The many shades of travel

And how travel forces adaptability

This post has been delayed due to my travel schedule over the past 45 days. But here it is anyway! Better late than never.

It is always the small things.

Like most of us, I am a creature of habit—not in an obsessive way, but in a way that makes life feel anchored. There is a rhythm to the every day—where I place my keys, the way I like my chai, the familiar sequence of winding down for the night.

Then, travel happens. And not the leisurely kind, where you get to curate your experiences, but the kind that takes you through multiple countries, time zones, and hotel rooms, all while keeping up with work, meetings, and expectations.

For nearly a month (and for a week prior to that—with a short break in between), I have been moving across the US, India, Saudi, Dubai, Qatar, back to Dubai, and finally home—mostly for work, barely stopping long enough to take in anything beyond the airports, hotels, conference rooms, and the occasional glimpse of the city through a taxi window. Though packed with work commitments, I did manage to steal some time for personal moments in one of the cities, a rare but welcome pause in the midst of constant movement.

The unpredictability of travel

Routine is a luxury you do not generally get to keep while travelling. One night, you are in a hotel or an Airbnb with the right kind of pillows, and the next, you are in a room where the air conditioning has two modes: Arctic freeze or Sahara heat. Air conditioning controls—that is a conversation for another day. Some places have a perfect mattress, others make you wonder if the bed was designed by someone with a personal agenda against comfort. Then there is the question of sleep itself. When crossing time zones, sleep is no longer a function of habit, but of sheer exhaustion.

And this is just the sleeping part. Every step of the journey introduces some new test of patience—airport security lines that move at a glacial pace, immigration officers who decide that today is the day they will take an extra-long look at your passport, flight delays that have no explanation, and taxi rides that could have been shorter. Then you have food—where familiar options are hard to find, and you find yourself navigating unfamiliar menus, sights and smells.

Waking up at odd hours for flights

At home, waking up before dawn is a choice—perhaps for a morning run or an early start to the day. On the road, it is an inevitability. Some flights are at the perfect time, allowing you to sleep a full night and wake up refreshed. Most are not.

You set an alarm for 4 AM, only to wake up at 2:30 AM on your own or at times you barely sleep, dreading the journey ahead. You check out of the hotel in a daze, dragging your luggage into the half-empty lobby, where the night-shift receptionist gives you a sympathetic nod. The taxi ride to the airport is quiet, the roads nearly empty, and for a brief moment, the city feels different—almost peaceful.

The airport, however, is another story. It is bustling with travellers who are just as bleary-eyed as you are. You shuffle through security, navigate the boarding gate, and then there is the moment when you sit in your seat, buckle in, and hope for sleep. But sleep does not always come. Sometimes, you are stuck next to someone who wants to engage in a full-fledged conversation at 4:30 AM. At times, you get a seat that does not recline. And just as you are about to drift off—despite the inconvenience—the breakfast service begins, forcing you to decide whether to eat a meal that technically qualifies as either a very late dinner or an early breakfast.

And yet, after enough of these flights, you stop thinking about it. You just do it. Because travel is not always about comfort—it is about moving forward, reaching the next destination, and making the most of the journey along the way.

When a simple cold becomes a crisis

At home, a mild cough or cold is an inconvenience. You take some rest, drink warm fluids, and move on. But on the road, it is an entirely different beast.

A scratchy throat on a long-haul flight suddenly makes you hyperaware of every breath. A cough in an airport lounge or at restaurants earns you uneasy side glances. The usual remedies—your go-to medicines, a comforting home-cooked meal—are not within reach. Instead, you are left guessing whether the nearest pharmacy carries anything remotely familiar and whether the hotel’s room service will have something that actually helps.

Added to all this is the exhaustion. Long days, constant movement, and adjusting to different time zones can take a toll. When you are not feeling your best, navigating security checks, flight gates, and tight schedules becomes even more challenging. In those moments, you realize how much you take for granted—how simple recovery feels when you are in your own space, without the added worry of meetings, flights, or staying sharp on a work call when you are feeling a bit off.

But you adapt—because that is what travel requires. And in those moments, you make a quiet promise to yourself: pack a small survival kit of medicines—especially the one you think you will never need, because that is always the one you will wish you had. Pay attention to the early signs of fatigue and allow yourself the rest you need. And above all, appreciate how (relatively) effortless it is to deal with a cold or cough at home.

The unexpected perks of travel: Cricket, football, and a trophy moment

Between meetings, flights, and tight schedules, spontaneity felt unlikely. Yet, every now and then, travel offers an unexpected gift. I happened to be in a city on the very day a cricket match was being played—and somehow, I found myself right there in the stadium, watching it live.

As if that was not enough, in another city, I found myself face-to-face with the Premier League trophy—an unexpected highlight in a month shaped by work schedules and travel logistics. Standing beside one of football’s most iconic trophies was a moment to take in.

For a few hours, I was not a traveler on a tight schedule. I was just a fan, lost in the moment.

And that is the beauty of travel. It disrupts routines, pushes you out of your comfort zone, and forces you to embrace the unpredictable. But every now and then, in the middle of the rush, it hands you a perfect memory you did not know you needed.

Coming back home

Now, as I (almost) finally settle back into my own space, my own bed, with my own blanket, I wonder—am I the same person I was before I left?

After more than a month of navigating the unpredictable, I have likely loosened my grip on a few things. I now see control as an illusion, and sometimes, the best thing to do is simply go with the flow.

And the next time my routine is disrupted, I might not fight it as much. Because if travel teaches anything, it is this: life rarely follows the script—and that is okay.

And through it all, I remind myself to be grateful—for the opportunity to travel, to see the world beyond my routine, and to return home with experiences that would not have been possible otherwise.

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