Where in the World: to the Traveling Friends
Inspiration: a variant on the same nostalgia. When I was in Australia, I toured the Melbourne Cricket Grounds and pretended I knew a little bit about the sports they play there. I wouldn't have gone on my own, but B described the MCG as "the Fenway of the Southern Hemisphere," we found it and took the tour. The tour guide was very good, a member of the cricket club, but he assumed that we knew about cricket and Aussie rules football because we were interested in seeing the arena, which wasn't true at all. My knowledge of cricket mostly came from Bill Bryson's "In a Sunburned Country," in which he talks about how little sense there is in the game, and incorporates things like unicorns into his descriptions.
Our group was small, and I asked a couple little questions which the guide clearly found juvenile, but especially because I was the only woman on our tour I didn't want to be *
that* girl, I mostly walked around perplexed. When the guide was showing us a practice area that resembled a batting cage but talking about rotating bowlers and wickets I whispered to another visitor, "What does that mean?" and he replied in an Irish accent, "I have no idea. I'm here for the football." Hooray! B and I weren't the only ones who didn't know a thing! Newly empowered by my touring peer's lack of knowledge, I asked a few more questions, and laughed more openly at my ignorance.
The fun part of this anecdote is the original point of today's post; the Irish man, C, chatted with B and me through the rest of the tour, and then we all went for a coffee afterward. He was in Melbourne visiting his sister, and playing in international Gaelic-rules football tournaments, and was glad for the company; my brother and I were glad for variety in our conversation. After that little encounter, we started emailing, and C has now been a reliable pen-pal for two years.
It's the friends like him who I'd like to visit today, the people you meet who are just fun to hang out with, and with whom it would be nice to just have a bit more time. There's the Australian woman who we met on the plane to Singapore, and then had dinner with in London, the Kiwi family who hosted us for a night in Christchurch, the owners of the hostel in the Aran Islands who practiced genuine hosptiality and occasionally traded beds for work, my friend's sister who made the Sydney suburbs exciting. There's a whole subculture of travel where people say, "You know so-and so? Well then of course you can sleep on my couch for a few days! What would you like for dinner?" There are now the couch surfing sites etc., but I'm not sure I'm that open to complete strangers. It's the people I've met on the way who I'd like to see again, whose company is today's dream destination for me.