The “Yeh Yeh Yeh” State of Mind
Written by Maya Eashwaran and Regina Lankenau
yeh yeh yeh: [/j//ɛ/ — /j//ɛ/ — /j//ɛ/]
noun. occasionally, verb.
Origin: Calle Bolivia, San Luis de Sabinillas
- The lightness of being that comes from sharing your energy and enthusiasm with another.
- The feeling of cooking something that doesn’t burn.
- The feeling of encountering a kind stranger who takes the time to tell you their story.
- The feeling of finding the exact word you’re looking for.
- The feeling of getting to know a new home.
Or, if you prefer:
Behind each poised photo lies a coagulation of sweat, sunscreen, and dust. The familiar blisters that chafe against your sandals. The soreness of your legs after a day of losing your way.
Travelling, it seems, is more about these misadventures than the immortalized flashbulb memories that we remember years later. It’s about realizing, halfway through a plate of patatas bravas, that we just might miss the last bus out of the city.
Travelling is confidently ordering an ice cream and then, fumbling to lick the coveted treat as it dissolves into a melting puddle of sugar in your palms. It’s messy, sticky, and frankly, gross.
If there’s anything we’ve learned these last two weeks, it’s the immeasurable comfort of having a partner-in-crime to lift your spirits, share the burden, tell a joke to make you forget about your growing exhaustion. It’s letting out the occasional and perhaps uncalled for “yeh yeh yeh!” in the middle of a taxing situation that might otherwise feel like a hard “no no no.”
Our travel philosophy, which we have gratuitously dubbed “The Yeh Yeh Yeh State of Mind” is about this release of energy. This simple positive exclamation has fueled us time and time again, reminding us why we love this scary and stressful and tiring thing we call travel.
Sitting near the scalding Plaza de la Marina in Malaga City, we try to catch up with the soupy disaster our ice creams have become. Regina wipes her hands and grimaces as they momentarily stick to each other.
“This was a bad idea,” she says, laughing.
It was, I agreed. An extraordinarily bad idea.
Then, the faintest whisper of a sea breeze cuts through the heaving humidity.
“Hmm,” I say, my eyes closed and face tilted to follow the wind. “I kind of want another one.”
