Travel

Searching through photos for one thing inevitably surprises us with something else. Especially when you have the amount of photos that I do.

This is a photo I took when visiting my cousin in Portugal when I was 23 years old. He and his family lived here, in a small fishing village, Vila Nova de Cerveira, at the mouth of the Minho River, just minutes from Spain. It was an indescribable experience, and looking back now, even more so, especially as the area has evolved so since.

Truly, it was a village. There was a tinker (today’s handyman/carpenter), a small bakery/grocery store, a church, a police station, and a few other shops. There was also a castle, and a variety of homes. The streets were cobblestone, and it seemed that everyone knew everyone. Many people grew or raised their own food.

In the morning, we heard the clanging of the bell at the long driveway gate. A neighbor had brought a clean bucket of milk, fresh from her cow. Wherever my cousin and I walked, there were young children skipping after us, fascinated by the visitor with her light-colored eyes.

Coming across this photo brought back so many memories, which could probably fill a short memoir of its own. My cousin, his wife, children, and dogs were my warm and wonderful hosts. With all I experienced in that too-short week, I existed in a slice of time never to be known again.

I also remember the train ride home, first to Porto, then a switch to a second train to Lisbon. In my compartment were five Portuguese men and women, none of whom spoke English. During the 5-hour ride, they brought out their lunch, and so generously offered everything to me – bread, cheese, some kind of meat, wine. With hand signs and broken language, we talked and laughed all the way to Lisbon.

I remember wondering even then if Americans would be so utterly kind to strangers who spoke no English in a traveling compartment. The importance of that entire experience has deepened ever since. Would we all be as kind and generous as they? Can we still share? Can we still love?

In 2008, Matt Harding, one of the greatest goodwill ambassadors of all time, in my opinion, posted a video of him dancing – “dancing badly” in his words – with people all around the world. In 14 months, he danced with children and adults of every color and nationality, indigenous peoples, even a whale, (and occasionally alone) in 42 countries.

In the face of so much sadness in our world, the memory of Matt Harding somehow returned to me. I cannot watch this without tears running down my face, because of the sheer joy of so many people happily sharing a simple love of dancing. Here’s 2008’s dance. Please watch full screen or theater mode, for even those not dancing are great to watch.

In 2012, he posted another world tour, this time dancing across the U.S., Europe, and beyond, even on the USS Abraham Lincoln in the Pacific Ocean. But he’s also in Syria, Afghanistan, North Korea, China, Russia, Rwanda, Iraq – countries where you might not expect him to be. And it’s all the same – people dancing with such joy. It does make you wonder why we stumble so as a human race, when this is all people want – to be happy.

So please take a minute and put a smile on your face (happy tears permitted!), maybe even get up and dance.

If you want to learn more, visit Where the Hell Is Matt? (later changed to Where the Heck Is Matt?). Can we please have more goodwill ambassadors like Matt Harding?