An Ode to the Strangers Along the Way
In East Asia, a young brown girl travelling alone isn’t exactly common. Depending on where I am, I often draw both curious and concerned looks from those passing by. As a visitor, it’s striking how incredibly vulnerable you are. You’re stripped of all the safety nets that you normally rely on — your support system, the language to ask for help, a working SIM card.
With this, you attract both the good and the bad from strangers. Sure, I’ve had people follow me to sell tourism-related things or take advantage to bargain goods at higher prices. Sure, there have been times where I’ve been a little more than scared. But the net good has been overwhelmingly positive. After arriving here, I was caught off guard by how helpful people have been to me as a visible foreigner, even without me asking. I simply wouldn’t have survived here without the countless strangers who have gone out of their way for me, with nothing to gain on their end.
Thank you to the busy-looking salaryman who asked me if I knew where I was going, that first desperate night in Tokyo when every subway map looked like tangled yarn.
Thank you to the couple who got off a bus early to chase 50 metres after me and return a shopping bag that I had left.
Thank you to the 73-year-old (!!!) Japanese grandmother who insisted on climbing Mt Takao-san with me. During a shared cable car ride at the base of the mountain, she realized that I was hiking alone… which was unacceptable. Though she didn’t know a word of English, through stilted Google Translate conversations and enthusiastic gestures, she taught me the best routes as well as proper rituals to enter the Yakuōin Temple.
Thank you to the stranger in Shenzhen, who after helping me navigate security, even doubled back for me to make sure that I got on the right train.
The bus driver who went out of her way to explain a route.
The elderly woman who offered to switch subway seats with me so that I didn’t have to sit next to someone who was making me uncomfortable.
The Sai Wan driver who scolded me and made sure that I wrote down emergency contact information of a few taxi companies.
The Coco’s Curry waitress who was concerned after I ordered a chilli-filled curry (not going to lie, it was actually very spicy).
The couple in Hokkaido who showed me an amazing seafood restaurant. The welcoming teacher and her assistant who taught me how to cook a Japanese meal. My amazing tutor and her family (okay, not a stranger but still).
The several different people at a cafe in Shinjuku who worked together to translate the proper drinking instructions for Vietnamese egg coffee. (I still kind of messed it up)
And how could I forget the little Taiwanese boy who thought that I didn’t understand salad dressing? When I was seated near his family at a restaurant, I noticed him peeping curious looks at my meal. After I opted for dressing-free salad, he shook his head and reached over from his seat to give me the bottle. Concerned that I didn’t understand the dining rituals in Taiwan, he insisted that I pour the proper amount of dressing, pointing at my food and gesturing passionately. His family was apologetic but I thought it was adorable.
Of course, there are people who look like me and have been living for decades comfortably in East Asia, completely fluent and at ease. Many might find it patronizing that people constantly offer help and go out of their way to check in. And of course, there’s a huge amount of privilege that goes into being a visible foreigner as well, as a previous Fellow John Wu explains beautifully in his blog here.
All the same, I am nothing but grateful those who have checked in on me.
Where would I be without these kind strangers? Still lost in Shenzhen perhaps, missing my bag and drinking unblended egg coffee like a fool. Thank you to them all, and to the many others who have made my journey here a little kinder.
