Kindness of Strangers

Saturday, January 31, 2009

On our fourth night in Torres del Paine National Park, as we watched hunks of iceberg drift by our refugio from the cozy dining room, we unexpectedly found ourselves in conversation with Jeff and Erin, a 30-something couple from Washington DC traveling around the world. After six months on the road, they are the first Americans we’ve met who are embarking on the same type of adventure we are, and as you can imagine, we had a ton to talk about. We spent the entire evening swapping stories, tales of woe, and travel advice in equal measure, sharing a box of El Gato red wine over rib-sticking beef stroganof (not as bad as it sounds, I promise you). The next day we walked 19 kilometers together; trudging up hills had never been so much fun, as the hours flew by deep in conversation and laughter. We took in the jaw dropping vistas of Glacier Grey in complete solitude, clapping enthusiastically as a massive chunk of sapphire ice cracked from the glacier’s face and plummeted into the lake, its firecracker crash reverberating through the valley.

“We won the day!” exclaimed Erin. Seeing a puzzled look wash across my face, she explained that she and Jeff had come up with the idea during one particularly bad day. “Even on the worst days, you have to come up with at least one thing that saves the day. And once a day is won it can’t be lost.” This was the best philosophy I’d ever heard, not just for everyday life but particularly for traveling, where bad days usually seem to grow even worse. Employing Jeff and Erin’s logic, the day has to get better. “Winning the day” is a daily reminder and practice that we should delight in life’s small moments, something that sounds easy in theory but that I struggle with constantly. I find myself beleaguered by everything that’s going wrong, the good in a situation completely obscured by the negative. That night, we celebrated finishing the “W” over calafate sours, a delicious local drink that brings to mind a grape-tinged margarita, but in my mind I toasted to winning the day.

Yesterday we learned, purely by accident, that LAN Chile delayed our flight from Peru to Bolivia by nearly thirteen hours…and never bothered to tell us. Not only would we find ourselves camping out in Lima’s airport for a full day, but all of the plans we had made for Bolivia were contingent upon our timely arrival. After trying unsuccessfully to place a call to the airlines, we finally gave up; and after four hours of sleep and an early morning flight to Puerto Montt, we spent all morning in LAN Chile’s local office attempting to fix our ticket. The end result? Bolivia will be dropped from our itinerary altogether. Of course the change requires authorization, and it being Saturday, well, the saga will continue on Monday in another office.

“We have to win the day,” I said to Maikael, as we made our way towards the bus station to catch a four-hour ride to Chiloe. After settling ourselves in our seats, two young men, toting a small band of wooden instruments, bounded on the bus. They crowded the aisle, tentatively plucking a few strings, when the conductor gave them a pointed look that said, “Don’t play those things on here.” As soon as the bus roared to life, the door between driver and passengers safely sealed, the duo began playing a boisterous tune. One guy strummed his small guitar while the other whistled on a rustic flute, and soon they were singing in harmony. Normally these spontaneous performances annoy me, but they were really good. I found myself grinning stupidly, and when they offered their CD for 500 pesos – about 75 cents – I snatched up a copy, as did most of the bus. I studied the CD cover, a crude black and white photocopy, announcing the group as Hijos del Sol: Sons of the Sun. “My day’s been won,” I announced to Maikael.