For the Kindness of Strangers

Never talk to strangers, everyone always says. That's true when you're in the dark and alone, vulnerable and they're offering you candy from a broken shady van, and it is likely not advisable to run away with someone you met on the internet. Yesterday morning, when I finally figured out how to login to my computer after pouring a bowl of vegetable water onto it and killing the keyboard probably forever, I noticed another subscriber and new comment on my blog. As someone who checks the view count religiously, this was a momentous occasion. Even more exciting was that I'd just gained my first follower I hadn't guilted into reading these stories by friendship or familial ties, and the comment was on my newest post. You can read it here, to get an idea of my thought process and imagine my excitement and apprehension.

All read? Okay. So her blog seemed legitimate, a Belgian mother of two and distinctively not murderous.  Still, with my dad's recent advice to 'not do anything reckless' these last few days echoing in my head, I got in touch with a friend here, who eagerly agreed to come with me on this adventure, talked to Katleen on the phone and was assured she 'wasn't an axe murderer', and we decided to head out and see what happened. Since Bus Eireann is still on strike, we took the train and met her in Gort, from where I'd walked to Coole Park last week. I'd vaguely been thinking about doing the same to reach Thoor Ballylee, but after taking the nearly 10-minute drive down winding and confusing country roads, I was extraordinarily glad to have had the lift. Thoor Ballylee itself is somewhat less impressive than the many other large and commanding castles dotting the Irish countryside, but for me, having legendarized it mentally by it's remoteness but relative nearness to Galway city, finally reaching the tower I'd seen on so many Google Image searches was a thrill. I've become quite a fan of W.B. Yeats this semester, so reaching the tower and place that was such a source of inspiration for his poetry was nothing short of fantastic.

Still, as exciting as it was to reach Thoor Ballylee at long last, I think if I'd walked a full hour to get there and then had to turn around and do the same in the pouring rain, I might not have felt like it was worth it. The building itself was closed down due to damage by flooding two years ago, and despite hopes of finding a caretaker with a key to let us in, we were restricted to looking up at it, taking a few photos, and then wandering the grounds and worn footpaths near rivers and other crumbling old buildings. Even cooler than the architecture and surrounding land, though, was talking to our good Samaritan herself. She said her husband thought she was crazy to offer, but had been helped out by many others in the past during her travels across the US, and wanted to return the favor. Listening to her stories about travelling years ago, taking others up on their offer to 'come visit if you ever end up in the area' were heartening because it gave me hope of reconnecting with the strangers I've met on my travels who cease to become strangers and turn into friends.

There is such greatness in big sorts of random acts of kindness like offering transport to a complete stranger, but also in the little ones that are easier but often overlooked. On the train over, my friend lost her phone under the seat and couldn't find it- the woman sitting across from us suggested I use my own 'mobile to ring her', and when I was out of credit offered up her own for the short call. The phone was found, and she went back to her nap. When I returned home, I found a similar story as well as I listened to the tales of my two roommates who'd just returned from a weekend in Italy. They'd been taken to the town where one of their grandfathers had grown up, also by a stranger they had just met at a restaurant who happened to know where it was nearby. She'd planned to get as close as she could, but didn't expect to actually make it there, but through the kindness of strangers did make it at last. 

On the platform waiting for our train to leave, my travel companion and I talked about what sort of things we wanted to take back from this study abroad experience- not physical souvenirs (even though I really need to get those soon), but mental reminders or changes to make in our 'real' lives back home. I can think of several, but an important one right now is the necessity not to burn bridges, to remember that every person has a story and something to offer, and that by trusting and giving and learning from each other it'll make the rest of the journey that much better. I'm headed home soon, but I'm going to do my best to keep this sense of adventure running even as I look to explore other cities across the United States. A quote I kept thinking about last night, which now Google tells me is weirdly enough from the Simpsons version of the play my school just put on back home, the first I've missed since being at La Salle, is that a stranger is a friend you haven't met yet. I like to think that's true.