It was Wednesday morning. I’d just finished my oral exam for Dutch class. (Whew!) Now it was time to exhale.

Months ago I’d bought a ticket to see Hauser in Antwerp, about an hour from Ghent. He’s a Croatian cellist. I’m a Belgian/Canadian cellist. The course dates included Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of this week … so there’d be no lingering in a new city.

After the exam, I sat in Izy Coffee checking out train schedules. Perhaps I should have done this earlier! The concert was expected to end around 10:00. The last train home was at 9:30. And no late buses. I didn’t even figure out what a taxi would cost.

Friends in Izy started problem-solving for me. A hostel for six hours or so and then an early morning train? I checked – all the hostels were full. And I wasn’t willing to pay for a hotel for a few hours. Sell my ticket and sleep in my own bed? No! I want to hear the cello played brilliantly.

And then the barista Merve simply said:

Before the concert, ask people in the arena for a ride

Why didn’t I think of that? I smiled at the prospect of meeting new folks. And I could feel my trust that all would be well.

The concert started at 8:00. I entered with the opening doors at 6:30. After I’d approached a few folks (none of whom lived in Ghent), a woman with her young daughter suggested I make a sign. The girl had paper. The mom had a pen. And voilà:

On I walked, row by row. So far no Ghentians in the crowd. Lots of smiles, though, and “Good Luck”s.

Someone suggested I go right down to the stage and grab the microphone. Okay, I’m not that brave.

As I roamed from one family or friends to the next, I’d sometimes look back at the paper providers. When they saw me, they smiled. Hmm … I was known.

Flushed with a so far failure to produce the result, I decided to retreat to the concourse. Trust in the goodness of human beings still lived in my soul. I’d find a volunteer and see if there was anything in place to help people like me. A woman in a blue shirt replied “No.”

“But …

“That woman over there lives in Ghent.”

!

I resisted the temptation to kiss the pointer and the one pointed to. The second blue-shirter had a lovely smile and a sweet nod of her head. Yes, Rose would drive me to Ghent. And no, she wouldn’t take any money.

My sigh filled the universe

***

I crawled into bed at 12:07

I walked into my Dutch classroom at 8:50

All indeed was well