The Kindness of Strangers

I have never been the type to offer up my room to a total and complete stranger, or show someone around my city and offer to take them out for a cup of coffee before I've even met them. Though I have never viewed myself as selfish or unkind, in the past I have tended only to extend my hospitality and friendship to those whose name I know or to faces with whom I'm familiar.

My dad's family centers very much around the idea that when one family member is in need, all other members do their best to help. In other words, what one brother, sister, father, or mother might experience, is experienced by the rest of the family. I myself have seen this unique kindness rendered in various situations--from watching my dad and uncle work to rebuild my grandparent's house after it was destroyed by Katrina, to the open "our home is your home" invitation my aunt and uncle have made available to me ever since I moved to California. Dad once told me that he wouldn't have ever achieved what he has today if it weren't for his family.

Coincidentally, my parents have raised me and my siblings very much the same way. I would do anything for any of them. They're family, and in my opinion, that's what families do.

Which brings me to my point. They're family. These are people I know and love dearly...I would never think twice about giving them a place to stay, or providing them with a home-cooked meal. I feel the same way about my closest friends--and even for the most part with just plain ol' friends. But never before have I ever even thought of extending this idea to encompass those I'm unable to even call mere acquaintances--to people who I flat out just don't know. I'll be honest: in the past, I could have cared less.

Enter Australia.

Over the past few months, I have been at the mercy of complete and total strangers. I wouldn't have survived here in Australia if it weren't for these people who seem to welcome pretty much everyone with very open arms.

When I first got here, I thought it was really odd. Why the hell would someone want random people staying in their spare bedrooms, on their couches, or eating with them every night for dinner. Not only is it an invasion of personal space...I don't know, it's just weird. Naturally, the extremely paranoid hypochondriac in me thought of all the terrifying reasons people might want to open up their homes to two twenty-two-year-old girls. Yeah, I know, there are a lot. But at the same time, again, I don't know what I would have done if Jules and her family, for example, hadn't taken me in at last minute (even Jules had never spoken to me before...that's pure blind faith right there). My time here could have likely been very lonely.

Yesterday I thanked Jane (Jules's mom) for the 2349823423947th time since getting to Sydney. To which she said: "It is our pleasure. Seriously. I can't tell you what Ed and I would have done if it weren't for the kindness of strangers while we were traveling at your age. Or what Jules would have done in Europe, for that matter."

I guess it's kind of a pay-it-forward thing. Once someone has showered such kindness on you, how can you not afford someone the same kind of favor later on in life? Since getting to Australia, I've discovered a whole new kind of community here, based solely on trust and friendship--one in which everyone is everyone's family, and consequently everyone is treated as such. Granted, I'm not going to be running any sort of homeless shelter in my basement when I get home(I'm still no Mother Teresa...not by a long shot). But I can tell you that I do have a much deeper empathy towards the life of a wandering traveler.

Alright, time to go find some friends with whom to sit cross-legged, join hands, and belt out a heartfelt rendition of "Kumbaya."