Random Acts of Kindness: An Assignment

During my time studying abroad in London, my travel writing teacher requested each of us to roam around the city with a flower in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Intrigued yet? His intentions were for us to give our flower away to an unsuspecting stranger and to pour water on parts of the city as a symbol of… something important, I’m sure. We were also given ribbon and chalk to make our marks on the streets! So weird, now that I think about it. Prior to this excursion around London, I immediately guarded myself to the idea of doing random things around the city. I thought about what others would think as I gave away flowers or poured water out into a random corner. The possibility of getting odd looks from others definitely created skepticism about the assignment. I thought about how I would react to these random encounters as a passerby. Even though these doubts filled my head, I was still curious as to how the assignment would play out.

I never thought about the city as anything but a space where I meander through life’s important parts like school, work, and love. My connection to a city never went beyond normal expectations—and I certainly didn’t think that I could affect the city in any way. Our experiment within the streets of Embankment forced us to expand our view of the city and made us let go of any inhibition. I mean, if you think about it— why did I initially think the experiment was so farfetched? As our professor handed out the flowers, ribbon, chalk and water bottles, I even felt a kind of anxiety about stepping out of the “pedestrian mold.” Society teaches us that the city dweller minds her own business, doesn’t talk to strangers, and especially doesn’t go around writing messages on sidewalks with chalk.

Psychogeography definitely challenged me to go affect the city by defying the normal terms of appropriate behavior and attitude. I felt like I was in a secret club where we had a mission to defy the conventional idea of city space, and it was thrilling! Christine and I chose to try every part of the experiment so we could fully engross ourselves as true flaneurs set out to do psychogeography within London. Carrying our tools for the experiment, we decided to set off on an unplanned journey throughout the streets of Embankment, staying in tune to our intuitions on what to do with the random items in our arms. Our night began with us contemplating about what to do with our two stems of roses. We were both anxious about giving it out to random people, so our solution was to leave it in special places. I spotted a row of bicycles and then had the brilliant idea to leave one of the roses in one of the wicker baskets attached to a bike. It delighted us thinking about how the bike’s owner would react to a pretty flower in his/her basket. I like to take it further by thinking that this person might have needed a nice gesture that evening… Our second flower found a home in an empty guitar case of a street jazz musician on the Jubilee Bridge. I left him with a huge smile on my face because it just felt so good being on this secret mission!

The wind took us next along the pathway in between the Lion King and the Legally Blonde musicals, in front of which we decided to stop and listen. The sounds of the city were best noticed when we closed our eyes and listened to the footsteps of theater-goers and the passing cars squeezing in between the alleys. Then, we stopped in the middle of a busy intersection, where civilians stood to wait for the green walking signal. This was an interesting place to stop and listen only because it felt like we heard the “heart beat” of the city through the fast cars bustling down the busy streets. It gave us a thrilling feeling and we didn’t care if people were staring at us. We then stopped and listened to the sounds of passerby, especially couples, who were walking down the Jubilee Bridge. This gave us a different feeling because we not only heard the cars and the footsteps of Londoners, but the splashing waters of the Thames River, where we poured our entire bottle of water. It allowed us to make a connection to the river in a different way.

Our best moment of the night was when Christine decided to go “chalk happy” by writing in front of random city sites. We drew hearts in front of cars, wrote the words “I love London” in order to dress up empty roads, and wrote the wonderful word “welcome” in front of the street maps for new visitors of the city. My favorite moment was when we were walking down the bridge next to the National Theatre, where the scenery was just breathe-taking, and Christine leans down to write “London is beautiful” with arrows jutting out in every which way. One of the pedestrians actually stopped behind us and took a picture! It brought immediate smiles to our faces because we wanted to make Londoners realize that they are living among beautiful scenery—St. Paul’s cathedral, the London Eye, Big Ben, the Parliament, Jubilee Bridge, Millennium Bridge. All of these iconic London images were even more impressive at night. In the end, we just wanted Londoners to “stop and look at the view.”

It felt empowering to be able to affect the city in some way or another. I didn’t think of myself as a passive viewer in the city at all before now. Even more so, I didn’t think of myself as allowed to have a relationship with the city. My previous view of the city was one that was dictated to me by social standards. What I understand is the functional purpose of the city: as a spaced filled with buildings created by people and for people. Doing these random things allowed me to feel in control in a way. Instead of being a tiny speck that just uses the city as a functional space, I developed a type of relationship with the city, getting to know its sounds, sights and people. The city evoked awesome feelings within me, making me feel connected in a deeper way. From now on, I don’t want to be the passive passerby that merely walks the streets absentmindedly without any interest in the things around me. Londoners and Philadelphians alike should learn to stop, look, listen and appreciate the city as their own.

A Serious Second Look at Strangers

Stranger danger echoes in my ear from the memories of my first few years in the school system. Such a negative association to a word introduced to me by concerned parents and teachers. The caution was always to never talk to strangers, which was probably their way of instilling within me a mental self-defense mechanism to protect me from unsuspecting harm.

But, I think today, strangers are people. When I’m standing on a platform in front of the subway, I am most certainly a stranger. We’ve all been trained to walk fast and purposefully down a city sidewalk. We’ve all been taught to hold tight to our belongings inside subways, trains and airplanes.

Public transportation, however, is swarming with different kinds of strangers. Sometimes, I find myself snapping out of this cold, disconnected role I play as a stranger watching out for other dangerous strangers. I like to observe the crowd that has chosen to divert their glances, plaster on blank expressions, and turn off any awareness for true human interaction.

Every once in a while, a stranger makes me smile when they break the silence and strike up a casual conversation with me. What a pleasure to meet you! Words like spontaneity and serendipity are not normally associated with the interaction between two strangers. But, I believe they go hand in hand!

My memory takes me back to the moment I was sitting quietly on a bench in the middle of London. A notebook, a pen and the observations I’ve made about my travels were my only companions. Suddenly, a tap on the shoulder interrupted my thoughts. A middle aged man cautiously asked me if I could watch over his luggage while he used the portable rest room located at the busy street corner. Without hesitation, I chose to help him. (My family members reprimanded me later on, reminding me that the luggage could have been a disguise for bombs and explosions.)

The man, however, returned for his bags and seemed both astonished and grateful all at the same time. Thinking back, he may have also assumed the worst of me, suspicious that the bags would have disappeared in an opportune robbery. I smiled at the man as he repeatedly showered me with thank-yous. He immediately walks to the outdoor flower boutique across from me and brings me back a beautiful bouquet of white lilies, his symbol of gratitude. My mouth drops open in shock and I sheepishly accept the gift in pleasant surprise. As the man walked away towards his next destination, the flower shop owner and I exchange looks of unbelief.

So many of us are taught that strangers are dangerous when we really need to learn the fine line between reservation and interaction. I wonder, will we ever stop being uncomfortable with the idea of a stranger?