#1: Red-faced Stranger

1962, Málaga, Spain

By GEORGE McNEILL

It was a scalding afternoon in the Southern Spain port city Málaga.

It was my first time in Europe, and I was lost. I had to catch a train soon, or I would miss complicated connections that would strand me with dwindling money.

I didn’t speak a word of Spanish. The Sunday streets were deserted, and all stores closed as I watched the precious minutes drip away.

Finally, I encountered an elderly man, dressed in a suit with a white shirt, a tie, and a hat. He was red-faced and sweating, and walking at a slow, deliberate pace.

Using a phrase book, I asked for directions to the station.

He listened attentively, but we had trouble communicating. After a couple more attempts with the phrase book, he nodded and, with hand gestures and slow, careful speech, I knew that he was giving me directions to the station - complicated directions.

When he finished, I had no idea what he had said. Minutes were fleeing. I kept glancing at my watch.

Perhaps in this first experience of foreign travel, I was overreacting to the possibility of missing the train, but on that hot Sunday Spanish street, lost in a strange city and a strange language, my fear was real, and it seemed hopeless. The old man gestured that I was to follow him.

We walked a long route of many turns, as his face reddened, and sweat spotted his white shirt. When we reached the station, he helped me buy a ticket and saw me aboard the train, which was already beginning to move.

Out of a window, I thanked him profusely.

He smiled and disappeared into the crowd. That was decades ago, but I can see his face and remember that first kindness on my first trip out of the United States.

George McNeill is a freelance journalist and novelist.

#2: The Chauffers

Spring of 2006, London, England

By NORMAN BROWN

My wife and I were in London early last spring for a well-earned vacation. One evening, we asked the manager of our hotel if he knew of a good French restaurant, and he recommended one about 10 blocks away.

We must have made a wrong turn in the dark, and we soon realized that we were lost. A well-dressed, mature gentleman on the street realized that we had a problem and asked if we needed help. He gave us directions to the restaurant, said good-bye, and started to walk away.

Ten seconds later, he returned and said, “If you will let me, I will take you there myself.” He dropped us off right at the restaurant’s front door, doffed his hat, and said good night. Being residents of Los Angeles, by way of New York, we were absolutely amazed!

We had a lovely meal at the small restaurant, which was owned and run by a pair of French expatriates, one the chef and the other the floor manager. They would bicker constantly, all the while catering to the customers in a very friendly and professional manner.

As we started to leave, it had begun to rain. We decided to ask the manager to call a taxi for us. To our surprise and shock, the manager then said to us, “No need for a taxi. I will drive you to your hotel!”

Without any hesitation, he got his coat and an umbrella, said a few words to the chef, and proceeded to guide us out under his umbrella to his car. Within minutes, we were back at our hotel. We thanked him and said good night.

Such acts of kindness, twice in one night, were more than just random. To me, they were a reflection of the people of London as well.

Norman Brown is a retired Aerospace manager living in Southern California. England is probably his favorite country to visit.

#3: The Suitcase

1989, Tokyo, Japan

By SANDRA A. MILLER

I had to leave Japan immediately for a medical emergency.

I took a leave of absence from my teaching job and planned to be in New York for one month. I booked a plane ticket by phone and was told to pick it up at the travel agency in Tokyo the next day. From there, I could catch a bus to Narita airport.

I arrived in Tokyo and locked my suitcase in a coin locker at the station. I picked up my ticket and returned to the lockers. When I inserted the key and opened my locker, it was empty. I sat on a bench and sobbed.

Throngs of people passed and stared. I was far too exhausted to find the Japanese words to explain my situation–not that I had anyone to explain it to. There were no police around.

Sick and despairing, I tried to think clearly. The suitcase held my clothes, many presents, and journals and photos from my first year in Japan. I was devastated to leave it behind, but I couldn’t risk missing my plane and scheduled surgery.

Still crying, I started to board the bus when a young Japanese woman asked in broken English if I was OK. I chokingly explained my situation and pointed out the empty locker.

“Stolen?” she asked. I shrugged.

She hugged me, said “wait please,” and ran off. After some moments, she returned with a policeman. Smiling, he randomly started opening lockers until, there in an unlocked locker, two away from the one I had locked, was my suitcase. In my hurry to find coins, I had locked an empty locker.

I hugged that woman with my waning strength and, uncharacteristic of Japanese people, she hugged me back. When I use that suitcase, I still think of her.

Sandra A. Miller has written extensively about sex and relationships, often her own. Recently, Sting’s wife Trudie Styler turned one of Miller’s personal essays into a short Hollywood film called WAIT, produced by Glamour Magazine. Sandra and her psychologist husband offer other couples a helping hand at their relationship self-help site HaveAQuickie.net.

Posted by Common Ties on Monday, October 29th, 2007 | Email This Post

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