Homestaying...

Before we arrived in Oxford, there were several meetings that took place towards getting us ready. One of strongest points AIFS and my university shared with us was that it would be the home-stay experience that would shape us the most. They (the university and AIFS) instilled the fear of God into us about all the things we should and shouldn’t do, as well as how much we would grow because of the shared experience of living with a family abroad. As far as home-stay families go, I think I received the trifecta and got the best family in Oxford to stay with.

Jennifer and Steve have welcomed me with open arms and their home has been a very relaxed one, not built on formalities, but on being real, relaxing, and enjoying the down-time that is either all-too-typical of stateside family evenings, or has been lost on the vast majority of my people: watching television, talking, sharing, joking, and eating dinner mostly together when I’m around – never at a dinner table, but always in the living room around the evening shows.

Jennifer works so hard and does so much for everyone. She doesn’t say much about it, but I know she has much to juggle and is brilliant at doing so. She cares about the work she does, and does her work with a full heart. She is one of the kindest people I have met in my life, and I have learned to receive what she and Steve offer in allowing me to stay here. I introduced her to my friend recently, and my friend took an instant liking to her. And not to deviate from Jennifer’s wonderful nature, she cooks terrific food! And is generous! I will miss her dinners and our moments together over a casual dinner. When I am here, and when all three of us are together, I’ve taken to the minimal task of taking the dishes and dish-holders back to the kitchen when we are finished eating.

Steve is the most laid-back person I’ve met who is, in a way, the mirror opposite of Jennifer. He works all around town, protecting establishments from the inebriated, and keeping order where chaos is certain to emerge. I’ve seen him out and about when he is working, and my friends adore him. When at home, Steve and I watch a lot of DAVE TV’s Top Gear, which drives Jennifer to bemusement. She detests the show, whereas, Steve and I watch back-to-back episodes of it throughout the day – when I am at home, which is less and less as my study-abroad program winds down to its conclusion. The three of us enjoy watching a wonderful show on DAVE TV about the Australian immigration and airport security. We’re always amazed at the things people do to bring back elicit, forbidden, or otherwise illegal items, hoping to get past customs and immigration. One night, Jennifer and I watched at least four consecutive hours of it.

Now, none of this means anything without relativity. I’ve only been to two other homes and met only two other homestay persons (not all the same ones than from the homes I visited) – both of which are different. The first house I went to was set up so that a few students at a time could stay upstairs and have their own spaces/room and a shared bathroom. It was a very nice house, and they had a beautiful and timid Siberian Husky as well as an adorable young boy. It felt a bit like old dorm days, but it was nice. The second home I visited with another friend was quite different, and very cold in its reception. My friend asked her “foster care mom” (addressing her properly: Mrs. So-and-So) if her friend (me) and she could study for a test in her room. Mrs. So-and-So looked once at me, then looked back to my friend, paused, and then replied, “Yah okay,” and then abruptly walked away. I was about to hold out my hand and introduce myself, but she did an about-face. Finally, one of Jennifer’s good friends is another homestay mother. She is so much fun to talk to, and from what I can observe, a good friend to Jennifer. I was a little afraid of her in the beginning, but then we (Jennifer, she and I) sat in the living room one evening and talked for hours while she was setting up an email account for Jennifer.

It’s hard to put a finger on what makes for a good home-stay family because it’s never any one thing. The ingredients are a confluence of personality types, preconceived notions, levels of openness and awareness, sensitivity to the differences, the spirit in which we are received (or not), the enthusiasm, the routines that settle in, the small talk as well as the deeper, more meaningful conversations, the food, and the company. This then gets bundled in the either warm and fuzzy, or cold and bleak Oxford-ness here in the brave new world that we’ve immersed ourselves in. I can’t put it into words because it is everything good, and much of it occurs without words. It’s just a feeling…