We had just finished an afternoon of hurtling down the side of a massive sand dune in the middle of the Atacama Desert in Northern Chilé with snowboards strapped to our sneakers: an Irishman, two young women: a Pakistani girl from Germany and a Chilean, our older Argentinian guide, a big blond Alabamian and me.
(No, I swear this isn’t the start of a bad joke.)
From Ireland to Pakistan
After our last run, we hopped into the gigantic old Mercedes 4×4 and crawled up to the plateau of a nearby mountain to watch the sun set over the dunes. We wandered a bit while our Argentinian guide prepared an incredible snack of Chilean wine, cheese, crackers, and meat. As the sun was setting, James, Iver (the Irishman) and I talked about… everything… but especially travel – how long we’d been on the road, how much longer we all had left, where we’d been. Iver mentioned having been to Pakistan. Suddenly we realized that one of our group spoke far more English than we’d realized.
“You’ve been to Pakistan!?!” Silei shouted from ten yards away in flawless American English. (She’d spoken nothing but Spanish the entire day up until that moment). Once we’d composed ourselves and picked our jaws up off the sand, Iver confirmed that yes, indeed, she’d heard him correctly, and he told her how much he’d enjoyed his time there. Silei broke down in tears.
We were all stunned for a moment. After a brief silence, Silei explained that this was just the second time in her life that she’d heard an outsider have kind words for her home country.
Everyone Hates Us
Just think about that for a second. Everywhere you go, the deepest part of who you are evokes a negative judgment the moment you tell a person where you’re from. You turn on the news and it’s nothing but war, violence, danger, Islamic extremism and terrorism. And they’re talking about your home. They’re talking, specifically, about people that look like you. People who practice the same faith you do.
This small, inadvertent kindness offered by an Irish stranger affected Silei deeply. Iver went on, expounding on the beauties of the land and the generosity of the people. Silei explained that Pakistanis are all too aware of the way their country is portrayed around the world. As such, they do everything they can to make travelers feel welcomed and provided for. But the waterworks continued, and by this time James had joined in – and I was close.
People Are People
“People are people,” I thought. I’ve always believed that, but this was so immediate – such a stirring affirmation of that simple, elusive concept.
The conversation continued, and we eventually reached American politics. Yikes. James and I began to apologize and commiserate that we, too, have an all too clear understanding of what the world thinks of us. “I know the world hates us -“, I started. Silei cut me off, adamantly denying any dislike of Americans. It’s not us she hates – it’s our government.
“It’s impossible to blame the American people for making the choices they do when the government and media are simply sowing the seeds of fear,” she said. “If there’s one commonality around the world, it’s that everything bad that happens is rooted in fear, and that fear exists because of the distorted lens through which we see world events.”
Again. This 20-year-old woman was just blowing me away. Her expression of love and empathy for a people who hate her was something I will always remember. Because here’s the kicker: when you actually get the opportunity to spend a day with a German Pakistani university student, an Irish neuroscience academic teaching in Canada, a Chilean university student, a grizzled Argentinian tour guide, and an Alabama redneck doing something as ridiculous as sandboarding in the middle of the desert, you realize that PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE.
We ALL get scared. We ALL love. And we ALL need love to be shown to us. That’s it. It’s simple. And the only way you’re going to learn that simple lesson is if you turn off the TV news, get up off the couch, disconnect from your phones and your facebook, and meet new people from a place you’ve never been. Travel changes you.
Travel Can Change the World
As I was rinsing the literal piles of sand from my hair before hitting the road to our campsite two hours up into the mountains in the utter blackness of the Atacama Desert, I thought:
“This. This is why I travel. Travel can change the world”
And, finally, I cried.
