when things don't go as planned

I’d never been to Thailand before. Back in 2016, when I spontaneously travelled to London for a job interview at an “Ayurvedic culinary business”, I had a delirious plan: if I didn’t get the job, I would hop on another plane straight to Bangkok and spend a couple of months learning how to cook Thai food properly (oh, to be a young, wild, and uncaged Sagittarius).

I did get the job (their bewilderment at someone crossing the Atlantic with only three days’ notice for a chance to work with them seemed to have swayed things in my favor). I ended up staying in London for seven years and my dreams of perfecting my green curry paste were pushed to the back burner—until I found myself in Asia in 2024.

Finally, after years of dreaming about it, I made it to Thailand. I was thrilled.

Unfortunately, I was also violently unwell for the entire three weeks I spent there. I managed to (somewhat) come back to life with the help of tiger balm, menthol inhalers, spicy tom yum, ginger tea, veggie tom kha gai, short wobbly walks through buzzing night markets, a very kind Airbnb host angel, and a visit to hospital.

Being sick alone in a foreign country isn’t ideal, yet it came with essential reminders. The most important—predictable yet surprisingly easy to forget—is the practice of daily, fervent appreciation for health. Our miraculous bodies deserve constant recognition for their silent, unwavering, and often unnoticed devotion to keeping us humming, alive and functioning.

No, really.

A close second is adaptability. Sometimes, this means letting go of the overly ambitious itinerary made when bursting with energy, curiosity, and the delusional belief that an entire country can be seen in a matter of weeks. Instead, it might mean staying in bed, wondering if you’ve caught a fatal illness from the sneezing masseuse who stretched you intensely, while binge-watching an entire K-drama (The Glory, in case you’re curious) or even cutting a trip short to return home earlier than expected. None of this is an obstacle to the travel experience—it is an integral part of it.

Whenever someone approaches me with weary eyes, full of other people’s stories of travel (mis)adventures, I take their hand, look into their soul, and tenderly assure them: things won’t go as planned—and that is a good thing.

My best travel stories have come from being turned away from an Anthony Bourdain-approved restaurant in Saigon, only to end up squatting on a tiny chair on the pavement, eating the most delicious bánh mì; getting stuck in Hakone during a monstrous typhoon, unable to visit the *open-air* museum I had travelled there for in the first place; being jolted awake in Tokyo by my phone’s blaring emergency alert, researching with one eye open what a mega-earthquake is at 3 a.m.; or rushing back to my hotel in Seoul after the president of South Korea declared martial law—during my birthday celebration, no less—to Google things like: Can I go to the 7/11 to buy 라면 (ramyeon) without getting arrested? Do I need to leave the country immediately? Will Gwangjang Market still be open tomorrow so I can eat 떡볶이 (tteokbokki)?.

Delays, cancellations, being overcharged, getting lost, losing things (RIP AirPods), feeling lonely, meteorological surprises, plot twists of all kinds, interactions with (vicious Taiwanese) insects, and/or body “issues” are inevitable when travelling. The key is not to resist, but to surrender, learn, and move on. Besides, it’s usually those moments that we end up laughing about and retelling at dinner parties years later… tragedy plus time equals comedy, and all that.

After all, the best traveller is one who can be present with whatever unfolds—whether exquisite or terrifying—meeting it to the best of their ability and embracing it as a precious part of what they crossed oceans, underwent jet lag, and invested savings for.

Things going 'wrong' simply means they aren’t unfolding the way we want them to—according to our narrow, controlled script of what we think is nice and comfortable. And yet, things going 'wrong' is often a sign that we are truly living: trying new things, saying yes to the unknown, stepping outside our comfort zone, challenging our beliefs, being confronted with who we thought we were, interacting with the world, and allowing it to transform us (isn’t that the point of travel, anyway?).

Offer life your plans, and let it shatter them into a million tiny pieces. Let it defy what you thought was best. Tuck into the dish that bears no resemblance to what you thought you ordered after pointing at a photo on a menu. Be humbled by how little you know. Let yourself be surprised by who you become in unfamiliar places that grant you the exhilarating delight of being anonymous, fresh, and free. Welcome the unexpected. Allow yourself to be changed, even if it stings a little at first.

Remember, travel is as much about discovering cultures and landscapes as it is about uncovering inner worlds and previously hidden dimensions within (for example, I have learnt that Jeanine in Japan is kawaii radically different to Jeanine in Mexico or Switzerland).

Above all, unshackle yourself from fear-fulled control by trusting that you will be able to meet whatever comes—because you will, if you so decide.

This, of course, is just as true in life.

No matter how hard we try to force, plan, and mould life to our liking, it will always push back in its freedom, pointing us towards our own—the deepest and only true freedom we possess: the ability to choose how we meet this moment.

So, what if, when things seem to go wrong, we decide to believe they’re actually going right?