Map Reading in Rome
Everyday I am amazed at the kindness of total strangers in helping me along my way. In Bern, a father and teenage daughter spot me reading directions and walking around aimlessly with my pack on my back. They approach me in English, walk me half way to my destination and wish me safe travels.
A women from Norway seeks me out after sitting next to me on a canal tour in Copenhagen to bear hug me and tell me, “May God bless you and your travels.” As I pace nervously outside a hotel (not my own) at 4:45 am in Reykjavik, Iceland, the hotel manager comes to check on me and informs me that the shuttle has already left. She calls a cab for me, tells me not to worry and makes me coffee with biscuits as I wait.
As me and three men are examining a map in Munich attempting to find a good local watering hole, a women stops us to ask us what we are looking for. When we tell her a local bar, she tells us the name of where she’s come from and that she’s pretty “sauced”, so we will have a good time there.
As I said in my Iceland post, pulling out and staring at a map is a universal sign to either mug me or help me find my way. Repeatedly Europeans have graciously offered a stranger help in finding her way, purchasing tickets and making sure she gets off on the right train stop. In America, we frequently hear of Southern hospitality, but European hospitality would give Southerners a run for their money.
Yes, I had my wallet stolen in Florence. Yes, some man decided to whip it out of his pants to flash me in Rome. But you can’t let a couple of bad moments color the daily acts of kindness I’ve seen from Europeans.
It has me contemplating my own kindness towards others. When people are on street corners looking at maps, literally or figuratively, am I extending basic kindness that can be so meaningful?
