My uni friends and I went on a trip to the snowy mountains a week or so ago. If you live in Australia you can probably guess which of the 2 or so overly-priced touristy spots we visited. Both of which were 4 hours plus away from us. However, since my role was that of a passenger princess, I distributed the snacks, spilled the tea and shuffled through the shared Spotify playlist. But even being a passenger princess can be exhausting and so it was decided that we would stop in the capital of Australia (Canberra) on the way back.

If you’ve grown up in Australia, you know that Canberra is notorious for 2 things:

• The iconic (I use this term very loosely here) parliament house.
• The limited nightlife.

Growing up I always wondered why people would willingly choose to live in this city, but this city grew on me in the recent past. Something about the quietness mixed with the elements of creativity drew me in. Although I didn’t live there, every time I visited the city, I felt at ease. Maybe it was because as I got older, I appreciated the slowness and greenery over a stuffy enclosed bar. I could never quite put my finger on it. But I didn’t mind it.

That Sunday as my friends and I wandered the weekend markets after our lunch, I walked past the stall of a Middle Eastern man selling handmade Mediterranean dips, spiced olives and Turkish delights. Given that I always had a soft spot for homemade Turkish delights, I was immediately drawn towards the sweets and the seasoned olives. However as I held my hand out to tap on the Eftpos machine, I was declined as it turned out that the machine had stopped working.

As someone who can’t hide her expressions for shit, it was immediately evident that I was sad. I was ready to turn away but he stopped me in my tracks and offered to give me anything I wanted in good faith (that I would pay him back next time). Mind you, this man had no idea that I lived over 3 hours away and would not be doing the drive back down to Canberra anytime soon. However he still offered to hand me the olives and turkish delights for free.

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but in this economy, I knew that every dollar towards any business owner’s shop mattered. So I dug my hands deep into the depths of my bag and magically ended up with the right amount of money for my purchase. As I handed it over to the man, I couldn’t help but notice the happiness that radiated from him. He had a smile that had a lasting impact because it was that damn genuine. He had a lightness around him and as I noticed that in the timespan I’d spent hovering around the stall. I too, felt lighter. The ease with which he trusted me – a complete stranger – was mind boggling to me. He seemed genuinely happy to have people intrigued by his handmade goods and couldn’t care less about the monetary exchange.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it while I was there. But on the drive home, I realised that I was drawn to him simply due to his aura. It was warm and welcoming. Authentic and safe. Carefree and enigmatic. In an age where everyone’s worth was determined at face value, this random man in Canberra had created an environment so warm and comforting. That you almost didn’t want to leave. And that was when I decided. If I could eminate that sense of ease with my energy and impact another person the same way he impacted my life in those brief moments. It would be a goal worth achieving.