One of the benefits of travel is the people you meet
The view from a bus window changes by the hour, but what fascinates me most are the people inside it. Each journey brings a cross-section of lives, each carrying their own reasons for being on the road. My People You Meet on the Bus series collects those stories, one conversation at a time.
Cecilia was one of my fellow travellers on the two-week bus tour through Portugal and southern Spain. I interviewed her on our last morning in Madrid, over breakfast, before everyone began saying their goodbyes. The dining room was busy, luggage lined the walls, and Cecilia sat ready for the next stage of life to unfold.
She calls her life in Camden, South Carolina, a monastery. After two weeks of crowds, traffic, and noise, the word made sense. She smiled when she said it. “When I was younger I had to be in the middle of everything,” she told me. “I was right in front of the band. These days I enjoy peace and quiet.”
Cecilia grew up in the Carolinas, born in Charlotte and raised in York. She has stayed close to home all her life, though education and travel have taken her far. She attended boarding school in Richmond, studied at a girls’ college in South Carolina, and spent her junior year in France studying French. “I told my parents I was majoring in French so they couldn’t deny me the opportunity,” she laughed.
After college she made the assumption she was not ready for teaching. “Schools wanted someone who could teach French and Spanish. I only had one year of Spanish, and I didn’t think I was qualified.” Instead, she completed a secretarial business program, learning shorthand, accounting, and typing, practical skills that led to a long career in offices and family businesses. “I’ve never had what you’d call a fulfilling career,” she said. “I just never figured out what I wanted to do. So I worked in offices and did what needed to be done, payroll, reports, all of it.”
Cecilia was blessed with musical talent on both sides of her family. Her maternal grandfather was an Episcopal priest who paid his way through seminary by playing for churches and weekend dances, while her paternal grandmother was the pianist at every party in town so the guests could dance — and consequently, she never learned to dance, as she loved to remind everyone. Her mother was also gifted in both music and art, so creativity was woven into her upbringing.
Cecilia never misses a tune! From choir and flute at home in Camden to fado in Lisbon, she’s proof that the love of music travels well.
She began flute lessons the summer after fourth grade and still plays in the Camden Community Concert Band, which performs four free concerts a year for the public. She sings in her church choir and often performs on stage in community theatre productions. Her favourite role was Ouiser in Steel Magnolias — “a wealthy, divorced woman who loves her dog,” she says with a grin.
Cecilia adores animals, especially dogs. Her current companion, Cupcake, a 68-pound Lab–Pitbull mix, is her pride and joy. “She’s solid muscle and full of attitude,” she says. “I didn’t think it was possible, but during our trip I missed her legs poking me in the back.”
From Lisbon to Madrid, Cecilia couldn’t pass a dog without stopping to say hello. It didn’t matter whose they were. Every wagging tail was fair game
“Camden is small,” Cecilia says, “but it’s full of history and culture.” The town has a spectacular arts centre that showcases artists, dancers, and musicians — many of them world-renowned. It is also home to the largest Steeplechase race in the United States, a museum devoted to that sport, and a Revolutionary War museum that anchors the story of the southern campaign. “One of the battlefields is just around the corner from where I walk every day,” she says. “And don’t even get me started on the Civil War history here. I invite everyone to come visit.”
She is candid about life’s turning points, but she speaks of them gently. After many years of marriage, she realised that companionship and happiness are not always the same thing. “He’s a kind man,” she said, “but we wanted different things.” The decision to start a new chapter came slowly, shaped by reflection and a growing sense of independence. “Sometimes you just know when it’s time,” she said.
The divorce was amicable. They already owned two homes, one by the lake and one in town, which made the separation simple. “We’re still friends. I call the home in town my ‘stay-out-of-jail card’. When I was ready to kill him, I’d go there for a few days. Now I live there all the time,” she laughs.
Cecilia speaks about animals the way some people speak about old friends. She supports both county and private shelters, helping with fundraisers and adoptions. She told me the story of Houdini, the cat that crept into her life through the pet door one night and refused to leave. “We initially thought he was a raccoon and we tried to trap him for weeks,” she said, laughing. “He’d sneak in, eat, and disappear again. Then one night I caught him hiding under a green coat by the door, two white paws sticking out. We’ve had him for twelve years now.”
Travel has been one of Cecilia’s great joys. She has toured the Canadian Rockies, the American West, Africa, England, Ireland, France, Greece, Turkey, and spent long stretches in Italy. She once rented an apartment in Florence for two weeks and another in Venice for three. “By the time I left Venice it felt like home,” she said. “I knew the shops, the boat routes, even the garbage boats. It’s all done by water. You watch long enough, and you learn how a city breathes.”
Sunhat, sunshine, and that unmistakable sparkle. Cecilia soaking up Spain before heading home to her “monastery life” in South Carolina.
Before the group departed Madrid, Cecilia made a birthday card for Ross, one of the three Australians on the tour, and passed it around for everyone to sign. “I knew his birthday was the day we were all leaving,” she said. “I thought Maree, his wife, could give it to him on the day.” The cake and the band’s song that followed were a surprise organised by the tour team, but the thought behind the card was entirely hers . A small gesture that felt typical of Cecilia.
On the bus, her humour, kindness, and stories about her hometown were constant gifts to the group. She shared travel tales, thoughtful advice, and quick jokes that could lift a tired afternoon. At our farewell dinner she found herself near the musicians, and by the end of the night she was dancing with them. The next morning, people were still talking about Cecilia being the life of the party. Cecilia laughed. “I wasn’t the life of the party,” she said. “I was just the closest one to the band.”
When we spoke that final morning in Madrid, she was bright-eyed and ready for home.
“I like learning about different cultures,” she said. “But I also love coming back to my quiet little town.” She smiled as she gathered her things. “People have become so selfish,” she said. “The only way to real happiness is to put others ahead of yourself.”
Then she stood, gave me a hug, and went off to catch her flight. The bus tour was over. The monastery life was waiting, choir practice, garden, Cupcake, Houdini, and a town that sings back.
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