I don’t know what it is about airports, or maybe what is about me, but people have a tendency to tell me their life stories in various airports and planes across the world. It’s kind of a beautiful thing, really.
Today a tan, middle aged gringo looking man named Jeff sat down next to me on my flight from Cusco to Lima. On the hour-long flight we spoke about everything under the sun. He told me all about how he has lived all over the United States, explaining his bike trips across the country during his youth and his various business endeavors. He told me how he had recently gone through a breakup so he decided that making his way around South America was the answer.
I told him it sounded to me like he needed not only a change of scenery but a different perspective on the world. I think sometimes you need someone you don’t know, and will probably never see again, to confide in and I certainly don’t mind being that person.
It was sort of beautiful to speak with this mystery of a person from a totally different walk of life and hear about his life and adventures and talk as if we were old friends. Traveling brings people together in this way that is impossible to describe, but warmly and passionately felt. There is just something about airports.