Travel is as much about meeting new people and hearing new points of view as seeing sights. It is about gaining a deeper understanding of the history of the world and learning how humans adjust and adapt to the challenges in their lives. We may speak many different languages and have many different beliefs about the best way to live but when all is said and done our hearts are much more alike than we often seem to notice. Visiting far away places provides a more generous outlook on life because it helps us to realize how wonderful all of us are as we strive to live in meaningful ways.
I suppose that I have an affinity for Great Britain because so many of my ancestors came from there. Somehow I always feel comfortable among the citizens when I visit the locations where my people once lived. As I visit one place after another I get a better feel for the journey of individuals whose life choices led inexorably to my own. I feel a kinship with the people that I encounter because when I speak with them I realize that they are more like me than different from me in their hopes and dreams for themselves and their families.
I think of a young barista and waitress who greeted me and my husband with a warm smile each morning when we enjoyed breakfast in the cafe where she worked. Her name is Maria and she brightened our mornings with her care and concern for our needs. At least for me her presence each day was more vital than the food and drink that she brought us, more wonderful than the castles that we visited.
I enjoyed the Uber drivers who chatted with us as they relieved my need for walking as much as I would have normally done given that my knees are more than ready for replacement. They were as delightful as the sites to which they delivered us. There was the young man from Ethiopia who was curious about the United States and its current situation. He knew more about the Constitution and our laws than many Americans. This humble driver was well schooled in history and political science, speaking with a command of English that was remarkable given that he has not been in London all that long. I was almost sad to leave the car upon reaching our destination because our discussion had been so interesting.
There were the people on the streets, in the shops and on the tube who treated me like a queen. Even on the most crowded days they politely insisted that I take their seats. They called me “Mum” or “Madame” and smiled when I accepted their kindness. I did not ever feel alone or ignored the entire time that I was away from home.
On a train to Edinburgh I sat across from a young man who was traveling to Glasgow to spend the weekend hiking with his girlfriend. He chatted all the way alerting us to the loveliest views from the train and telling us how best to enjoy our short trip to Scotland. He was a delightful tour guide and historian as he explained what we were seeing as the train barreled through the countryside. He was ever polite and enthusiastic about helping us, not disappointed that his seat was across from two old people.
On the same train we heard a young woman from mainland China speaking impeccable English and mentioning her love of learning many different languages. She patiently listened to a stranger who never stopped talking about the exploits of his life. The two of them could not have been more different and yet by the end of the trip the bond that they had created was ever so real.
On our way to visit the Dickens Museum we enjoyed a driver who was from Nigeria. He broached the topic of world events of the moment and we happily took the bait. It felt as though we were in the presence of a brilliant professor. His knowledge was boundless and he had a knack for expressing his views and allowing us to differ from him that was glorious. That ride was as wonderful as the museum that we would later visit.
There were two Palestinian protests in Trafalgar Square when we were in London. Since our hotel was only half a block away from the proceedings we saw the mothers and grandmothers and children who earnestly accompanied the men to the rally. There were ministers and people who have never themselves been to Palestine. All of them bore looks of worry and hardship. I could feel the pain that they were feeling even though none of them spoke to us. I felt humbled by them in an unexplainable way.
We met a mother and son from New Zealand when we went to see The Phantom of the Opera. They invited us to visit their homeland, describing its beauty and its people with such pride and joy.
We saw the diversity of the world in the microcosm of London and it was glorious. We smiled when the people embraced us even as they seemed worried about all of us in America. They all expressed the hope that we will get over our divisions and become the exemplar of freedom that they so want us to be. It was remarkable to be able to discuss our views and who we are without the least bit of worry that we might somehow be misjudged or accused of being hateful. The people assumed that it was okay for each of us to be different in our languages, backgrounds and viewpoints. They told us that no nation or time has ever been perfect and no one way of doing things is a good fit for everyone.
We too often create a mindset that puts us in competition with each other rather than acknowledging that people are people everywhere. They have goals and dreams. They live and love. Our trip reminded us that when all is said and done we humans are all in this together and always have been. When we celebrate our sameness we are much more likely to get along.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 