Serendipity

Parlez-vous anglais? He asked, and the adventure began.

Let me show you the places where artists go to share ideas… the modern day Salons. Let me show you the best bookstores and coffee shops in Paris. And, what’s your story? He asked, as we meandered down the bustling street.

We sat and people-watched for hours, questions about what drives us to get up in the morning punctuated with comfortable silence. Occasionally, we would point out to each other a perfect framing of people and movements (a man with a bright blue drink leaning on a yellow post box; two beautifully dressed women moving in sync across the pedestrian crossing; a man perched on a bar, smoking).

This is serendipity – a chance connection with a stranger that creates a space for resonance on a startlingly deep level. It is magical and memorable and one-of-a-kind. What I’ve found, however, is that whenever we are open to people and looking to connect, this kind of encounter is far more frequent than you’d expect. We have so much in common with every single person, if we take the time to discover it. These connections can be fleeting, or last for years – either way, there is something beautiful shared in those moments.

On the train from Paris to Frankfurt, the girl sitting next to me asked whether I spoke French, a question which became the start of a 3 and a half hour conversation. I spoke in French, she spoke in English, both of us practicing (slowly and painfully). The conversation wandered from the impact of technology on the world, to her childhood experiences being bullied, to our similar experiences in theatre and the confidence it gives you. She shared with me the French industrial concept of ‘RetEx’ (retour d’expérience, or return of experience): workers share when they discover something (this machine works better if you use it this way), so as to make life easier for everyone else when they encounter a similar scenario. We both agreed that conversing on trains was a form of RetEx – she was giving me wisdom from her experiences, which I could learn from, and vice versa. As the train pulled into the station, we hugged and kissed each other on both cheeks (this is France, after all), promising to call each other to practice our languages.

While the girl and I connected on Facebook, extending our connection into a friendship, the boy I met remained only an encounter without any means of contact. Things are a bit more romantic without instant communication. We find ourselves in a space of uncertainty. You can’t clutch tightly to a digital copy of a person and instead, must fill in the gaps with your own imagination, leaving the rest to chance.

See that bookstore across the street? Go there. If you get lost in a book and are still there in an hour, I’ll find you. If not (he shrugs, the corner of his mouth turning up), thank you for a wonderful day.

He told me he loved my joie de vivre as we stood in a footbridge over a canal, the water like a pointillism painting. Then we parted. I didn’t lose myself in a book, and left with just a memory of a serendipitous connection.