My journey started at Dublin Airport with me crying into my sleeve. My flight to my sister’s wedding in Japan had been cancelled. It was fine. Not a big deal. A cancelled flight was just a minor setback. Easily overcome, right? In a lifetime filled with setbacks, what’s one more?
I’ve always been a glass-half-empty kind of person. My brain just works that way. The worry, panic, and negative thoughts break through every time, usually followed by tears. I can’t seem to stop them. To my immense annoyance, I am an angry crier.
So, standing in front of that ticket desk, I wasn’t sad; I was frustrated. Most of the wedding party was already in the Land of the Rising Sun, enjoying a two-week lead-up to the nuptials, but not me.
There were no other flights that day to Dubai, Istanbul, or even Abu Dhabi because of the war. Nessa, bless her, found a route that would get me there later than expected, but it would get me there. I’d fly from Dublin to Paris, then to Venice, then to Shanghai, and finally to Osaka. Sure, it was her job to help me, but she went above and beyond. She even gave me her personal number and made me promise to tell her when I arrived safely.
In Paris, I had to run for my connecting flight, but I struggled to haul my massive bag at the same time. Pierre, the sweetheart, saw me panting and puffing and offered to help. My natural suspicion had me imagining him running off with my bag, shouting to security that there was a bomb, or using the bag as a cudgel to knock me to the ground. Instead, he ran beside me, and we made it to the gate just in time.
I had some time to explore Venice, so I stored my stuff and did the usual touristy thing: I got on a gondola. Of course, me being me, I fell into the Grand Canal. Thank God for waterproof rucksacks, that’s all I can say. Alessio, my gondolier, jumped straight in after me. He hauled me back onto dry land, laughing and spluttering. He even invited me back to his place so that I could dry off. Was he a serial killer? Maybe. Was he going to try it on with me? Who knew? But was I going to get on my next flight sopping wet? Absolutely not. Alessio was a perfect gentleman and got me to my next flight all cosy, dry and unmolested.
My longest layover was in Shanghai. I had to sleep over, and because I’d been barely coherent when Nessa sorted my flights, I didn’t even think to figure out accommodation. So, I was all prepared to bunk down on the airport floor when Jia Li, a woman I’d been chatting to, offered me her spare bed. She even made me promise to call the next time I was in Shanghai and said she’d gladly put me up again. I offered her money, of course, but she refused, saying she was a Confucian who believed in ren. I had never heard of the term, but she explained that ren meant treating other people with humanity, and that doing so made her happy.
When I finally touched down in Osaka, I just had to take a moment to myself. The kindness of the people I had met on my journey had caught me completely off guard.
As I wandered through Osaka towards the wedding venue, I still expected the worst, but tried to find the best. Thinking of Pierre, I helped a fellow traveller with their bag, despite finding at least twenty reasons to keep walking. And at the venue, I offered to swap rooms with the best man. His stag-do antics had him hobbling around the hotel on crutches. My brain had plenty to say about that, but Jia Li’s words had me offering, anyway.
Nessa, Pierre, Alessio and Jia Li had helped me for no other reason than I needed it and they could. It was nice to pass on that kindness, expecting nothing in return. It made me happy.
I think Jia Li was right.
Amanda Durkan
