One of the good things about having friends in other places is that you get to visit them sometimes. And when you’re traveling, there’s nothing like staying with a local. Traveling solo, I do get to meet a lot of locals, but most of the contact I have with them is as a customer, and even staying in hostels, where you are thrown in with everyone, you’re still surrounded by other travelers. This is still a good thing – I’ve made many friends this way, from all over the place – but there’s nothing like actually staying with a local, in a local community, in a local home.

My first experience of this was in reverse. When I was 17, my family hosted an Italian exchange student who stayed with us in our home for two months. She was the same age as me, and we became, and still are, good friends. We hosted others over a period of a few years, and I have been able to visit a few of them since. And there are always, inevitably, those awkward but funny situations when you’re navigating around foreign customs and stumble over what you should do or say, who does what, what happens at meal times and so on. But mostly it’s fun, though challenging, and exciting, though scary. And sometimes, you get to do something really cool that you can only do if you know a local. Like go to a festival.

For example, every year in Venice, on the third weekend of July, there is a festival known as ‘Il Redentore’ – the Feast of the Redeemer.  This festival celebrates the liberation of the city from a devastating plague in 1576. This was when Venice was a republic, independent from the rest of Italy, and the plague killed around 50,000 people – nearly a third of the population. To give thanks for its end, a new church was commissioned by the Doge, to be designed and built by the renowned architect Andrea Palladio. And to celebrate, a great festival was held every year on the Feast of the Redeemer – a tradition which continues to this day and now includes a great firework display on the Saturday night. There is also a great pontoon bridge constructed over the lagoon, which stays up for just 24 hours, so the locals can walk from the main island over to the steps of the Church of the Redeemer on the Island of Guidecca. It happened last weekend. And it also happened ten years ago when I was there, staying with a local.

I was staying in Venice with two friends who had both once stayed with my family in Adelaide. One of them had family in Venice, and they invited us to join them for the celebration. When we arrived his cousin and one of his uncles were busy decorating their gondola with vines and paper lanterns, which were hanging from a string they had set up between poles at either end of the boat. It was the same shape as a gondola, but wider, and it had seating built in around the sides, with various boxes and containers stored in the bottom. About ten of us hopped in, and we set off along the canals heading out to the main lagoon. On the way we had to pass under the famous Bridge of Sighs, which I thought was very cool. We reached the lagoon and joined hundreds of other boats, similarly decorated with flowers, vines and lanterns, all gathering together for the festival. We joined a row of boats and I watched as the people in the boat next to us threw ropes and the boats were tied together, and then again as we threw ropes to the next boat to come up on our other side, so we were all joined in a long row of boats. I thought this was a very practical way of fitting as many boats into the lagoon as possible, while also reducing the amount of bobbing and rocking. But I was struck by the symbolism as well, of all these boats, being tied together for this one occasion, much like the Venetian people, so few of whom are still seen in Venice any more, coming together for this one night of celebrating.

We sat there together in the boat for several hours, as the day turned to evening and the evening turned to night. We had food to share, which was passed around, and drinks, which were warm but welcome, although I was careful not to have too much as the toilet facilities were naturally somewhat limited. There was much talking and laughing, and sharing with the boats around us. I didn’t understand most of the conversation, as they spoke in the local dialect which I couldn’t follow, but I was happy to sit back and relax, taking in the sounds and colours and the festival atmosphere. We enjoyed a small diversion when one of our paper lanterns caught fire – there was an initial cry which caused everyone to jump up suddenly, which caused several more cries as the boat, and the ones next to us that we were tied to, started rocking, followed by a general panic as the flame grew bigger and bigger. Eventually it was put out by someone simply ripping it off and throwing it into the lagoon. And so the party went on.

Finally, when it was fully dark, there was a spectacular firework display lasting nearly an hour. It really was something I’ll never forget – sitting in a gondola, bobbing in time with boats tethered to us on either side, watching a glorious array of fireworks and their reflections in the lagoon.

It was a quiet ride back – the Italians seemed to have worn themselves out and I was tired from translating in my head all day. But it was an experience I am still grateful for, because it is one I would never have had as a tourist. So here is my advice if you ever go traveling – don’t just travel with people from your own country. Make friends from everywhere – from places you’ve always wanted to go and from places you’ve never even heard of. And if they invite you to visit – say yes.