To the people we meet

They say traveling is all about the people you meet.

I remember the first night I met some people in Langkawi—travelers from different corners of the globe—we went down to the beach however dead and dark it was there. We found a nice spot near a lamp post, and everyone settled, sitting cross-legged on the sand. We each got our own plastic cups, and one by one filled them with the bottle of alcohol we were all sharing. 

photo by Stephanie Chan

"Cheers?" one guy raised his cup initiating a toast. "No, no," said this funny, charming girl from Amsterdam. "Let's all say it in our own languages."

Raising our cups, I mustered my best "tagay!" as five other languages rose to the midnight air at the same time as mine. I looked around to see everyone flashing a warm smile—the kind you wear when you know you're in a special moment—and I know they're thinking the same thought as I: this, this is the best thing about traveling. Meeting people so different from you, only to find out that you're all the same.

I drank up, and I barely could hear myself underneath all the joy I was feeling.