Mining for goodness

Amidst adversity, you will find beauty. It is only there if you know how to look. Once I met up with an acquaintance on the road in the middle of a solo travel. We decided to meet in Munich one evening and made our way to Berchtesgaden together. The memory of that particular period escapes me except three parts.

1. We walked past a gothic looking central hall with red flowers donning the balconies. It is almost summer but the cool spring lingered on. We had dinner at a cosy tavern when I shared with him about my solo adventure in the five days prior to our meet: 
   I had found myself lost in Freiburg and managed to catch the very last train back, I couch surfed for the first time in Offenburg, I got lost couple times after that. My luggage wheels started to be sketchy and boarding trains were difficult; a man saw this difficulty, turned, looked at me and chose to go up first. Then, he returned to help with my bag and walked on as if that was his job. I told said acquaintance that at the last minute I managed to find a couch host in Munich, my luggage wheels broke just as I alighted the train in Munich and I had to buy a new one. Then, I was lucky enough that my host had her bicycle and we loaded my luggage on it. People are so lovely, I exclaimed.
   As I shared all of this, the acquaintance looked at me and said, “You could have avoided all these if you had travelled with someone.”
   - “I know! But I would not have found all these great people either!”
2. The next morning we boarded the train together. He was rushing for all the trains and he found it impossible to accept that I had not booked a room earlier. He was scrambling for something, he said some stuff, he was planning to catch the Hitler’s nest before it closed. I was pretty agitated. The scene was beautiful but he could not stop talking. When we arrived, the scene was indeed beautiful. There was a calm that enveloped me and I simply wanted to breathe the clear blue water and the breeze that graced my skin. When he insisted I make haste in finding a room and we should find a time to meet at a common spot so that we could reach Hitler’s nest, I lost it. I told him we would go separate ways, he should go to his hotel and I will head to tourist information counter. Needless to say, I left him in shock.
3. I managed to get a list of available rooms. I chose one that seemed near. I was a rookie backpacker with a heavy luggage. Alas, the B&B was at the top of a slope. I smiled at an old lady. In sparse German, she asked if I needed help. She offered to call the B&B owner and went on her way. An old man came down looking for me and walked all the way up to the B&B insisting he should wheel the luggage up. The Oma gave me the most comfortable room. I left my room and chose to walk along a stream. I remembered going to a cafe. I remembered a cheesecake, I remembered taking a photo, I remembered a mocha, I still remember the colours that were mint and yellow and I chose to sit outside in the breeze. I did not remember going back but I remembered waking up the next morning. Oma served me extra eggs because I could not eat the ham and she sent me on my way with a bag of cheese.

I remembered that being the most defining moment that year — I left a mate at the train station.

(A couple weeks later, he kept in touch and said he finally understood the peculiar joy of travelling alone.)