Disappointment is a cruel thing.
I guess we bring it upon ourselves, by putting expectations on things.
Like last night, when Mama and Mami were packing for them and Eva to leave. Mom had brought a large suitcase with her, which was mostly filled with snacks, some of which we’d eaten and the rest we anticipated we would soon. Eva had brought a much smaller suitcase, and the three of them now had far more shopping to take back with them than they had space for. It was hence the logical decision for them to take mom’s big suitcase back with them and leave Eva’s for mom, which would also be easier for her to haul around as we traveled more in the days to come.
Now, I collect fridge magnets as souvenirs from every city that I visit. Whenever I go back to India, I take them with me to put up on the fridge at home. I’d collected a handful since my last visit, so I brought them to Japan, hoping to send them home with the family that was leaving before me. They’re small but heavy, and I hadn’t even considered that I might have to haul them around for the rest of my trip.
It sounds like I’m making a mountain out of a molehill when I say this, but it stung when, after asking Mama three times to pack my magnets in his (mom’s) suitcase—where there was plenty of space left—he pretended not to hear.
They were taking the presents I’d gotten them from the UK and other places I’d been since I last saw them. The next day, they even went shopping again and somehow accommodated that in their luggage without hesitation.
I was hurt. I got past it. He’s family.
Tonight, we said goodbye to Mama, Mami, and Eva, and Mom and I moved into the cheapest hostel we could find for our last-minute booking. It was rated decently though, and we figured we’d get at least a semi-comfortable night to unwind after the chaos of the family trip.
After struggling (as we always do) to find the actual hostel (a tiny sign by an elevator finally told us it was on the third floor), we walked in and were hit by sTeNcH.
Let me list everything wrong with this place:
* 24 beds crammed into one room
* A smell I still can’t describe, but one I will never forget
* No space for luggage, no security
* A dimly lit kitchen
* One toilet per gender for all those people
* And, just in case I didn’t mention it, the stink
Immediate mood-breaker.
All I wanted was one comfortable night. Just one. A night to recover from the intensity of the family trip in peace. And instead, we were stuck in this — for lack of a better word — hellhole. For four nights.
We had three nights booked in Chiba after this, but then we were supposed to come back to this place. Thankfully, we had the option to cancel our return stay for free until the next night, and mom said she’d back whatever decision I made.
As much as I hated what we had just walked into, I was also still self-aware. I’m crankier at night, and I made the adult decision to sleep on my emotions before canceling the next booking.
At least the hostel was just a place, not a person. A place doesn’t choose to disappoint you; it just is. I would change the things I had the power to — like I was pretty certain I would with this booking the next day. And I would be the bigger person and live with the things I couldn’t.