Sometimes we do not have the solutions. Sometimes what seems an insignificant moment can be the opposite – like a patch of bright blue sky on a dull, grey day. But often we are unable to see past the curtain of the present moment, past the nostalgia and yearning that obscures our sight of what is possible.
After returning to my family in Brno, where I’ve now been for over a month, I craved being back on the road; to meet new people and make new connections, inviting more like-minded people into my life. I was nostalgic for a time that had barely faded from my senses — I had left behind in Portugal the feeling of the wind playing in my hair, my feet soaking in the cold sea, grains of sand glittering on the expanse of my body, and carrying the beach and the sea home in my shoes.
In Portugal, my eyes spent hours staring at the sea, checking the waves, noticing the skill of surfers and kite surfers. Nothing ever seemed boring; everything was always new.
Back in Brno, the weather is turning cooler. We have had some sunny days; like when my friend Jindriska with the piercing blue eyes and softly spoken voice sent me a message; She asked me to join her to a festival about Ocean, Sea and Water in a small town about 280 km southwest of Brno.
At first, I resisted and I told her that going to an Ocean Festival in a country that has no coastline is like showing a picture to an addict of his addiction.
“All I really want is to be closer to the real ocean, wear a wetsuit and get beaten up by waves. To hope to be one with the board, one with the ocean. Fail, fall and rejuvenate,” I thought.
In the end what won me over was the yearning for something fresh and new; the anticipation of a long journey to a place I had never been to and the possibility of meeting travellers in a time when most travel is restricted.
So I jumped into her car,enjoying the conversation while listening to Bianca Rose’s song “No fear here,” sitting as a passenger, having the window lowered to get some breeze back in my hair. The sun peeking through the clouds as we drove.
At about 6 p.m. we arrived at Hluboka nad Vltavou, a small touristy town, surrounded by lakes, woods, and hugged by the river Vltava. There on top of the hill, dominating the view stands an impressive chateau dating back to the 13th century. In our imaginations, it had an air of romance and fairytale.
Walking with excitement we soon noticed that although we are still in Czech, living in the same country and able to speak the same language, the people here have very different accents and are not smiling as much. Our colourful clothes did not meet with approval of a more traditional place that was filled with geranium plants and perfectly placed wooden tables with pricy coffee and cakes.
I suddenly become aware how my behaviour changes depending on the language and culture I live in. The risks I’d be able to take in Nepal, simply because there is no other option, or the free spirit I felt on the beaches of Portugal. How I felt at home there with people and places that for others would be too alien.
Later we entered a small Cinema where a first presentation from the famous Czech photographer and solo traveller Jirka Kolbaba was being shown.
My friend Jindriska chose a seat, leaving the last one free. I sat next to her. The Cinema was slowly filling up and next to me sat another two ladies when their friend turned up.
“Can I sit next to my friends?” the lady with the long blond hair asked.
My mind froze with terror as Jindriska had just said: “ I don’t like sitting on the last seat in the row“
“What now?” was a question in my head. “Shall I give in and move and make my friend unhappy or be more assertive and stick with our seats?”
My face tensed up, I could not make any choice when suddenly the newcomer just said: “Do you mind swapping places with my friends and I will take the last seat?” Wow!! My head would have never come up with this solution.
In my amazement at the situation in which I did not have to take control off, a peaceful solution was found. Thank you” I replied as my eyes were smiling!
This to me was an insignificant moment right there, my mind was screaming in dilema, my face was tense and I came to a realisation that not all solutions are available to me. That even here in the crowded cinema I can learn a lesson from a complete stranger.
And the rest of the presentation has flown smoothly like that, bringing an ocean of inspiration, humility and joy.
The presenter said that in 30 years he was never robbed, never ill and pointed out the importance of one’s responsibility to know your own limits and to be respectful to the locals.
“Whatever you shine, then shines back at you and a smile takes you a long way,” was his closing line.
By the time I got my last Nepali Visa, I had become an expert in reading body language. So it is with no surprise that during that weekend, instead of spreading fear and pandemic, although wearing the mask, we smiled more with our eyes and got great food from the Vietnamese shop and Chinese restaurant.
We naturally chose less local places that are keen to strip the tourist’s wallet in exchange for a slower service with a smile.
We felt the ripples of this experience for the next few days.
Having not touched the waters, I seemed to be touched by more openness of possibilities and perhaps that every moment matters. Being on a road, following your dream.
Sometimes, what we have been waiting for shows up when we least expect it. I feel that real growth happens in such moments. In such moments we find a new comfort with all the places that we have left behind, on the sun-filled beaches of Portugal and in the mountain-shades of Nepal. And we find comfort with the moments that await us in dark cinemas in Hluboka nad Vltavou, where we recognize ourselves in a new light.
Perhaps there are no insignificant moments after all.