Talking to Strangers Makes me Happy
It isn't often that something I decide to do following a simple suggestion, is promptly backed up by published research findings.
On a recent cruise to Alaska with my daughter, she told me her on board photography instruction suggested that when traveling instead of taking only or mostly scenery pictures, one make an effort to meet the locals, take photos of them, or selfies together. That will become the joy of the trip, something around which you can build a narrative as you browse your (probably too many) photos upon returning home. And so I did.
On a recent two week trip to Logan, Utah for a Summer Citizens program, I had lots of time to myself. My travel companion was negatively impacted by the high altitude and stayed in much of the time. I got out walking 5-7 miles nearly daily. Not only did I get to know the town very well, I met people. Most memorable, a student beginning his freshman year, a recent graduate of an Historically Black College in Utah to see his friend perform on stage for the first time, the owner of a small Chicago Dawgs eatery in Wikiup, Arizona. And I met Wendy, a senior seasonal Park Ranger who goes from park to park and was working a tour in Golden Spike National Park--the site where the Central and Pacific Railroads met joining the country by rail from East Coast to West Coast.
I mustn't forget my meet up with Kathy, the assistant curator of the Bringham City Art Museum where I had traveled for a quilt show. We spent two hours viewing the collection and talking about quilts. Quilts are so different, so much more varied than the sandwiched fabric we like to hang on our walks, put across our laps, or throw on our beds. What to call them? Fiber Art?
And then one morning, after I had been to the Saturday Farmer's market where I bought and began to consume the most delicious sweet cranberry bread, I met Carol who was sitting on her porch binding a quilt. I introduced myself as, Hi, I'm Adrienne, and I'm a hoarder. She didn't miss a beat as she is also a fabric hoarder, quilter, charitable sewer, and adventurer. What a delightful hour we spent. When she invited me on Monday to her sewing group, I said YES. And then on Wednesday we met again for Utah Pioneer Days breakfast followed by a trip out of town to meet another friend--a hoarder of a different kind- who kept goats.
In all of these encounters I found similarities, many more similarities than differences, in spit of our different sex, finances, station, ages, political ideas. Not all the brains exist on the East and West Coasts. There's a world of people who choose to live outside of our major cities. There's beautiful country in between the noise and the hubbub we tend to surround ourselves with.
This trip confirmed my desire to make another, alone is just fine because alone is not about being lonely.
On a recent cruise to Alaska with my daughter, she told me her on board photography instruction suggested that when traveling instead of taking only or mostly scenery pictures, one make an effort to meet the locals, take photos of them, or selfies together. That will become the joy of the trip, something around which you can build a narrative as you browse your (probably too many) photos upon returning home. And so I did.
On a recent two week trip to Logan, Utah for a Summer Citizens program, I had lots of time to myself. My travel companion was negatively impacted by the high altitude and stayed in much of the time. I got out walking 5-7 miles nearly daily. Not only did I get to know the town very well, I met people. Most memorable, a student beginning his freshman year, a recent graduate of an Historically Black College in Utah to see his friend perform on stage for the first time, the owner of a small Chicago Dawgs eatery in Wikiup, Arizona. And I met Wendy, a senior seasonal Park Ranger who goes from park to park and was working a tour in Golden Spike National Park--the site where the Central and Pacific Railroads met joining the country by rail from East Coast to West Coast.
I mustn't forget my meet up with Kathy, the assistant curator of the Bringham City Art Museum where I had traveled for a quilt show. We spent two hours viewing the collection and talking about quilts. Quilts are so different, so much more varied than the sandwiched fabric we like to hang on our walks, put across our laps, or throw on our beds. What to call them? Fiber Art?
And then one morning, after I had been to the Saturday Farmer's market where I bought and began to consume the most delicious sweet cranberry bread, I met Carol who was sitting on her porch binding a quilt. I introduced myself as, Hi, I'm Adrienne, and I'm a hoarder. She didn't miss a beat as she is also a fabric hoarder, quilter, charitable sewer, and adventurer. What a delightful hour we spent. When she invited me on Monday to her sewing group, I said YES. And then on Wednesday we met again for Utah Pioneer Days breakfast followed by a trip out of town to meet another friend--a hoarder of a different kind- who kept goats.
In all of these encounters I found similarities, many more similarities than differences, in spit of our different sex, finances, station, ages, political ideas. Not all the brains exist on the East and West Coasts. There's a world of people who choose to live outside of our major cities. There's beautiful country in between the noise and the hubbub we tend to surround ourselves with.
This trip confirmed my desire to make another, alone is just fine because alone is not about being lonely.
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