Relying On the Kindness of Strangers

Guilt-ridden women often join a group of fellow sufferers, even welcome the occasional similarly afflicted man. With a common focus, those assembled patiently listen as an expert suggests ways to curtail a weighty trait. Attending just such a presentation, I left with copious notes and renewed zeal to travel light. Regrettably, I continue endangering body parts and crowding hotel rooms with ponderous suitcases. My decades of excessive packing form part of our family history.

It's not the suitcases that shoulder the blame and cause the most distress. It's really hauling them from place to place. What a pleasure to relinquish said suitcases at an airline counter and be reunited (hopefully) at one's destination. However, a trip which includes multiple train segments offers fresh challenges.

Europe is replete with train tracks and schedules that can accommodate almost everyone. Tickets are reasonable, seating is comfortable, service is generally very pleasant. As miles roll by, passengers enjoy views very different from those seen when driving along a highway. On board there are people to meet, meals to order and enjoy, photos to create and time to write in a journal. Some trains offer WiFi, thus allowing traveling and technology to co-mingle agreeably.

Recently Henry and I spent a day going from Prague to Salzburg. During that five hour journey, we changed trains in Linz. With a tight connection and three suitcases, plus a camera bag, my commodious cotton carry-all and a regular sized purse, we fervently hoped that the station would have either an escalator or an elevator to make the transition less burdensome.



Off the train, we soon saw that steep concrete stairs were the only way to exit the platform. More than likely, another set of such stairs must be mounted to reach the platform where the train bound for Salzburg awaited. With no viable choices, we breathed deeply and walked to the edge of the stairs.

At that moment, a charming young man came up behind us. He saw the situation and immediately asked, "May I help you with your luggage?" "Oh, no, we will be fine." came our response. He is so genuinely eager to help this seemingly hapless older (After all, we are old.) couple, that we accepted his gracious offer.

Standing to his side was a beautiful, elfin young woman with long dark hair captured in a swaying pony tail. She appeared a bit burdened herself with equally large packs strapped to her front and back. He, too, was toting a significant pack but appeared nonplussed by its weight.

The four of us clunk down the inhospitable stairs without incident. Once we reach the main station, we discover an elevator which swiftly swooshes us to the proper platform. All the while, the new foursome is chatting.

He is Bernard. She is Rena. Newlyweds of one year, hailing from Perth, Australia. They've been in Prague and loved it as we did. Prior to that special city, they toured London and Paris. We share remembrances of both metropolises. Rena and I laugh when we extoll the virtues of London's famous discount store, Primark. Bernard agrees with Henry that it is a place to be avoided, if possible.

Conversation never ceases as we stand beside the train until departure time. Separating into our designated carriages, we hug briefly and offer our sincere thanks once more for a fortuitous rescue.

We meet again in the Salzburg station and I scribble my e-mail address on a small piece of paper. Naturally we invite Bernard and Rena to visit us in the desert.

During our splendid stay in Salzburg, we mention our Australian friends several times and cannot help but wonder if they are enjoying the city as much as we are. On our second evening in town, we choose to return to a restaurant with a menu that each of us likes. Owned by an Italian whose native accent is still pronounced and situated on a pedestrian street replete with stores, bars and restaurants of great variety, the cafe is especially welcoming. The margarita pizza is delicious and Henry wants more. I choose a salad topped with grilled chicken and lightly seasoned with homemade Italian dressing, flavored with wine. Scrumptious. We're dining al fresco in deference to the unusually hot temperature. A languid evening unfolds as we eat and I watch people wander along the winding street.

Suddenly I notice a lovely young lady walking toward a nearby store. Can it be? Yes, I believe it is. We only 'know' two people in this town and she is one of them. Hastily explaining to Henry who I think I have seen, I hop up from my chair and hurry in her direction.

Not too loudly, I am calling her name but she keeps walking. Maybe I am wrong. It's somebody else. Then I see him coming toward me. Bernard notices me almost instantly and begins saying "Jackie" with a smile. She turns, sees me and quickly moves towards me. I was right. It is them -our new Perth friends.

The reason she didn't acknowledge me when I called her name is that I had misspoken. In our brief introductions two days prior, I thought she said she was 'Rennie.' In fact, her name is 'Rena.' I apologize and the three of us walk back to where Henry is sitting at the restaurant table.

As if there has been no disruption in our interaction, we talk animatedly about our Salzburg experiences. They've taken the "Sound of Music" tour. Rena bought an authentic Austrian costume. She's thrilled with this acquisition and insists that I hold it up to myself to see if it will also fit me. Soon she realizes that she's left the bodice in her bag and we laugh at this omission.



Bernard and Rena plan to depart for Venice the following morning. We will be on our way to Zurich. With train schedules that do not mesh and geographically distant destinations, we promise to stay in touch and perhaps to visit each other's hometown someday in the future.

On Saturday, we say good-bye to the beautiful Hotel Bristol and climb into a taxi, bound for the train station.



As we arrive and gather our luggage, we're astonished to see a familiar face dashing towards us. This is not possible. One coincidence maybe, but two? Yet it is indeed Bernard. He and Rena were already at their assigned platform when he decided to make a quick trip to the adjacent McDonald's. He's been told that the seven Salzburg McDonalds sell beer and he wants to verify that story with an iPhone photo. [Inquisitive Henry visits the McDonalds a little later and asks an employee if beer is indeed on the menu. He learns that though that particular beverage is not listed, it can be purchased simply by making a request. I suppose an order might be, "I'll have an Egg McMuffin and a bottle of beer." Sounds awful.]

More hugs with Bernard and a 'Hello' for him to transmit to Rena from us. Separating for what is surely the final time, Henry and I continue along into the train station. Within a few minutes, Bernard pops up again. He has his phone out and snaps a silly photo of us to share with Rena. We giggle and wave enthusiastically. He's runs off as Henry departs to inquire about upgrading our tickets to Zurich.



I'm sequestered against a station wall with the luggage. We have time to waste. Oh my goodness, sweet Rena is breathlessly bounding towards me. She's smiling and instantly flings her arms around me before hastening back to her about-to-depart train.

In an iconic scene from Tennessee Williams' famous play, Streetcar Named Desire, Blanche says with sweet enunciation, "I've always relied on the kindness of strangers." I'm wondering if we had traveled with less luggage, would we have met the delightful Bernard and Rena? What a pity to have missed them altogether.