Strangers, but not so much. (English)

At the Séptima fishing pier, mostly reserved for retirees from Cangas do Morrazo, one can observe where their planing boats are moored, a style very common in this part of Galicia. Open vessels, with shallow draft and wide beam.

Here, every day in July, once the octopus season has opened, there is always someone preparing their gear to cast it into the sea.

It was during one of those comings and goings that, together with my sister, I noticed a sky-blue boat, still tied up, rocking with a fine, gentle sway. We made out a stingy-brim hat and, beneath it, its wearer: a man with a rugged appearance and calm, measured movements. I wondered whether he had just returned or was about to leave, whether he fished for pleasure or as an escape from his routine. And there, at that precise moment, we decided to go and speak to that man.

José Manuel fits the Galician stereotype, showing a wary personality at first and a nostalgic one once trust is gained, revealing a humor that oscillates between sarcasm and mockery, yet always lands with a paternal touch and, above all, a refusal to stay silent when there is someone willing to listen.

That is how my sister and I found ourselves traveling along the coast where José Manuel was born and raised, invited by him. We were splashed with his accent and his enthusiasm as he described, in detail, the episodes of his life: the man who came into the world at the water’s edge, who was shipwrecked on a Portuguese fishing vessel, and who ended up forming a family in harmony with the sea.

It is curious to think how far certain interactions can take us, and all that they awaken in our learning about ourselves. Nowadays, for those of us who inhabit our twenties, real interaction can feel almost violent, even forbidden. From asking a stranger for the time, to speaking to someone who attracts or intrigues us, to simply asking how their day is going… all of this has become a small act of bravery. A risk that is hard to take on, and that now seems more like a gift than a habit.

Sometimes I wonder whether our generation will come to tell the same stories, with the same depth and the same weight in memory, as those who today hold the key to remembrance.

Because, as José Manuel used to say, the years serve only one purpose: to meet people and collect stories.

Thank you for reading.