I was fortunate to encounter many little pieces of kindness on my recent travels. From the moment I arrived in London, I encountered deep friendliness. In Gatwick station, as I dithered at the top of a staircase with my quad muscles complaining after my final 20 mile run just a few hours before, looking indecisively from my suddenly unmanageable luggage to the stairs and back, a man marched up behind me, picked up my bag, possibly with just his little finger, and swept away with it down the stairs, without saying a word. I stammered my gratitude awkwardly from every other step as I followed him, which he waved away silently. It was an uplifting start to my travels.
In Barcelona, as I was trying and failing to work out how to get on one of the many airport buses that continued to pass me by with stubbornly closed doors, I stumbled upon a French family who were also travelling to the airport. They were a large crowd, rather haphazard, and extremely helpful: they explained that the best way was to take the metro to the Plaça d'Espanya, and from there hop on a bus which I didn't have to pay for, as the journey to the airport was included in the metro ticket. Along the way, I discovered that several members of their family had also run the marathon, so naturally the discussion turned to the race and other major European marathons. We had all been trying to stay afloat in Spanish for a few days and were all a bit confused by the sudden change in language, so the conversation flowed between accidental Franglais, Spanglish and Frespagnol: a marvellous melange which we all understood perfectly. Dad got momentarily wedged in one of the metro barriers because he seemed to be carrying everyone else's luggage, as well as several plastic bottles full of a burgundy liquid which I suspected was not Ribena. Then two of the women and a small child decisively marched out of the train one stop too early and caused a minor French revolution and much hilarity, before being bodily dragged back in by the belt loops. But above all they were outstandingly kind, and made sure everyone in the group - all the odd ends of their family, and me - got to the airport in one piece. I was waved cheerily on my way with many wishes for a safe trip and a happy marathon recovery, leaving me with a big smile on my face, and a warm fuzzy feeling about Barcelona.
When I arrived in Singapore after three days' non-stop travel from Cambodia, I wandered around looking for an ATM before I could buy a ticket for the MRT. I asked a passing Chinese man with a little tufty beard where the nearest ATM was. He told me that there was one in the shopping centre across the road, but that it would be too much hassle for me to walk all the way there and back, and much easier for him to simply buy me a ticket. This sounded like a clear scam in principle, and a situation to avoid putting myself into, but I found myself completely trusting him as soon he started talking. I accepted his offer, telling him that I would replace his ticket for him as soon as we arrived. He gave me a couple of dollars with which I bought a ticket, refused to accept the small change from the transaction, and when we parted at Chinatown he waved away my awkward offers of reimbursement, wished me a happy stay in his city, and left. The way he'd offered help with no sense of hopeful reward-seeking left me looking for opportunities to pay it forward.
I have met many kind people over the last few months, friends and strangers, but these three interactions stand out in particular.
In Barcelona, as I was trying and failing to work out how to get on one of the many airport buses that continued to pass me by with stubbornly closed doors, I stumbled upon a French family who were also travelling to the airport. They were a large crowd, rather haphazard, and extremely helpful: they explained that the best way was to take the metro to the Plaça d'Espanya, and from there hop on a bus which I didn't have to pay for, as the journey to the airport was included in the metro ticket. Along the way, I discovered that several members of their family had also run the marathon, so naturally the discussion turned to the race and other major European marathons. We had all been trying to stay afloat in Spanish for a few days and were all a bit confused by the sudden change in language, so the conversation flowed between accidental Franglais, Spanglish and Frespagnol: a marvellous melange which we all understood perfectly. Dad got momentarily wedged in one of the metro barriers because he seemed to be carrying everyone else's luggage, as well as several plastic bottles full of a burgundy liquid which I suspected was not Ribena. Then two of the women and a small child decisively marched out of the train one stop too early and caused a minor French revolution and much hilarity, before being bodily dragged back in by the belt loops. But above all they were outstandingly kind, and made sure everyone in the group - all the odd ends of their family, and me - got to the airport in one piece. I was waved cheerily on my way with many wishes for a safe trip and a happy marathon recovery, leaving me with a big smile on my face, and a warm fuzzy feeling about Barcelona.
When I arrived in Singapore after three days' non-stop travel from Cambodia, I wandered around looking for an ATM before I could buy a ticket for the MRT. I asked a passing Chinese man with a little tufty beard where the nearest ATM was. He told me that there was one in the shopping centre across the road, but that it would be too much hassle for me to walk all the way there and back, and much easier for him to simply buy me a ticket. This sounded like a clear scam in principle, and a situation to avoid putting myself into, but I found myself completely trusting him as soon he started talking. I accepted his offer, telling him that I would replace his ticket for him as soon as we arrived. He gave me a couple of dollars with which I bought a ticket, refused to accept the small change from the transaction, and when we parted at Chinatown he waved away my awkward offers of reimbursement, wished me a happy stay in his city, and left. The way he'd offered help with no sense of hopeful reward-seeking left me looking for opportunities to pay it forward.
I have met many kind people over the last few months, friends and strangers, but these three interactions stand out in particular.
Comments
Post a Comment