There is an old Taoist story of a farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit.

“Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “What good luck,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the horses, was thrown, and broke his leg.

The neighbors again came to say “What bad luck.”

“Maybe,” answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by.

The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

The amazing thing about travel – and life for that matter – is you never know what’s good and what’s bad. And no one proves this point better than my brother. He was working on his PhD in the Classics and trying to save enough money to study in Rome for a year. To do this he had taken every horrible job imaginable, but slowly he was raising the needed funds.

Around the same time he’d befriended a visiting Irishman – a charming fellow who talked a good story and could always be counted on for a bit of the craic, or fun, as the Irish call it.

One week before my brother was to leave for Rome, this very affable lad came to my brother in a panic. A member of his family was getting married and would my brother be so kind as to lend him the money to get to Ireland in time to attend the wedding? Once he was home, he’d wire the money immediately. He promised.

And so my brother gave him the cash and off the fellow went. But the money never came. The charming Irishman was nowhere to be found and my brother had to work at his horrible jobs for several more months before he could leave. Such bad luck.

But finally my brother got to Rome and had a wonderful time. Unfortunately, while there he became sick. He saw Italian doctors but when they recommended surgery, he flew to England to get a second opinion. The English doctors determined that a course of antibiotics was all that was needed.

Once he was well, my brother decided that, being so close, he’d go to Ireland, find the missing Irishman and get his money. So off he went and amazingly enough, he found him. But the poor fellow did not have any money.

So instead he and my brother struck a deal. The Irishman would provide my brother with room and board and a job working under the table at a backbreaking construction job. That way my brother could earn his money back. Such bad luck.

But in the very next apartment was a lovely Irish lass attending university in Dublin. She became his friend. Then his confidant. Then his girlfriend. And finally his wife.

He’s been married now for over 30 years and anyone who knows my brother and meets his wife agrees she’s the one woman on the planet, and perhaps in the solar system, who is absolutely perfect for him.

And so what seemed bad was actually good – a good that would not exist but for travel and an Irishman turned Eskimo who changed my brother’s life forever.

By Jamie Simons for PeterGreenberg.com.

Read the post that began the Grateful Traveler series, An Eskimo Showed Me the Way.

Check out more from the Grateful Traveler series in our Personal Travel Journals section.