Strangers who touched my heart

I have not really written about the people I met in Europe.

After every trip, beside the special moments that enchanted me or the awful moments that scared or frustrated me, it is always the people that I remember the most. In fact, meeting people from different cultures and getting little glimpses into their lives (lives that are so different from mine) is one of the most interesting aspect that makes travelling worthwhile and fun to me. 

After enough time have passed, when I may forgot the name of the places that I actually went to, it is always the memory of the people I meet that stays with me. Whether they are named or un-named faces in my memory, they always leave some moments of remembrance inside. Some appreciation of kindness, some false scares, lessons to keep in mind, some shared moments to relive, a tinge of respect to hold in awe, some common bonding or little pieces of insights into each other lives. Often, these little pieces of gifts pop up inconspicuously in odd moments to catch you off guard and bring a smile to your face. 

It never fails to amaze me how strangers can always find common bonds in matter of moments, in odd situations, across language, borders and cultures. Smiles, eye contacts, facial expressions and gestures provide the basic means for us to reach out universally.

We can always find ways and means to reach out to each other. There is something profoundedly touching about receiving help from perfect strangers in moments of need amid a strange environment. It assures you that the thread of humanity runs deep in each of us. Occasionally, you see something in these strangers that reminds you of yourself or someone you know. It reminds you of how similar we actually are despite all our differences. Despite environments, despite cultures, despite backgrounds, genders and age, etc. The things we inherently care about seems to be similar.  

I remember the frail old lady at the bus-stop in Lyon trying to help me with directions despite a language barrier. She repeated her directions animatedly 3 times, hoping that it would help me understand better. I impulsively reached out in a gesture of gratitude to hold her hands and found it to be icy cold. Yet, in the chillingly cold morning, this tiny little lady radiates more warm than anyone I met in France. I rubbed her hands between my palms hoping to give her some warm. She smilingly patted my hands in a grandmotherly gesture. Just like that we held hands in the chilling winds till the bus arrived. In many moments when I was feeling bad down the trip, my mind would float back to her smiling warmth. This one tiny old lady in her flowery dress smiling cheerfully and talking to me animatedly in her mother tongue while holding on to my hands.

To be continued.