Smiling at Strangers

At home I walk whenever I can. For fun, fitness and all that stuff. I walk a five-kilometre loop along a creek and the area is populated with kookaburras, magpies, the occasional yellow-tailed black cockatoo and a million screeching rainbow lorikeets.

At risk of generalising again, when people go for a walk in Australia, well in my little piece of it anyway, they acknowledge one another when they walk by. Sometimes it's a quiet nod and other times it's a generous "Hello! Lovely morning!" said with the requisite sing-song intonation. Sometimes it's just a "hi," "morning," or "hello". Joggers are excused, but mostly they make eye contact and I return their look with one of avid admiration and respect. They run on with a little more of a spring in their step, feeling self-satisfied and slightly superior. I am always glad to have contributed to a moment of enhanced self-esteem.

Here in Sweden smiling at strangers is not the done thing. I confess to being something of a non-conformist however, so when I walk here I often set out to see how many smiles I can elicit. Please don't think that I think Swedish people are unfriendly. Mostly they're watching the ice and snow under their feet in order to avoid the undignified flailing of limbs or a fall. Yesterday I was failing miserably in the smiles-elicited stakes. I had launched many genuine smiles into the sub-zero landscape but to no avail. And then it happened. Something that has never happened in Australia!


An elderly gentleman looked up and smiled. He paused as I approached and reached out to touch my arm. I smiled again and made some redundant comment about the cold. He said, “You are beautiful, very beautiful,” and then he kissed me on the cheek! I was touched. Perhaps I had reminded him of someone loved and special. Perhaps people don’t smile at him often enough.


So I kissed him on the other cheek and told him that he was too kind. And I went on my way, intrigued, gratified...and smiling.