Do meddle in my affairs

A year ago I was, as usual, not paying attention to my surroundings, and neither was the person in front of me who also stepped out of the train. He let go of the swinging door which then  crashed into my fore head resulting in a concussion. It happened on a Tuesday in the extremely busy rush hour of the post-Covid Tuesday and Thursday society. While I stood on the platform holding my head in my hands and the world was spinning around me, nobody came up to me for at least 20 minutes to ask me if I was all right. Welcome to our individualistic society!

How different my experience in Central America and Colombia was over the last few months where people constantly meddled with me, whether I wanted them to or not. A hostel owner in Mexico went looking for a telephone repair shop and even went to pick up my phone when it was repaired. In Guatemala we could get a lift back to the city from a hot spring with a mother and daughter, and I was regularly offered lifts in general – most of which I politely refused considering I was a solo female traveller. In San Salvador I found out where I needed to get off the bus to get to my hostel thanks to a fellow passenger who asked me where I was going. And to my great surprise he did not insist on ‘walking me there’. A shuttle bus driver in Costa Rica was so enthusiastic that he brought us to his house to meet his wife and see his banana trees. In the bus to San Gil I was warned by an older man to be careful on the street only to be assured by a woman of my age that San Gil was relatively safe. I was regularly addressed with mi corazon, mi amor, amiga or mi reina in a neutral way and saw sales people regularly lend money to each other without immediately sending a Tikkie.

I slowly but surely started to appreciate this meddling

I was wary in the first couple of weeks and often wondered what someone wanted from me. This was at least partly due to the amount of people warning me to be careful before I left on my trip The idea of innocent and selfless helpfulness did not even spring to mind. But after a few weeks I realised that we are so unused to this type of behaviour that we don’t even recognise it when it bites us in the ass. Slowly but surely I started to appreciate this meddling.

In the Netherlands you do not interfere with others – it is none of your business where I came from, where I’m going, if I know the way, or if you can help. There’s a reason that the word ‘meddle’ has a negative connotation. And yet, this meddling, in any case at the other side of the world, creates a feeling of safety, welcome and appreciation. And this is sometimes lacking in the Netherlands in general and at our own TU Delft in particular. Social safety anyone?

So if I share one thing from my travels, let it be this: let’s meddle with each other more and not become defensive immediately but assume that the intentions are good.