If I had to draw one line of commonality throughout my travel experiences, it would have to be a moment of simply saying yes. Like when your friend invites you to India for her brother’s wedding. How do you pass that up?
Ironically, this story starts before I ever stepped foot into India. I found myself in the neon glow of Seoul’s streets in the warmth of a late summer’s evening. It was only the start of my time studying abroad in South Korea. In my first days, everything seemed so foreign to me. Physically, I could feel the days stretching out ahead of me, with the dawning realization that I was truly alone for the first time in my life. Everything I knew within me was suddenly telling me that I had made a terrible mistake. I was a fish on land, gasping for air but only seeming to shock passersby. I felt I needed to go home, and I only wish I knew then what I was on the precipice of. I had no knowledge of the fact that I was about to meet someone that would change my life forever.
Nightlife in Korea was fascinating, and just as much a part of the culture as kimchi and ajummas stretching in the early hours along the tracks of the metro. I remember party revelers coming in all ages, with one of my favorite memories being dancing with an 80-year-old man on the dance floor of a packed club. Anywhere from 6:30 to 9 pm the tone of the night was set by drunken businessmen taking to the streets after one too many soju shots with their coworkers. With the right people, the fun does not end until the next morning, as you await the first train to carry you away from the hectic streets of Itaewon. All the fun I was to experience was in stark contrast to my first nights in Seoul, which had been remarkably lonely; I did not dare explore all the incredible offerings of the city alone.
I finally took a leap of faith one night, and in the basement of a Hongdae club, I found myself gravitating towards this group of dancing free-spirits. It might have been Jessie or Jay Park playing over the loudspeakers, but a voice jumped out to me: “Wait, do you go to Yonsei?” Surprised, I blurted out my best “yes,” and suddenly the rest was history.
Different cultures, experiences, and geographic locations shaped both of us and could have just as easily kept us apart. Perhaps, our one distinct similarity of not being from Korea might have been what initially brought us together. Jaspreet (Jazzy) spent time growing up in both India and California. Over the course of our semester abroad, we became very close friends, but her invitation to her brother’s wedding still took me by surprise. As our semester came to a close, I had the looming fear that so many of the amazing connections I had made would somehow fade away. Yet, I sat on a plane headed to New Delhi to see my friend Jazzy and suddenly felt that the universe might have a way of keeping us all together.
Going from Korea to India was like a catapult of culture shock. I traded my tiny, windowless goshiwon for a huge compound in Punjab, but also said goodbye to a conventional shower and hello to a bucket. With it being winter time, in a house designed for summer’s heat, we slept with layers of blankets and wore our coats all day. The fresh food we ate was beyond my wildest dreams: sarson ka saag, makki di roti, pakoras, shami kebab, and palak paneer, the list goes on and on. My mouth waters just thinking of the incredible spreads of platters and countless cups of sweet cha. Needless to say, I never went hungry, as there was always someone asking if I had eaten yet!
In my short time in India, I found myself a welcomed addition to this loving, boisterous family, garnering my own nickname, “missile” in Punjabi for my ability to somehow keep up with all of them. Out on the dancefloor, again, I found comfort in letting go and saying yes to the music, even if the words were completely foreign to me. I watched and took part in a traditional Punjabi wedding ceremony, spanning five days and nights, and delighted in the colors that paint such a beautiful celebration of what truly is a new life for the happy couple. I saw how weddings beckon in something incredible for the entire family as well. I met uncles, aunties, and cousins of all ages and various parts of the globe, rejoicing and making plans for the future.
Traveling has shown me that saying yes is a muscle we all have to flex. I never realized that my life before traveling was shaped invariably by maybes and definitive nos. In little moments, like agreeing to go to a raccoon cafe with complete strangers, finding the courage to accept a free tour of the Taj Mahal, and couch surfing on a South African man’s couch in Jeju Island, I have begun to see that the world is much smaller than I previously believed. There is so much power and divinity in saying yes, particularly when something within says you should do it. Your mind opens up to the life of possibilities around you. You forge bonds that continually surprise you in their ability to grow and adapt with you, even as a pandemic rocks the world and distance becomes a commodity we all have far too much of. Saying yes granted me the opportunity to see parts of the world, and myself, I never imagined I would see.
