the touch of a stranger

[asakiyume]

One of the most adventurous things I've ever done was go to Timor-Leste, alone, and not just Timor-Leste, but Ainaro, a mountain town a half-day's journey from Dili, the capital. I'm proud of myself for that: I found an English-teaching organization that I could plausibly crash without inconveniencing them too terribly; I reached out, made an application, got accepted, saved money, and went.

My first night was spent in a hostel in Dili. I had gotten a private room, but I was so tense, knowing that the next morning I must successfully get on a bus to Ainaro, that there was no way I could settle. I came out into a common room where an Australian guy was sitting on a fake leather couch, having beer after beer, and watching cartoons on an old TV. He said something pleasant when I came in, and after that we just sat silently together, watching the cartoons. Just being in the presence of another human relaxed me.

I got on the bus successfully the next day--this entry talks about the trip and mentions Victor, the guy I traveled pressed against, because the bus was very packed.

As shelter-in-place has stretched on, the thing I've been thinking of, about that trip--something I didn't mention in that entry--was how soothed I felt to be body-to-body next to someone. It must sound strange. I know that in those sorts of situations on public transportation the world over people get assaulted or harassed, but that wasn't my experience. On the contrary, I felt as safe and cared-for a baby in a parent's arms. I know I was just a visitor and guest, but with skin pressed against skin, I had a literal, tactile connection, and it soaked in. I mean, I don't know how it was for Victor! But for me, something has lingered and never left.

That's something people are missing now. I think of people who are going through quarantine alone, not able to touch anyone ... it's terrible. But I think it's more than that, because I have a husband and a (grown) child whom I can touch and who can touch me, and yet I'm still craving something. My skin yearns to touch and be touched by others--acquaintances, friends, strangers.

Well. Quarantine won't last forever.

Comments

[minoanmiss]

I hear you. I have never minded sitting on public transit crammed in next to someone who wasn't objectionable, because something about the press of skin to skin, shoulder to shoulder, carries animal comfort. (And I say this as someone who has had to deal with objectionable people of various kinds. I know the risks. :/ )

Also, I love your travel tales. :D

[asakiyume]

This means a lot: that you, who *have* had to deal with unpleasant people, feels this too.