Kindness of Strangers

I’m just going to come out and say it: there are a lot of punk teenagers in the US. I know, because I was one. I mastered the art of sulking from an early age, and there are few vacation photos of me taken between the ages of 12 and 17 in which I look happy, as if to say, “You can make me go on vacation, but you can’t make me smile.” I see a former version of myself in so many kids when I travel, arms crossed, a permanent scowl wiped across their faces as they dine with their parents. The only difference is now they have texting capabilities.

Portuguese youth – especially teenagers – tend to be kind and polite. Even ones who look like they might be trouble hold doors and throw a slight grin your way. We found ourselves hungry in Viana do Castelo’s train station, which left Maikael having to communicate with a Portuguese teenager to procure pastries. Maikael emerged 10 minutes later, reporting that the boy was nothing but kind and patient. I think Maikael expected him to roll his eyes, smirk, and and mumble when Maikael asked, in his halting Portuguese, “What this?”

Today we took the bus to Braga, an hour outside of Guimaraes, described in my Lonely Planet guide as “the Rome of Portugal.” It is, indeed, the ecclesiastical center of the country, and countless travelers have told us that, if we do nothing else, we must see Braga. We had nothing particular on the agenda for today except to see Se, the oldest cathedral in Portugal. Built in 1070, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

The cathedral sits, unsurprisingly, in the center of town. We first wandered through the main sanctuary, taking in the insanely ornate filigree adoring every surface of the space. Giant rose flower arrangements were being set up for a wedding. Our guidebook advised us to cough up the two Euros to tour the chapels and choir lofts. We were told to have a seat, and we figured that a tour group was assembling. Five minutes later, a gawky teenage boy approached us, dressed in T-shirt and jeans. “I give your tour today.” Not only was it the first time I had been given a personal tour of a historical site, it was the first time I’d been given a tour by someone under the age of 22.

Andre asked us where we were from, and couldn’t believe that we had come all the way from New Mexico – New Mexico! — to see Portugal. He is giving tours as his summer job, and has only met one other American couple, from California. “But New Mexico!” he said. “That is very arid, and there are many American Natives.” We were impressed with his knowledge, given the fact that most people – Americans included – think New Mexico is separate country altogether. He showed us a number of different areas of the church, guarded by a large, iron key that was cloaked in patina. He seemed passionate about history, sharing with us his thoughts on Rome and the pontiff’s role in Portugal. Whereas most kids his age are concerned with the latest cell phone or One Tree Hill episode, this young man was ruminating about the dawn of Portugal.

As we continued on the tour, Andre asked us all sorts of questions about our life in the US, the most pressing being, “When is the election?” Whereas most people we meet immediately launch into a diatribe about our current leadership, Andre had more finesse. “I don’t know how best to ask this question. Do you prefer McCain or Obama?” He seemed to understand more than most adults do in these social situations: assume nothing.

He shared that he is originally from Braga, but that his mother teaches school in Tras-os-Montes, one of the most rural regions of Portugal. “But Braga is my home,” he said. We finished the tour and went our separate ways. After touring the church a bit more we walked around the back and ran into Andre, leaning against the stone facade, a green sweatshirt slung over his shoulder. He asked us about our plans for the day, and when we said we had none, he said, “That’s good. It’s more free that way.” As we talked, the wedding party pulled up in a Mercedes festooned with tangerine ribbons. The girls emerged from the car, giggling, wearing matching taffeta gowns, their beige pill-box hats sitting askew on their heads. “This is not a normal wedding, I think,” said Andre. “They change white for orange.”

We shared with Andre that we are traveling around the world for eight months and gave him one of our business cards, which has a world map with our locations marked. Even from a vague map he was able to identify nearly every country we will be visiting. “A trip like this, it changes your personality,” he said. How can someone so young be so wise? He said that someday he, too, wanted to take a trip like this, and that he would come to New Mexico and find us, and that if we didn’t remember him he’d bring our card.

He had to meet up with his dad so they could go shopping, but not before providing us a spot-on lunch recommendation. Who was this 14-year-old, we wondered, who seemed to know more about the world than most adults?