Today I went to Mexico. Just a little day trip with a friend to Tijuana, for a new experience (and food!). I walked across the border with $40 cash, my passport, and a tube of chapstick – you know, the important things. We had fun checking out the kitschy shops and getting a feel for the city.

As much as I love adventures, I was pretty nervous about this one. I’ve heard a lot about the dangers of going to Mexico. Crime, food poisoning, “don’t drink the water!” Et cetera.

As we were trying to find a place to eat, I saw four people standing on the street with their eyes closed and arms open. There was something written on a cardboard box sign. We asked a woman what it meant. She said, “free hugs.” My friend didn’t want one. I did, but I was afraid and skeptical. I thought “what if he picks my pocket or kidnaps me or…” (insert every other bad thing that could possibly happen). How do you trust what you don’t know?

But I decided to go for it. I love hugs.

I hesitantly approached him, without saying anything. I slowly lifted my hand to touch his arm, to let him know I was there, and he swiftly folded his arms around me in not just a hug, but an embrace, a hold. I sunk into him. Unexpected tears started to come into my eyes, and then out of them. He stroked my hair gently. We held each other for what felt like a long time. I heard cars going by on the road and felt people walking by, but I felt no shame. When it ended, I touched his arm and whispered “gracias” in my best Mexican accent.

I didn’t know this man. We were strangers from different countries, he from a country I didn’t entirely trust and was afraid of. But it healed me.