3 Lessons from Traveling That Lead to Everyday Happiness
Remember that happiness is the way to go - not the place you go. ”~ Roy M. Goodman
After college I went to explore Europe for four months with one of my best friends.
We took it back to fourteen different countries and learned things about the world and ourselves that we did not expect. We used to joke that we learned more about life ourselves by traveling abroad for four months than we did at school for four years in college.
When you travel, you get a whole new perspective on what is really important, and you feel you have this fun and excitement that reminds you how many opportunities you have in life.
Still infected with the travel bug, I decided last year to spend six weeks with a good friend in China. In the Buddhist world, bicycles, and sticks, I remembered three important lessons that helped me find happiness and contentment in everyday life.
1. Great things can happen if you are flexible.
Ehren and Ping Ping
When you’re on a trip, you expect there to be some lumps in the road or unexpected surprises, and that’s what makes it so much fun. If everything went as planned, you wouldn't have a story to tell without "I saw the Great Wall of China and it was huge."
When you are flexible, you open yourself up to the possibility that it can sometimes arise in an instant.
My friend and I booked a few nights at the Yangshuo hostel a week earlier on the idea of living in a room together. Things did not go as planned. The management provided our room, which meant we would have to stay in separate rooms for a few nights. So we did, without complaining.
This is how we met Ping Ping, who worked at the front desk of the hostel. Because we were flexible, understanding, and patient, Ping Ping took us and gave us a real experience that we would never have experienced otherwise. He became our friend, confidant and our tour guide.
We spent several nights at his father's house in his hometown, where he and his family cooked for us and ate together. We played basketball with local children at a nearby school and visited a Buddhist temple with his brother.
Ping Ping gave us the opportunity to see life in China at the level of the tourist grid - and gave us the opportunity to really get to know him. Not just as someone looking at us in our hostel, but as a real friend. It all happened because we were willing and happy to go with the flow.
It is not always easy to adapt to life. Sometimes we cling to strong opinions on how things should be done, either personally or professionally, but this can set us back and eventually limit us. When you are flexible, you open up opportunities that you may not realize are available to you.
2. Life is very good and manageable when you do what happens in times of fear.
Lijiang River
One of the things I love about walking is when I feel temporary for fear.
In Yangshuo, I was riding my bicycle through a land of myths, which was teeming with water buffalo and small villages, surrounded by twisted mountains like something from Dr. Seuss's book. It was really amazing.
However, the most amazing moment happened when I put my bike behind the bamboo raft and sailed back to Yangshuo. The light from the sun was dimming, and what was left was a natural sound and a moving reflection of the peaks of Mount Karst in the water.
It was then that a sense of calm descended upon me. My thoughts were clean. I felt lucky to have this knowledge, and at the same time I felt very young. I could not help but feel happy and at ease. Everything in life seemed so simple - and for a while I had no problem.
It doesn’t take something as big as the Lijiang River, but for me, this feeling often comes from nature. Maybe it's a good thing we do for you. Or a meaningful and intimate conversation with someone - someone who is experiencing something similar to you, which makes you realize that you are not alone.
These moments, when you remember that you are part of something bigger than you are, evoke a sense of dread. They are submissive, and if you let them wash over you, you will feel a sense of connection and peace that makes all your problems seem manageable.
We need to choose to create those moments - to get out of our homes, to get out of our heads, and to get into the big, big world together.
3. You have to let go of where you have been and where you can get to.
Mogao Caves
When I was a child, my mother used to tell my brother and me to say good-bye when we left. If we were at sea, he would say, "Throw it into the sea!"
I remember waving my hands when I heard a car roll over a hill, and then it drove away. I didn't know if I would ever see you again.
After spending two days in Dunhuang, riding camels in the desert, enjoying the fun of cooking in another region, and exploring the Mogao Caves, we returned to the train. It was a twenty-four hour drive to our next destination.
As the train slowly moved forward and gained momentum, I looked out the window and waved (in my mind - I did not want the Chinese family to share the train room with me and think I was crazy).
I was only there for two days. I had seen only a few 492 temples in the “1,000 Buddhist Caves” and took only a few samples of local food, but I still had to move on.
When the train left, part of me wanted to stay. I knew that I would probably never see Dunhuang again in the desert. But I also knew that I was looking elsewhere in a strange way.
When you’re on a trip, it’s easy to let go of a good moment because you know the adventure is going on. No matter what moves outside your window, there will definitely be more to enjoy when you get out of
About the Creator
Samyog kandel
I am a passionate writer, trying to inspire other through my story..
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“The Man Who Never Missed a Day”
When I was 17, I met a man who delivered newspapers in the rain. Not in a casual, half-hearted way—but fully committed, every single morning. He would leave his house before sunrise, his coat soaked, shoes falling apart, and the wind cutting through him like a knife. Yet, despite the cold and wet, he smiled at everyone on his route. To a teenager like me, it was both confusing and inspiring. I remember the first time I saw him struggle with a bundle of papers that seemed almost too heavy for him. He slipped on the wet pavement, muttered something under his breath, and kept walking. When he reached the next house, he knocked on the door, handed over the paper, and smiled as the door closed. That smile was strange to me—it wasn’t pride or satisfaction, it was… calm. Almost peaceful. Curious, I approached him one morning. “Why don’t you take a day off when it’s so hard?” I asked, shivering in my hoodie as the rain soaked me through. He laughed, a deep, gravelly sound that didn’t sound annoyed, only knowing. “Son, nobody cares about today,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is tomorrow. You build your life the same way: one small effort, every day, even when nobody notices.” At the time, I didn’t understand. My life felt urgent, like it had to explode with success immediately. I was chasing big ideas, jumping from project to project, leaving most half-finished. I thought motivation was everything—without the spark of inspiration, nothing mattered. The idea of showing up every single day, even when tired, even when bored, even when invisible, felt almost insane. I watched him for weeks. Rain or shine, he was there. I started noticing small details I hadn’t seen before—the careful folding of the papers, the way he adjusted his wet coat to protect the bundle, the extra minute he took to smile at a child running out to grab the paper. Every morning, the same ritual. Every morning, the same effort. And yet, nobody cheered. Nobody noticed. Years passed. I went to college, chasing my own “big dreams,” my own versions of instant success. I started businesses, abandoned them; learned new skills, stopped halfway; made promises to myself I couldn’t keep. I told myself I was working toward greatness, but mostly, I was chasing the idea of success, not the work itself. Motivation was my fuel, and when it ran out, I stopped moving. Meanwhile, the memory of that man stayed with me. The quiet diligence, the smile in the pouring rain. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he had already taught me the most important lesson: consistency matters more than talent, and persistence matters more than inspiration. Years later, I found myself struggling. A career path crumbled beneath me, a relationship ended badly, and my confidence had hit rock bottom. I remembered the man with the newspapers. I thought about how small, invisible efforts can be the hardest to trust—because results are not immediate, and recognition is not guaranteed. Yet, he had shown me that those small efforts accumulate, slowly but inevitably, into a life that cannot be ignored. I started experimenting with this principle myself. Every morning, I wrote 500 words for my stories—even when tired, even when uninspired. I practiced my skills quietly, without posting or sharing. I did the work not for applause, but because it mattered to the person I wanted to become. Some days, it felt like nothing was happening. Some days, I wanted to give up. But then I remembered the man with the newspapers, and I kept showing up. It didn’t take long before I started noticing changes. The words I wrote flowed better, ideas connected in ways they never had before. People began noticing my work. Small victories became more frequent, and my confidence started to rebuild. What had seemed like meaningless, invisible effort had quietly transformed my life. That man never became famous. He never went viral. He had no thousands of followers, no awards, no recognition. But every paper he delivered, every smile he shared, every step he took in the rain—it all mattered. Each day of consistent effort built a life he owned completely, a life he could be proud of. I realized then that success is not a moment. It is not a sudden flash of recognition or a single lucky opportunity. Success is the sum of the quiet, consistent decisions we make when no one is watching. It’s the choice to wake up when it’s easier to sleep. It’s the decision to work when it’s easier to scroll on your phone. It’s the effort we put in when the world doesn’t applaud. And the truth is simple: showing up every day is more powerful than talent, motivation, or luck. Talent fades. Motivation fluctuates. But showing up—every single day, rain or shine—creates results you cannot imagine. Just like the man in the rain, your efforts may not be recognized immediately. People may overlook them, circumstances may feel unfair, progress may seem invisible. But over time, the cumulative effect of your daily effort will speak for itself. One day, the world will notice. One day, your consistency will transform your life. So, start today. Don’t wait for motivation. Don’t wait for inspiration. Show up. Every day. One small effort. One action. One step at a time. Let your grind be louder than your excuses. Because the man who never missed a day wasn’t special. He was ordinary. But through persistence, he became unstoppable. And so can you.
By Ihtisham Ulhaq2 days ago in Motivation
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