Over the last couple weeks, I have been reading a book called the Kindness of Strangers, which appealed to me in title alone because of my fascination with travel and my personal emphasis on hospitality.

It didn’t take long to get quite interested in the book- stories of random children helping a stranger to a destination, a desert dweller guiding a lost traveler through Sub Saharan Africa, or a family hosting a unique traveler for dinner. These are the stories that my childhood dreams of travel and the world were built upon and drove me to live overseas for all but two weeks of a year and a half stretch in college.  And when I travelled, not just in Europe and Asia but also in the US, I have found strangers and people whose hospitality and kindness are worth treasuring. 

I remember the bartender at Luigi’s bar in Florence Italy who showed great kindness and hospitality as though he were my friend- Luigi was kind and nice and even though sometimes I was not a patron at his establishment he welcomed me with a drink and conversation to practice my Italian! I remember a family in Montana who let me stay around and get to know their local scene and let me be at home in their house.  I remember a kind Italian in Rome whose calming presence after a robbing attempt brought me equilibrium, peace, and reinstilled my love of people.  But my best story is one that I share with three friends:

I was a senior in college at Pepperdine and chose to fly out to Heidelberg Germany to see Emeshea and Cambry (two of my best friends) and Cambry’s lady friend at the time.  We traveled as a group from Heidelberg to Florence to Venice to Athens to Corinth to Thessalonika to Constantinople and back to Rome.  A glorious and fun trip it was! 

We did have a hiccup though- the weather was so awful that the train to Constantinople could not be continued on the day we had scheduled so we had to adjust.  We instead decided on what would be one of the best parts of our trip- a train over to a town of amazingly shaped mountains and cliffs that monks had built into.  It looked fun and even more fascinating.  But it was not a large train stop like Thessalonika or Florence, so Cambry, Emeshea, Alyssa and I did our best to get off at the right station but those stations were not exactly English friendly, and we did have some Greek skill through our Biblical Greek studies. We got off at a station we couldn’t pronounce and realized after much conversation, that we got off a couple stops early, but too far for a taxi.  It was 5pm, and the next train at this tiny station wasn’t till 8:30. Well, let’s find food we thought.  It wasn’t a bad idea considering the time.  But the town seemed 15 minutes of walking away and we were growing quite hungry.  When we arrived, there was not a soul in sight, no happenings in the town, no movement to speak of.  We walked around wondering if there would be a cafe or any place to get food, and after walking another 15 minutes, we felt dejected and a little worried about the ghost town we had seemingly stumbled upon.

 Just then as we decided to head back to the train station in the fast moving darkness, a elderly lady came out of a home like building and spoke in hand gestures and not so Biblical Greek to us.  Not quite sure what was going on, we could make out a gesture of hand to mouth as though she understood we were hungry, and we recognized a word in her language, artos, bread in Greek. We took her up on her offer and she beckoned us into a small wood floored area full of small tables, perhaps a small community gathering hall.  She then invited her daughter, who spoke some minimal English to help serve us.  She served incredible home baked bread, with honey and cheeses.  I was certain she was using the finest of what she had. They had none other than Xena Warrior Princess playing on the television, and the daughter, about 35 years old as we could tell, asked about our travels and how we had come here.  We are our fill, conversed as best we could for an hour or two, and knew we had to head back to the station.  We thanked our guests profusely in our Biblical Greek and they laughed at our poor but courageous attempts, but nevertheless I could see such joy on their faces. As we left, they have us a flyer for their town celebration the next night, a dance party, and extended an offer to us if we were down the monastic mountains in time.  We were very grateful, overwhelmed by the hospitality of strangers and the fun of communicating with limits of clarity but such depths of care and joy. That little night was the best of all the days and adventures of that trip, and remains one that I cherish.  The kindness of a stranger is what I can truly celebrate.

I am so grateful for the wonders of this world, many of which we don’t expect and come from such wonderful people who aren’t like us!