In a divided world, I still find unexpected friendships while traveling | Opinion

I’d been on the train for about 45 minutes when my husband texted me: “Did you meet your new best friend yet?”

He knows me too well. Of course I had. When I boarded that morning, Laura was already sitting in the seat next to mine. Both of us were traveling to see our collegiate daughters. We learned infinite amounts about each other over the next 11 hours. It was one of those magical, platonic meet-cutes I’ve been fortunate to experience several times in my life while traveling.

Whether it’s the absence of the distractions of normal life or simply a gift from the universe, the people placed in my path on these travels have uniquely expanded my world, and their impact has stayed with me long after the trips are a distant memory.

With Laura, as we bounced along California’s railways, we shared our adoration for our daughters, both the first of our children to leave the nest. We compared notes on being in our 50s, including the joy we get from our work and the awful truth that midlife belly fat is more stubborn than the toddler who missed nap-time. We confided about the dogs we’d loved and lost, the mothers we were grateful to still have and the fathers we miss dearly.

The hours passed by in a minute. When the train pulled into the station, we introduced our excited daughters to each other and hugged goodbye. Since that day, Laura and the wisdom she shared have crossed my mind often, most recently while clothes shopping with my fashionable teenage son. While he tried on different shades of chocolate brown pants, I was attempting to remain patient outside the dressing room when Laura’s words popped into my head.

“Speak about 85% less,” she’d said on the train when we were exchanging the best advice we’d heard about parenting teens.

Recalling her words stopped me from knocking on the dressing room door to see how my son was doing, or to offer a “helpful” suggestion. Thanks to Laura, my lips remained sealed and I was rewarded with the sight of my smiling boy emerging from the dressing room with his selection — unrushed and happy, needing nothing from me other than my presence. And, of course, my credit card.

One of my first travel besties was Michelle. We, too, were seated next to one another — this time on a business trip. For both of us, it was our first time away from our firstborns, who were both about five months old. During the short flight, Michelle and I bonded over our shared exhaustion, love for our babies and excitement at the prospect of an unbroken night of sleep. When Michelle shared her anxiety over a medical test result she was waiting on for her daughter, Brooke, I found myself become anxious, too.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Michelle emailed to say that Brooke was going to be fine, that I could breathe easier. Meeting Michelle taught me that the fierce love I have for my child — and the depth of my connection to her — has also connected me to every other mother, in ways both powerful and personal.

Years later, on a family trip to Costa Rica, we met Vonnie and David while swimming at the hotel pool. Vonnie was from Costa Rica but lived with David in London; every year they came out to see her family. They invited us to come see the Costa Rica that Vonnie had grown up in.

The next day, we rented a car and followed them to Vonnie’s hometown and then to the nearby Diria National Park, a wildlife refuge where we forded a river to get to the trailhead and then hiked toward the magnificent Brasil Waterfall. While my husband and son accompanied David all the way to the top, Vonnie stayed with my daughter and me, all of us knee-deep in the cool river, listening to the howler monkeys and studying the armies of leafcutter ants, each one industriously carrying a piece of greenery three times its size.

Later, hundreds of orange butterflies descended on our hair, shoulders and noses. Had Vonnie and David not befriended us, had that portal between us remained closed, we would have missed the waterfall and the ants and the butterflies. Because of Vonnie and David, my family was able to experience what Costa Ricans call pura vida, translated as the “simple life,” or the ability to lose yourself in the beauty of the moment.

This week, Laura and I will have lunch and marvel at how we randomly connected on a train. But I’m starting to realize there’s nothing random about it. These threads are always existing between us all, priceless connections waiting to be discovered once we are finally open to them. It is then that we have the chance to embrace the depth of what travel can be: an opportunity to harness a new, deeper perspective on the world and on each other.

In times like these, when we are more divided than ever, maybe being on the road is one place we can truly come together.