Travel, they say, makes the world go round but in many respects, it also makes it smaller. On a recent jaunt to the South of France I sat next to a mother and daughter by chance on the outbound flight from London; the daughter was unable to book them seats next to each other, so she booked them apart and as luck would have it the person sitting on the aisle to my window exchanged places with the daughter so she could sit next to her mother. It was quite sweet actually; a young woman wanted to be seen with her mother; you know how quickly we grow out of wanting mummy phase.
A couple of days into my travel I was an excursion to St Tropez for the day and the chauffeur, having picked me up first from my hotel in Villefranche, proceeded to his next stop, in Nice enroute and wouldn’t you know it, it was the mother and daughter! How completely random and small of the world. They recognised me on sight, whilst I tried to place their faces but at the same time we asked, “didn’t we sit on a plane next to each other!?”
We shared a moment and it occurred to me that we didn’t say one word on the plane when we sat next to each other, but here was life intervening, putting us in close proximity and there was no letting up. So we made conversations here and there.
Wandering around St Tropez off season is one of life’s greatest pleasures because even if it is still busy it still feels reticent; as if it belongs only to you. There’s ample room to amble along to see the shops, some closed but with a promise to be back mid spring when its regulars start traipsing back into town. It is a town meant for the summer season for sure, but off season with few shops and restaurants open and the markets for company, a busy harbour, it still gives the goods.
I popped into an old favourite for lunch Le Sporting just opposite the square where the market was in full swing, being a Tuesday, and five minutes into my solo lunch date, sat at the table right in front of me, were, you guessed it, mother and daughter! We laughed because this was an inside joke among us now. I sat down to one of my favourite meals every time I come St Tropez; beef with spaghetti and truffle and shaved cheese; you absolutely, positively, must have this meal here when you visit; it is so delicious. As I made to leave, we made more small talk and promised to see each other around town. I stopped at Le Tarte Tropizienne for the classic dessert before making the rest of my way through the town.
When we stopped for wine tasting the daughter and I struck up a conversation. She schooled, lives and works in London, and her mother was visiting from China. I shared my story with her and we talked about all sorts, wine of course and our shared stomping grounds in and around the city. Her mother loved sweet wine just like I do.
If ever there was a moment that typified the smallness of the world, for me, it was this moment, strangers on a plane with near enough the same itineraries for a place they love to visit. As strangers we form a bond, we want to see the same places even if our tastes differ our curiosities lead us to the nooks snd crannies in the world where we sit a hair away from each other, ate lunches we didn’t even know we would have in common. Strands in my memories of visiting St Tropez will be linked to these shared moments with two of strangers, as theirs will be to me.
And so as I watch the summer travels of others float around social media, the colourful towns of the Cinque Terre, the stretch of coastline in Cornwall, hell the glittering lights of the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, the Masai warriors, the white sands of Popenguine, the divine coastline of Lamu… I am reminded about how travel makes the world smaller. We want to see the same places, do the same things, are intrigued by the same cultures, share a similar meal, our vastly different interests that are not so vast and not so different in the end. It is our humanity that bonds us. Our shared love of the world that binds us together. In the end, it’s still all ours.