The Value of Travelling With An Open Heart
The Value of Travelling With An Open Heart
The train huffed through the forest, tree branches filtering splotches of sunlight that fell into our cabin. The tracks groaned in protest as it passed, worn out by years of service. A sheen of sweat clung to me like mist, my clothes adhesive, sticking to my skin, heavy with perspiration. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Oppressive heat brazenly pushed against my lungs, the breeze wafting in from the open windows not much of a help. The train was an old, metal construction and its ancient interior was not designed to dispel hot air. Nor did it have any air conditioning. I was going to melt.
To distract myself from the heat I turned my attention to my companions instead, my boyfriend and a stranger, ( we’ll call him Aaron) that had ended up in our compartment by chance. He had wandered in three stops into our journey, dragging his backpack through the narrow doorway.
“Do you mind if I join you? “ he asked, his accent betraying his American nationality.
“No, go ahead, “ I had answered and he beamed at me, quickly stuffing his backpack into the overhead storage space before plonking himself down opposite us.
I always liked this part of travel, where for a few brief hours strangers heading towards similar destinations became friends, exchanging stories and tips. Travel seemed to remove any barriers and reservations, perhaps it was comforting to know that you could share the most incredible things with a stranger and you’d likely never see them again. So it didn’t take long before we launched into conversation.
Aaron was friendly, telling us stories of his life in New York and leaving us in stitches with the recount of his unfortunate adventures in a very dodgy motel. We told him tales of our own, sometimes misfortunate, explorations. Later the conversation shifted to deeper topics, politics, culture, we compared our experiences, all three of us from wildly different backgrounds and places. Sometimes there was overlap, but mostly there wasn’t, and it was beyond interesting to dive into these topics with such diverse conversationalists. It helped pass the time, melting hours away from our ten-hour trip.
We were about three hours in when we realised that everyone was incredibly thirsty. My tongue was dry from talking, shrivelled and desert-like, head spinning a little from imminent dehydration. And we didn’t have half a litre of water between us. We scavenged the length of the train for a shop or a restaurant, but our search proved fruitless. The aged thing had nothing of the sort, we were met by mostly empty cabins and more heat. We even tried talking to the ticket conductors, through Google translate, to find out when our next stop was and if we could buy water there. All we got was confused shakes of the head and shrugging shoulders, the language barrier impeding any communication.
“Our next stop is in an hour, “ a voice came from the cabin next to ours, and we turned trying to locate the speaker.
It was a man, smiling at us through the door. He was a good bit older than us, wearing shorts and a casual t-shirt, kind eyes lighting up his round face. He had overheard our rambling explanations to the conductors and wanted to help. Further conversation ensued, we learned that he was local, travelling home to his family. His other companions also spoke English, and we began to exchange stories and asked them questions about their culture. Before long the hour was over, and our new friends had distracted me from the dry burning at the back of my throat.
They disembarked at the next stop, telling us to wait on the train. Within ten minutes they returned with two large water bottles for us, refusing to take payment for them. Then they stepped back off onto the platform, waving to us as our train pulled away.
The capacity of human kindness never ceases to amaze me. The fact that these people, who a little over an hour ago had been strangers, were willing to help us only made me appreciate it more. Travel inexplicably binds people together, it forces us to rely on human connection and communication to get to our destination. We place our trust in helpful strangers who point us in the right direction when we’re lost and learn valuable historical facts from chatty taxi drivers who are proud to show us the beauty their homeland has to offer.
We’re not obliged to do any of it. I didn’t have to agree to let Aaron into our compartment when there were so many free ones. The men on the train didn’t have to help us communicate with the conductors or get us water. Those kind strangers don’t have to take time out of their day to help you navigate unfamiliar locations. But if we choose to do so, if we choose to open up our heart to new people it can lead to some very touching moments and valuable experiences. Travel allows us to find these experiences because far away from all things familiar, you have nothing to lose by pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and talking with a stranger.
It’s in those unexpected moments that you’ll find kindness and respect. It’s there that you’ll discover valuable connections and meaningful interactions. At the end of every trip, we carry a tiny part of someone else’s story home with us, one that might fade in our minds with time only to be sparked again by something years later. So open your heart, let in these stories, let in these interactions and you’ll see all of the best human qualities come to light.