The Thankful Traveler
Shaina Tranquilino
November 29, 2024
Colby tightened the straps of his battered backpack as he stepped off the rickety bus. Dust swirled in the golden light of a fading afternoon. He was in a small village on the outskirts of Peru, where the Andes loomed in the distance, their snow-capped peaks piercing the sky. This stop wasnāt plannedānone of them were, really. Colby had set out a year ago with no itinerary, just a vague notion of "discovering the world."
The first few weeks of his journey had been a blur of bustling cities and tourist-packed landmarks. But as time passed, Colby realized it wasnāt the sights that matteredāit was the people. Every kind word, every shared meal, and every act of generosity had imprinted itself on his heart, shaping his perspective on life.
As he wandered into the village square, his stomach growled, reminding him he hadnāt eaten since the pre-dawn hours. A faint aroma of roasting corn and spices wafted through the air. Following his nose, he found a small, makeshift stall where an elderly woman was serving bowls of steaming stew.
āHola,ā Colby greeted, fumbling with his limited Spanish. He pointed to the pot, hoping to convey his order. The woman smiled warmly and ladled out a generous portion.
When Colby reached for his wallet, the woman waved him off. āEs un regalo,ā she said, placing a hand over her heart. A gift.
Colby hesitated, feeling the weight of her kindness. āGracias,ā he said, his voice thick with emotion. He sat on a nearby bench, savoring the hearty meal and the moment.
As he ate, a group of children gathered around, curious about the stranger in their midst. One boy, no older than ten, pointed at Colbyās camera dangling from his neck. Smiling, Colby handed it over, showing the boy how to look through the lens and press the shutter. Laughter erupted as the children took turns photographing each other, their faces alight with joy.
Later that evening, as the village prepared for a festival, Colby found himself swept up in the revelry. He danced awkwardly to the rhythm of drums and flutes, earning good-natured laughter and cheers from the villagers. A young man named Diego struck up a conversation, translating for Colby when his Spanish faltered.
āYouāre far from home,ā Diego said.
Colby nodded. āIāve been traveling for a year now. No plan, justā¦ seeing where life takes me.ā
Diego smiled knowingly. āLife has a way of surprising you.ā
When the festival ended, Diego offered Colby a place to sleep for the night. The room was small and modest, but the bed was clean, and the blankets smelled of lavender. As Colby lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling, he felt a deep sense of gratitude. Every step of his journey had been a leap into the unknown, and yet, time and again, strangers had welcomed him with open arms.
The next morning, Colby said his goodbyes, promising to send the photos he had taken. As he walked toward the main road to catch the next bus, he realized his heart felt lighter. He wasnāt just collecting stories or ticking off destinationsāhe was learning to embrace lifeās unpredictability and trust in the kindness of others.
Colby tightened the straps of his backpack once more and took a deep breath. The world, with all its beauty and chaos, was waiting. And he was thankfulāthankful for the journey, the connections, and the unshakable belief that even the smallest acts of kindness could bridge the vastest distances.
