An ode to strangers 

This story is about how I found my place in this world, or how I am actually still finding it. As you are reading this, you may think this story is about me. But actually, it isn’t for the most part. This story is about strangers. Strangers that have crossed my path while I left home for the first time, living in the English countryside for two weeks. Do you know how they say that we don’t meet people by accident, but that they have crossed our paths for a reason? Well, I believe that. Will I ever know the real reason why I crossed paths with these strangers? Maybe not. But in this story, I will share what I think they have taught me, and what I took back with me because of them when I finally returned to the Netherlands. 

My hostess in Crediton, which was the name of the small English village I travelled to, is the first stranger of this story. When I first arrived, I stepped out of the taxi in the centre of this tinnie tiny town, where she would pick me up. I was quite nervous, as I was going to stay at her house while I didn’t really know her. I remember she walked up to me and greeted me politely. I said hello with a big (but still slightly nervous) smile on my face, asking her this particular fantastic question: ‘’Can you hear that I am not British?’’ I remember her being silent for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter, trying to answer‘’yes’’ with a straight face. I was laughing too, as I only then realised what a weird question I had asked. They say that stupid questions don’t exist. Well, they do. And this question was the perfect example. Of course she could hear I was not British, as I had  lived in the Netherlands for my whole life, this being my first time abroad, alone, speaking English full time. Well, at least the tension was broken. We went to her cottage, which looked exactly like they do in the old English movies. When I entered the door, I got pleasantly surprised when she appeared to have a furry roommate: a black cat named Henry. For some reason, I knew that Henry and I would become best buddies for these two weeks. And we did. I also think that this gave me some kind of comfort, as I grew up with cats myself. It was something familiar I could recognize in an unfamiliar place, a memory from home. 

When my hostess showed me my room, the first thing that I noticed was a big, smiling doll. To answer the question that is probably in your head right now: yes. Yes, it was a doll like in the horror movies. Sitting right there, on the closet, looking straight at me. Did I regret all the horror movies that I had watched about dolls at this very moment? Maybe. However, I wasn’t going to be unthankful and make a fuss about this creepy doll. So what did I do? I smiled and thanked her for the lovely room that she had prepared for me. During the next few days, I spent a lot of time outside, loving every second of it. Every evening, while I walked back to the cottage, I really had the feeling that I was returning to my (temporary) home. Not just a cottage, but a home that my hostess had created for me. We even went to church together, where my hostess sang in a choir. She introduced me to her friends and left me with them while she was attending her choir practice. I think that meeting her friends deepened my experience even more, as I not only felt like she created a home for me, but also welcomed me into her social circle. For this reason, I maybe wasn’t even surprised anymore when my hostess left for a few days to visit her children – who were now grown-ups – and left me in charge of the cottage and the care of my now best buddy Henry. 

One day I walked into a second hand bookstore. I personally love reading, and in England many bookstores have this vintage Harry Potter look with an old paper smell that I am totally crazy about. When I entered the bookstore, the man behind the counter greeted me politely, totally unaware that he would become my second stranger. We started talking while I was digging through the books on the shelves. He told me that he was the owner of the shop, and that collecting books had always been his passion. We shared this passion, which immediately created a trust connection. I remember that I was thinking that, while we could have had so many different opinions or views on other subjects, it didn’t matter. We shared a love for books, and that was all we needed to spend hours together that one afternoon. 

When I left the bookstore and returned to the park to spend the rest of the afternoon outside, a man greeted me. This man became the third stranger of this story. I like to call him: ‘’the man under the tree’’. Do you know the feeling that sometimes, when you see people, you immediately wonder what their story is? What lives they have lived? And the thing is, most of the time, you will never know. However, this time I was lucky, as the greeting from this stranger turned into one of the most interesting conversations I have ever had, within seconds. I remember joining him under his tree, where I already saw him earlier that week. I remember he didn’t particularly do anything. He was just looking around, reading a little bit, probably travelling in his thoughts. When we talked, and he shared his story with me, I understood why he was doing that. He only needed to say one word to tell his story: Freedom. Freedom was the one thing in life he cared most about. Freedom gave him purpose, gave him energy. And I have to admit, I think I have never met somebody who had such a positive happy spirit, sitting under a tree, not bored at all, just being completely happy with the situation. I didn’t know his name, the job he had, the house that he owned. Even though it seems that I knew so little because we didn’t share all these things people often talk about, I actually knew so much about him, and I will never forget this man under the tree. 

I felt a little bit anxious about leaving home for the first time, and it was maybe even a little bit scary. However, these people created a home from me, a home away from home, and they probably didn’t even know it. I remember their kindness, their openness, and their trust. The encounters with these strangers influenced the choices I made, or didn’t make, later in life. For example, when I lived in Finland a year later, I remember seeing a girl in the bus, busy scrolling through her phone. As she looked confused, I asked her if she needed any help. She told me that she didn’t know at which bus stop she had to leave. I looked at her phone and said that me and my friends, heading for a day-trip at a National Park, had to leave exactly at this same bus stop. So I told her: ‘’If you stick with me, you will end up in the right place!’’ When we finally left the bus, I asked her if she maybe wanted to join our group for the day. This because she made me think about my time in England, the strangers I met there, and who I spent such precious times with. And, what do you think happened? I introduced her to my friends, we ended up in a canoe together, and we hiked in nature the whole day before we eventually returned home. 

The strangers from England meant something to me, and actually still mean something to me. And, in Finland, I felt that I could be this same person for somebody else. A stranger who did a small thing, a small kindness, that made somebody else feel welcome, feel at home.