The Kindness of Strangers

When the bus pulled into the station in Edinburgh, I thought it was an easy matter to find the local youth hostel. The guide book made it seem very straightforward. Trouble was, I exited the station from the back and so when I turned 'right', as it directed, I was actually turning the wrong 'right'. I strode off in the completely wrong direction.

Um...where am I?

Dusk descended as I schlepped down the street, never seeming to reach my destination. It grew full dark. I became very aware of being twenty-one, female and on my own.

Worse, suddenly the sidewalk seemed full of strange people.  They were dressed in outlandish outfits, buzzing in knits of threes and fours.

I came upon an old theatre showing The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Oh. So that explained the oddness in the air. But where the heck was I?

I approached a woman. Or perhaps she approached me, drawn by my perplexed and agitated air. I had a huge back pack on my back with a Canada flag on it. I didn't quite fit with the Rocky Horror Crowd.

In spite of my I-know-what-the-hell-I-am-doing traveler's bravado, I imagine I looked a little lost.

I asked her about the youth hostel address, which I couldn't seemed to find, though I had followed the directions in the guide book faithfully. She pointed out my error: I had exited the bus station out the back. In fact, it turned out I had walked a very long way in the opposite direction. She said it was better that I take the bus. Unfortunately, I didn't have the requisite coins.  She leant me the fare, counting it out for me into the palm of my hand, the coins shiny in the streetlight.

I remember that quite clearly, twenty years on: those shiny coins.

I got on the bus. I  think she even spoke with the driver: make sure this girl gets where she needs to go. Or maybe I told him my plight. In any case, he made sure I got off at the right stop.

I entered the Edinburgh youth hostel, relieved.

Months later, I landed at Cairo International Airport. It was early morning. Dawn had just broke.

I was at Tahrir Square in the early 90's

Guided by my Lonely Planet book, I left the airport via city bus. To start, I was the only person on board. But it quickly filled up as we navigated Cairo. It became morning rush hour, actually. People dressed for work in neatly pressed shirts, skirts and pants were crowding on.

I knew I needed to get off at Tahrir Square--but I couldn't even see out the windows. A man in a button down shirt (I remember the shirt most distinctly) noticed my neck-craning and asked where I was going. A short while later, he tapped my shoulder and indicated: this is your stop. Thinking oh-what-the-hell, I took the plunge.  I pressed my way through the crush and landed on the pavement, knowing I could be landing anywhere. Looking around, I orientated myself. This was, indeed, Tahrir Square. He'd spoken true.

I'd made it.

Sometimes I wonder at the path not taken. Without the kindness of strangers, what might have been? I'd gone back-packing looking for adventure, not danger.  I hit four continents all on my own and nothing untoward happened to me. I considered myself street smart; savvy. But it's clear I also had guardians-in-disguise along the way.

They had no obligation to assist me but they did. They redirected me to safety, for which I am eternally grateful. And I recall their acts of kindness, decades on.

I hope I've engendered moments like that. I hope there is someone, somewhere to whom I have done a nonchalant kindness, thinking nothing of it, but years later they recall it. I've no idea of the magnitude of my small act, the ripples it caused, but somehow, someway, it meant something.