All's well that ends well

During the journey on the Metro, I had imagined the warm welcome awaiting me when I reached the home of the friends who were to give me hospitality. An hour later, I stood in a Paris street with my huge suitcase wondering what on earth to do next. The house was dark, there was no answer to my repeated ringing of the door bell. Even thumps on the door made no impression on the silent house. My mobile phone had abandoned me. And it was 11pm. Help!

Something stirred behind a high wall, a few doors along the street. I hammered on the wall door. A lady answered, listened to my tale of woe, offered me the use of a phone and a choice of tea or coffee. Three phone calls later, I had the answer to the question ‘Where will I spend the night?’ A Congolese family had offered me a mattress on the floor of their living room. My ‘adventure’ was over but had left me full of gratitude that in spite of what the media might try to persuade us, Good Samaritans are not extinct.