Yesterday, as I was walking my dog, I saw a stray petit black dog. Automatically I was worried. He had no collar and looked familiar, he looked like another neighbor’s dog. The dog was located next to the house of a family who recently vacated the building. I had heard horror stories about the family, who took the week to move out, and carelessly left belongings in the front and back of the home. Did they leave their dog? These were both black small dogs, would they have dared to leave him? I have heard stories of people leaving their dogs leashed or unleashed when they move from homes, so the dogs would not find them, and the family could have a fresh start sans animal. I was hoping it wasn’t the case.
Outside of a hello, I rarely talk to my neighbors, but I found myself purposefully asking neighbors closeby “was this the previous neighbors’ dog?” Both individuals I asked said no, stating this dog belonged to someone several blocks away. One of these neighbors said she would walk the little black dog back home. She had once found this same dog, and he escorted her to where he lived. What an intelligent little thing, but why would owners let them loose on streets that could get busy at times? She tried to nudge the little young black dog home, but he was playing with my older dog. He was following us to my home, and to help the neighbor out, we all walked several blocks, and escorted this dog to his rightful home. We found out he was a three year old boy named Scotty, whose owner was searching for him that afternoon.
I had only met this elderly neighbor once. She introduced herself (Rosie) and her dog (Phoebe), when we moved into the neighborhood. She has had her dog, which is a terrier mix, for three years. She had found her in the recycling bin years ago, right behind the condo complex. Phoebe was difficult to get out of the bin, because she kept biting hands that were trying to save her out of fear. With multiple attempts and the assistance of her adult children, they got Phoebe out of the recycling bin. They cleaned her up and created signs for those who may be missing a dog, nobody claimed her. Rosie realized that Phoebe may have been the pet of a homeless person, as the dog had a strong digestive issue, which appeared to be from drinking contaminated water. Despite this, they fell in love with her and Phoebe has been in Rosie’s home for years.
Morale beauty is an aspect of awe which occurs when we witness or observe acts of kindness, courage, or strength in other humans that bring a sense of amazement and wonder to us. I couldn’t help but feel this way for Rosie, who in small moments offers her kindness to these pets who enter her life. I’ve only interacted with her twice, and both times have amazed me. As we walked little Scotty home, I couldn’t help but think this is what true neighbors did back in the day. This is what community is, we offer support and watch to each other, and our pets.
Who in your life brings a sense of awe for the morale beauty they exhibit? How can you offer kindness to a neighbor? Morale beauty isn’t always recognized on the news or talk shows, but it exists all around us if we have the space to look.
Thanks Rosie for the kindness you offer to our neighborhood, and the pets that enter our lives.
Earlier today I was in a checkout line at a Filipino grocery store. My purchases were small but intentional: a ten pound bag of Thai Jasmine rice, Chinese Mabo Tofu mix,Vietnamese Pho noodles, pad Thai sauce, Japanese udon noodles, some local vegetables, and a packet of Korean curry. The young cashier who was checking me out on the register said to me, “I have one question, what is curry?”
I looked at her in amazement, I assumed everyone who worked at the store was Filipino or some type of Asian, but she appeared to be Mexican American. I proceeded to summarize curry as a type of stew “It’s a stew that adds flavor to your veggies and meats.” I was so astonished that someone didn’t know what a curry was, and I was wondering if I was offering a poor answer to this question. “This is a Korean curry, but there are Japanese curries, Thai curries, Indian curries, so many kinds.” She was open to admitting her lack of knowledge on the subject. “I want to start experimenting and try cooking new dishes. I tried the Filipino curry, and so I was wondering about this curry.” I was curious what dish she was talking about, as Filipinos technically don’t have curries, or maybe I didn’t view it in that way. Was it adobo, kare kare, or caldereta? I didn’t want to keep up the line, but offered her a “thank you and good luck with your curries.”
I wondered if my definition excited or deterred her from curry. There was so much more to say about it, but I was caught off guard. And yet in that moment, I appreciated this stranger’s sincere honesty and willingness to seek more knowledge. I also was in awe of the fact that we were in California in an area full of diversity, in which we can learn, understand, and appreciate things from each culture. My $33 spent on groceries was an abundance of Asian wealth from a variety of countries. We take that for granted these days, but in the moment I was appreciative of the global education we all can offer each other while in line at an ethnic grocery store.
I am lounging in Caje Café in Santa Barbara, a Spanish style coffee shop that sits across the Alrington Theater. It’s happenstance that I’m here during the Santa Barbara Film Festival in front of a premiere. People are lined up to see the stars walk down the red carpet before entering the theater.
The café drew me in not because of it’s proximity to this event but because of the beauty of the courtyard. After leaving Andalucia in December, I was missing the outdoor beauty of Spanish life, and longed to be close to a beautiful fountain and greenery. There were young college students at the café, in addition to yuppies, dog owners, and fellow book lovers who sprawled out in the sun and read their next chapter. There was also a man who appeared to be struggling with mental health issues, potentially homeless, walking up to various customers muttering to himself, before he was kicked out.
I sat in the outdoor café and wrote, once in awhile peaking on what was going on around me. The music was quiet and chill, it was a simple Sunday afternoon. But then I heard loud screams coming from the street. Me along with many of the customers stepped out of the café’s white entrance to sneak a peak. The main star arrived. Billie Eilish’s van pulled up and she was about to enter the festival. The screams were loud, fans stood on their tip toes to see above the crowd to get a view above other fans who were holding up her most recent record. She briefly stopped to shake fans’ hands and was interviewed by the press before heading into the theater.
I went back into the café, whose background music was promptly changed from soft mellow tunes to a loud Billie Eilish song. As I walked in, so did the man with mental health issues. He was running behind the screaming crowd and proceeded to run back into the café, making fellow patrons squeamish. A woman came up to him, and asked what was wrong. I wasn’t close enough to hear the words he was muttering on repeat. He was distraught and upset. She held his hand and slowed down her breathing. Gentle loud exhales to decrease his nervous system, as she did this she repeated to him “you are safe.” She continued to check what he needed at that moment, and offered to get him water as he sat down. The fellow staff member who kicked him out minutes earlier, came by to check.
This female courageous customer was handling the situation. She was calming this stranger down, when everyone else backed away. He was shaken by the loud screams for Billie Eilish and was unaware of what was going on.
As I watch this all unfold, I thought of the irony of the situation. This woman was the real rock star here. Yes, artists and musicians help express our emotions and get us through difficult times in our lives through their creative works. Everyone surrounded the theater to welcome her entrance to the event. But at a café across the street, a woman was in the everyday trenches, offering a moment of tangible calm support to a stranger that was viewed by others as untouchable. She was not paid for this act, and nobody else said anything to her for this to be recognized as profound and strong.
I offered her one of these Puzo Bella cards (which you may have received, which is why you may be reading this blog). I wanted to tell her I noticed her and wanted to thank her for helping a stranger. For some reason as I did this, I wanted to cry. In that moment, she had this superhero strength of compassion of a saint. And I wanted her to know it was seen and appreciated. There’s so much to be seen and admired in this world, and it’s not only things that are of material wealth. It’s these everyday moments that are full of rich individuals, simply helping a stranger.
“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”― David Mitchell
“Where are you from?” It’s the number one question we were asked and asked others on this trip. It was a question that had potentially layers of responses. This is not just what country we were raised in, but where were we living, where did our ancestors come from, and where did we aspire to live? One of the most interesting things about travel is the people you meet, if you give yourself the opportunity to exchange words with strangers. On this most recent trip to the UAE, we met people from India, Philippines, Pakistan, Nepal, Uganda, Egypt, Algeria, Greece, Germany, Singapore, England, Netherlands, and America. This is a tiny glimpse of who exists on this land.
Dubai is one of the most expensive cities in the world. The local population in the UAE is anywhere from 8-20%. One guide alluded to the fact that many of the locals do not work, having received large portions of their finances from oil. Oil was discovered only decades earlier, which brought the new found wealth to the country to a group of people who were nomadic bedouines. He noted that in addition to receiving free healthcare and education, some newlyweds are offered land or villas to assist with their new start in life. When we asked our tour guide if he was of local Emirates descent, he responded “would I be giving this tour if I was?” He said this as he drove us around six of the seven Emirates in one day, he worked seven days a week, giving group and private tours, and sleeps several hours a night balancing work life, family life, and playing professional cricket.
We know that a country can’t survive if nobody works, particularly countries such as the UAE that are developing at such a fast place. This means that 80-92% living in the UAE are expats. Newer digital nomads from Western countries move here due to tax breaks, with zero percent income tax. A fellow German explorer who was on this Emirates tour with us lived in Saudi Arabia for over the past ten years working as a HR consultant for a wealthy family and their multiple businesses. He loved the Middle East and wanted to move to Dubai with his Mexican wife who lives in Qatar, for these exact tax benefits and to expand his business. But not everyone has the financial freedom to live anywhere.
It’s been said that 50% of the population are from India, and another large majority are Filipino. Our Ugandan waitress at a Japanese restaurant asked my friend and I if it was the first time we went to this restaurant. We nodded are heads, as we were there during a Wednesday, which coincided with all you can eat sushi night. Shethought we were expats who were splurging on our night off. It made sense, because I am a mix of Filipina and Eastern European descent and my friend Isabella is Thai. We were brown just like everyone else we saw on the metro and streets. We looked like we could be living here, fellow servers in another restaurant. And if things were different, maybe we would be.
I couldn’t help but think of a parallel life I would have, if my grandmother never immigrated to America from the Philippines. I have mixed feelings with being American, particularly having lived in the UK and Europe for the past 10 years. But I often forget the world of opportunities that are available with an American passport and making a salary in USD.
The UAE is welcoming to those wanting to come to their country, allowing one to attain a work visa while on a tourist visa. But for some individuals in service industry jobs, one wonders what it is really like. Pay is low (although probably more than that of one’s third world country), health care is provided, transportation to and from one’s job is also offered. This is in addition to lodging, but transportation is on large school buses. Tourists are enamored by the bright lights of the skyskrapers and the fountain show in front of the flashing Burj Khalifa. One only has to look a little further outside a taxi or bus window to see the lines forming on the side entrances of malls or hotels, picking up and dropping off staff members at transitional hours. The UAE is expensive and therefore having housing benefits is a perk, but it’s been said that people may have up to 10 roommates in a 1bedroom apartment. I shared this story to friends in Paris, and they had heard rumors of passports being taken until debts are paid back to those who brought them over to the UAE. My ex-husband who was Italian American told me this years ago as he was sent to Dubai to open a new restaurant, but I couldn’t fathom the depths of struggle industry workers from third world countries were facing.
This blows my mind, and I wonder how this occurs in a land that many pilgrimage to in order to see these astounding feats of human creation. The UAE has created man made islands, engages in cloud seeding (where planes fly into clouds to produce rain), there are ever increasing skyscrapers and it boasts the most records in the Guinness Book of World Records, with such extravagances as the largest mall, the tallest building, and the largest gold piece of jewelry. These extravagances are built on the backs making meager income. It is a choice to work in the UAE, but how much freedom do these people have?
We often forget that physical space, such as one bedroom apartments, are a luxury many of us are privy to. Sacrifices are made to live in the UAE with one’s privacy, living situation, weather, and working hours. Oftentimes money is sent back to families in their homeland, expat parents may be providing money for grandparents or aunties and uncles caring for their own biological children they had to leave behind for all to lead “better” lives. I pondered what my life would have been like, if my grandmother, aunt, and mother never left the Philippines. Although they had great jobs in the medical field and we came from a wealthy family, who would I be if they hadn’t been willing to take the leap to move to a new land?
We talked with some of the people we met who moved to the UAE from other countries and now had aspirations to move to Nordic territories such as Finland or Sweden. Although these countries are also some of the most expensive in the world and can get extremely cold, it was an aspiration to live in these exotic lands. The UAE was to be a springboard for their next dream. They were paying their dues working hard there to aspire to advance to places with more freedom, income, and flexibility within the EU.
There were other moments of my future and past meeting me on this trip. On an hour long cruise along the Dubai Creek, we met three individuals travelling together. We thought they were a cute adult family, but it turns out two were Caucasian coworkers at a travel company and the other Hispanic individual who was travelling with them they had just met and asked to come along: Mike, Joan, and Toey. One of the individuals, Mike, was our ideal future travel self. Both Isabella and I set a goal recently to join the Travel Century Club (TCC) before we turn 50. To join TCC one must travel to at least 100 territories, which is more expansive than countries. After the UAE, I am currently at 75 territories and 53 countries. Mike was familiar with TCC, as he has travelled to over 165 territories, including the North Pole and Antarctica several times. This 68-year-old man was a kindred spirit because he encouraged us to go to Unesco World Heritage sites and National Parks. These are places Isabella always strives to visit, and this year I had applied to work at both of these organizations. Both Joan and Mike were on a cruise together throughout Greece and Egypt and met fellow passenger Toey. Mike was supposed to have his girlfriend come on this extended holiday with him, but she wasn’t able to make it, therefore they invited Toey for the ride. Toey was a young special education teacher from Texas, who bought a one way ticket to Europe, as he was on disability leave. He never had time or money to travel, as he was always working. Now was his chance, he had little plans and allowed moments of synchronicity to arise on this trip. Mike felt empathy and compassion for Toey, being a previous educator himself, and offered an invitation for him to tag along and take his girlfriend’s spot on the remainder of his Middle Eastern and European journey. Mike was paying travel privileges forward, and I had a feeling in the future Toey would do the same to another stranger.
On another excursion to the Dubai Spice and Gold Souks, we met two African American coworkers from Washington DC, who were court reporters. They appeared to be in their fifties to sixties and had travelled the world together. I had realized that Isabella and I were also prior coworkers, as we met on the set of filming a television show over twenty years ago on a set in Los Angeles. We have also taken trips around the world together. This was their second time in Dubai in two years. They loved it so much and there was more to experience on their UAE bucket list they had yet to achieve, so they returned. Their zest for life was how we aspire to continue to wander the world and make the most of the vacations we have. Time passed on the large souk tour, and we lost track of these fellow travellers. I noted to Isabella how we didn’t get to say goodbye, but the Universe wanted to ensure we did. That same evening, after getting lost in the world’s largest mall, the Dubai Mall, we ran into them, shared our days’ experiences, and grabbed a selfie. We were them and they were us.
The following day our jam packed adventure tour included two young 30 something men from Greece, and an African American fifty something married couple from Columbus Ohio. These young men were working as engineers on a construction project and were in Dubai for the past 20 days. That day was their first day off that month, and we could tell they were letting off steam as they glided and weaved in and out of their atvs or surfing on the sand dunes. Their past several years were filled with 12 hours work days in foreign countries, sacrifices made for their future selves. Both Isabella and I could relate to this offering much of our energy and time in our 30s to our jobs, making the most out of any amount of free time we had. In regards to the Ohio couple, he was retired working for the military, living in various places in America throughout his life, including Hawaii but being raised in New York. I was born in Ohio, and meeting someone from Ohio in the Middle East is simply wild. We talked story of Ohio State football culture, which has it’s own traditions. In addition, their military and New York and Hawaii life resonated with me, as I have worked with them, lived in NYC and Hawaii twice myself.
These are reflections I have on my Air France flight back to Spain, as an American, where I currently reside which has a layover in Paris, where I lived last year. All versions of me being an amalgamation on one trip. What’s so fascinating with this trip is that Dubai seemed like every place and no place. The downtown city skyline was endless and took the best brands from multiple countries of hotel chains, restaurants, cafes, grocery lines, and clothing stores and brought them all there. It’s a wealthy city which refreshingly smells of sandalwood everywhere you go, and is a melting pot of expat workers whose sole existence is to build, serve, and grow this land into a cosmopolitan luxury superpower and have bragging rights for as many world records as possible. With every person we met, regardless of their ethnicity or occupation, I could relate. In some way, whether in a past, present, future, or parallel world- they all could be me. It’s vital to see the similarities amidst the differences and to be able to see ourselves in others. Take the time to talk to strangers, whether fellow travelers or staff members. Who knows which version of you will be met on your next trip?
I recalled an old post I did on this very site and wanted to share due to the timeliness of it all . It was my previous trip to Israel and Palestine, a very detailed description of a refugee camp area and being inside the wall. I admit re-reading it was eye-opening. Please read and share. Thank you.
“If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world.”-Francis Bacon
Sometimes we can find the most comfort in surprising places: strangers. We don’t expect anything from them, because they don’t know us. This fact is when a kind word is said or gracious act done, the appreciation in our hearts can linger. This was evident in several instances the past two weeks.
Two weeks ago, one of my childhood friends was visiting me for her first European trip. Since I have lived here for nine months, I took her to some of my favorite places in Andalucia. This included one of the most beautiful beaches in Nerja, a 45 minute to 75 minute bus ride away (dependent on if it’s direct). The waves were strong that day, and I only had the energy to put my feet in. I had gone one week prior when the water was tranquil, and I didn’t want to navigate the currents. But Lisa was mesmerized by the waves, she entered a trance of it’s blue hue beauty and power. She walked in deeper, and the waves dragged her in for an embrace. I was in the sand at this point and saw her face after she was pulled in and laughed. Her mouth was open and she was surprised. Me and a stranger tried to motion another wave was coming and to prepare for it, she got dragged in again. Lisa prefers to say she was “spanked by the Mediterranean.” Without hesitation, this stranger went towards Lisa to try to offer assistance by pulling her arm up out of the water. I sat in astonishment. I didn’t think she was in danger, but would have easily gotten in a constant battle with the sea. Timing was everything to get out without being pulled back in. Every other person in the sea was also having this experience, but relished in it. Adults transformed to children to surrender their control to these strong waves. Lisa still had her sunglasses on and was not prepared for the intensity. In that moment, I thought how kind it was this stranger offered support while I sat there in pure surprise.
The other day I sat in a local tattoo shop, awaiting my turn for an hour long session. I talked to a young woman who was getting a souvenir tattoo, after a two week trip to Spain from the UK. It was an empowerment trip for her, post break up, and a means to exemplify her strength and symbolism of this trip. As she searched for what to get, she asked me, “are you ready to get a tattoo? Mentally ready? Because you have to be.” I agreed. I motioned to where I was getting the tattoo, and she had gotten a large tattoo in the same area before. Hers took 8 hours, compared to my potential one pending hour. She said, “Oh yes, the ankle is tender. You have to be prepared.” I appeared very non-chalant, as I had been researching the style of tattoo for months. I wasn’t aware that it would take this long. But she was right, I needed to get in the zone. A staff member asked if I wanted a coffee, I didn’t. But this stranger encouraged me to take the coffee, I would need the caffeine to get in the zone. And I was grateful for this short exchange we had with each other, hopefully I offered some support for her in this tiny end to her journey as well. I took the espresso shot and meditated for an hour during the session.
Post the tattoo, as I took my dog Bella out for a walk, we sat at this local playground. Bella likes to sit here in partial sun and shade, and people watch. Several little girls asked to pet Bella, not believing she was 14 years old. One girl lingered. She was Morena like me, appeared to be 7 years old, and had 3 dogs at home. She had a gentle and calming nature about her as she pet Bella, and asked questions in Spanish. I responded in Spanish. It was one of the few people I have spoken to here this long without being self-conscious of my Spanish proficiency. Her tee shirt had the words enchanting and charrming on it, and it suited her perfectly. After five minutes, she said “Voy a poco jugar ahora.” Translated to “I’m going to play a little now.” Bella and I offered a wave and continued on our walk.
All three instances were brief instances of kindness with strangers, different ages and ethnicities. I do not know any of their names, and will probably not see any of them ever again, but for several brief moments comfort was shared in knowing one wasn’t alone during these times.
Everyone thinks all that exists in Hollywood is fake. This is the actors, the people, the stories, sets, mindsets, and everything in between. Yet, it was in Hollywood that I have met some of my longest standing friendships, and for most of them, they have been on Hollywood sets.
Years ago, I was an extra on television shows, movies, and music videos. This was a flexible part time job that was complimentary to my full time life as a graduate student. Generally I worked 1-2 times per week on anything from shows like E.R., Felicity, or Friends to an Olsen twins movie or a Steven Spielberg film. I never made the Screen Actors Guild Union, and therefore was non-union and paid minimum wage. At that time, I believe it equated to $50 for 8 hours of work. Anything beyond that was over time, double time or triple time. But I didn’t do this for the money, or any type of exposure. I wasn’t planning to go into film or any aspect of this realm. I did this for the experience. Yes, part of what pulled me to this was the intrigue of working side by side by those I admired. We were ”background”, this is what we were called background performers and were literally moving background pieces of a scene. Yet, I also did extra work to meet other people. I was new to the city, and wanted a chance to connect with others. This was before the age of social media and smart phones, we met people the old fashioned way IRL, in real life.
Although we didn’t get paid well, there were benefits to doing extra work. This included generally getting free meals and snacks, but also loads of free time. I used this strategically as opportunities to read and study for graduate school classes, nap, and also get to know other people who were my age. The most fascinating thing is some of these people I met during those days are still in my life today. It’s been over 20 years from the time I met them and we are still friends. Some of the people who have remained in my life have been met through the friends I connected with as an extra.
It’s interesting to create bonds over fantasy world. For example, one of my closest friends Isabella, we met on the set of a short lived show called Freakylinks, starring Ethan Embry. The Assistant Director told us to be best friends, we had bookbags on and were in the scenes of a school hallway. Little did he know we would stay friends for years after and travel the world together.
That period of time was fascinating, it was a surreal double or triple life I led. I was a graduate student, an extra for Hollywood films, and an intern at various sites. These included a female correctional facility, working with foster children in Compton, or a female private catholic college. I guess we all live multiple lives, we play different roles. We are all background actors in numerous people’s lives, play supportive cast in others, and hopefully take the lead role in our own lives.
What type of roles are you playing now? What does the set look like? Who are the cast of characters that fill your life? What genre is your life replicating and do you like it? If not, what genre would it be if you could change it?
Years ago I yearned to be a muse for artists, perhaps this is why I fell for artistic individuals. It didn’t matter if they were painters, writers, or musicians, if they had artistic ability, I was interested. I then began to learn to deepen my own creativity and explore the beauty that existed within.
Numerous paths to art entered my world, such as various forms of dance, writing, collage art, and even the way I chose to dress. With time, I even became a creativity coach to help bring this out in others. I embraced the phrase Frida Kahlo used as an anthem “I am my own muse.” I even got the word “muse” tattooed on my body, as a reminder that I can be my own muse.
And this past week, unknowingly I was one.
After eating lunch at a restaurant in Granada, a woman waved me over. I had noted she had a sketch pad earlier in the hour, but I didn’t think anything of it. She proceeded to show me the drawings she created of me, as I was talking with my friend. I snapped these two photos to capture the moment, and was honored.
She was a fellow tourist, from the UK, exploring Andalucia with her husband. For a moment, she chose to have an artist date, and offered to show me what she completed. We shared brief life bios, and went on about our days. It was a brief but heart warming exchange.
These sometimes serve as the most fascinating parts of travel, happenstance occurrences with strangers. We could impact each other through philosophical conversations, travel tip assistance, or physically helping another with their luggage. Energy is mutually exchanged. Who knows, you may even sometimes serve as another’s muse.
One thing I have appreciated about living in Europe is going to local markets, particularly when the crowds are quiet and the selections are abundant. Yet this week, I went on Saturday midday. On Saturdays, Atarazana market in Malaga is filled with of tourists and family members buying produce for the week. As usual, my favorite stall was full, but I quietly waited my turn in line. When my turn arose, an elder Spanish lady began saying she was before me “Soy proxima.” “I am next,” she said. But both stall workers and me knew this wasn’t the truth. I acted like I didn’t understand what she was saying. I didn’t want to get an attitude or did not have the energy to correct her in Spanish. She complained about me to the other people in line. She continued to complain to the stall owner, repeating his name and saying in Spanish how he is wrong and she was next.
There were many ways he could have reacted. He could have caved to her, as she was probably a more frequent customer than me. She had probably been buying him for years, versus months. He could have argued back with her, using anger against anger. Instead he chose an unthinkable action. He laughed it off, he showed he could win this argument with his jolly nature versus unkind words. He chose to smile instead of sneer.
As I left the scene of the crime, I realized I too had a choice in this moment. I could carry the hostility she threw my way. I could react with frustration at the next person I interacted with. I could ruminate on the frustration of being right, but the fact she still continued to complain about me. I could have exacerbated this issue and generalized how she acted towards me was how all Spanish people behaved. I could have allowed this moment to turn towards enlivening hatred at the experience of being a foreigner living in Spain.
But I chose to live in the way of that jolly food stall owner. I shrugged it off. I admit it wasn’t with enough levity as he did. But if he could let it go, so could I. We are often given examples of negative ways in how to act, negativity is contagious. But so is kindness. This is the reason I created this blog years ago. It only takes a smile, kindness can be just as contagious as negative vibes. I want to emphasize it’s important to witness and catch the moments we go against these tendencies, and shift towards the opportunity of reframe. Teachable opportunities are available for us, if we are willing to humble ourselves, reframe, and learn, even from the local market stall owner. Gracias
Sometimes trips just aren’t what you have planned. This was the case this past week. Without getting into the details, I was left stranded in a country which I didn’t speak the language, 40 minutes from the city center by train, with a heavy bicycle, on a date that went bad who wanted me to go cycling in the sand. It’s been 8 years since I bicycled, and he thought bicycling in the sand would be a good idea. He left our trip together, and I was stranded to fend for myself navigating back to Riga on these trains from the Soviet Times. I had to lift a bicycle up and down these massive steps with doors that were difficult to open. Luckily strangers helped me in this moment bring the bike in before the train doors closed. When the train worker came by so I could pay for my ticket, I said “Riga.” She said No! She didn’t speak English, and a passenger said in broken English. “Wrong way, how did you do this?” I didn’t know. It was a moment I wanted to break down and cry. I had to get off at the next stop, and do this all over again for the next train on the opposite track. I was stuck carrying this heavy bicycle in a land where I didn’t know the language and I physically had to have strangers help me. My date left me stranded, but I was so kind that in broken English people could help me. It was definitely a rom com go bad moment, where things must shift and get better.
I am so grateful in moments like this for humans that are willing to help. Although they didn’t know how much it meant to me at those times, when I felt alone and hurt, their physical presence in assisting me meant the world. I know I will pay it forward in the future, as the saying says “we are all just walking each other home.”
“Kindness is the golden chain by which society is bound together.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
It Only Takes A Smile 