The Art of Meeting People
The art of meeting people and creating a fleeting, momentary friendship is something I’ve come to appreciate more and more as I get older — or should I say, as the years roll by. Let’s not talk about age just yet. We’ll get to that.
What fascinates me is how, in just a few hours, you can go from strangers to something much closer — not quite soulmates, but certainly companions. Allies for an afternoon. You share stories, laughter, music, sometimes even vulnerability. And then, more often than not, you part ways. Maybe a WhatsApp exchange, maybe not. No expectations. Just the pure pleasure of connection.
Chances are, that’s all it will be: a spark, a glance, a few good hours of communication based on shared curiosity, personality, the odd overlapping viewpoint. Maybe music — especially music, which for me is the ultimate icebreaker.
In today’s climate, I steer away from politics — particularly the American variety. It’s a swamp full of tripwires. Everyone has a strong opinion, and these opinions seem increasingly shaped by algorithms and echo chambers. It’s become hard to tell whether you’re talking to a person or a curated cluster of YouTube links and Instagram reels. So, yes, I’ve learned it’s best to tread lightly there, especially when the aim is harmony rather than combat.
But music? That’s a different language. If someone shares a love of Coltrane or Zawinul, Bowie or Bonobo, Miles Davis or Massive Attack — we’re halfway into a meaningful conversation before we even sit down. Music has no borders, and most importantly, no agenda. It connects us on the level of memory, emotion, and movement.
If it’s older people I’m talking to, kids are another go-to topic. Or health — particularly our strange little world of biohacks, detoxes, and the self-discipline it takes to stick to our eccentric protocols. People are often equal parts bemused and intrigued. It makes for great conversation.
What I truly love, though, is when I don’t have to indulge in small talk. When I can be real — talk about the things I love, what I’ve struggled with, what I believe in. I work hard not to alienate people with strong views or topics I know might put them on the defensive. I’ve learned that the art of conversation isn’t about proving your point — it’s about finding common ground and exploring it together. A little like speed dating for the soul. Or like walking out onto a frozen lake and carving a hole in the ice — if you find the right spot, you might just pull up something worth holding.
New Faces in Amed
Amed has a very different vibe from Ubud. The demographic is older, the pace slower. People feel a bit more grounded, maybe more “normal” — whatever that means.
On our second day here, we met a German couple at Rimba Café — Olga and Viktor, both in their early-to-mid 40s. They live in Hanover. Kind, conservative, and very open to conversation. Our connection was effortless. We talked about travel, family, and life in general. We swapped numbers and planned another dinner together. It was one of those easy, generous exchanges that travel seems to make possible.
Then yesterday, something even more surprising. We ran into an older couple at Bhuana, where we’re staying. I still catch myself in denial about being “older” — even suspicious of people who look older. I know it’s bullshit, but I’m being honest. There’s a reflex there I haven’t fully tamed.
Anyway, they turned out to be Alan and Sharon, from Manchester — and they’d just come down from a stint travelling through Kalimantan. Alan is six months older than me at 73, Sharon is 71. I hesitated at first to bring up the Manchester music scene — thinking they might not have been part of it — but I couldn’t resist. Joy Division, New Order, the legendary Hacienda, and of course later on, Oasis. Turns out, they know the terrain. Not only that, but they’ve been going to Glastonbury for years and are deeply into EDM. Go figure.
There’s something endlessly affirming about meeting people who surprise you. We chatted for hours. The shared cultural backdrop of 60s and 70s England, combined with a love of sound and rhythm, gave us more common ground than I expected.
The Six of Us at Seaview
I decided to gather us all — Olga and Viktor, Alan and Sharon, Georgie and Gary — for dinner last night at the Seaview restaurant down the road. And just like that, six very different people from three different countries found themselves sharing stories, drinks, ideas, and laughter in a tiny seaside village in East Bali.
That’s the magic of travel — particularly here in Bali. New blood, new conversations, new mirrors held up to your own worldview. You’re never quite the same after a good conversation. Something shifts.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real reason I travel: not to escape, not to sightsee — but to meet people. To remember that no matter our age, our backgrounds, or our beliefs, we all carry with us a hunger for connection. And sometimes all it takes is a plate of grilled fish, a few questions, and an open heart.
