Tonight, our dinner conversation turned to a bit of reflection on the events of the past nearly three weeks. We were comparing the beers, the hotels, the landscapes (which areas reminded us of Utah or Texas or Colorado, etc.), the food and much more.
But soon, we all started sharing our thoughts about all the people we've met along the way. And how our attitudes have been revised based on our recent experiences. In some cases, as was pointed out to us by James, our British colleague on this trip, we Americans have had a far more negative view of ourselves. Or, more precisely, how we felt we might be perceived by Europeans. Even those of us who have traveled extensively throughout Europe and elsewhere had thoughts that we might not always be welcomed as Americans, especially given the current resident in the White House. But our receptions to date strongly point otherwise.
If there is a stereotype of the indifferent or intolerant European, let this blog counter that image. Along our daily routes, we've encountered wonderful fellow cyclists from all over the world. They've all said hello or shouted words of encouragement (and, often, in English!). We've had people such as the cafe owners yesterday morning, go out of their way to accommodate us and our breakfast hunger needs (which, by the way, we've also paid back through a series of 5-star reviews).
We've had very patient restaurant waitstaff help us through menus not in our native language. We've been able to buy what we need at food stores, get help at bike shops and order gin and tonics or beers with little difficulty. Patience has been key, but it's worked out in virtually all cases.
We've communicated through pantomime, through broken French and Spanish, through misunderstood English accents, and through Google translate. When we were questioning our Garmin's and not sure of the route to follow, policemen, motorists or fellow cyclists helped us find our way and got us on the right roads.
No one sneered at us. No one called us ugly Americans. No one yelled at us. Most people have smiled. And, whether or not they've spoken any English, they've been helpful. Even this morning, as we rode through a bustling small village and by a restaurant with a very busy outdoor breakfast service, people were waving hello and cheering us on.
We compared this tour's experience with those of our collective pasts, whether on previous cross-country cycling adventures or when driving across the country. And what we've all felt is basically the same thing... and it applies to our experiences here in Europe.
While we read about the indifference, the intolerance or the antagonistic behavior of people, it's usually spoken about in terms of stereotypes. Yet, when we're actually on the ground, going from village to village, meeting people up close and personal, that's not, for the most part, what we experience.
The takeaway for us all is a strong reminder that the human condition, the actual relationships between people on the ground, is far different from what we read in the papers. It's not the political machines, the politicians that represent our countries, that are the heart and soul of humanity. It's the woman running the small cafe. It's the couple walking along the road heading to church. It's the kids playing in the street, waving at us as we ride by. It's the old man and his dog, sitting nearby and holding up his glass of wine and toasting us and celebrating with us the end of another successful day.
So as we drank our last glasses of beer or gin and tonics of the night (ginebra y tonica -- it helps to learn how to order it in the local language), we sat back and smiled. The newspapers can report the troubles around the world. But here on the ground, things look a bit more peaceful. And the human condition survives and prospers.
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