Photo by Rennett Stowe

When I lost my job in July, I was faced with the overwhelming opportunities of freedom. Freedom, however, does not come easy when you’re broke.

In a slump, I booked a ticket to Halifax, Nova Scotia to check out the job scene and visit friends. Here I am with my money quickly disappearing, no immediate job prospects, and I’m not nearly through with the city. I’m also not ready to give up my home in St. John’s.

The best solution? House sitting or swapping.

House sitting and house swapping allow you to live in a place for an extended amount of time rather than being a tourist. Plus you get all the benefits of a home, for cheap! Even if you’re house sitting locally, a change of scenery is never a bad thing.

But as a first-timer, it’s important to know homeowner expectations as well as your rights, especially before meeting potential clients. Here are some things to keep in mind.

Photo by Shyn Darkly

The Basics of House Sitting and House Swapping

Before signing on as a house sitter, clarify that you actually want to live at the residence rather than dropping by occasionally to take care of things. This works best for homeowners who have pets and do not like the idea of kennelling them, or for home owners who are concerned about being burgled while they are away (i.e. rich folk).

Make sure you and the homeowner are on the same wavelength about what is required from you. Many will ask for references and background checks, so have this information handy.

Most homeowners expect you to pay the utilities used in their absence, and others will request that you do not use their Internet, phone and other services. Some will ask for a security deposit, or you can offer one up front as proof that you’re a legitimate sitter. It is imperative you ask about these issues beforehand, otherwise you may get stuck with some heavy bills.

House swapping, on the other hand, works more on a trust basis: since both parties are exchanging their homes, usually there is a lot of communication before the exchange takes place. There are normally some phone calls, photograph exchanges, and lots of emails.

Also, homeowners don’t need to exchange homes at the same time: often a vacation home is being exchanged, so dates do not need to coordinate.

Assalah town, north Dahab. All photos by author.

There are nine goats lounging in the shade of a pebbly grey wall, staring at my dog. Eighteen bulging, cross-slit eyes, expressionless. My dog is staring at the camel standing haughty across the street. The camel is staring at the man sitting outside the café: white galabaya, purple headscarf, smoke from his cigarette rising through the dust-dry air. He is staring at me. Caught in an inter-species Mexican stand-off, I try not to stare anywhere.

The dog is called Nesma. She’s not really my dog. I’m looking after a friend’s flat in Dahab for a while, and Nesma came with the flat. Her name means “breeze”, the sort of fresh, life-giving breeze that in an ideal world would presage the coming of Spring. She’s fascinated by camels.

She’s also fascinated by children. As we turn off the street and duck down a narrow alleyway between two houses to reach the beach she starts straining at her leash. Some kids are fooling around, pulling somersaults and backflips off the top of an upturned boat, landing perfect tens in the sand each time. They see her, shout “Nessssmaaaa!” I let her go. It’s playtime.

Mountains of the Sinai, Egypt.

Running-chasing-ducking-diving; giggles and yelps swirling with the breeze. One boy, butt-naked save for leggings of wet sand, dives to the ground. Nesma rushes and leaps right over him, executes a doggie-style handbrake turn, and then bundles straight into him.

Content to be ignored, I gaze northwards along the sweeping arc of the coastline. Here the jagged granite mountains of the Sinai almost reach the sea. They glow pinky orange, but there’s nothing soft about them: they look stark and unforgiving. Across the Gulf of Aqaba, the mountains guarding Saudi Arabia’s interior are wreathed in a heat haze, the shimmering borders of an almost mythical kingdom.

We wander south along the beach towards town. I’m grinning. At Nesma chasing the birds, at the feel of coarse sand between my toes, at being outside. Living in Cairo had been suffocating me: the weight of her crowds, her traffic, her pollution and her noise finally getting me down. Always somewhere to go or someone to see. Not allowing myself any downtime. More than dog-and-flat sitting, I’ve come to Dahab to unwind and recharge.

The sea seems somehow regal today. Skirts of mottled blue-grey and light green, a fluffy white ruff 100 metres out where the waves are breaking, then a cloak of deepest indigo. I breathe in the sounds: the lap and suck of the water against the shore, the whisper of the wind through the palm fronds, the swish of the sand as Nesma rushes past me and careers straight towards a man praying on the beach…

Nesma the wonder-dog with the author.

“Shit. Nesma. NESma! Come here!” He can’t not have noticed the streak of tiger-striped fur hurtling towards him, but carries on regardless. There’s a tension in his back as he bends forward, touches his head to the ground.

“COME. HERE!” Nesma wheels round at the last minute, races back to me.

“Good dog. Gooood, dog.” It’s time to put her back on the leash.

*

We’ve reached the tourist strip, and a yellow and purple brick path runs alongside the beach for the next few kilometres. But there’s little beach left, much of it swallowed by the glut of cafes and restaurants. “Al Capone.” “Ali Baba.” “Same Same But Different.” Same same but not different. A procession of dive centres, hotels, camps and bars. Rinse and repeat. Crappy bazaars full of the same tat that’s for sale in any tourist town in Egypt. T-shirts emblazoned with a nudge and a wink: “Divers Do It Deeper”.

Part of the Dahab tourist strip.

It’s a familiar scene, and I flash back to life as a tour leader. Strutting the strip with a gaggle of tourists in tow. Greeting restaurant owners, bantering with touts. Group dinners with extra-attentive service, seafood platters decorated with tin foil topiary and candles placed inside hollowed out peppers.

These days, Nesma is more famous than I am. I like that. She’s in her element, tail wagging as she greets all her human and doggie friends. I do still have mates here, but many of them still think I’m a tour leader. I have to explain that no, I’m living here now. Looking after a dog and a flat.

It feels good saying that, “I’m living here.” But I’ve been out in the sun too long today, and it’s lulled me mellow. I’m going to feel it tomorrow. I stop for a coffee, rest my eyes on the sea. Think back over four years in Egypt: tour leading, teaching, writing; travelling the country; carving myself a pleasurable but exhausting rut in Cairo. Now Dahab.

Yes, I am living here. For at least six weeks, probably longer. Does that make it my home? I’m not sure. But I feel grounded here, content. That’s enough for now.

I watch a group of divers enter the sea, awkward at first with the weight of the tanks on their shoulders. But then the water takes the strain, unburdens them. They sink beneath the waves to explore a new world.

Nesma snaps me out of my reverie. She’s stalking the café owner’s cat! I grab her collar just in time. She looks at me as if to say, “But I’m a dog; I’m meant to chase cats.”

I’m glad she always knows where home is.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

How do you know when you are at “home”? Is it where you are comfortable? Where you are exactly who you are? Wherever you happen to be living? Share your thoughts below.

For more inspiration, check out our Photo Essay: Coming Home With The Matador Community.

Photo by frerieke

I lived in my car for about six months due to some hard times. Maybe it began as just a means to an end, but for me, it was also a step toward a greater freedom otherwise unattainable like say, traveling the world or finally purchasing that dream house debt free. It wasn’t easy, but it definitely made me appreciate people and life just a little more.

In some places, though, living in a car is frowned upon or even illegal, so check with your state or country before parking. Choosing the right parking spot, having fuel, food and facilities at hand, and being prepared for dreadful conditions are musts for survival.

What Supplies Will I Need?

Bedroom

• Sleeping bag/blanket
• Pillow and Tent (for nights when camping is possible)

Bathroom

Photo by ktylerconk

• Toothbrush and Toothpaste
• Soap, Shampoo, and Conditioner
• Deodorant and Make-up
• Washcloth and Towel
• Toilet Paper
• Pee bottle (optional)
• Medicines
• Shaving Supplies (obviously optional)
• Feminine Products (lovely euphemism)

Keep these in labeled and reusable Ziploc bags for easy accessibility and to keep the rest of your stuff dry when these are wet.

Dress to Impress

Pack in duffel bag.

• Work/play clothes
• Swimsuit for easy bathing
• Shoes
• Extra: bandana/hat

Kitchen

Stuff in collapsible cooler behind passenger seat

• One spoon/knife/fork/spatula
• One cook set (pan/plate/bowl/cup)
• Can opener
• Trash bags/Ziplock bags
• Collapsible water bags
• Extra: Firewood/lighter or a camp stove, especially in drought-ridden areas

What to Eat

Stuff in collapsible cooler behind passenger seat

• Canned beans/soup/fruit
• Dried fruit/peanuts/trail mix
• Dry cereal/oatmeal/granola
• Crackers/ bread/tortillas/bagels
• Tea bags/drink mix/sugar/coffee
• Vitamins/minerals
• Spices
• Extra: Fresh fruits/veggies/cheeses/meats/eggs/milk. Eat soon. Restock. Repeat.

Office & Entertainment

Stuff into backpack and leave in trunk or carry it along

• Laptop
• Portable DVD
• Camera or videocamera
• Books/magazines
• Maps
• Binder/folders/work papers
• Extra: cigarette phone charger/plug conversion, solar-powered light or mini book light

Tools

Stuff in toolbox

• Compass
• Leatherman
• Rope/duct tape
• Car tools/spare tire/jack

Where’s A Good Place To Sleep?

The car is packed. Granola bars and dried apricots are within arms reach and Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” is on the radio. Now where do I go?

Safety

Sleep in well-lit areas and avoid parking in residential zones, commercial properties (unless permission is given) and dead-end streets.

Photo by foxypar4

Where to Park

Natural/State parks I found State parks to be a godsend as restrooms and showers are readily available. They also offer extended stays, camping and outdoor recreation such as swimming, hiking and other forms of entertainment. Free wi-fi may be available. Tip: Invest in a state park pass.

Rest areas/truck stops – Look for a visitor center or 24-hour security at rest areas and larger, well-lit truck stops. Free wi-fi may be available.

Wal-Marts – Invest in 2010 Wal-Mart Atlas and No Overnight RV Parking Directory, as some Wal-Marts do not allow overnight parking. If there is a question, ask the manager for permission.

Cracker Barrels – The restaurant usually allows overnight RV parking and travelers are always welcome. If there is a question, ask the manager for permission.

Thinking this might be a more permanent situation?

The Switch-a-roo

• Invest in storage unit for keepsakes/furniture
• Invest in an auto club for repairs
• Invest in a P.O. Box or set mail to general delivery to be picked up at nearest post office
• Pay bills online
• Have a lock box welded in car trunk/truck/SUV (relatively cheap)
• Tint windows or use a sunshade for extra privacy

If trouble does arise, memorize this passage from the fourth amendment:

“The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.”

A Favorite Moment:

Like I said, it wasn’t easy, but there were also sweet moments. Once, I was sitting under a tree reading a book at a Texas rest area and I kept hearing soft meows. Curious, I wandered toward the noise and found a homeless cat sitting under some hedges. She wasn’t scared just hungry so I shared some Cheerios with her and even thought about taking her in. As the day went on, I noticed people coming and going but always stopping to share what they had with her, even cat food. Now who carries cat food with them? I soon realized she had this whole thing figured out and was where she was supposed to be.

So if you ever find yourself on Southbound Interstate 35 at mile marker 180 and spot the gray and black striped cat, feel free to feed her but definitely leave her be, oh and say hello for me.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

Check out additional Matador resources to learn how to sleep in your car and how to live on wheels.