Saying Hello to a Stranger Can Make You Happy
Diving Dogs, Dancing in the DR, and Other Spontaneous Encounters With the Here and Now
Hello. This is Shy Guy Meets the Buddha, and I’m Don Boivin. Thanks for being here. If you like what you are about to read, or hear, please consider a small token of appreciation; a tip or paid subscription would be so generous and so helpful. Thank you! 🙏
This past week, my wife, Jennifer, and I enjoyed a humble vacation on the small Caribbean island of Curaçao. Neither of us has a lot of money—I’ve made my living as a freelance remodeling carpenter—always pacing myself, never really turning a big profit—and Jennifer is an artist. Most of her income is from short-term gig teaching contracts with local arts centers and other organizations. But early on in our relationship we swore that we would go on vacation a lot, using whatever money we could scrape up. We both understood the fears and conditioning that often result in unhappy lives dominated by long hours of unfulfilling work. We decided that even if it was just a weekend of camping or a few days at a New England B&B, we would prioritize getting away from the daily grind; four times a year if possible.
I don’t know that we kept up the quarterly get-aways, but we certainly have done quite a bit of traveling together; California, the American Southwest, Canada, the Caribbean a few times, Mexico, Hawaii. We’ve explored all of New England’s six idyllic states plus New York, New Jersey, and D.C. We haven’t gone to Europe yet (as a couple) but we probably will at some point. (Jennifer’s dad owned a corporate travel agency and she saw much of the world throughout her youth; even, at the age of ten, enjoying a year-long circumnavigation of the globe with her parents and siblings as her dad researched his future business. My travel experience is more limited, but, while in the Army, I saw Germany, England, and the Netherlands, and, after my divorce, I road-tripped across and around the US a couple of times.)
I previously published an essay about my distaste for bucket lists, or more specifically, about the fear of missing out or running out of time that can partly motivate bucket lists. Jennifer’s and my travel resolve isn’t like that; it’s not a bucket list or a race to fill our lives with stimulation and adventure. It’s just an attempt to counter that demotivating feeling that one isn’t working hard enough, or earning enough money, or getting anywhere in life. We refuse to indulge in the puritan belief that business always comes before pleasure; that if you’re having fun, you must be doing something wrong. Sacrificing for the future can become an unhealthy addiction. Travel and get-away weekends are our way of living for the moment, and we have found that the thrill of discovery always lands us in the center of the here and now—the best place to be!
Once, Jennifer and I were exploring parts of inland Florida looking for manatee—if you’ve never seen these gentle, lumbering sea cows wintering in the warm clear springs of Central Florida, you’ve just got to go check that out. As we left Blue Spring State Park, we happened to see a sign in front of a community park that said “Dog Show.” There were a lot of cars in the parking lot so we thought we’d take a look. And what a show it was! These dogs weren’t just sitting there looking coiffed and smug; they were trained acrobatic dogs doing amazing tricks, jumping higher than your head to catch frisbees, running through obstacle courses, and doing flips and cartwheels on command. The show was an unexpected delight that we still talk about today. (The fact that we snuck in without paying adds a conspiratorial appeal to our shared memory.)
That’s the kind of thing that happens when you break up your familiar routine; you chance upon unanticipated events, and often meet the most captivating people in the process. Jennifer and I enjoy a growing collection of memories of such fortuitous encounters: a demolition derby at the tri-county fair in Western Massachusetts, a native fishing jamboree near Black Sands Beach on Hawaii’s Big Island, a spontaneous dance with the spirited clerks at a retail shop in Dominican Republic, an enriching conversation with strangers at a natural hot spring in New Mexico, one of whom turned out to be an award-winning author*, an aging and lovely folk artist selling her extraordinary paintings in a hidden alley in Curaçao*.
Somewhere along the way we encountered yet another dog show (this time, the event was a diving competition, where dogs leapt from a platform into a pool), a cat show (which, I’m sorry to say, was kind of boring), two motorcycle shows—extravagant custom choppers in Sarasota and vintage Harleys on Cape Cod. And we still keep in touch with a young Mexican guitarist we met on the beach in the Yucatan.
None of these events were pre-planned or expected. We bumped into them simply because we were out driving around, exploring. I’ll also note that we never stay in all-inclusive resorts, where things may be luxurious and reliable but are also rather predictable.
I will confess that I wasn’t so very spontaneous when I was younger. If I spotted a faded plywood sign advertising “Vermont Maple Syrup,” or “Hand-Made Cherokee Baskets,” I would have passed right by, too sheepish or distracted to follow the dusty dirt track leading to who-knows-where. The owners, I would assume, had only forgotten to remove the sign, and likely had nothing to offer but an unwelcome frown. But my travel companions—Jennifer and others—have shown me that turning down that road is the kind of spontaneous act that can lead to the most deeply satisfying and memorable encounter. People, it turns out, are most often kind and open and happy to engage.
I was once on a week-long solo bicycle trip in the Midwest. I turned away from a historical house museum that I wanted to check out because I couldn’t afford the entry ticket. Peddling down the road toward the next town, I was suddenly flagged down by the ticket counter clerk, who had driven his own car to catch up with me and invite me back for a free tour; he felt bad that I’d left and wanted to share one of his own employee guest tickets with me. Talk about compassion and generosity!
It’s not always about money for people. Artists and merchants will likely be just as pleased by your smile or compliment as they will by a cash sale. People are affable, and often lonely; they want to talk! If you give them your ear, they’ll thank you for it and their day will be brighter. All this I learned by traveling with people braver and more sociable than me, most especially with my wife, Jennifer, a connector if I have ever met one! (When I first moved to Cape Cod and met Jennifer, it was through her wide network of friends that I was able to feel at home more quickly.) These days, if I’m at an art fair, and I’m curious about the wares at a particular booth, I go right in and say hello. Most booth operators would rather have someone come in and show interest in their creations than for them to walk quickly by, avoiding eye contact for fear of being guilted into a purchase.
The best days are days in which we make a connection with someone, fleeting though that convergence may be. Living is connecting; with people, with the land, with the things that are happening out there. It’s a big world, but it’s my world (and yours, too), and I’m going to engage with it. I’m still a bit shy when it comes to meeting new people or turning down that dusty drive or lonely alley when I don’t know what I’m in for, but experience and the company of true friends has shown me that the results always end up rewarding my courage.
These seem to be the themes of this essay, which I wrote spontaneously without a plan, haha:
1. Spontaneity is good for you and puts you in the here and now, taking your mind off worrying about the future.
2. It’s okay to spend money on fun things like travel and vacation, even, or especially if, you don’t have much income. Don’t let scarcity fears keep you from enjoying life.
3. People are mostly good, kind, and eager to engage with you and help you.
*Here is a link to more of the Curoçaoan folk artist Jean Girigori’s work: https://jeangirigori.exto.org/kunstwerken/221561_Abundance.html
*The author I met at a hot spring in Northern New Mexico is Jamie Figueroa. I loved her novel Brother, Sister, Mother, Explorer and I am looking forward to reading her memoir, Mother Island. (Book links take you to my Bookshop affiliate page, where if you make a purchase, I’ll earn a couple of dollars and be very grateful to you!)
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Don, I always enjoy reading your essays. You have a great ability to help ground me when my head is running wild. During our trip to Italy this summer we had quite a few of these serendipitous moments you are talking about. Speaking with street vendors, getting off the tourist path and talking with locals, or even meeting other tourists and learning about their lives. Those people moments remain with me more so than even some of the big landmarks we visited. Glad you guys had a great trip, the pictures are wonderful. That artwork is amazing as well.
My father was a travelling accountant. One of the most wonderful things he taught me was to say something nice to the people you come across. So often a little friendly comment can open a door to a memorable, heartfelt conversation. Those connections make life so rich, vivid and special. A lovely post. Thanks so much.