Writing for the love of the written word had taken on a new
meaning for me personally since I first sat down to write about my adventure
trek in Papua New Guinea last year. Your
encouragement has been amazing, hearing from many of you in comments or emails
especially when I’m late in publishing my weekly blog :-) yes, I know I
usually publish Friday nights!
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| A young TW captured waiting for a train at Myrdal - Norway - circa 1985 |
So I wish I could have been a better observer earlier in my
life particularly during my year backpacking around the world, but at 26 you’re
hardly able to look at much past the thing that’s directly in front of you, “if
I see another bloody church or museum….seriously”. I can’t tell you how many cathedrals,
churches, museums or historic sites I saw and experienced in my year away, but
after a while you become numb, as they’re so overwhelming in number and
similarity. Yeah sure they are stunning
but after the first twenty or so they begin to blend into the same mental
image.
What I do remember clearly are the serendipitous moments
over the course of that year and on one such occasion….
I was standing at a bus stop in Oslo, Norway; snow was
beginning to fall and night was fast approaching with the light turning to grey
(although it was only about 4:00 pm). I
was headed for a youth hostel after my train journey from Bergen in western
Norway and an afternoon of touring the Edvard Munch museum. I stood transfixed by the large, fat, wet
snowflakes that were falling and beginning to accumulate on my shoulders and
around my feet – this sure was different to Northern Australia!
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| This was about the size of the flag I had on my backpack |
In the fading light I noticed an older couple-shuffling arm
in arm toward me and as they got closer they were eyeing me with some
trepidation, remember I was a backpacker with a mullet so no wonder they were
perhaps a little apprehensive. On the
side of my backpack I had strategically placed an Australian flag a couple of
inches in size, which was a pretty normal practice and still a common practice
today. I’m not sure why they slowed
down as they approach me, perhaps because it was slippery or that perhaps they
didn’t feel safe and so I turned my back to them and tried to ignore them as
best as possible.
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| The view from the Youth Hostel overlooking the city of Bergen, west coast of Norway... are those snow clouds on the horizon? |
As I stood there I sensed that they had stopped about six
feet or so away from me and were quietly conversing in Norwegian. Perhaps they were waiting for the bus as
well. The gentleman asked me if I was
from Australia, I turned and replied that I was. With that they came closer and explained that
Gunnar’s brother had immigrated to Adelaide in 1953 and wanted to know if I
knew him... I explained that Australia
was a very large country and that I wasn’t from Adelaide so unfortunately I
didn’t know Hans and his family. They
smiled non-the-less and asked where I was going. I said that I was waiting for the bus to take
me to the youth hostel, at which they said that they lived close by and wanted
to know if I would have dinner with them.
My initial reaction was to politely refuse, but as a person
traveling alone this was clearly one of those decision points, one that you
trust your gut instinct and “go with the flow” so I said “that would be
wonderful – thank you”. They each took
an arm and we all shuffled along toward their warm and inviting home not too
far down the street. I’m not sure if it
was it because they were lonely or wanted to learn more about Australia but
Gunnar and Ingeborg were the most gracious and welcoming hosts someone could
imagine having in a foreign city. As Ingeborg
fussed over the dinner preparations I sat with Gunnar at the kitchen table, as
we talked they asked me questions of Australia and my family. After a delicious home cooked meal they got
out their family photo albums and they showed me snap shot after snap shot of
their families over the years, some even from Hans and his smiling family in
Adelaide.
As I stood to bid them goodnight and thank them for their
generosity they said that it was too late to be looking for the hostel and wanted
me to stay the night in their son’s old room.
What could I say but yes… We
talked late into the night, me telling stories of Australia and my days working
on a farm (yes, even some of the stories I've written about :-) and they telling
stories of their children, grandchildren and their lives in Norway. After a fitful sleep and a beautiful
breakfast they bid me farewell the next morning. It was a truly unexpected and rewarding experience, hopefully for us all.
No question that times have changed radically since the
1980’s, but is it our exposure to an ever shrinking world (thank you to the
internet) or are we just more cautious and less open and generous to doing
something like that today? Would I
invite someone who I didn’t know into my home like Gunnar and Ingeborg? I would like to think so, but when I reflect
on that experience and I see young backpackers at a bus stop or on the subway I
ask myself if I would be that brave.
Epilogue
This week I had some feedback on my blog from
last week, which made me understand the power of images and words in a way that
I could never have imagined (pardon my naivety) prior to beginning this journey
of discovery. I speak of the photo of
the World Trade Centers and the plane about to hit it, and although I
innocently put the photo in my blog to represent the dangers of airline travel. I now
realize that this photo brought back memories of personal loss for which I have
no level of understanding and comprehension; clearly I wasn’t aware that this
image was so devastating to many of my readers, I have replaced the specific
photo but please accept my humblest apologies….
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