Throughout my travels, there are so many small details that I wish I could keep with me forever.
I know I will forget them—slowly at first and then rapidly, like smoke vanishing from an extinguished candle.
But every once in a while, one will pop back into my head—a gift from the depths of my mind. I was sitting at the Palermo airport when I remembered a small but significant moment I had at the Lindt Home of Chocolate Museum in Zurich.
Standing in the immaculate, vast lobby of the new museum, I was waiting to purchase a ticket from the front desk because I arrived a few minutes before they opened.
At 9:30am on the dot, the front desk employee motioned for people to start coming to him to purchase a ticket. There were about a dozen people waiting alongside me, but I was near the front. Directly to my right was an exhausted father, wrangling a toddler in his stroller. Unsure of whether he spoke English, I gestured to the father to go in front of me. I did this not out of any particular kindness, but because I thought that he had been waiting there before me, so I figured he should go first.
What happened next surprised me. As the father struggled with his child and stroller up to the desk, the employee at the front desk stopped what he was doing, looked me in the eye, and said, “That was very kind what you just did. Very kind. Very kind.”
For a moment, I was confused. What did I just do?
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was talking about letting the father go ahead of me.
Now—I’m not telling this story because I think I deserve a pat on the back. I’m no saint.
I’m telling it because it was a perfect expression of Swiss values—order, thoughtfulness, respect. The fact that the employee went out of his way to praise me for my very small, ordinary act of kindness just shows how much they value those types of acts.
One of my favorite things about traveling is that you see a culture come to life, not through the stereotypes (for the Swiss, those stereotypes might be fondue and chocolate), but rather through the ordinary, everyday actions of people.
Here’s another example of what I’m talking about. In Sicily, I noticed how incredibly often people are checking in on their loved ones. A brother would stop by for lunch. Then a son would call on the phone. Then another brother would stop by in the evening. It was as if everyone who mattered was close by, either physically or through the use of technology. Despite all the fighting and shouting, the love was constant and endless. Family is everything.
Just after the start of my trip, I mentioned to a friend that I was having trouble settling in. He had done a similar long-term trip in the past, so I was looking for advice. He responded, “Yes, it can be difficult at first, but you will acclimate quickly, and it will make you a better person.”
I didn’t understand what he meant at first about becoming a better person. How would consuming endless pasta, pizza, and cappuccino make me a better person? But moments like the one I had at the chocolate factory have made it more clear. As Gandhi said, “A nation’s culture resides in the hearts and in the soul of its people.”
In the end, there is nothing more valuable than finding the best of humanity and letting it shape who you want to be. I can only hope that along with my little souvenir magnets and keychains, I can also bring home the impressions of kindness, resilience, and love that I've encountered, as these are the true treasures that enrich the soul.
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Throughout my travels, there are so many small details that I wish I could keep with me forever.
I know I will forget them—slowly at first and then rapidly, like smoke vanishing from an extinguished candle.
But every once in a while, one will pop back into my head—a gift from the depths of my mind. I was sitting at the Palermo airport when I remembered a small but significant moment I had at the Lindt Home of Chocolate Museum in Zurich.
Standing in the immaculate, vast lobby of the new museum, I was waiting to purchase a ticket from the front desk because I arrived a few minutes before they opened.
At 9:30am on the dot, the front desk employee motioned for people to start coming to him to purchase a ticket. There were about a dozen people waiting alongside me, but I was near the front. Directly to my right was an exhausted father, wrangling a toddler in his stroller. Unsure of whether he spoke English, I gestured to the father to go in front of me. I did this not out of any particular kindness, but because I thought that he had been waiting there before me, so I figured he should go first.
What happened next surprised me. As the father struggled with his child and stroller up to the desk, the employee at the front desk stopped what he was doing, looked me in the eye, and said, “That was very kind what you just did. Very kind. Very kind.”
For a moment, I was confused. What did I just do?
It took me a few seconds to realize that he was talking about letting the father go ahead of me.
Now—I’m not telling this story because I think I deserve a pat on the back. I’m no saint.
I’m telling it because it was a perfect expression of Swiss values—order, thoughtfulness, respect. The fact that the employee went out of his way to praise me for my very small, ordinary act of kindness just shows how much they value those types of acts.
One of my favorite things about traveling is that you see a culture come to life, not through the stereotypes (for the Swiss, those stereotypes might be fondue and chocolate), but rather through the ordinary, everyday actions of people.
Here’s another example of what I’m talking about. In Sicily, I noticed how incredibly often people are checking in on their loved ones. A brother would stop by for lunch. Then a son would call on the phone. Then another brother would stop by in the evening. It was as if everyone who mattered was close by, either physically or through the use of technology. Despite all the fighting and shouting, the love was constant and endless. Family is everything.
Just after the start of my trip, I mentioned to a friend that I was having trouble settling in. He had done a similar long-term trip in the past, so I was looking for advice. He responded, “Yes, it can be difficult at first, but you will acclimate quickly, and it will make you a better person.”
I didn’t understand what he meant at first about becoming a better person. How would consuming endless pasta, pizza, and cappuccino make me a better person? But moments like the one I had at the chocolate factory have made it more clear. As Gandhi said, “A nation’s culture resides in the hearts and in the soul of its people.”
In the end, there is nothing more valuable than finding the best of humanity and letting it shape who you want to be. I can only hope that along with my little souvenir magnets and keychains, I can also bring home the impressions of kindness, resilience, and love that I've encountered, as these are the true treasures that enrich the soul.
