Kindness of Strangers

Friday, October 17, 2008

I was sitting in the Perth airport, having just spent two hours sleeping in the fetal position on a row of a leatherette chairs. The drool at the corners of my mouth had barely formed a crust when a woman in an Indiana Jones-esque hat appeared in front of me.

“Good morning!”, she said. “Have you just arrived? Do you know where you’re going?”

My internal radar immediately began blinking. “Oh god,” I thought, “here we go.”

I smiled. “No, I’m fine. I’m just waiting for my husband. He’s getting something to eat upstairs.” A bald-faced lie, but self-preservation was the key.

“Do you know how you’re getting from the airport to your next destination?”

I suddenly noticed a stack of leaflets in her hand. She was clearly from a transportation company and was going to try to sell me a seat on her Day Tours of Perth bus. Some things never change, I thought.

“No, we’re good. We’ve hired a car. We’re not even staying in Perth. We’re picking the car up in Bayswater, actually, and then we’re driving down south. To Margaret River. So, yeah, we’re all set.”

“Brilliant. It’s just that sometimes people arrive at the airport and they don’t know where they’re heading or how to get there, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It was then that I noticed the pin on her shirt, identifying her as a representative of the Western Australia Tourism Board. She hadn’t been trying to sell me anything; she was genuinely trying to help. I have grown so accustomed to vendors approaching me that I’m immediately suspicious of anyone who appears innocent and concerned for my well-being.

“Welcome to Australia – and to Perth! Have a wonderful visit!”

After traveling through the developing world for the past three months, stepping foot in Australia is as close to being home as I’ve felt since we left Albuquerque. Had I arrived in Australia direct from the States I’d be focusing on the all the differences between the two places. For example, Australians can drink just about anyone in the world under the table. When we disembarked the plane at 4:30 in the morning, a great mob of people practically ran from the plane to the duty-free store, where bottles of alcohol began flying from the shelves. When I went to buy a muffin at a cafe in the airport, a sign with an itemized list of 15 rules related to alcohol consumption and regulations regarding serving intoxicated guests greeted me. But all I could think was, “Man, I’m glad I can read that sign!”

Sociologists say there are more within-group than between-group differences, and after traveling through the developing world for the past three months, I am focused on the similarities between the US and Australia. Bathrooms have toilet paper, and I do not have to squat over a hole in the ground. I no longer have to clamp my mouth shut when I take a shower. I can have complete conversations with people. When I order a chicken sandwich in a restaurant, I know exactly what I’m going to get. I couldn’t help but marvel how orderly the flow of traffic was as we drove from the airport to Fremantle. I got excited when we climbed into a taxi cab and the meter automatically flicked on. The safety procedures on the airplane were the most extensive I’ve even encountered, explaining not only what I needed to do, but why I needed to do it. I guess you could say I’m experiencing a minor dose of reverse culture shock as I make my way back into the Western world for the next two months.