Chris arrived at her destination a day later. Gusty winds made her tuck her chin into her scarf as she stood on Tristan’s doorstep looking for the carefully hidden key. Her bare fingers were icy, by the time she finally dug open the two loose bricks in the walkway. Via email, Tristan had sent Chris a photo of the two crumbling tiles under the welcome mat, so Chris had spotted them easily once she’d lifted the mat.

The trick was prying the key loose in this glacial weather. Chris thought she’d come prepared, but apparently a scarf and a woolen duffel coat were not adequate. The first thing on her Canadian shopping list would definitely be a thick pair of mittens. She had packed two hats, but she hadn’t expected the need to open her luggage until inside Tristan’s apartment.

She was thankful once finally shielded from the ear-reddening wind. She took a tour of the apartment without removing her outerwear, but courteously left her snowy boots at the entrance. There was a note tacked to the fridge.

Hi Chris,

Welcome, welcome! I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.

Everything you need should be here, but if you can’t find something, send me an email :)

Wifi password is on a notepad on the coffee table.

My friend Tamara volunteered to show you around town when you’re over your jetlag.

She’ll call the house in a couple of days to introduce herself.

Have a wonderful “adventure” and bundle up!

- Tristan

Chris shook the remnants of cold from her shoulders and mumbled, “Yeah, bundle up is right!”

Tristan awoke to the scent of something sweet and warm. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she glanced around her unfamiliar surroundings. The comforting scent finally reminded her she was not in her duvet-piled bed.

“Ha! Hello Taiwan!” she announced to the country at large. A small grin crept onto her sleepy features, as she stretched her limbs on Chris’s maroon upholstered couch. She breathed in the humid air of mid-afternoon, and relished its tangerine twang. What in Chris’s apartment held that cinnamony citrus odor? Whatever it was, Tristan grew fond of it very quickly.

Pulling the iPod from her jeans’ pocket, she noted it was nearly 4 PM. She’d been asleep off and on for over twelve hours.

What time is it back home? Tristan tried to remember the time difference. 2 AM? 4 AM? Er, twelve hour difference, no? Her lazy brain soon gave up trying to do the conversion. Instead, she looked at her weather app.

“Yes! Twenty-two degrees Celsius right now!” Tristan shouted. It was amazing how two days ago, she was wearing storm-trooper weather armor, and now she’d be able to walk outdoors in a tank top and shorts. Momentarily, she remembered Chris. Swiping a finger across her iPod screen, she read the weather in her hometown.

Seriously? Poor Chris! Her teeth must be chattering under my duvet. 4 AM and it’s minus thirty-eight degrees!

“I don’t envy you, but have fun, ahhhhh! I’m going to the beach!” shouting abruptly, Tristan stood up from the couch, and headed for her suitcases.

She needed to fill her belly and do so outdoors. Therefore, unpacking would consist of merely digging out her most comfy summer coordinates, hastily slapping them on, and dashing out the house with only her wallet and a map. Destination, food!

When Chris awoke the next day, she was completely disoriented, not sure if she’d had one drink too many the night before, or if she was having a very lucid dream. Then she realized that it was noon, and she was in a foreign bed. It took her a moment to understand that she wasn’t hung over, but now living in a stranger’s home, using a stranger’s bedsheets. There was also a crispness to the air she wasn’t accustomed to.

Canada. I’m on an adventure in another country! she mused. Perking up at the thought, she unearthed her cell phone, and decided to text her mom to let her know she’d arrived safely at her destination.

When she was done, she noticed she had a text message from her swap-mate. Laughing to herself about Tristan’s inability to locate Chris’s bed, she typed back,

Sorry! I didn’t explained I have special setup. I think...you Westerners call “Murphy Bed”? My mattress hiding in wooden shelf! Closed room is bedroom. LOL

Chris got out of bed and cursed, as she padded across the room. The bare hardwood floor was so cold, she had to rummage through her half-unpacked luggage to scope out the Chinese house slippers she’d brought.

Trudge-flopping her way to the kitchen, she looked for supplies to make coffee. She was glad that Tristan was a coffee-drinker and had a handy one-person percolator.

Waiting for her warming brew, Chris idly looked around Tristan’s neat kitchen. Everything seemed to have its place, and the countertops were spotless. Chris grinned, relieved that she wasn’t the only neat-freak.

Tristan had kindly left a few edibles behind for her, so she finished off the remainder of a carton of milk. Stirring her coffee, she found herself drawn back to the fridge. Its face was littered with cute magnets holding up funny photos. Chris swept her gaze from picture to picture. The images of laughter, friendship, family and silliness tugged at her heart. The puckered pink lips hinged to the coffee cup couldn’t help but smile.

She assumed that the only face repeated in all the photos belonged to Tristan. From their one video chat, Chris couldn’t quite recall Tristan’s features. She’d been so bundled in her clothes, that all Chris remembered was a hint of gummy laughter. The same gummy smile was in all the pictures, but the face they belonged to was much more charming than Chris realized during their interactive chat.

“Huh. She’s cute,” Chris thought aloud.