Summary

The author, Brad Yonaka, reflects on the unpredictable and often challenging experiences of travel, finding gratitude in the small victories and simple joys amidst the chaos of developing world transport and cultural unfamiliarity.

Abstract

In a personal essay, Brad Yonaka recounts his travel experiences in various countries, emphasizing the importance of gratitude even in uncomfortable situations. He describes the unpredictability of travel, such as dealing with unreliable transportation, language barriers, and cultural differences. Despite the challenges, he finds moments of joy, such as a smile from an old woman or his daughter's willingness to try new food. Yonaka suggests that these experiences, though they could be avoided with more resources, are essential to his appreciation of the world and contribute to a more authentic travel experience.

Opinions

The author values the authenticity of travel experiences, including the challenges and discomforts.
He believes that overcoming travel adversities, like navigating without a schedule or enduring long journeys, leads to a deeper sense of gratitude.
Yonaka appreciates the small acts of kindness, such as receiving an extra orange from a street vendor, which can have a significant impact on one's travel experience.
He is grateful for the opportunity to expose his family to new experiences and is proud of their adaptability and courage.
The author suggests that a less filtered lens, one that includes the vagaries of travel, enriches the travel experience and fosters a greater appreciation for when things go right.

It’s Always Thanksgiving When I Travel

An ode to the little victories

**Yes, even thankful for this creaky bus with a drippy roof that stopped everywhere**. Photo credit: Brad Yonaka

When I travel…

I spend all morning making my way across town to the bus station. There is no written schedule, only dubious word of mouth. I know that there is only one going my way today, so I’ve got to be on it. The weather is alternating hot sun and pouring rain. I arrive at the station, already tired. The place is silent, so I sit on a bench, swat at flies, and wait. And wait.

Suddenly, a bus comes roaring in from the highway, blaring its horn and scattering chickens. Other people, lounging or sleeping on the benches, spring to life. It’s the bus we’ve all been waiting for! Pandemonium, as everyone is suddenly caught up in the excitement, and merchant women gather huge bundles of sugarcane or wicker baskets or whatever and hurry over to this rusting chariot of public transport. The bus touts jump, shout, and bang on the sides, eager to cram on as many people as possible. My backpack, too large to fit inside, gets tossed onto the roof, where it is sure to get wet. But I don’t care. The engine roars, and a thick cloud of black exhaust marks our triumphant exit from the station.

All I can think is, I’m so thankful that this beat-up old crate is here to move me down the road.

The night train is uncomfortable. There are only economy seats left, so I am wedged in there, hour after hour, as I and everyone else try hard to sleep without slumping into anyone else’s lap. I would not have chosen this train, but there was no way to get back to the city in time for my flight. My packet of crackers runs out at 11 PM.

I stumble off the train in the pre-dawn darkness and find a taxi to the airport. The check-in line is long. The security line is longer. The immigration line is the longest. I wonder if I’m going to make it on that plane. Everyone in the airport is sleepy and crabby. Or maybe it’s just me. There is no time to buy anything except more crackers since the cafes and restaurants aren’t open yet.

I slump into my seat on the flight. It takes off, we breach the clouds, and the morning sun blazes through my window. A few moments before I succumb to exhaustion, they come through with a breakfast tray. Food! Small plastic containers wrapped in cellophane! I eat every bit of it.

And all I can think is, OMG I’m so thankful for this airplane food.

The power cut out, and the fan in my hotel room last night ceased operating. As a result, I spent much of the time killing mosquitos and otherwise not sleeping. But I have just one day to see this town, so I am on the streets early, trying to take in as much as possible. Children here are bothersome, shouting random things at the goofy foreigner so that I will look their way, like a zoo animal. I have a prolonged argument with a motorcycle taxi driver, who agreed on one price when I got on but told me another when the ride was over. I’m frustrated and tired.

There is an old woman selling fruit by the road under an umbrella. She waves me over. I look at what she is selling and pick out an orange. After I pay her, she grabs my hand, placing another orange in it. And then she gives me this wide, nearly toothless smile.

And I think I’m so thankful to see that beautiful smile.

It is our first day in the country. We walk into a restaurant and stare at the menu. I can’t read it. I can’t even read the script it is written in. My daughter looks apprehensive but points tentatively at a picture of soup. What kind of soup? Who knows! I don’t know if she’ll eat anything here. I order the food.

The soup arrives. There is stuff floating in it, maybe vegetables. And cubes of gelatinous material. She looks at it, and I can tell she doesn’t want to eat. I hand her a spoon and say nothing. She finally dips it in and after a minute, announces,

“Daddy, I really like the soup.”

All I can think is I’m so grateful she is brave enough to try these little things.

If anything, travel has enhanced my capacity to capture moments of simple joy. To see the places I want to see, I suppose I could just pay the dollars and eliminate the vagaries of developing world transport, feats of sleepless endurance, fears of being ridiculed or taken advantage of, or pushing myself and my family outside our comfort zone.

But it would take away something very important to me about experiencing the world. To see it through a less filtered lens. And I wouldn’t be as thankful when things work out.

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