Human Connection is Currency

by Julia Sabatine (United States of America)

Making a local connection Bulgaria

All I saw were signs I couldn't read in an alphabet that I didn't know. Announcements were being made over the loud speaker using sounds I had never heard before. An empty train station looking like what I can only imagine the 1950s looked like laid before me as I stepped down into Sofia at 6:30am on a Friday. I think it was a Friday, although the days all blurred together after 42 hours on a train that was built during the First World War. "What is that smell?" I whispered to myself as I looked through the smoke of the train to find the source of the aroma. Groggy was an understatement to describe my state. I had been woken up in the middle of the night and pulled off the train twice for border crossings. Which borders? I reached into my bag to find my envelope of Euros in consideration of purchasing a breakfast of whatever that smell was. "Where is my envelope?" I had lost my money envelope. Where? At the last border? I remember grabbing it in my purse while I was getting my passport stamped. I looked again. I scoured my bag. Nothing. All of my money was gone. I was alone in a place where I couldn't read or understand anything, and had nothing but a gleaming, straight American smile. What could I do? Feel sorry for myself, of course. So I walked to the nearest bench I could find, laid my head and started to cry over the backpack in my lap. A few minutes later an old woman came up to me. She started speaking to me in those sounds that I had never heard. I looked up to her with teary eyes and said, "Do you speak English?" "Yes I do. My name is Nadezsda. That means Hope. What is your name?" I silently and snottily told her my name and began to sob as if she were my mother and I was a young child. I told her about the envelope and how stupid I had been, and how irresponsible I was. She asked if I had a place to stay and I told her that I did, indeed have a hostel that was already paid for. Although I was in one of the worst states of my life, Nadezsda seemed happy just to know me. She told me that she could see my heart through my eyes and that she wanted to take me with her. I felt safe and agreed. We walked about ten minutes to a nearby open market. I had never seen so many colors of fruits and vegetables. There were more than a hundred types of white cheese and sausages of many shapes and sizes, likely made of the animal parts hanging above them. Also, a lot of Filo dough pastries with cheesy stuff inside. Each vendor that we visited knew Nadezsda. Their eyes lit up as she approached and the friendly exchange of foreign sounds gifted us with heaps of veggies and fruits, cheese, sausages and three types of that Filo dough pastry. I walked along with her, smiling and nodding, as she told me bits of gossip in her broken English about each vendor. Somewhere in the midst of this strange shopping experience, I managed to forget that I had lost all of my money. We walked a few minutes to her house and I sat with Nadeszda sipping coffee and exchanging stories. She told me she had a daughter that had died many years ago, and that my eyes reminded her of her daughter's. After breakfast, she filled a big paper sack with half of everything she had bought at the market and called me a cab to take me to my hostel. We exchanged a hug and I asked if she had a way to keep in touch. She told me that technology was not for old women. I never saw Nadezsda again. I hope she knows that she saved me. She showed me that human connection is the most powerful currency. All you need is trust that it works, no matter where you are in the world.