Getting Lost

We arrived in Sevilla yesterday and took a taxi to our apartment. The driver let us off by a square and, in Spanish, said it was around here somewhere, waving his arms in all directions. Dónde, I asked? And he shrugged, indicating that all the streets were pedestrian-only, and he couldn’t drive us any further. After a moment of panic, we found it, tucked in a corner between a restaurant and a bakery. We rang the bell and were buzzed into an apartment hotel in the hub of Campahna, in what was once a 16th-century convent. I was thankful for mostly soundproof windows on a Saturday night as the last straggling bar-hoppers woke me with a serenade from the alley at 7 am.

I have few anxieties when I travel, but I must admit that getting lost while travelling between destinations twists my stomach in knots and sends me running for the bathroom! I feel the same about actually finding accommodations. Why can’t our hosts inform us that our apartment is on a pedestrian street or that the location does not appear on a Google map!

Getting lost while staying somewhere is a totally different story. This morning, my husband and I meandered small streets in Sevilla, realizing once we had walked 10,000 steps, that we were not heading back to our apartment - we had gone in a totally different direction! We laughed, checked Google maps, and corrected our course.

I am the same at home. I don’t mind ‘getting lost’ on a hiking trail, knowing that on our island, eventually, I will reach the ocean and can easily re-orient myself.

But buses and trains are a completely different story - as are GPS directions that send you the wrong way up a one-way street!

This anxiety relates to age - I was fearless as a young traveller, knowing I could always catch another bus or train - although back then, my travel budget meant I might have to hitchhike! No, this is an anxiety I have acquired in later life, something that wakes me at 4 am - always 4 am - on the day I have to travel.

If only I believed, when filled with anxiety, that all would be well because it always is, despite the wrong turns and misdirections.

At the beginning of this journey, taking the train from Lisbon to Sintra was a breeze, but not so much when I had to travel from Sintra to Porto. I booked my bus ticket, then, on the morning I was leaving, I discovered that my bus did not depart from the Sintra train station but rather from the Portela de Sintra station. A quick scramble to get ready - and I got there in time! But where was the bus stop? My Google Map told me it was on the other side of a busy highway - but there was nothing there. I approached a woman sitting at a lone bus stop with a backpack. Sachia was also travelling to Porto on the same bus and had no idea if she was waiting in the right spot. So we waited, entertaining each other with stories of our misadventures - until the bus pulled up in front of us.

On the island of Madeira, we rented a car. We drove to the town of Sao Vicente along highways, through tunnels and around roundabouts. Our directions were simple - until we reached our destination - we seemed to be at the correct address - but at the wrong house! Thank god for What’s App! I called Linda, who was waiting for us at our rental. She got in her car and came to find us. We followed her along windy, steep roads to our little house tucked into the side of a mountain. Yes, she said breezily, the house does not appear on Google Maps. Well, that would have been helpful to know!

In Funchal, we kept circling the block, trying to find our apartment, not knowing it was on a pedestrian-only street. Finally, the third time around, I heard someone say through the open car window, Helena, is that you? And there was our hostess standing by a narrow alley. We parked in a no-parking zone while she helped us quickly carry our bags to the apartment. If I had known that this would happen, I would have been a wreck!

I could tell you more stories! But I’ll leave you with this last one. It was a Monday morning when our GPS stopped working as we were on a 16-kilometre hike through the Douro Valley. We took shelter from the downpour in a muscatel winery. We were welcomed with open arms! Mahmoud directed us to the washroom and then went to get us an espresso to warm up - on the house! Then, because a tour group was running late, he offered us a tour and tasting. We spent a wonderful hour with this delightful young man as he explained the workings of the winery and invited us to sample far too many muscatels. When we left, the rain had subsided, and we knew we were heading in the right direction.

Every misadventure has had a silver lining. We would have missed numerous adventures if we had not gotten lost. Nor would we have seen magnificent architecture or met wonderful people. And then there are the hidden bars and cafes we have discovered tucked away down tiny, dark alleys.

So I suppose that 4 am anxiety and another dash to the bathroom have been well worth it!

Are you more anxious now about certain aspects of life than you used to be? Have you gotten hopelessly lost on travels only to discover that you have found yourself? I’d love to hear your stories!