A life lesson from a wise soul
Travel is said to be broadening. It can also be nerve-wracking. Or, in some rare cases, lifealtering.
My wife, Vicki, and I experienced all three conditions on a three-month trip around the world. Our initial goal was to meet my sister and her husband in Kathmandu, visit some temples, then go for a trek in the Annapurna range of the Himalayas.
After flying to Singapore, Vicki and I took the wrong train to Bangkok. Wrong because we had a ticket on the overnight express, but in the chaos of the railroad station, we boarded the local. No sleeping car; in fact no reservation. But we found empty seats and were joined by three men, one in military uniform and a woman, all of whom had obviously spent some time in the bar car.
We were surprised when our guide turned out to be a 12-year-old boy.
But he was fluent in English and full of knowledge about the sites we would see.
The leader of the group claimed to be a member of the Khmer Rouge. He spoke so aggressively that his translator froze up and refused to say another word. It turned out that he was proposing a swap: his woman for Vicki. We laughed it off, but quickly moved down the crowded carriage, eventually sitting on the floor where we picked up a number of cane bug bites.
We arrived at Bangkok in the dark of early morning, hoisted our hefty knapsacks and looked for a taxi. The first one in the queue had a woman sleeping on the back seat. The driver roused her, moved her up front, and we set out for the airport. Or so we thought.
After a few miles, the driver suddenly left the main road and plunged down a dark ally. Images of being robbed at knife point or worse only disappeared when we pulled into a dingy gas station. He refueled and we made it to Thai Airways. We were even upgraded to business, which meant steamy hot towels for our grimy faces and hands.
The Yellow Pagoda Hotel in Kathmandu is handy, comfortable and reasonable. We met Sue and Nick there, and made plans for the following day, hiring a guide to take us across the river to Patan, famous for its Hindu temples. We were surprised when our guide turned out to be a 12-year- old boy. But he was fluent in English and full of knowl
edge about the sites we would see.
We were even more surprised when he brought along a 22-year- old as his fellow guide, although he spoke no English and could only point at things and giggle. It turned out the 12-year- old shared his guide’s fee with his disabled friend, and generally took care of him.
We stopped for lunch at a local restaurant. Our conversation turned to what each of us thought was the most important thing in life. After the adults had suggested vague values like “world peace,” it was the young guide’s turn. Quietly and without guile, he said:
“Kindness.”
I remember that often, and it always brings tears to my eyes.
Martin Russell lives in Mill Valley. IJ readers are invited to share their stories of love, dating, parenting, marriage, friendship and other experiences for our How It Is column, which runs Tuesdays in the Lifestyles section. All stories must not have been published in part or in its entirety previously. Send your stories of no more than 500 words to lifestyles@marinij.com. Please write “How It Is” in the subject line. The IJ reserves the right to edit them for publication. Please include your full name, address and a daytime phone number.