The Stranger Who Walked You There

It is easy to hear stories like these as proof that a place is kind.

By Neil Solomon · 2 min read

Picture a couple named Alice and George. They are lost on a back road, looking for a village that is not on the map they have. A cyclist stops, points, says something they do not follow, and then rides ahead of them for a long way, turning round every so often to make sure they are still behind.

At the village he waves and is gone. Alice says, "We never got his name." George says, "We never will."

I find these small moments are what many people keep. They do not remember the paperwork. They remember the cyclist.

What people describe

Hungary. A retiree describes the cyclist. He led the way for five kilometers and asked for nothing.

Romania. A traveler writes that he had never seen such willingness to befriend a stranger. He sounds surprised and glad.

Kosovo. "The people are incredible," says a visitor. It is short, and it is enough.

Albania. A woman was warned off by others, then stayed longer. What she found changed her mind. She came to trust the place.

Italy. A refuse collector becomes a social lifeline. He is a person who greets her every morning, and it matters more than she expected.

France. Two moments, both from an older woman. In one she feels like the invisible older woman, then is seen, and is touched. In the other, she notices a widow weeping at the next table and feels tenderness toward her.

How I read this

It is easy to hear stories like these as proof that a place is kind. I read them a little differently. People are kind in many places, and what these accounts share is a writer who was open to it.

The woman in Albania had been warned off. She went anyway, a little carefully, and found people she trusted. The refuse collector in Italy was there every day, but only someone who looked up would see him. In France, the older woman notices a stranger's grief because she is paying attention.

Retirement can give you something working life did not: time to look up. We can walk slower, hear the question, accept the offer of a lift. I think that is part of why so many describe a stranger as the highlight of a trip.

It also goes both ways. The widow at the next table was seen, too.

Here is how Alice might tell it.

"Why did he do that?" Alice asks.

"I think he just did."

"I would like to be like that."

"You could start with the next lost person we meet."