IMANE KURDI A friend told me yesterday how he has opened up his home to people from all over the world. It has been an amazing experience for him. Every week, he hosts people for a day or two. He gives them a place to stay, advice on things to do and places to go, and acts as a laid-back, well-informed tour guide. All of this is done for free, no money changes hands. It's called couch surfing and it has existed for a long time, but this is the first time I met someone who has actually experienced it. Do you remember good old-fashioned Arab hospitality, and the stories told by our elders of a time before hotels when strangers arriving in town were given the warmest welcome, with local people hosting them in their homes, giving them food and gifts, and feeling pride in showing people their town? Well, this reminded me of that in some way. It's done by the Internet now of course and this is one of those areas where social-networking becomes meaningful. The idea is simple. People coming to visit a city look for a place to stay with a local resident – a couch will do, hence the name – so that they can experience that city not as a guidebook carrying, fully-packaged tourist, but through the eyes of a bona fide local resident. They get to see the real city, get to know real people, experience another culture from the inside out. And locals volunteer the fabled couch because they want to meet people from all over the world and are keen to show them their town. It is not simply about saving money, though of course that is part of the attraction, but about a generous, open mindset, that understands the true meaning of hospitality. And it works; Forbes reports that over five million connections have been made through couch-surfing. Isn't this wonderful? In a world that is increasingly materialistic, consumerist and superficial, traditional values of hospitality live on. And in that vein, I was also cheered by a story touching on another of my gripes about the modern world: the fast disappearance of a reading public. In the Var, in the south of France, a public library has opened a kiosk on the beach for holiday makers. The kiosk stocks hundreds of books in several languages, covering all genres from literary fiction to science fiction, and of course a librarian is on hand to recommend books for particular tastes. For a token fee, anyone can borrow a book to read whilst spending a day, a week or a month at the seaside. Yet another simple idea. Libraries are in danger of extinction in local communities, and books of paper and ink are fast being supplanted by those words on a screen that may enable you to read a story but do not give you the full sensual, tactile, concrete pleasure of reading a book. Encouraging people to read by bringing books directly to them when they have a horizon of free time ahead can only be a good thing, and as for encouraging children to read, well that is a winner on all counts, so much better than watching them twiddle their thumbs on soulless mobile devices for their entertainment. “And finally”, as the newsreader famously says, did you hear the story of the Stradivarius left on a train? It was in Switzerland last Friday. The violinist Alexandre Dubach, in a moment of forgetfulness, left his violin behind on a train. This was not any violin, but a Stradivarius worth millions of dollars. A stranger, Pascal Tretola, noticing that a violin case had been left behind, picked it up and took it home with him. Two days later he handed in to lost and found at the station. He knew the violin was precious he told the press, and as there were drunk people on the train he brought it home with him for safe-keeping, before duly returning it to the authorities when he had the time to do so. Alexandre Dubach had the scare of his life and said he will no longer carry his violin himself. But isn't it reassuring to know that a young person had the foresight and the honesty to pick up an irreplaceable object worth millions, keep it safe and return it to its rightful owner? These three stories reassure me, each in a small but meaningful way. Perhaps I am getting old, but increasingly I find myself alienated by the erosion of the social fabric of life. It is the little things that make a difference. These stories remind me that we cannot change the world around us, but we can stay true to our values. — Imane Kurdi is a Saudi writer on European affairs. She can be reached at [email protected]
