pictures of each other, we arranged to get together on our last Sunday in England. We were staying in London and took the train out to Brenda’s. We spent the afternoon comparing experiences and news of each other’s villages. I felt like I was meeting a sister. (In fact, we hoped to visit Brenda’s again. Unfortunately, she died the winter after our visit.)

As a person with a disability, the joy and curse of travelling is the attention I must pay to my environment. Travel requires me to be alert – and sometimes terrified. A successful house trade softens the watchfulness and anxiety. I also got to know another person with a disability, and my own disability, a little better.

(Anthony Tusler is a freelance writer living in Sonoma Valley, California, U.S.A. Visit his website at www.aboutdisability.com.)

RESOURCES

Word of Mouth
We found the experiences of friends to be the most helpful in preparing for a home exchange, although the practical recommendations in books and websites are valuable.

Books
Swap and Go: Home Exchanging Made Easy, by Albert C. Beerbower with Verna E. Beerbower (Simon & Schuster Adult Publishing Group, 1986)

Trading Places: The Wonderful World of Vacation Home Exchanging and Home Exchange Vacationing: Your Guide to Free Accommodations by Bill Barbour (Rutledge Hill Press, Nashville)

Websites
Accessible Vacation Home Exchange for People with Disabilities http://www.independentliving.org/vacaswap.html

HomeExchange.com
This website has an accessible category, but little specific information about accessibility. Communicating your needs as clearly as possible is the key to a successful trade.

The Owner’s Manual
Useful information to leave for a house trade partner with a disability:
- disability-related services: wheelchair repair, parallel transit, fixed-route bus schedules, Independent Living centre, etc., with phone numbers and a brief description;
- medical resources known to be disability friendly;
- an inventory of the house’s access features and equipment;
- phone numbers of neighbours and nearby relatives;
- general house instructions: repair people, instructions for operating the heat and cooling, directions to the local supermarket and gas stations; and
- a basket of tourist information including maps, brochures and calendar of events.