Doing the Right Thing is Never Wrong
Standing at the Peruvian Airlines information counter at Lima airport, I couldn’t quite believe how I had come to find myself in this predicament. I’d checked in for my flight on time, a full two hours before the scheduled departure to Ecuador, and I’d certainly made it to the departure lounge on time. I’d given my full attention to all the announcements and updates about how my flight was delayed; how it would be leaving at eight o’clock, then nine o’clock and finally ten-thirty – only to somehow, and to this day I still cannot fathom how, miss it. So now I had to get my ticket re-issued for Saturday’s flight and spend another night in Lima. People who know Lima will appreciate that the situation contained very few positives. However, I was not alone in my misery because a Mexican girl, also bound for Ecuador, had contrived to make the same mistake, and she too was faced with an extended stay in the Peruvian capital.
We shared a taxi back into the city and found a couple of rooms in a cheap hotel. My new friend – an archaeology student – then recommended a trip to the National Museum, so we spent the afternoon inspecting, as far as I remember, a seemingly infinite collection of badly-lit Inca pottery. When the museum closed, we walked along the cliff-top path overlooking a rather murky Pacific Ocean, and enjoyed a seafood feast in the fading evening light. Dining with a native Spanish speaker conveniently removed the usual barriers posed by monolingual menus and opened up a range of culinary possibilities I had never previously experienced. In fact, the evening was delightful until the point at which my companion – and I must admit I can no longer recall her name – realized that her passport was missing.
We immediately called the Mexican Embassy, who advised that a police report would be required before they could issue a replacement. The worst news, however, was that nothing at all could be done until Monday, and it would then take a further two days to issue a new travel document. My friend would have to re-arrange her flight, and spend another six days in Peru. And her immediate problem was that she only had $20 and no means of finding any more until she reached her friends in Ecuador.
I had to leave the next morning, making my second attempt to fly north, but although I was travelling on quite a tight budget, I couldn’t leave a young lady to survive for a week on $20, so I gave her $100 and we arranged to meet at the British Council Library in Quito, Ecuador, at noon, eight days later. This was in the days before electronic communications changed the world to the extent that we are no longer ever out of touch, so I was well aware that I might never see my $100 again, and that there could be any number of innocent reasons why this might turn out to be the case. Nevertheless, as I boarded my flight I did at least feel the satisfaction of having done what I knew to be the right thing.
Eight days later, I my taxi drew up outside the British Council Library in Quito. Rather weakly, I dragged myself from my seat and, with some difficulty, entered the building. I’d been in two minds whether or not to even attempt the journey after a sleepless night where I’d alternated between uncomfortably hot and freezing cold, and breathing was a constant struggle. Curiosity, more than any firm belief that my friend – a stranger after all – would actually be there, had been the motivation, but she was there, waiting for me, with my $100 in crisp new twenty dollar bills. Furthermore, seeing my pressing need for medical assistance, she was able to ensure that I had access to food and drugs and that I would not be alone for the three days it took to make some kind of recovery.
If I had ever doubted that lending the money to a traveller in need was a good idea, I would have been wrong. If it is possible to spare the money, or the time, or whatever sacrifice is necessary, then offering help is the only course of action. When we travel, it is sometimes necessary to place our hopes in the hands of random strangers. The corollary – that sometimes random strangers will place their trust in us – is equally true. We may not always be rewarded for our actions in such a timely manner as I was in Ecuador, but we may always travel optimistically with the knowledge that to do the right thing is never wrong.
Doing the Right Thing is Never Wrong
Standing at the Peruvian Airlines information counter at Lima airport, I couldn’t quite believe how I had come to find myself in this predicament. I’d checked in for my flight on time, a full two hours before the scheduled departure to Ecuador, and I’d certainly made it to the departure lounge on time. I’d given my full attention to all the announcements and updates about how my flight was delayed; how it would be leaving at eight o’clock, then nine o’clock and finally ten-thirty – only to somehow, and to this day I still cannot fathom how, miss it. So now I had to get my ticket re-issued for Saturday’s flight and spend another night in Lima. People who know Lima will appreciate that the situation contained very few positives. However, I was not alone in my misery because a Mexican girl, also bound for Ecuador, had contrived to make the same mistake, and she too was faced with an extended stay in the Peruvian capital.
We shared a taxi back into the city and found a couple of rooms in a cheap hotel. My new friend – an archaeology student – then recommended a trip to the National Museum, so we spent the afternoon inspecting, as far as I remember, a seemingly infinite collection of badly-lit Inca pottery. When the museum closed, we walked along the cliff-top path overlooking a rather murky Pacific Ocean, and enjoyed a seafood feast in the fading evening light. Dining with a native Spanish speaker conveniently removed the usual barriers posed by monolingual menus and opened up a range of culinary possibilities I had never previously experienced. In fact, the evening was delightful until the point at which my companion – and I must admit I can no longer recall her name – realized that her passport was missing.
We immediately called the Mexican Embassy, who advised that a police report would be required before they could issue a replacement. The worst news, however, was that nothing at all could be done until Monday, and it would then take a further two days to issue a new travel document. My friend would have to re-arrange her flight, and spend another six days in Peru. And her immediate problem was that she only had $20 and no means of finding any more until she reached her friends in Ecuador.
I had to leave the next morning, making my second attempt to fly north, but although I was travelling on quite a tight budget, I couldn’t leave a young lady to survive for a week on $20, so I gave her $100 and we arranged to meet at the British Council Library in Quito, Ecuador, at noon, eight days later. This was in the days before electronic communications changed the world to the extent that we are no longer ever out of touch, so I was well aware that I might never see my $100 again, and that there could be any number of innocent reasons why this might turn out to be the case. Nevertheless, as I boarded my flight I did at least feel the satisfaction of having done what I knew to be the right thing.
Eight days later, I my taxi drew up outside the British Council Library in Quito. Rather weakly, I dragged myself from my seat and, with some difficulty, entered the building. I’d been in two minds whether or not to even attempt the journey after a sleepless night where I’d alternated between uncomfortably hot and freezing cold, and breathing was a constant struggle. Curiosity, more than any firm belief that my friend – a stranger after all – would actually be there, had been the motivation, but she was there, waiting for me, with my $100 in crisp new twenty dollar bills. Furthermore, seeing my pressing need for medical assistance, she was able to ensure that I had access to food and drugs and that I would not be alone for the three days it took to make some kind of recovery.
If I had ever doubted that lending the money to a traveller in need was a good idea, I would have been wrong. If it is possible to spare the money, or the time, or whatever sacrifice is necessary, then offering help is the only course of action. When we travel, it is sometimes necessary to place our hopes in the hands of random strangers. The corollary – that sometimes random strangers will place their trust in us – is equally true. We may not always be rewarded for our actions in such a timely manner as I was in Ecuador, but we may always travel optimistically with the knowledge that to do the right thing is never wrong.
การแปล กรุณารอสักครู่..
![](//thimg.ilovetranslation.com/pic/loading_3.gif?v=b9814dd30c1d7c59_8619)