WHEN TRAVEL GOES RIGHT— Almost exactly 15 years after a “fake taxi” robbed me of all my camera gear in Buenos Aires, the other evening, I faced another close call when a cyclist tried to steal my iPhone while I was dining outdoors.
Fortunately, I was alert, and he failed. I almost grabbed his arm. Who knows what might have happened if I had succeeded? But I know what would have occurred if he had succeeded: misery for the rest of my time here.
When the incident occurred, I was dining outside at Al Fares, an Arabic restaurant in the Villa Crespo neighborhood of Palermo, Buenos Aires. Later, I learned that a remarkably hospitable Syrian refugee family owns the restaurant.
After creating a minor disturbance, I spilled my wine amid the loud chaos. Atam, the father, asked his son to replace it for free without hesitation, reflecting all my other experiences with Arabic culture.
Then Atam and his lovely wife Teresa invited me inside to watch belly dancing and later enjoy some arak. Despite my rudimentary Spanish, I got to know most of the family: Father Atam, Mother Teresa, and their four young adult sons, some of whom work at
the restaurant.
This wonderful family reminded me of why I love to travel and how it ultimately ends up fine even when travel (almost) goes wrong.
It also occurred to me that, to my knowledge, I have never met a refugee whom I did not love—not just like, but love.
It could be because we share something small in common. I am a traveler, so I have chosen to be a foreigner in another land, and of course, I will return home soon.
They had no choice coming from war-torn Syria, and refugees usually can only dream of home.
Yet that familiar feeling of being a stranger in another country bonds us still. Or it’s even simpler than this, perhaps.
I believe that most people who struggle have a greater sense of empathy because they know what it’s like to face challenges. This stands in contrast to the wealthy billionaire class, who also encounter difficulties but of a different nature, which may lessen their understanding of the struggles faced by most people.
And woe to those who inherit their great wealth (Trump, Musk, Murdoch come to mind).
In contrast, consider Bill Gates and Richard Branson. Each started with humble beginnings by comparison, and appears much more grounded than previously mentioned. Their charitable giving far outpaces those who inherit their wealth. Could this be a trend? This is all anecdotal, and a deeper study would be needed to make firm conclusions.
I’m not an expert at any of this; at best, I’m an amateur anthropologist. Nevertheless, these are my observations.
I’m grateful that my phone wasn’t stolen. However, I’m also pleased that someone tried to take it because, without that experience, I would have thanked the server (one of the sons) for my fantastic food and then been on my way. I would likely have never gotten to know these wonderful people. The evening enhanced my trip.
Or perhaps I wouldn’t have stopped to consider the happiness and humility of refugees in the toughest circumstances, compared to the circus we’re witnessing now from a billionaire class that should, by all accounts, be happy and content but instead seems bitter, angry, and bent on division.
The ones with the least to give lift others up; the ones with the most tear us apart. Why?
I don’t have it all figured out; perhaps no one does.
I’m still traveling, observing, and making mistakes along the way, but from where I stand today, this is how I see it.
I also envision a future trip to Lebanon and Syria, where I feel confident that no one will try to steal my phone. Please don’t ask me how I know; I just have this strong hunch.
