Adventure- the love of strangers

I mentioned a couple of posts back the idea of taking feelings, habits, characters from 'adventures' and bringing them back into your 'day to day' life. I was speaking to a colleauge who was looking forward to her holiday so she could spend time with her true passion, reading a book. She then went on to say how little she reads. I wondered why.

Anyway, another thought...

In 2003 my lovely wife and I went on an extended bike ride through parts of western europe. I was remembering the highlights of the trip, the moments that bring a smile to your face as you are taken back to that time and place, you know, the dinner party stories. Many of these involved the interaction of strangers. That's the great thing about riding a bike, you are closer to everything, closer to the smells, the potholes, the people. Your bike becomes a talking point, even if you understand nothing of what the person is saying as their Italian gets faster and faster as they grow more and more excited. Closeness can be painful, I know no cyclist who enjoys the occassional 'closeness' to other, often much larger modes of transport, or the bites of crazed dogs who chase you for miles. But closeness brings you experiences you would never have if you are sitting in a tour bus, or hire car.

We entered a town late in the afternoon near Aix- en- Provence, the streets were deserted, shops closed and there seemed to be no indication  of any campground near by. We sat on the pavement, looking at a map when a couple approached. "The hotels here are expensive", "They will have no place for your bikes", "We can show you a better place". Yes, we had the alerts on- don't get yourself in a position where you are going to get mugged, or worse. "Follow us, we will drive slowly." As a side note, 30 km an hour in a car seems very, almost painfully slow. Let me assure you, 30 km an hour on a fully loaden bike, trying to keep up with a car is anything but slow!

The hotel was automated, so no need to ask anyone if our bikes could be in our room. The hotel was half the price of the ones in the main street. The couple asked if we would like to join them for dinner. "We can pick you up at 6 pm, it will be simple, at our place." We spent the evening in wonderful company, with views over Provence, beautful cheese and wine, delivered back to our hotel with a warm embrace and wishes of health and happiness as we continued our journey.

South of Italy, we had cycled for too long. It was dark and in this part of Italy, there are no campgrounds. We had spent several nights finding a secluded field, or asking a farmer whether we could set up camp. But here we were, hugging the coastline, in a large  town, with no idea where we would sleep.

At least we could get some food. I went into a mini supermarket, grabbed a range of supplies and presented them at the counter. The man began the process of adding the amounts. "You cycling?" "Yes". "Where you stay tonight?" "Um, I, um, well, we are not really sure." Man finishes adding up the groceries and I pay. "Just wait, I finish with next customer. You stay". In a short moment I am in his office (he seems to be the manager of the store). He knows exactly what we need, a comfortable beach, where no one will be around to worry you. He did some cycle touring himself, in Canada. He grabs a map and begins giving me directions. He wishes he could take me there, it is the perfect spot, but he has to stay at work. No, the map is free.

We set off, relatively sure we would not be able to find the perfect spot, given the lack of light and complicated street plan. Suddenly a car comes up behind us, lights flashing. "What the!!??" The car comes along side us, the driver half way out the window. "You looking for beach? I'll show you. You follow me". The man from the shop had called his friend, who was at home, and told him to drive out to meet us so that we would be able to find the 'perfect spot'.

It was perfect, beautiful, isolated and peaceful.

We have been invited to stay in almost completed housing, offered food, given directions after directions, had people go out of their way to show us their homes. People who have made nights, days, moments special and have created memories that will be life long. The love of strangers.

It saddens me that during the two events I have mentioned, I was thinking that they were traps, I was fearful of muggings, that we were vulnerable. I kept my wits about me. I met their love with mistrust. Yes, it is the smart thing to do. Still, it saddens me.

Finally, I reflect on when I show strangers love. And not just those on bicyles. The answer is rarely, if ever. Mistrust, not enough time, other things to worry about. In fact, it is not even on my radar.

I think it needs to be.