Angelica Marsh

Over twenty years ago, I got lost in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I was with my fellow American college students, and we were supposed to meet back together at noon, but then my watch stopped working. I'm dating myself, I realize. We had no phones at the time, and the six of us were all exploring an open-air market. At some point, I lost track of the time and the place and my friends. I practiced my memorized lines and paid full price for every fruit I tried; not because I was generous but because I still didn’t know how to bargain with people. But I was loving this process. I ate every type of new fruit I could find. I panicked when I saw the time. It was 12:30. I ran to the meetup spot, but no one was there. For the next ten minutes, I tried to find someone who spoke English. I wanted to know if my team members had left a message with someone. Eventually, I broke down. I felt so embarrassed by my inability to communicate the most basic conversational Portuguese that I had practiced. A woman in her seventies approached me and handed me a water bottle. I reached out to pay her for it, but she waved me off. I used whatever Portuguese words I knew to explain that I was lost. Our group had a plan. If we ever got truly lost, we would take a bus back to the hotel. But I didn’t know how to navigate the bus. I wasn’t even sure where we were. I asked if there was a bus stop. “I can walk you there,” she said in English. We walked for twenty minutes. I spoke in Portuguese. She spoke in English. We both spoke mostly with our hands. I felt so incredibly embarrassed and vulnerable and . . . well . . . American. She explained that her two children both moved to southern California years ago. Her husband had passed away a few years back, but she wasn’t lonely. She had lots of friends at her church. Take that back. Sometimes she felt lonely. She sighed and said that she misses him every day. Okay, actually she feels very, very lonely. Sometimes she gets mad at him for leaving her to go to heaven and then feels guilty for being angry. I sat there in silence, not because I didn't know what she said in English but because I didn't know what to say, period. Eventually, we made it back to the bus stop. I gave her a hug and rode the bus over to the hotel. Fast forward to the present day. About six months ago, I was in Brazil. When I needed to ride the bus, I simply typed in the directions, and an algorithm told me where to go. I got clear directions with precise time estimations. I held my phone up to the sign and it translated to English. I was blown away by all the aspects of AI in translating a Portuguese world to an English speaker. But I didn’t get to hear a story. I was not forced to communicate with my hands. I’m not sure I will ever again leave an interaction in a foreign city feeling grateful for a woman who would take forty minutes outside of her day to help a stranger who was lost and scared. I'm often amazed by AI but I am more often amazed by the human connection that can occur between strangers. Yeah, AI decoding technology is a marvel but it's nothing compared to empathy and kindness.