I took my 3 kids to India to relive my study-abroad days. Traveling in my 40s is a whole new kind of magic.

Wendy Altschuler visited the Taj Mahal when she traveled back to India with her husband and three kids.

It was dark when I arrived in India, the air was slothful with a gluey viscosity. I was still in college and had never traveled this far away from home before.

I hadn’t decided to study abroad in India on a whim. I had spent months preparing, saving, and studying. Delving deep, I was fully immersed in my classes, reading every book on the recommended list and watching every film.

I also spent a lot of time wandering along Chicago’s Devon Avenue, or Little India, which was home to 15 blocks of South Asian restaurants and shops at the time.

Of course, none of this prepared me for what I experienced in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur: the Golden Triangle.

Studying abroad in India

During my last year in school, as part of my study-abroad program, I volunteered at a children’s home about 90 minutes south of Delhi. Through my work, I learned the power of Jugaad, a Hindi word — an ethos, really — which compels one to make the most of what one has, even if it’s very little.

After a day of serving others, I’d return to the YMCA, my home in New Delhi at the time. I’d meet up with classmates to chat about the day’s discoveries. I’d share about how generous and selfless it was for the home leaders to help. Others would discuss how difficult it was to witness families living on the street.

More than once during my first stay, a stranger welcomed me into their home, often just two rooms for their entire family. They would offer me a hot cup of tea or a bangle for my wrist. The people who ostensibly had the least seemed hell-bent on giving the most.

This was a formative time in my life, an era of tipping my toe into what might be possible for my future. The kindness and sincerity of the people I met in India, both at the children’s home and also in other places I visited, made an indelible impression on me.

Altschuler (second from left) was reminded of all the kindness in India on her second trip to India.

I returned 20 years later with my three sons

So, when I got the opportunity to bring my three boys to India two decades later, I raised my hand.

As a travel writer, I’ve had the opportunity to visit many countries around the world, and as a result, I’ve accumulated a fair amount of airline miles. My husband, who also travels for work, does the same.

We decided to cash in our miles and book a family trip to South and Southeast Asia, taking advantage of extended layovers. This included four days lighting up all five of our senses in India.

We made the most of our limited time by visiting some of Delhi’s landmarks, including Red Fort, Chandni Chowk, Humayun’s Tomb, India Gate, Lotus Temple, and Jama Masjid. These were all the same locales my feet had wandered through as a university student.

We hired human-powered cycle rickshaws to explore the constricted streets of Old Delhi, where hundreds of snaking power cords blocked out the sky above. I watched my sons’ eyes widen as we narrowly avoided itinerant goats, men and women carrying hefty bundles on their heads, beeping motorbikes, and green and yellow tuk-tuks.

The author enjoyed watching her sons’ eyes as they looked at tuk-tuks on the streets of Delhi.

The most distinctive stop for me was the timeworn YMCA. I didn’t recognize it, truly, until I saw the hallway leading to the bedrooms where I could picture myself running down the stairs, a palpable sensation where I remembered unerringly how I felt when I was young, well before the demands of adulthood and motherhood.

In a snap of a finger, so powerfully poignant that errant tears escaped down my cheeks, I was now standing there, in the exact same spot, with my husband and three children. Time is wild.

Later, we’d leave Delhi and travel to Agra, stopping off at the famous Taj Mahal. A multi-generational family of women smiled and asked to have a photo with me at Agra Fort, and each time I spotted them around the grounds, we would all wave and giggle, verifying that the warmth and adoration were mutually felt.

In Jaipur, the Pink City, my 15-year-old middle son met a man who coaxed a green bird out of a cage. The bird then selected a red card with his beak, a delightful fortune of goodwill. When the rain poured down in sheets while visiting Chandra Mahal and City Palace, my boys dared each other to step out from under the safety of the overhang and get soaked — a dare my youngest took hook, line, and sinker.

Looking at the photos that my kids had taken later — elephants walking in the road, magnified details of gems stuck in walls, garbage on the ground, and plenty of goofy selfies — I recognized that they were going through something completely different on this journey than I was, which is the magic of travel.

Altschuler enjoyed riding around the city with her family on rickshaws.

Sojourning in India during my 20s with other students was undoubtedly a much different opportunity than seeing the country with my family in tow. We can all wander through the same destination together, but our ages, life experiences, and circumstances will always dictate a unique, personalized adventure. It’s up to us to assign meaning to what we experience.

India is fragrant smoke, turmeric powder, mustard seeds, and dangling strings of chilies; tight round marigolds, fresh jasmine, and bursting bougainvillea; raucous tuk-tuks and inert cows. It’s humidity, then a deluge of rain then beams of sunshine. It’s smiles under draping colorful scarves and a bob of the head. There’s an effervescence that must be experienced firsthand to comprehend, to believe, to feel.

My boys will likely be unpacking their journey for years to come, just as I am decades later still; and perhaps, in 20 more years, we will meet in the country of curry, textiles, forts, and flowers once again.