In 1984 during my early 20s I had an adventure; in fact I’m always having adventures. At the time I made the rash decision to catch a bus from London to Athens with no onward plan. Arriving in Athens without a plan and having spent three days sat next to two women and the daughter of one I boarded a ferry to Cos. It was where they were going to meet two fellas they had fallen in love with.
Arriving at the port there was a loud bang which resounded through the whole ship as the mammoth rear door slammed onto the concrete dock. Lorries, vans, coaches and cars rolled off each creating a clanging sound as the wheels crossed from metal to concrete, sea to terra firma. It was 3 am and the artificial light made it all feel eerie. We joined the long snaking queue of foot passengers each desperate for a shower, bed and in our case cuppa tea. As we descended the steps we heard shouts from the railings below, ‘Julie, Deni look here!’ My role in this was simply to help carry the suit cases then clear off.
Following expressive warm Mediterranean greetings two men elated to see their English roses eyed me with suspicion. I stood with my backpack on carrying two suitcases with a little girl holding my hand. A rather wide beaming momma picked her up and suffocated her with affection, the cases were taken from me and I was escorted to an open car door. My protests were not heard. I felt safe but realised there was confusion surrounding my identity. Twenty minutes later a key was handed to me whilst being pointed towards a door.
The following morning laughter outside the window woke me. Nothing was familiar and everything about my situation concerned me. I should have been in a tent. This will cost money. Who do they think I am?
A knock at the door was followed with an explanation. It turned out that both Greek families meeting them assumed Julie and I were related because we shared similar hair colouring. She was real fun and I remember her smile as she said, ‘It was the only way to keep you alive.’
I had a great two weeks with people I didn’t know and have never heard of or seen since. In time I carried on across land to Turkey, Iran, Pakistan and India returning via Russia. Not bad for a £37.00 National Express coach ticket to start me off.
Recently I have thought about the hospitality and generosity we find in others of similar or different cultures. Of course those two women were British, though with a scouse accent, and the Greek family were so welcoming and expressive with their love of family and friendship. Until I got on the bus in London Cos was a lettuce not an island. Those two weeks enabled me to be away from home yet remain part of a family. I have three wonderful sisters yet 35 years ago for a brief while two extras joined in looking out for me.
In the next 12 months we will all be travelling again at home and abroad. We will have opportunities to draw alongside strangers and maybe become part of their adventure, their story.
I love the Bible verse which says, ‘Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!’
Not that I’m an angel
Rob Wykes 