“This is a great story”

It is hard to believe four weeks have already passed.

I set out in my first blog to answer whether strangers I meet on the street would be more welcoming, helpful and kind than media would have us believe, and whether it was possible to voyage across great distances and time without spending a fortune. So far the answer to both questions is a resounding YES, but I will focus this post on the former.

I am really excited to report that I am deeply moved and humbled by how open, thoughtful, and hospitable every single person I have talked to has been. For example, a chat with a friendly man named Steve outside a bakery in Creemore, ON, has led to a series of invitations, recommendations, dinners, camp spots, beds, and so much more that continues still, two weeks later.

I feel like I am experiencing the travel version of crowdsurfing, an analogy I first heard here. I have stretched out my arms, letting myself fall through the air without any real certainty of what will happen. Miraculously, people keep lifting up their arms, supporting me, and enthusiastically passing me along to friends, family and neighbours. Hoisted above all their encouraging faces, humanity is looking way better than my cautious optimism would have allowed.

How does all this remarkable hospitality come about? Well, a lot of my interactions have gone something like this:

“Hi there, I’m Steph, and I’m travelling across country on my bike. I am wondering if you might know a place where I could put a tent up for the night?”

“A tent? For tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Just you?”

“Yep.”

“Well, we have a back yard, would that work for you?”

“A backyard would be great!”

“JUDY, Steph is going to join us for dinner! We’re having hot dogs, do you eat hot dogs? You can put your bike over here, oh, and do you want to hop in the lake for swim, I’ll get you a towel. You must be thirsty, what can I get you? Cold beer, water, ice tea?”

When I thank people for all their generosity, I am often told “well, this is a great story! I can’t wait to tell my colleagues/friends/daughter/son about you!” which is funny thing for me to think about. All these folks are really the heroes to my story. They are the magic. But in any case, people have shown such genuine interest and eagerness to help me along my journey. Perfect strangers offer multiple night stays, meals, beds, and their total trust, giving me house and alarm codes and free roam.

Many specifically ask how they can follow me, whether I’ll keep them updated on my whereabouts and ask for me to reach out so they know I am safe. I am sure some of this is related to being a woman travelling alone, but the genuine care and concern is heart warming. I have known this level of hospitality in other countries, but this is the first time I have experienced it in my own back yard with such regularity. I guess, in a way, it is also the first time I have regularly asked for help from strangers. So far, this has reinforced in me two important truths:

1. Talking to strangers is a good thing.

   
   

   And, as Amanda Palmer says,

2. “when we really see each other, we want to help eachother,” but you have to ask.

These truths sound so dull and obvious on the surface but I am guilty of keeping to my crew, frequenting the same spaces, and rubbing shoulders with my ideological mirror image. I also, like many, struggle with being vulnerable, and appearing needy or weak. I need constant reminders to get out of my comfort zone, reach out, and engage honestly with others. And lately that means asking for a patch of grass to sleep on.

Seeing self evident truths with new eyes is exactly why I love travelling so much. Travel forces me to show up in the world differently than I normally would, and unsurprisingly, the world in turn responds to me differently.

I guess it is always good to be reminded that we might all be just one behaviour away from a great story.