Taking a risk, making a friend

By Aly Winks

We’re standing the foyer of my somewhat glorified BC box of a home. The topic of conversation is the end of the semester and the last paper required for completion, which is due today and caps off a few weeks of hard work following almost four months of fun, learning, exploring, and more hard work. Neither of us wanting to think too hard about the goodbye that has started peeking its head around the corner.

Now, there is snow on the ground and chills in the air. As she bundles into a long, warm down coat and climbs onto her rickety old courier bike with a comparatively new and plush seat, I think about how different things were when I first met Signe Noe in person.

It was a hot day at the end of August. She was coming out of the ferry terminal loaded down in back-country backpacks – one on the front and one on the back. She had been travelling for the better part of two days and was tired but nonetheless enthusiastic. Enthusiastic to meet me and my family, to see her bedroom, where she’d be living and perhaps have a chance at a proper shower.

She entered the house and small(ish) children stared at her, full of questions and too shy to ask them. She joined us for dinner and was entertained with a tour of our yard by my five-year-old son, who couldn’t believe his luck that she wanted to see the huge hole he’d been digging for weeks.

That weekend, Signe hopped on a hardtail, 90s style mountain bike and embarked on her first island adventure. Riding all the way down to Victoria, she wasn’t even over her jetlag and put down a 12-hour day in the (not-so-plush) saddle. It was an eye-opening trip. First her bike seat was stolen, then the whole bike. Not a lovely welcome to Vancouver Island.

Despite being on a student-budget, she took it in stride and had it replaced in no time. This time, with a seat that cost more than the bike. My spouse is a “bike guy” and became her de facto mechanic, worrying about her riding around town on an old machine that might break down.

As the weeks rolled by, she clearly began making connections with other students. She spent less time at home and her weekends were filled with great adventures – Tofino to surf, Strathcona park to hike – and much more. However, she was around enough that she slowly gained celebrity status with my kids. They were always on their best behaviour, wanting to impress her, and always eager to share whatever their treasure of the day was. On one such day, I came upstairs from a workout and found all three of them doing art at the kitchen counter. Signe was making origami cranes and teaching them to paint pictures of campfires. Everyone was content. I felt lucky.

From time to time, she would join us for dinner. And one night, the power went out. Thrown into darkness, we all congregated in the living room for an hours-long evening chat with some music and a beverage of choice for each. Cuddled under blankets, the kids fell asleep.

“This is hygge,” she said to me. Hygge is a Danish concept of coziness and familiarity, which is hard to define in English, but Signe had shared it is something that Danish people sometimes miss when they are away from home for long periods.

On November 29, VIU had its first snow day and she came home with me from campus, picking up the kids along the way.

“Mum, when we get home can Signe play in the snow with us?” they asked. “You need to ask her,” I said.

“I will have a competition with you. Who can build the biggest the snow person?” she said. After all the requisite clothing, mitts, and toques were in place, the competition commenced, which ended in two medium-sized snow people that were shortly flattened into snow pancakes. Mugs of hot chocolate were drunk.

“This is like a little piece of heaven,” she said to the kids. “I have to spend the rest of the night studying and I’m glad you gave me a break.”

The day this article publishes is her departure day. Her father, brother, and his partner have arrived from Denmark. They will have a Canadian adventure for Christmas before heading back to Europe where Signe will resume her last semester of university in Norway.

She was here for one semester as part of the North2North exchange program and was one of the many students struggling to find a place that would take her in the middle of August. My spouse and I decided to give it a try. We had never had a tenant before and had deep reservations, but Michael Whitcomb’s pleas for landlords softened our hearts.

This holiday season, I realize I have another reason to be grateful to be a member of the VIU community. I got to meet this wonderful person and I had some opportunities to share with her. I took Signe to the All Nations Feast Day in early September as well as the Truth and Reconciliation Event at Shq’apthut. She was shocked and horrified to learn about the residential school system and its horrific lingering effects. Like so many non-Canadians, she had no idea about Canada’s dark relationship with First Nations. She wanted to learn more and ended up going to a few of the beading nights with some new friends.   

I now joke that to have Signe as our first tenant is like having a first baby who sleeps through the night at one month old and is always happy. She makes you want to have more.