I have heard it said that a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet. It is never more true than when I travel. Often, all it takes is a “Hello.”
With An Accent On Travel – Santa Cruz
Eating outside our hotel before continuing south to our next stop, my husband and I heard a man and woman speaking with a British accent near the front door of the property. A few minutes later, as we were headed back inside to get our luggage, we passed a woman standing alone with a luggage cart. We all said hello, and the lady had a British accent when she responded in kind.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” Mister Rain said.
Laughing, she replied, “You are correct. I am from England.” When a car pulled up to where we stood, all of us moved back to give the automobile room. “That’s my husband,” the woman informed us.
After the gentleman exited the car, we began to chat. They both appeared to be in their late 70s. Prior to the trip they were currently on, they had only ever been to Florida in the United States. This time, they had flown into Las Vegas and were making their way to San Diego, where they would turn around and drive back to Sin City.
My husband asked if driving on the opposite side of the road in the US is difficult. “We lived in other European areas that also drive on the US side,” the man explained. “It only gets confusing when the steering wheel is on the opposite side.”
Sharing other places the four of us have been, the woman said, “We used to work in South Africa and we would have off every four days. We would go on safaris all the time.”
After answering their questions about other destinations in the States, we said goodbye. “Maybe we’ll see each other at another stop since we’re both going south,” I suggested.
The gentleman kindly replied, “That would be wonderful.”
Unfortunately, we did not see this terrific couple again, but I am grateful our paths crossed this one time. I hope Mister Rain and I are still on the go like them when we are their age. Unfortunately again, It’s not that far off.
A Few Months Ago Today With NOT John Oliver – Big Sur
Let me preface this meeting by saying, as the title of this story indicates, I did NOT actually meet John Oliver. I met a man who looked an awful lot like John Oliver.
As I write about in The No Detour Detour (click here), my husband and I stopped at the Big Sur Visitor Center to get a map to the detour we would need to take due to the fact that a portion of the Pacific Coast Highway was no longer there. Entering the Visitor Center, we found a man, who looked like John Oliver, and his wife speaking with the man behind the counter. When it was our turn, the couple had not yet exited the building, availing them the opportunity to hear us being chastised by the Visitor Center employee.
Walking to our car after that unpleasant experience, I could smell cigarette smoke before I could visually make out the same man and woman standing close to our car and another parked next to it.
“Welcome to America. That guy is out of control,” I offered.
“Yeah!,” the man replied, adding, “What is wrong with him?”
Hearing his voice, I was thrown for a loop: like John Oliver, he had a British accent. WAS THIS JOHN OLIVER? It was not.
Striking up a very pleasant conversation, we all shared what we had been doing in California, spending a good amount of time on the subject of WAYMO, self-driving cars (click here), as the couple had taken one in San Francisco.
We all waved as they pulled out of the parking lot ahead of us.
In the course of our eight days in California, this would be our only celebrity sighting. Or not.
It Was Cool To Meet Tim And Jeanne – Morro Bay
While enjoying breakfast al fresco in Morro Bay, staring at Morro Rock because we could, a couple arrived and was seated at the table next to us. Chatting with them, we learned that they live in Bakersfield and had came to the coast to escape the high temperatures forecasted for the weekend. It made me think of us at home, living in Southeastern Pennsylvania, going to the Jersey shore to try to get some relief from the heat and humidity.
Tim, the gentleman, told us their dog would be angry with them for leaving him at home. They planned to take some breakfast leftovers to him as a peace offering. We told them about Piper, discovering they had had a bird in their family at one time. The woman, whose name was Jeannine, her sister had been a bird mom before she sadly passed away. I told Jeannine how sorry I was.
Showing them a photo of Piper, I told them about the stories I write about him on my website. Jeannine asked if I am on Instagram; we began to follow each other. Every time she likes a post, it reminds me of our trip.
As we made our way through the outside seating area to return to our car, another couple was enjoying their breakfast with their Boston terrier, Hazel, sitting between them. We commented how cute she was and wished them a good day.
It was fitting that we saw Hazel, after talking about Piper and their dog with Tim and Jeannine. Our feathered and furry friends are always with us, even when they are not.
Patrick Was The Opposite of Hostel – Los Angeles
Leaving a cafe located beneath the Hollywood Sign, my husband said he would go across the street to get a picture of the restaurant. I began walking towards our rental car, parked in the lot on the side of the building.
Reading Mister Rain’s t-shirt, a gentleman standing by the curb said to him in an Australian accent, “Red October.”
My husband replied, “Yep,” and the guy said something about it being a movie. Mister Rain explained that it referred to baseball playoffs in October.
While he went to take the photo, I continued the conversation with the man. “We are from Philadelphia and the Phillies are our baseball team.” I know you shouldn’t make assumptions, but based on his non-US accent, I thought perhaps he did not understand what my husband had meant.
“I would really like to go to Philadelphia one day,” he commented.
There was a woman sitting on a bench positioned up against the cafe’s large window. “How are you today?,” she asked.
I couldn’t see if she was looking at me, therefore, I didn’t know if she was speaking to me or the gentleman. “Me?,” I questioned. When she said “Yes,” I told her I was doing well and asked the same of her.
When the woman called the man “Patrick,” offering him a piece of the cake she was eating before she ate it all, I realized they were together. I asked him where he was from.
“Sydney.”
The woman asked me about our time in California, leading me to explain that we had flown from Philadelphia to San Francisco, going directly to Yosemite for a few days.”In 1998,” the man began, “when I was 25, I was supposed to go to Yosemite. I was staying at a hostel and took a shower before a bunch of us were to leave to go to Yosemite. Apparently they knocked for me, but I didn’t hear it and missed the trip to Yosemite. It cost $50 then and I lost that money.”
The woman said they had gone to the Grand Canyon last year.
Mister Rain had returned (he had walked a little further down the street to see what he could see after taking the intended photo). “It was so nice to speak with both of you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here,” I said.
Patrick replied, “You, too.”
I sure hope Patrick gets to Yosemite someday soon.
I have had a lot of business meetings in California, but these type of meetings are by far the very best.
Sister Rain’s Note:
Not one of the people above knew I am visually impaired. I have said it before, now I will say it again. This is a very strange way to live.
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