I love people so incredibly much. You could give me a stranger, almost anyone, and put me next to them on the Metro, in a coffee shop, in class, or the seat next to me on a plane and I would fall in love with them as a person, as an individual, for they are unique in their own attributes.
Last year, I was on my way to surprise a friend of mine at her home in Missouri, and was seated next to a Spanish-speaking woman from Guadalajara, Mexico. Besides me, no one else on the plane spoke Spanish. Abiding by the stereotypical ignorant American way, the way that the other persons treated her was wretched and mean. They didn't speak to her or even acknowledge her, and if and when they did, they acted as if she was totally daft. But of course she wasn't daft, she merely couldn't speak English. With the broken Spanish and little confidence I could muster, I spoke to her, introduced myself, asked her a few questions. After we established that she couldn't speak a bit of English and that I could make out enough for a few conversations, I told her where the restroom was, and she made her way to the back of the plane. As she walked, the passengers' eyes kept darting back from her to me, me to her, in an attempt to make sense of the seemingly nonsensical situation.
From such an encounter, I realized that it's quite unexpected for a white person in America to be speaking any sort of language besides English, though I am a firm believer in defying this social expectation. I don't feel that when one comes to America, they 'should' learn English. I insist upon attempting to converse with someone, anyone, however silly our attempts at communication may be.
Currently, I'm sitting in Peet's Coffee and Tea, drinking my favorite Assam black tea, bumbling away on Spotify and other things as I blatantly ignore my third personal commandment, "Do now, wait later". There's a beautiful woman sitting next to me, going in and out of focusing on her novel. Naturally, I attempted to strike up a conversation with her a few minutes ago, though embarrassed, she admitted that she only speaks Korean. I remembered this brilliant application I downloaded a few days ago, a little multi-language dictionary that can translate spoken word into most any language that one would like to understand. Persistent in my attempt to connect with her, I proceeded to speak my words into it and translate the words into Korean. When I passed her my phone with a short passage that spoke of her beauty and well-wishings as she enjoys her book and tea, her face lit up. She nodded and laughed, saying thank you in English, the language that once threatened to separate us for the rest of the afternoon.
Human connection, whether it be through the language we speak or the laughter that spews from our beings, is not defined on any one sound. We can bond though our shared experiences, whether or not we can understand each others' verbal exchanges. If there's one thing I've realized through my innumerable experiences talking with strangers, I've found that laughter transcends language entirely, establishing a shared connection more sincere than any robotic polite greeting could. Although our dialects may differ, I genuinely believe that language barriers do not determine whether one can bridge the gap between strangers and friends.
Hour later update: she wrote a note to me in English, telling me that she was going back to Korea in a few days and if I was ever in Korea, to contact her by email! Yet another country and another friend I must visit.
