What I Learnt From the People I Travelled With
What I Learnt From the People I Travelled With
(aka: Reflections from a Four-Day Group Getaway That Didn't End in Therapy)
I recently returned from one of those rare unicorn weekends—four full days with a group of people, in close quarters, without anyone (visibly) losing their mind. Honestly, in today’s world of back-to-back calendars and buffering Wi-Fi, just getting a dozen or so adults in the same place at the same time is a small miracle.
And what a gift it turned out to be.
Over the years, I’ve come to see travel not just as an escape, but as a mirror. A gentle teacher. It reveals not only the beauty of places, but also the richness of people. And this trip? It was a masterclass. Not from the landscape (though that was lovely), but from the fellow travellers who, in their own unassuming ways, offered life lessons that no podcast or self-help book could quite replicate.
Here are just a few things I learnt:
1. Generosity isn't always about giving.
Sometimes, it’s about enabling others to give. I saw someone quietly connect powerful people for a cause larger than themselves—not needing the spotlight, just happy to be the bridge. That’s next-level contribution, and it reminded me that real generosity often looks more like amplification than applause.
2. Patience can be practiced… even with technology.
When the music system wouldn't cooperate and the cricket match stream kept glitching, one person patiently (and I mean zen-master levels of patience) just kept fiddling with cables and connections. No eye-rolls, no snark. Just quiet service. Watching that made me deeply ashamed of how quickly I lose it when my phone autocorrects “thanks” to “thongs.”
3. Insight doesn’t need a TED Talk.
During a casual conversation, someone dropped a comment about how we overreact when someone criticizes our spouse—not because of what’s said, but because of how we identify with them. Boom. A week’s worth of therapy delivered over morning tea. I nodded wisely while inwardly rearranging the furniture in my emotional landscape.
4. Respect isn’t always about rank.
One of the most striking moments for me was watching how a person—no longer in a formal leadership role—was still treated with reverence by those around him. There was no bossing, no managing, no need to assert authority. And yet, there was respect. Genuine, unspoken, natural. It reminded me that real stature doesn’t come from titles—it comes from how you’ve carried yourself over time. A reputation that walks into the room long before you say a word.
5. There’s a time to observe, and a time to zing.
One of the usually vocal folks was noticeably quieter. Maybe mellowed by grandparenting, or maybe just taking in the hills. But when the moment came, the zingers returned—and how! A reminder that we are never just one version of ourselves. We evolve, blend, and bounce.
6. Independence and flexibility can co-exist.
A walking partner insisted on doing a steep hill despite concerns. Halfway in, when a car was offered, she hopped in with grace. No stubborn pride, no performance. Just doing what felt right. Mental note: one can hold one's own without being a cactus.
7. Joy doesn't always need a prop.
There was dancing. Oh yes. And while many of us waited for the perfect drink or the right song, one person just… danced. Effortlessly. Joyously. Soberly. It reminded me that joy, when embodied, needs no invitation. Or playlist.
8. We all contain contradictions.
I saw someone who could effortlessly unleash their inner wild-child… and then, in the next breath, talk with deep love about family traditions. It was such a beautiful reminder: we are all walking paradoxes. And that’s not just okay—it’s magic.
9. Quiet confidence is powerful.
While most of us clung to the familiar playlist, one person sat quietly and then, without fanfare, introduced us to their own music and even a chilli-spiked drink that surprisingly worked. No apologies, no explanations. Just authenticity—and it enriched everyone. That made me wonder: what parts of myself do I still keep hidden?
10. Safe company creates space.
Someone I’ve seen in more formal or frenzied settings seemed deeply at ease here. The kind of ease that doesn’t need to perform or prove. Just being. It reminded me that some groups create safety, and in that safety, we bloom.
11. Long drives reveal shared rhythms.
There was a couple I spent time with on both legs of the journey. What struck me was their shared passion—for movement, nature, learning, and yes, food. They didn’t try to be entertaining; they just were. That kind of steady, gentle companionship is something I deeply admire.
12. Still waters speak volumes.
One person barely spoke—but when they did, it landed. A quiet presence, a warm smile, and one conversation on the coldest night sparked a reflection I ended up sharing with the whole group the next day. Sometimes the deepest teachers are the ones who don’t say much.
13. Letting go can be leadership too.
There was someone I’ve always known as the planner—the one with the to-do list, the schedule, the WhatsApp reminders. But on this trip? Total surrender. No need to lead. Just be. That shift was stunning. A quiet nudge to all of us Type-A folks: it’s okay to follow too.
14. Some people just radiate delight.
And finally, there was one person whose face lit up every single time I looked at them. A smile that said: I’m here, and I’m enjoying this. Simple. Joyful. Present. As someone who tends to overthink breakfast, that kind of uncomplicated delight is a lesson I want to bottle.
So what did I really learn/re-learn?
That people are the best part of the place.
That it’s okay to lead. And also okay to let go.
(Also, that banana chips are better shared.)
Thanks to the journey.
And to the teachers who didn’t even know they were teaching.
Sanjay Rao Chaganti
Professional overthinker. Occasional dancer. Always learning.
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