The kindness of strangers

Sometime help comes from where you least expect it.

Flashback to late August 1982. I am standing on the platform at the Frankfurt train station waiting to get on the train to the airport. I have my bag and suitcase, and am obviously a traveler. I see a very old, frail, somewhat ill-dressed woman standing 30 or so yards down the platform, stealing glances at me. I am saying to myself "Please don't come over here and talk to me." Then the woman approaches me and, in broken English filled with concern, tells me to come over to where she is standing because we both are waiting for a Kurzzug (literally a "short train"). I am unknowingly standing in the wrong place -- and if I remain where I am standing, I won't be able to get on the train.

Now back to late August 2013. I am in Helsinki sitting contently in tram #9 in the growing twilight, on the way home. A small and old disheveled man boards and sits nearby, glancing at me occasionally. I am saying to myself "Please don't come over here and talk to me." Suddenly the tram driver makes an important announcement -- in Finnish. I know it is an important announcement because he speaks for more than two seconds. All I can understand is "May I have your attention" and "Thank you." Nothing in between. The tram then stops, and almost all the passengers start to get off. A few remain in the far back of the tram, but just a few. I, of course, must have a perplexed look on my face. Have we been asked to disembark? Has the driver just told us that a bomb will explode if his speed falls below 50 miles per hour? [Note: I have never seen a Helsinki tram exceed 15 miles per hour, and we could go around Helsinki for weeks at such speed, so I discount this last theory.] Not knowing for sure, I sit fast. I have been in the Paris metro before when public announcements have been made because of accidents, strikes, mechanical failures, etc. But I knew what to do because (1) I understand French and (2) Parisians complain loudly at being asked to disembark. But the Finnish passengers are all silent as they get off, not a look of complaint on their faces. The old, disheveled man is the last of the group to step off. But just before he goes out the door, he turns to me and, in broken English, says: "You tourist? Must get off now." When I don't immediately move, he repeats, with concern (and pointing at the door): "You tourist? Must get off now." Aha! I understand even the most basic request when repeated twice with a hand gesture! So I get off. He can offer no explanation in English, but when another #9 tram pulls up less than a minute later, I figure out that we were asked to change trams.

My mistake was not in my lack of Finnish skills (although better skills would have helped). My mistake was once again, unfortunately, on a different level.

I don't know what happened to those four or five other passengers who chose to remain in the rear of the tram (probably out of ignorance; they had no good Samaritan). Perhaps they are still on the ill-fated #9 circling Helsinki at 15 miles per hour.