The Encounter
In the past few years, I’ve traveled often by bus between Vâlcea and Bucharest — many times at dawn, trying to “save” time, though really just sacrificing good sleep.
Sometimes I arrive tired, sometimes with a headache, but always hungry.
The trip takes three to four hours. On traffic-heavy days, up to six. Desperate, really.
When I travel during the day, the scenery depends on the season: mountains dressed in different colors, almost like nature’s fashion show.
Many factors make a trip more or less bearable — like everything in life: the driver, the passengers, the weather, the road, the traffic, the repairs… and oneself.
Another reason I like traveling at night is the silence. No one eating, no loud conversations.
But this time, I traveled during the day. A foreigner sat beside me, speaking what sounded like Thai.
The Reflection
In my last coffee chat with Maria, we talked about validation — the kind that reminds us we’re human.
We go through our days worried, stressed, or frustrated, and sometimes we just need a small gesture to soften the moment, maybe even the whole day.
A smile, a gesture, a good joke. Who knows — whatever it takes.
When this man sat next to me, I thought: well, now there are two of us on this bus. It was the first time I’d noticed a foreigner —I assumed Asian— on this route.
At first, he sat close and spoke loudly, and I regretted not having charged my headphones. I tried to focus on the scenery, hoping it would drown out the noise.
But he stopped talking after a few minutes, and peace returned.
Near the end of the trip, he pulled out some green grapes and, extending his hand, looked at me directly. In English he said, “Take one.” I looked into his eyes and said no.
He didn’t move — just looked again, softly, and shook his hand a little. In those few seconds, I took one grape and smiled.
Imagine — a single grape wouldn’t satisfy my hunger (these trips always make me hungry), but this time I arrived without headache, without fatigue.
The seed of humanity
That day I received exactly the validation I needed — a small gesture, that particular insistence so familiar in our cultures, and perhaps in others too.
I replay that moment often in my head, and each time it makes me feel good.
It wasn’t just kindness. It was a genuine act of sharing. Two strangers, from opposite sides of the world, on the same bus. If we’re traveling together, we might as well be kind — take care of each other, even briefly.
Sometimes it’s good to celebrate those values. Because they’re precious stones — rare and beautiful.
Later, I used AI to recognize the language he was listening to on his phone. Vietnamese.
I thought about how to thank him in his language, but before I could, the bus arrived at my stop and I got off quickly.
So here it is: Cảm ơn vì quả nho. (Thank you for the grape.)
And to you — thank you for reading.
Ave Migratoria 