Kindness of Strangers

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

There are a lot of English people staying at our hotel in Cirali. I’m ready for “God Save the Queen” to break out at any moment, and for afternoon tea to be served after a game of croquet on the beach. We have felt a little out of place, apparently the only Americans for miles. But yesterday afternoon, too lovely English ladies, Penny and Carol, sat themselves next to us in one of the shady, cushioned lounge areas that abuts the beach. They asked if we were on holiday from the US, and we explained that we were taking a break from our trip around the world. This, as it always does, led to a long conversation about where we were going, where we had been, and the places they had traveled to. When I mentioned our upcoming trip to Bhutan, Penny’s face lit up. “I met the Prince of Bhutan once!” (He had graduated in her daughter’s class at university.) I took this as a colossal sign that, not only are we on the right track with going to Bhutan, but we needed to join forces with these great women.

As it turned out, we were all planning on hiking to the Chimaera that evening, a sight straight out of Greek mythology, an hour’s walk from Cirali. The Greeks once thought that a monster – part lion, part goat, and part dragon, known as a chimaera — hidden deep in the earth was responsible for the flames. It still burns today, thousands of years later, a series of flames created not by a monster, but by gas seeping from cracks in the earth. This we had to see.

To say it is hot and humid here is a gross understatement. This air is so thick with humidity that you can literally see it, a hazy mist that never quite goes away. If you could wring out the air like a giant towel, a downpour would most certainly ensue. By the time we reached the entrance, our clothes were soaked through. We prepared to begin our final ascent up the hill, when a ticket booth loomed ahead of us. Maikael and I exchanged a shocked look: neither of us had brought money. By now we had told Penny and Carol about our debacle with the ATM, and figured they must be thinking, “What a bunch of morons. They go out of their way to get money, then leave it behind. How will they ever manage to make it around the world?!” Instead, they were exceedingly kind (“It”s a mistake anyone could make!”) and paid our admission fee.

When we made it to the top, we stopped to take a rest. Our faces were now cascading sweat, a virtual Niagara Falls. Carol produced a cloth (okay, it was a sock, but it was a clean sock) to wipe our faces. Then, she rooted around her bag, fishing out cucumber wipes to “freshen up a bit.” “It’s a bit like having your mothers along, isn’t it?” laughed Penny. I was never so grateful to have two women looking after me.

We meandered around the site, which was strewn with large blocks of stone carved with Greek lettering, a magnificent backdrop to the legend. My only frame of reference for such sites is Flaming Geyser Park in Auburn, Washington, where one, small flame emanates from a cylinder of concrete. As a child it was magical, but this was altogether different. Flames rose from the earth like an organic furnace, making their way over rocky rubble. As dusk turned to nightfall, the flames licked the thick, dark air. Were it not for the tourists with their bright headlamps, it would have been perfect.

Our foursome took a seat on a rocky perch, talking about children, work, travel, and life philosophies. We have begun to notice that we are constantly having intensely deep conversations with almost-strangers. Maybe it’s the fact that we’ll never see each other again. Or maybe it’s because, with all the humdrum details of our life removed, we have the time and space for these sorts of talks.

We made our way back down the hill, leaving Maikael behind to take a few photos. When he didn’t catch up to us, I grew a little worried. “Don’t worry,” Penny and Carol said, “we won’t leave without you.” He emerged from the night a few moments later, a pinpoint of blue light bobbing up and down. Our foursome hiked back to town, the night still exceedingly warm, where I repaid Penny and Carol for the admission fee. “Thanks for being our mums tonight,” I said.