As a traveler, I tend to stay away from crowds, landmarks, and the most obvious attractions, but every now and then, there are exceptions. There are the times when it’s understandable why crowds have formed there and it makes perfect sense to join them.
In an age where overtourism plagues most of Europe’s iconic cities, there aren’t many exceptions, but personally? I’d put the Vatican on that short list.
The line that spills out across St. Peter’s square is almost always a long one. But once you’ve made it inside? That experience is something else.
You’re greeted with the ornate artwork that extends in every direction.
The smells take over.
The prayer candles add to the effect.
One thing I appreciate about Catholicism is the way it integrates faith with tangible, embodied things. It makes sense that the Vatican is multi sensory.
I don’t think you need to be Catholic, or even religious, to find something awe inspiring about a walkthrough of the Vatican. I paused to remember some loved ones who passed on and felt a very deep gratitude to be there,
While some people made their way through, with sights set on the most famous images… the Sistine Chapel… the spiral staircase… I loved the cathedral corners that felt dark and tucked away. It was a bit like being embraced by the reverence of people passing through over centuries.
When I first showed up at the Vatican, it wasn’t so much the length of line that intimidated me.
It was more so that it meant having to be out in the Italian sun with no shade in the middle of summer.
I had already swung by one of the small souvenir and snack shops that line the streets where Rome transitions into the Vatican. I was quite proud of myself for having used enough of my Italian to make small talk with the nun who was running the shop.
The small talk?
The weather. The disgustingly scorching weather.
But it’s not every day that you’re right at the sight of such a marvel, so I decided to just deal with it. A few friends and I staked out our place in line.
There was a guy just in front of us who seemed properly excited to be there. He delightfully asked a group of nuns if he could take his picture with them. I wasn’t sure if this was a common ask or an awkward one. Perhaps both. I know St. Peter’s Square is a big tourist destination and all… but well, the nuns are on the job.
Perhaps it was such a common ask that it doesn’t phase them anymore, or perhaps it’s because this guy simply looked like the most eager and jolly tourist that they obliged.
He turned to me and handed me his camera, and asked if I could take the photo.
He then looked at me and declaratively stated: I will take one of you.
We traded positions. I included myself amongst the nuns.
He took the photo, and then we really started to mix groups, rearranging our friends amidst the nuns for a few different takes.
He introduced himself as Habib from Turkey, though these days he was living in Sweden. He was a frequent traveler, religiously ambiguous, and full of energy.
I mentioned that just a few months before I happened to spend time in Turkey.
We spent a large part of that day together.
Habib and I connected on Facebook. I was able to keep up with his travels around Europe and the Middle East.
Three years went by.
I found myself spending another summer in Europe.
I was going between different countries, connecting the dots between all the places where I had friends who could offer me a couch.
And at this point, the road dropped me off in Denmark.
I decided to send Habib a message, to check if he was currently next door.
He was.
I navigated the bus system, crossing the bridge from Copenhagen over to Malmö, from there working my way to the central plaza.
Several cafes lined the path and I scanned for the one that best resembled Habib’s description. They all kind of looked alike. Fortunately, there was no mistaking Habib. He occupied a table at one of the cafes, and his larger than life presence made it known that I found the spot.
Habib! I waved my arm and he responded warmly. He offered to pay for an iced coffee and sandwich and noted that even though it was a short reunion in Sweden, he was still a Turk and would be treating a guest accordingly.
He then beckoned me to walk with him. Habib’s walking tour of Malmö.
I guess Malmö is known for being one of the roughest parts of Sweden, but I don’t know if that’s saying much given Sweden’s general pleasantness.
The core of its city had some classic Scandinavian charm, at least. Habib took me by the city library and the nearby shops which all had a storybook trim and aesthetic to them.
We continued to walk along the water, passing a block of uniform, square buildings. Then, rising out from them, was a skyscraper. White like these grids, but towering over them and twisting.
The Turning Torso. An architectural oddity.
I asked Habib about some of his recent trips. He had glowing things to say about Beirut, the people, the nightlife. In turn, I shared that I had recently enjoyed my stops in Norway and Morocco.
What’s a spot you’re dying to go to? I asked. Somewhere you’ve never been.
Confidently, he responded. Jerusalem! Who knows who has the right idea about God. But we know most of those ideas cross paths in Jerusalem.
Habib’s religious curiosity. Unchanged since the summer at the Vatican.
He shifted to talking about how much he enjoys living in Malmö. It works well as a homebase. It gives him easy access to the rest of the world, and working in Sweden presents a good opportunity to fuel his travels.
I want to live in a city with soul! He declared.
It got me thinking how many cities qualify for that. What cities feel more alive than the sum of its people.
There’s a good bit of data out now on making small talk with strangers, and its a bit of a paradox.
There’s a very real discomfort that typically comes with these interactions. Psychologically, it makes a lot of sense why people enter public spaces in do-not-disturb mode.
But, the reward for moving past that discomfort is actually pretty high.
Even after fairly short and surface level interactions, people leave those conversations feeling a lot better. They usually feel better about themselves, about what just happened, and about the world at large.
There’s not a significant amount of data on how often this leads to having someone to host you on a future trip, but I’ll contribute some anecdotal evidence and say, it’s happened to me more than a couple times.
At the very least, I’ll say that knowing how to talk to strangers is a pretty underrated skill these days.
But those who invest in it are opening all kinds of doors for a very interesting life to come find them.