“No One In The World Gets What They Want And That Is Beautiful”
It was a crisp morning in the Andes. Hopped up on coca tea with Alesso’s remix of Pressure blaring in my headphones, I sprinted hurriedly ahead of my group leaving the toil of a three day trek along the Inca Trail behind me. With the last drops of morning dew drying off my clothes, I sprinted up the stairs towards the Sun Cloud Gate, two steps at a time, eagerly anticipating my first glimpse of the fabled Machu Picchu. And just as I reached the apex, I finally laid my eyes upon…
Nothing.
It was absolutely breathtaking. And I’m being sarcastic. Years of seeing Machu Picchu through pristine Google images and manicured travel photos, weeks of anticipation upon booking my trip, and days of physical labor had culminated in nothing but a pure, unadulterated expanse of white. The Lost City of the Incas was shrouded in thick, unwelcoming fog and at that point, I actually found myself questioning if it actually existed or if the Inca Trail was the world’s most elaborate example of trolling.
People offer a host of different reasons for traveling. Some do it for the sites, some for the food. Others do it to escape while some hope that life beyond one’s comfort zone will lead them to learn something about themselves. And there are jetsetters who simply relish the opportunity to indulge in new cultures and are looking to expand their horizons.
And while people will rarely cite this as a reason for exploring the world, travel can also impart to us valuable life lessons with none more cogent to me than how to make the most of a bad situation.
Of course, that important lesson was lost on me as I stood at the Sun Cloud Gate eight years ago, hopelessly bemoaning the overcast weather and whining about how I wouldn’t get to capture any good photos for Facebook. As luck would have it, the weather would clear up in an hour or so, rendering my pathetic drama queen act absurdly pointless and shameful. There was no lesson to be learned that day unfortunately, but my education would come eventually.
In this Instagram-filter world we live in, travel has become such an over-glamorized, exhibitionist activity that every trip we take is bound to be rife with unrealistic expectations. We expect the most authentic experiences, the best meals, and the most pristine photo ops when in reality, that perfect trip often involves a whole lot of luck.
In late 2013, I was blessed with the chance to embark on my first African safari. My inner child, always the lover of animals, stupidly envisioned massive stampedes with herds of giraffes, zebras, rhinos, and more pirouetting across the wetlands singing the Circle Of Life while a wise-looking baboon presented me with a lion cub for photos. Instead I got a few sunbathing hippos, a disinterested warthog, and a lot of empty trails.
Months later, I would visit the small town of Abisko, Sweden in the Arctic Circle, one of the best places in the world to see the Northern Lights, during one the most optimal viewing periods in a multi-year cycle. I was expecting a vibrant display of green, purple, and blue streaks dancing majestically across the sky, sensually intertwined in the world’s greatest light show. Instead, I was once again confronted by my old nemesis, fog.
Expectations are the root of all evil. And while I’ve held nominal and (somewhat) playful grudges against African safaris and the Aurora Borealis since, it was only on a recent trip to Sapa, Vietnam that I finally learned the importance behind making the most of a bad situation.
After reading about it years ago, visiting Sapa immediately rocketed to the top of my bucket list. I don’t know what it is about rice terraces but I’ve always thought there was something magical about those verdant tiers so neatly layered around undulating hills stretching as far as the eye could see. From the moment I saw what Sapa’s gorgeous landscape looked like, I knew I had to visit.
Fast forward to April 2017 and my chance had finally come. With a three day trek and a two night local homestay with Sapa Sisters booked, I was ready to not only grace the rice terraces but to live and breathe the local Hmong culture as well. Despite my best interests, I had succumbed to the hype even planning to keep my phone off for the entire trip. I didn’t care though. This was going to be special.
As you can probably guess by now, my trip didn’t really pan out as I expected. Yet again, fog reared it’s ugly head this time accompanied by rain, its foolhardly partner in crime. Stupidly opting to forgo renting rain boots, I set out for the trek in my Nike Frees which had all the traction of a lotioned baby’s bottom. I spent the first few hours slipping and sliding all over the place, tumbling through the muddy landscape until my guide, a quaint Hmong lady half my size, was eventually forced to take my hand and assist me downhill. By the end of the day my clothes were soiled and my shoes were entirely caked in mud.
The homestay wasn’t much better. My guide and the host spent most of the time lost in their mobile phones which was incredibly ironic given my decision to unplug for the trip. I did everything I could to jumpstart a conversation but ultimately, my attempts were futile. I had envisioned such rich, eye-opening interactions with the local culture but instead, I was staring at illuminated faces around the dinner table, not too different from a meal back home.
Worst of all, the beautiful scenery I had so eagerly anticipated was drowned out in a pale mist. The vibrant green terraces from travel photos that I had fawned over for years were washed out and reduced to dull, lifeless versions of their former selves. I fruitlessly tinkered with my camera’s settings, adjusting photography terms of which I had no knowledge like “aperture” and “exposure” in a desperate attempt to breathe some color into my photos. But alas, it was to no avail. Fuck you point and shoots!
This was hardly the magical experience that had sat atop my bucket list for so many years. But at the most unexpected moment, I was taught the lesson I had failed to learn so many times before. On that trip, I had started reading Ready Player One and on my third night in Sapa, I came across the following quote in the book:
“No one in the world gets what they want and that is beautiful”
I paused immediately after reading that line. It was such a forthright thought, a seemingly pessimistic assertion instantly redressed with wistful positivity. And the more I thought about it, the more I recognized how beautiful that line really was. It was only then, with my shoes caked in mud, my guide entranced by her phone, and the overcast skies adamantly refusing to show any sign of the sun, that I finally understood the beauty behind never getting what you want. It was an important realization and one I failed to have years earlier at Machu Picchu or the African plains or the mountains of Abisko.
If we always get what we want, we’ll never learn to appreciate anything. I remember a point in my life when visiting Sapa was the last thing I could have ever wanted. I was mired in unemployment, stubbornly struggling to find a job overseas, and wondering if I would ever be able to find work again. Living abroad was but a fantasy and traveling was absolutely out of the question.
I’ll never forget those months leading up to my move to Hong Kong. Truth be told, I don’t know what I was expecting when I initially quit my job back then. I don’t know what I wanted or what I was going to do next but at that moment, visiting Sapa was only a dream and nothing more. Just two years later, I found myself surrounded by rice terraces finally realizing that nothing in my life had ever really played out how I wanted it to. Nothing. There have been ups and downs, highs and lows but reality seldom bore any resemblance to expectation. And yet I have never regretted anything.
So as I sat amongst the Tokinese Alps, I would have been remiss to not appreciate how truly blessed I was to be there. Instead of whining like a bitch about how the fog’s reflection was washing out my photos, I simply closed my eyes to take in the moment, breathe in the fresh air, and be grateful for the journey that had taken me to top of my bucket list.
Visiting Sapa was nothing like I wanted. The weather sucked, I ruined my Nike Frees, my local guides were aloof, and I didn’t take any good photos.
And that’s beautiful.
