Strangers with Beer and Bas Armagnac

In Pau, France, we met the kind of strangers who greet you with unbridled encouragement and enthusiasm, and look out for you for no reason but graciousness and support. Strangers who remind me that community makes a couple strong.

First there was Michel. We’d just lugged our bikes up three flights of exterior stairs and I was feeling dehydrated and grumpy. I just wanted to get there already. As we turned to walk our bikes down the four-lane overpass to our destination, a wide, enthusiastic smile emerged from the spectacular Pyrenean background. “D’ou veniez-vous a vélo?”

Michel was a serious cyclist for his whole life. His passion was clear: he had a million questions about our journey and set up. Over a nice cold beer at a lovely outdoor cafe, we learned more about Michel. Now at age 75, his sensitive back keeps him from cycling. He told us, “I used to ride so much, go on bike rides and big tours all over France. I can’t do that anymore, which is why it gives me so much pleasure to see you doing it. It brings me such great pleasure.”

Michel’s energy reinvigorated me. Knowing that our meeting would be a joyful story to tell his friends (and the same for us, as I’m writing this now!) made me happy. We carry the cycling torch for Michel, taking pleasure in adventure and in the simple act of riding bikes.

Later that evening we strolled down the Boulevard des Pyrenees, marveling at the play of the setting sun’s light on towering sycamore trees and snow capped mountains.

A French couple that have been married 51 years (and together 54 years), Michelle and Bernard, sat next to us at the Bistro. They, too, took us under their wing, ensuring that the waiter didn’t overcook our meat (we are dumb Americans, after all….) and sharing the secrets of Bas Armagnac.

Michelle and Bernard shared their secret to a happy marriage: do not try to change the other person, and always look for ways to have fun.

I’m fortunate that these encounters with kind strangers weren’t the first of their kind for me. In 2013, when I was riding my bicycle from New York to California over a three-month summer project with my best gal Lake, we encountered countless acts of kindness.

In one small Pennsylvanian town, as we stood outside a church unsuccessfully looking for that night’s shelter, a middle-aged man pulled over in his Camry and hollered out the window, “Are you two on a cross-country bike trip?!?!?!” He proceeded to invite us to stay with him and his family that night. We did, choreographing dances with his granddaughter and chowing through hot dogs under the warm summer sky.

Now, even with language barriers, I delight in encountering that same generosity, openness, and excitement for adventure. I am endlessly grateful for the Michels, Michelles and Bernards who we will encounter throughout this trip and throughout our lives. It gives me faith in kindness, graciousness, and the support we can give each other with no expectation of return.

Most importantly, perhaps, it reminds me that other people hold our relationship. This journey isn’t about “us” and we cannot do it alone.