Kindness of Strangers

What do dalmatians, cravats, Nikola Tesla, and Michael Buble have in common? All originate from Croatia! I learned this nifty fact from our new Croatian friends, Monica and Anton, whom we met purely by chance at our hostel a few nights ago. We were studying the schedule for the Portuguese train system, which requires an advanced degree in cartography to decipher, when they approached from behind. As it turned out, we were all planning on going to Sintra the next day. They asked us if we’d like to accompany them, and we enthusiastically accepted.

Staying in a hostel is a bit like the first day of school: everyone is eager to make new friends, and it’s not uncommon for people to strike up conversations out of the blue. We have met some really kind and interesting people during our week in Lisbon, which has been one of the most rewarding (and unexpected) benefits of staying at a hostel. We met a guy from Canada who will be in Istanbul at the same time as us, and we exchanged contact information in the hopes that we can connect, hang out, and help out one another while we’re there. It’s not every day that you pass someone in the hall and exclaim, “See you in Istanbul!,” and at home I’d rarely agree to spend the day with virtual strangers. Hostels embody the kindness of strangers approach.

Maikael and I walked to the train station, only a few hundred feet from our hostel, to meet Anton and Monica. When we arrived, Anton was calling across the train tracks to another man on the platform, asking him which side we should use to depart to Sintra. This is something Maikael and I hate doing, and it was such a relief to have help. We decided to tackle the ticketing machine en masse, and were able to figure it out in no time. We were soon standing on the platform, clutching our tickets and getting to know one another.

We spent the train ride talking about the differences between Croatia and the US, politics, sharing George Bush jokes, our families, speaking Portuguese, and where we had traveled. We talked little about work, which always seems to be the first topic of conversation in the States. We learned that they live on what sounds like a gorgeous island, where they have a family farm that produces delicious olive oil, seasoned by the salt air that whisks through the trees. They spend time at the beach most evenings, are surrounded by family, and seem to enjoy their lives tremendously.

Anton is in Lisbon for the month working on his dissertation project (he, too, is an engineer), so he had all sorts of great tips about maneuvering through Sintra. We bought a daily bus pass, which shuttled us between the three majors castles and palaces in town, something we never would have known about had we not met them. The town, which sits in the hills an hour outside of Lisbon, looks as if it was torn from the pages of a fairy tale. Turreted palaces with ornate gardens give way to crumbling stone castles set in Sherwood-like Forests.

Our first stop was at the Palacio Nacional de Sintra, where two huge, conical chimneys – looking a bit like something you might see dotting the landscape of a New Mexican pueblo — protrude from the grand building’s kitchen. Next, we wound our way through the twisting lanes, our bus just barely missing cars and pedestrians alike. We stopped at the Castelo dos Mouros, looking like something out of King Arthur. The crown jewel of Sintra is the Palacio Nacional da Pena, the final stop on the tour. Here, Eastern influences overlay a classic castle, thanks to the Moors’ presence in Portugal, making for a whimsical and magical building. English-style turrets stand proudly next to shapes that you might seen in Aladdin. Buttressed, Gothic ceilings are lined with brilliantly-colored, hand-painted tiles, some of the oldest in Portugal. Towers that look like Crayola chess pieces stand at attention. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

After touring the grounds, we made our way back towards the center of Sintra. Anton was able to recommend a restaurant that he had eaten at before, another relief. Trying to figure out places to eat is often one of the most stressful parts of the day, and not having to think about it for once was a gift. We snacked on hamburgers without the bun, along with French fries and salad, typical Portuguese sides, regardless of the meal. We laughed and talked about our mutual love of Frasier, the fact that the Sonics are leaving Seattle, the New York Times, Lisbon restaurant recommendations, and Borat. I can’t remember the last time I spent such a nice afternoon getting to know new people.

I love meeting new people from new places because it gives me a window to the world that I’ll never be able to get from a tour book. I love that they are such a worldly couple, who know many languages between them, but still seem to be grounded in a sense of place: Croatia is their home. I appreciate their open, fearless attitude as they travel through a place: I could use a little more of that on this trip, and certainly in my own life. And I’m glad they stuck their necks out to meet us, all in the spirit of the kindness of strangers.