Sheilab

In Hawaii I was walking up that famous little mountain in waikiki that provides a spectacular view once you get to the top. Going through that little cave, tunnel whatever you want to call it I felt faint and this young frenchman stopped and gave me water and fruit, stood by me and kept encouraging me not to give up because he said the view was worth the effort. Also in Rome when I was turned around and just couldn't find my way to the Vatican a true gentleman played a game of charades with me. With my limited italian and his limited english he acted out directions for me and then walk me to the corner and pointed where I should begin.

Poppa

I have just gone over to the Slow Traveler Board (from which I withdrew recently) and found my Post which is entirely repetitious about the "Kindness of Italians."

But here goes:

"On our recent trip to the Veneto we were well and truly lost several times and, at one juncture, stranded.

When lost, people invariably walked us to our destination or, failing that, walked us to someone else who then found a way to walk us there.

One elderly lady in Vicenza fretted she could not walk us because she was standing on a corner waiting to be picked up by her daughter!

A man in Bassano jumped his his motorcycle and zoomed out 5 miles to get us situated in an outlying town we couldn't find. A lady with kids in Soave insisted we follow her car to the proper road. A big group of sightseers fed us wine and had us ride with their "historian" to the heights of a castle they were about to tour.

The lady minding the bar in a caffe took pity on us when we could find no taxi and dragooned a customer into giving us a lift in his car to our coutryside rental. Money? He was not interested.

This was our 6th trip (all to Venice previously). Try as I might I can not dredge up a sour face from all those journeys.

Oh, yes, I must Post soon on the Communists in Venice on May Day some years back.

BrimhamRocks

Back in '95 my husband and I went to Paris for the first time, with some friends of ours. The other husband had spent part of his childhood in Paris, and was acting as our tour guide. The plan was to meet up with some of his old friends, who still lived in Paris.

Driving from northern England to Dover, then taking the Chunnel, then driving to Paris... the whole time we were on the road, I was getting more and more sick with an awful sinus/ear thing. Major head pain, and I mean major. Everyone kept asking me if I really wanted to continue on, but dangit, it was my first trip to Paris, and I wasn't going to miss it!!

However, when we finally arrived in Paris and went to the apartment of his childhood friends, I was in absolute agony. The wife, who spoke only French, took one look at me as we entered her apartment and expressed real concern that I should see a doctor. Before we could even sit down and rest from our trip, she grabbed my hand, took me downstairs in the elevator, led me down the street a couple of blocks, and I followed her up 2 flights of stairs to an office. It was her doctor's office, and she spoke to him on my behalf, apparently telling him we had just arrived, that I spoke no French, and that I was in a lot of pain. They spoke for a few minutes, and then he agreed to see me.

The doctor spoke no English, and neither did our hostess, so the next thing that happened caught me off guard. Apparently, the doctor lived in the same building as his office. He held up one finger (indicating "I'll be back in just a minute, ok?&quot, left the office, and then about 10 minutes later, reappeared.

When the doctor came back, he had with him his 13-14 year old son? grandson? It was hard to tell, but anyway, the young boy spoke to me in English and explained that the doctor could only help me if he could talk to me, so the young boy was there to act as a translator. By this point, I didn't care WHO examined me, as long as they could make me feel better. I agreed to the boy being in the office, and the doctor smiled a broad smile at me.

The next thing the doctor asked the boy to translate was, "Could you please open your shirt so I can listen to your chest?" I unbuttoned my shirt in front of this kid, and the doctor listened to my chest, asking questions now and then, and then waiting for my answer while the boy translated everything.

In the end, the doc gave me some awesome meds, and within a few hours, I felt tons better.

Turns out that the discussion my hostess and the doctor had was about any costs that might arise. My hostess, who I had never met before that afternoon, paid for everything. Her generosity stunned me. I was so grateful for her assistance, and the rest of our visit was awesome!

ira

Now that is the kidness of strangers.

BrimhamRocks

Not Dover, I meant Folkestone, sorry.

MizzEve

I love to read all of these kindness of strangers stories

Here's my most recent travel related tale of strangers and kindness....

Last year I decided to go to South Beach for my birthday (Dec 28) and New Years. Traditionally, I spend those dates with my best girlfriend. She lives in Atlanta, me in Minneapolis. Because she will be visiting her family in Minnesota for Christmas, we decide that I will fly to So.Beach on my birthday and she will drive down from Atlanta the following day and we will spend New Years together has we have done for years.

The evening that she is supposed to arrive I go to Mangos. For those of you who have never been to So. Beach, Mangos is a wild latin bar on Ocean Drive. The bartenders and servers and scantily dressed and they take turns dancing on the bar to the rythms of a fantastic latin band.

I sit at the bar where I meet a bartender that knows my sister. The bartender made the most wonderful mojitos and cosmos.

I down these wonderful cocktails and watch the dancing and talk to people at the bar. Hours pass. I look at my watch and realize that it's midnight and I haven't heard from my friend. I go into the bathroom and call her on my cellphone. She tells me that she's not coming!!! B****! I am so upset and rather drunk that I go out to the street, sit down on a window ledge and cry. How could my friend, my "best friend do this to me?

I make the track back to the hotel (literally around the corner Hotel Lyon) and go to bed. I pissed off and extremely dissappointed. The run and vodka hasn't helped my attitude at all.

The next day, after consuming massive amounts of water and ibuprofen, I set out to see So. Beach. That evening, the hotel desk man suggests that I go to Delano's (Madonna's hotel), as it's a must see.

I arrive and find that Delano's is HUGE and only has one bar indoors. I stand near the bar and a young lady asks for a cigarette. I give it to her and she asks why I'm alone. I tell her what happened so she insists that I join her and her date at their table. I learn that she's on a blind date and her date doesn't speak english, she's obviously bi-lingual.

After awhile I wander outside and stop to watch a couple play a giant chess game. The couple asks if I want to play and then they ask why I'm alone. Once again I tell my sad tale. They insist that I join them. More of their friends arrive and they take us to a few more bars. They continue to recount my story as new people join our group. Everyone keeps buying my drinks, they feel so sorry for me.

Our evening ends in the wee hours of the morning at a diner. They also insist that I will spend New Years Eve with them. On New Years Eve, they take me to a small dinner party in a penthouse where we have a fantastic view of the fireworks and the partiers at the Delano and Raliegh. These are A-list people and decide to take me to the party at the Raliegh, which costs $250 to get into. The give me a wristband and I go with them. What an event! There were performers of all types all over the place. There was one woman dressed as a praying mantis on stilts! It was wonderful.

My new friends even insist that they will take me to the airport on the day of my departure. Their kindness turned what could have been a horrible vacation into a great vacation. I had a wonderful time in So. Beach. And, I had a great New Years. Plus, they taught me that I'm never really "alone" unless I want to be.

Those few days in So. Beach, meeting new people, making new friends, gave me the courage to plan my upcoming trip to Rome solo.

Btw, after learning that I was planning my trip to Rome, the same friend who stood me up in So. Beach demanded to join me. The gall. After telling her in no uncertain terms that I would not accept a repeat of the last stand up, she decided to go to Jamaica instead. Of course, it took her over one month to tell me of her change in plans. LOL. Big sigh of relief

chryso

My husband and I were honeymooning in Spain.
We'd taken a two-hour bus ride to the town of Carmona. I really wanted to see a Parodor there.
Well, we got totally lost. Lucky for us, the very friendly natives (we were treated so nicely on our entire trip!) helped us on our way. There was a festival going on in the small town that day. A bandstand was being set up in the center. Boys and girls wore numbers on their backs for a bike race through town. We walked aimlessly for a while, then realized we'd better get to the Parador because we had to take the bus back to Seville. We asked an elderly man the way to the Parador. He tried to direct us, but we got lost again. Then, we literally stumbled into a family's backyard. There, an abuela, and, I assume, her grandchildren were relaxing in their yard. We quickly excused ourselves and walked out, wandering down the road. All of a sudden, a little boy (he'd been in the yard with the abuela) appeared in front of us on his bycicle. He must have broken his arm because it was in a cast. He threw his free arm in the air, as if to say, "Where do you need to go?" We told him the name of the Parador and he smiled and nodded his head. He rode ahead of us and we walked behind him--for about half an hour--until we reached the Parador. He pointed to it. We wanted to repay him, but we didn't know what to do. My husband didn't know if it would be insulting to offer him money, but we figured, he's a child, maybe he'd like to buy some candy. He offered him a couple of dollars and the boy refused. We said the word for sweets in Spanish, but he still refused and smiled and went on his way. He must have only been about 7-years-old.

Rick

My kindness story kind of goes the other way. Late in the day I was sitting on a park bench facing a canal in Copenhagen just resting my feet and enjoying the view. An older couple walk by and stop. My feeling is that they were a little lost so I asked them if they needed any help, mind you being the expert after 3 days in the city. Turns out they had just arrived from the US and were trying to get oriented. We sat and talked for a few minutes about Copenhagen and then about ourselves. Turns out they were also from Seattle and then we find they live just several blocks from the business I own and walk by all the time. Now about one a month they stop in the shop for coffee and a visit. These are friends that I never would have had if I hadn't asked them if they needed help.

see_the_world

Well this story doesn't take place in Europe, but it happened in Newfoundland which is about as close to Europe as North America gets anyway. My first day in St. John's, I asked some directions of an elderly gentleman. When he found out I had just arrived from the States, he said he wanted to give me a "proper tour" of the area, and then spent the ENTIRE DAY driving me around the city of St. John's and some outlying rural areas to see cranberry bogs, beautiful ocean views, etc. and then took me home to dinner with his wife. He was in his 80's and had more energy than I did. (BTW, he was quite proud of the fact that his ancestors had left what became the US at the time of the Revolutionary War because they were loyal to the King - I think in his view it was only the riff-raff who had rebelled and he was glad his progenitors had had more class). I still think of him fondly.

I have another story, this time from New Zealand (OK, it's nowhere NEAR Europe)- my boyfriend and I had just landed in Auckland and got a taxi to take us to our B&B. When the taxi driver found out it was our first time in NZ, he said, if we had the time, he'd like to give us a tour of the city. Not quite sure if we were being hustled (or worse), we hesitantly said OK, whereupon he turned off his meter and gave us a two-hour driving tour of Auckland and surrounding areas, complete with hilarious and very colorful narration (including a stop at a cricket game with a vain attempt to get me to understand the rules), then delivered us to the B&B and wouldn't take ANY money at all - not even for the fare from the airport to the B&B. How that wonderful man stayed in business I'll never know.

If you'll bear with me, I have another story, at least it IS from Europe this time. A long time ago, when I was a very naive freshman in college, I was on a brief trip to France and found myself in need of well, uh, feminine products. I spoke some French but I had no idea what these items were called and looked in vain for some recognizable box in a French pharmacy (where I thought they would be sold). In desperation, as my face turned redder and redder by the minute, I tried various US brand names on the (male) pharmacist who was trying to be helpful but seemed to have not a clue what I was talking about (unless he was a sadist who was really just enjoying stringing me along). When he pushed some paper at me, gesturing for me to draw what I wanted, the embarrassment became just too much, and I just bolted out of the place. A woman who had come in just at the end of the conversation, who spoke very little English but seemed to have figured out what I needed, followed me out of the pharmacy, gestured for me to follow her, led me down the street a couple of blocks into a big department store, and took me to the lingerie department (!) where I found what I needed (who knew THAT'S where these items were sold??). Anyway I was totally grateful for her kindness.

P.S. Thanks for the idea for this thread - it really is a spirit-lifter...

Calamari

The first time my husband and I took our two babies to Italy we took a lot of gear with us. We were staying at the mother-in-laws house in FLorence. My husband went to Venice on business and a couple of days later called me in FLorence to see if I felt like meeting up with him there. I was going stir crazy with the two babies in a non-childproof environment and lept at the opportunity. That night I hopped onto a train to Venice with a back pack, a three month old in a baby front pack carrier, a two year old by the hand and a heavey duffle bag. When we finally got to Venice at around 11:00 PM it was raining. A very friendly Austrailian woman helped me off of the train with my children and our bags. I could not have done it without her. She disappeared immediately afterwards. The next morning in our hotel, I went down stairs for a coffee. There seated was this kind woman from the train. I bought her breakfast and we enjoyed a long chat.

KathrynT

It was my family's first trip to Europe and my brother (age 7) became separated from us during the middle of a chaotic Communist parade we had stumbled upon in Rome. We had gone a few blocks before realizing he was missing, and ran back frantically to find him. When we returned, he was surrounded by a group of British women and an Italian policeman. The women told us the policeman (who was very tall and of good size) had been telling my worried brother (in Italian) "pretend I am your momma, you are in my arms and you are OK". We were so grateful but chuckle to this day when we think of "momma".

sfowler

Was looking for info on Orkney -- and ran into this very *toppable* thread

LaurenSKahn

In August 2001 my daughter and I ate at the Pre Catalan, a restaurant located in the Bois de Boulogne on the exterior of Paris.

Now, we made this reservation because I was going to treat this elderly couple with whom my daughter had stayed several times in Paris. At the last minute they could not come but daughter and I decided to stay anyway.

I should point out that I almost never go to this sort of restaurant at my own expense. I just have a difficult time trying to justify spending about as much for a meal as I would spend on airfare. Once we were there, however, there was no reason to leave.

Well, we had one of the most memorable meals I have ever eaten. During the meal an elderly gentleman and a much younger woman (she turned out to be his caretaker/secretary) sat down at an adjacent table. We began to chat with them. The old guy told us these stories about being with DeGaulle in The Resistance, etc., etc.

When I asked for the check, there was none. He had paid it.

When I returned to the US, I sent our benefactor a box of gourmet food products from the US. Just after he received it, he passed on.

If this had not actually happened to me, I would have had a hard time believing that it could.

weber6560

Arriving in Santiago de Compostela, I discovered I had lost my prescription medications. I went to the hospital emergency room to see what could be done but because medications travel under different names in different countries [who know what Zocor means in namibia?]. However, because it was Sunday evening, the doctor was only able to relay the name question to the pharmeceutical rep at his home. the next morning at about 10 am the rep arrived at my hotel with the answer and a supply sufficient to meet my needs during the trip! On arriving home I wrote letteres to his mgr, the home office, etc. I surely hope he got some recognition for his care.

eurotravler

ttt

shellio

Thanks for topping this thread. Gardyloo's tale is wonderful and should remain in the first 50 forever!

Many years ago when we were young and hadn't yet learned each other's strengths and weaknesses, my husband and I stayed in a hotel in Rome that was located in a no parking zone. On checking out, I stayed with the bags while he went to get our car from where we had parked it, about 5 minutes distance on foot.

Twenty minutes later I began to worry. Half an hour later I began to panic. Forty minutes later he drove up with a big smile. When I stopped shrieking at him he told me that he had been caught in a system of one-way streets, driving the same circle over and over without being able to get back to our little piazza.

After he had passed the same policeman several times, the cop pulled him over, asked where he was going, and gave him specific directions, but no luck. My husband found himself back around in front of the policeman once more, looking even more desparate and confused, sure he would never see me, or more importantly perhaps, his passport and money, again.

Shaking his head sadly, the cop climbed into the passenger seat of the car, motioned that my husband was to start driving, and talked him through every twist and turn. It wasn't very far, but apparently they managed to have a bonding experience during a pidgin English-Italian conversation about wives, bambini, etc.

It wasn't until the last left turn that my guy figured out why he'd had so much trouble following the directions. "Sinistra, sinistra," the policeman insisted, while my husband hesitated. He wanted him to turn left going the wrong way onto a one-way street! Of course! Any Roman driver would have done it in a flash...stupid Americans!

So that's my kindness of strangers story. Without that policeman some folksinger would be singing a song about the guy driving his Fiat around Rome: "did he ever return? No he never returned..."

Oh, and about learning each other's strengths and weaknesses? Husband isn't allowed to read maps or navigate anywhere ever again. I don't try to balance the checking account.

Sally

ttt

JimF

ttt

Because this is such a classic post...

FromAtlanta

I went to Europe in March-April of 2003 because I wanted to experience a particular religious "holiday" (not Easter) in another country. I decided to attend religious services in Brussels. (because I wrote ahead of time and found where there was an English congregation) I had just come over from Brugge and didn't have a place to stay for the night. I had reservations at a hostel, but it would have been to late to get there by the time services were over. I happened to mention this to someone there ... and long story short, he and his wife put me up in their house. But it was more than a house. It was like a palace! (It was HUGE!) They were so nice to me and right away made me feel like a part of their family! They put me in a very big and cofortable room that had a stocked mini-fridge and told me to help myself. The next day, after a huge breakfast, they drove me to the train station so I could get back to London. It was a totally wonderful experience. (The BEST B&B I ever stayed in. LOL!!)

WillTravel

I was in London somewhere in the City and I was waiting for the #11 bus, which has a route on which you can see many well-known sights. An elderly gentleman nearby saw me and started talking to me about the various buildings around. When the bus came, we both went to the top level of the bus and he sat beside me and pointed out building after building with an account of what had happened (since the 1600s or so). It was the Battle of Britain Sunday and as we passed Westminster Abbey he pointed out that there had been a special service that day and that Margaret Thatcher had attended it. An Asian girl boarded the bus and he spoke a few words to her (probably in Chinese, but I'm not sure). He then said he had been in MI6 during WWII and had done a lot of language work. So we came to the end of the route and I said my goodbyes. He was 81 and he was planning a trip to Ibiza in a couple days. He was very sprightly and didn't really look any older than 70.

I've wondered about this from time to time ever since. I now have a slight suspicion that maybe this man frequently waited at this bus stop and started conversations with tourists, just so he could have the pleasure of showing them around a bit. Who knows? But anyone who met him would be fortunate indeed.

Several times during this trip when I was walking around London, peering intently at my Lonely Planet maps, a middle-aged gentleman would come up to me and offer assistance since I obviously seemed to need it. I was always clearly directed to the building or tube station I was looking for. By the end of this trip, I was thoroughly impressed with the helpfulness and friendliness of Londoners.