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Illustration by Mary Kirkpatrick
My sister’s words cut through my excuses. “You should see the world,” she insisted, knowing what I needed to hear even if I didn’t want to. When she asked me what I was waiting for, I had no clever response. I was nearly 30, and my passport was empty.
But travelling seemed like a big sham to me. I grew tired of backpackers gushing about how petting a baby elephant in Thailand “transformed” them. Globe-trotting to me held no more promise than finding a few stray bills in the pocket of an old coat. I needed something deeper than an Eat, Pray, Love moment. Besides, someone wise once said, “Why put a new address on the same old loneliness?”
Then my Greek best friend reminded me of our decade-old pledge: after our final exams, we collapsed on the university’s lawn, gazed at the sky and vowed to visit his hometown in Athens. Over the years, images of pristine beaches, storied ruins and classical art consoled Vasilis and me through hardship. Finally, it was time to make good on that promise.
Before long, I found myself three merlots deep in a tin can hurtling over an ocean I’d never crossed before. I didn’t sleep a wink throughout the flight. Despite the turbulence, flying didn’t worry me; having nothing planned upon landing did.
Vasilils picked me up at the airport. I smiled, thinking how improbable this moment seemed all those years ago. “Do you believe we’re actually here?” I wondered aloud as Vasilis shifted gears seamlessly on the slick, wet roads.
Vasilis laughed, “No – but I always knew our bromance would last.”
The decade-long wait proved to be well worth it. Every step through the ancient streets revealed new wonders – perfect for envy-inducing Instagram posts. Ironically, none of it truly mattered. What would forever alter my perception of travel was a chance encounter with a local.
Picture this: Vasilis and I wandering Athens, cobbled streets glistening with rain, the crisp air carrying the fragrance of wet pine needles, when a peculiar sound caught our attention – a rhythmic clinking defying the quietness of the residential street.
Intrigued, we followed the sound. Emerging around the bend, rose a humble workshop – its roof clad with traditional fiery red tiles and the garage door rolled up high. Inside, common tools shone with uncommon beauty. A heavy silence filled the air as time slowed down, granting me the space to notice every subtle detail. This sight was more captivating than any ancient monument or artistic masterpiece.
Immersed in his work, a welder gave no mind to our presence behind him. All that was visible was his short steely hair and a physique hardened by years spent at the forge. His hands deftly manoeuvred metal as if he were a magician orchestrating sparks and flames. Each movement defied the gloom, illuminating the workshop with a mesmerizing painting of light and shadows. He wore no flashy protective gear – this was just another day for him, another dance with fire and metal that had become second nature. Under the awning, his orange cat lounged in the cozy warmth while another old friend stopped by to put the kettle on.
The moment moved me to tears. Seeing this parallel to my own friendship with Vasilis made me realize how grateful I am to know him.
Amidst the grandeur of my sightseeing, I came to understand that the true beauty of life lies not in the extravagant or the monumental, but in the simplest of moments – the ordinary made extraordinary. There is always beauty and resilience waiting patiently to be revealed.
As the man continued welding, I felt a pang of envy. I envied his peace and contentment. I craved the simplicity he embodied.
I imagined the welder happy, finding fulfilment in his craft and returning to his loving family – an idyllic routine transcending the boundaries of time and place. Watching the welder, I realized that happiness lies not in accumulating passport stamps or material possessions, but in finding contentment within yourself.
Travelling freely with little more than a carry-on opened unforeseen gifts. By not trying to “find myself,” like so many others, I let everyday wonders find me. Leaving the workshop, rain blending with tears, I realized how easily life’s poetry could pass unnoticed.
Home again in Montreal, I stop marching to the endless drums of “better,” to the insatiable pursuit of better things, better experiences and better people that is never grasped.
I realized the real journey was inward – to appreciate life’s ordinary magic and our shared humanity. That sure beats petting any baby elephant. I may not have returned home “transformed,” but I’ll always think of that welder, his cat and Vasilis – my one true friend.
Arash Sharma lives in Montreal.