I debated for a good five minutes whether I should make conversation with her. Many people in the line had their noses buried in their phones, and in a time when most people don’t really make conversations with strangers anymore, many have become unused to taking the effort to speak to an actual human.

On the other hand, the language barrier was holding me back. My French had improved since I arrived all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in January, but what if she started pelting me with rapid-fire French? Or worse, what if she dismissed me because she’d decided that I wasn’t worth her time?

The loud “San Francisco” told me she might not be French, but it felt disingenuous to default to English. I decided that the risk was worth it. The line wasn’t getting any shorter, and while something mortifying could happen, something wonderful could happen instead. Heart in my throat, I asked her if she spoke English. 

To my utter delight she responded, “Oui, je parle anglais.”

It turned out my hunch was right. She lived in California and was in Paris for holiday. She shared that she’d taught something adjacent to English literature at Stanford; as an English major, meeting her felt a little something like meeting a twin flame. 

Our conversation flowed from one topic to another, and before I knew it, she was inviting me to join her for lunch. The meal was shared over rich discussions about the value of art and the rise in illiteracy. It was exhilarating being able to pick someone’s brain and having the same curiosity directed toward me.

I found out that she was in her seventies, and that she’d seen a great deal more than me. The important part, however, wasn’t necessarily the difference in years we’d spent on this Earth, but rather the lives we’d led.

Christine asked me what I wanted my life to look like, and I told her the struggle I’d been having trying to figure out what I’m meant to do in the next few years. I kept finding myself back at Sylvia Plath’s fig tree analogy trying to figure out which dream I wanted to pursue, much like deciding which fig to pluck off the branch.  

She took me seriously in a way that few grown and world-weathered people tend to. She understood what it was like being 21 and trying to make your way in the world. In her eyes, I didn’t necessarily have to choose one passion over another. I could still be ambitious while I play it smart. Pursue a career that could keep me afloat while I kept up with my true passion on the side.

She made a good point. I might not necessarily agree with her completely, but her insight was still valuable. She knew a world that I hadn’t lived through yet. That’s what makes talking to strangers so exquisite; I’m able to see from angles I hadn’t known existed. 

Talking to a stranger means getting a rare glimpse into a reality that might be completely different from yours. It’s fascinating, and I think we all need to be more curious about the world and the people around us. There doesn’t always need to be a reason to talk, any excuse will suffice.

Maybe you’re not even extending an olive branch solely because of curiosity. Maybe you’re both commiserating over being stuck in the same frustrating situation. That’s how my friend Kyla and I met. We were on the same flight from Dublin to Paris-Beauvais, the latter of which was every traveler’s worst nightmare. Air circulation was poor, and everyone had to be herded through two security checkpoints like cattle.

It was during that awkward shuffle that one little quip turned into another, and before we knew it, we’d made tentative plans to take Paris by storm the next day. Spoiler alert, Paris took us by storm instead.

Our checkpoint success was followed by a supposed sixty-minute bus ride to Paris that ended up being a grueling two hours. The funny thing now is that I remember the endless drive fondly. It must have been the bizarreness of being surrounded by other weary travelers from all walks of life, but we somehow stayed wide awake through the wee hours of the morning. We spent the entirety of the pitch dark journey dropping lore, under the blue accent lights of the bus cabin.

Our lives didn’t intersect, so we could drop names and places with no worries. There was no stress of managing or balancing mutual friend dynamics. It was bliss to have no mess. That’s the beauty of making friends with a stranger. You’re allowed to show up as the person you are at that moment with no repercussions. Your past selves don’t matter, and you learn by listening. Soon enough, you’ll begin to understand what it’s like to look through someone else’s eyes.

This practice is something I began to really appreciate while I was abroad, but it doesn’t only apply when you’re in a different country and completely new environment. I can guarantee that it works at home too. It’s all about bonding over the shared experience. Sometimes the classic, “long line, huh,” doesn’t just fizzle into a hum of agreement, but evolves into a proper introduction. 

Rachael and I became acquainted two days ago. We smiled at each other after sharing a pained look at the number of people in front of us at a coffee shop. She complimented my Metropolitan Museum of Art hat, and soon after that, I discovered that her favorite art museum is the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City because of its gorgeous architecture. I can confirm that it is now on my bucket list.

During that discussion about our interests, she shared that she’s an opera singer and that her daughter is also a musician like me. In my excitement, I regaled her with my experience with the music department on campus and offered my insight, should her daughter have questions when applying to colleges. She walked away with a new contact for her daughter while I walked away with having shared my love for museums and music with someone new. 

All of these experiences I’ve had began with two strangers meeting. They’ve resulted in the creation of an ongoing connection, as I exchange pen-pal letters with Christine, listen to 4 a.m. voice notes from Kyla, and have just added Rachael’s number to my contacts. It can be intimidating to approach strangers, but once you start, a bigger world is opened to you. So if you have the opportunity to make a connection with a stranger, it just might be worth taking a chance.

Isabell Ku is a senior studying English.