The day I'll never forget

I'll never forget the day that I arrived in Bandung, Indonesia. I wanted to visit the grave of my great grandfather who had died in a prisoner of war camp during the Second World War. Unprepared and armed with just his name, I board a train to Bandung in the hope that I will somehow find the war graves cemetery.
As I get off the train in Bandung a small woman grabs my hand. She’s wearing a Muslim headscarf and has a round, smiling face. She says to me ‘I have car, you come with me.’ My mind is racing. Should I trust her? I’m not sure about jumping in a car with a stranger, but something makes me trust her. I show her the address of a hostel and she says she will take me there. She asks me if I've made a reservation and I say that I have not. ‘Okay’ she announces ‘you will stay with me.’ I panic a little. Part of me is excited at the idea of staying with a local family, but part of me is screaming ‘stranger danger’. Caution is thrown to the wind and I accept her generous offer.
I’m nervous, I’ve never stayed in a Muslim household and I don’t want to offend my host. I ask her if she’d like me to cover my hair. She looks me straight in the face and announces ‘I am Muslim; you are not. This is okay.’ I tell her that my Oma grew up in Indonesia and that her father is buried in a cemetery here. She says that she will help me and makes a few phone calls. I’m tired after a long day and go to bed which is a rug on the floor of her son’s room. I sleep lightly and am awakened by the call to prayer crackling over the loud speakers. She offers me some sweet cakes for breakfast and tells me that her friends say there is a war cemetery right here in Cimahi.
The cemetery is huge and the graves are packed in, each marked with a simple white cross. The caretaker leads us to the grave and I ask them if I can have a moment alone.
The red hot sun shines on my face as a flood of tears run down my cheeks. I am overwhelmed by the kindness of a complete stranger who helped me to come here and pay my respects to my relative.
I feel that my business in Bandung is complete and she drops me at the train station. As a parting gift she hands me a hand stitched pillow cover and I moved beyond belief. This stranger welcomed me into her home, and wanted nothing in return except to practice her English.
I’m wary not to let this experience make me overly trusting of strangers, but it does show that if we are overly untrusting then we miss out on some wonderful experiences too.