One of the blogs we read before embarking on our Next Phase advised us—along with some other very good suggestions—to be certain to get lost. The blogger said that half the fun in this kind of travel is striking out in a new town or city. “Keep going,” he said, ” until you’re hopelessly lost. Then find your way back home.”
Well, I’ve had more than half the fun. Here’s the report of my first venture out on my own: “My half-hour morning walk was about 75 minutes long. I didn’t intend it to be, but I got lost. I learned I couldn’t rely on my iPhone GPS app and I didn’t have a paper map with me. That probably wouldn’t have helped anyway, since most of the streets have no identifying signs at the corners. The Mexicans I asked for direction were polite, friendly, and helpful. Unfortunately, not wanting to disappoint, more than one sent me in exactly the wrong direction. Finally I bumped into an elderly American walking her dogs. She’s lived here 21 years, obviously loves it. She led me until she thought we were at a safe place to turn me loose, and I eventually made my way home, a little worried that Joy would be fretting because I was gone so long.
The truth is, of course, she had hardly missed me. I suggested that in her obvious (not!) relief at my return she could fix a big breakfast of eggs and bacon. Which she did, though without any evidence of excitement that her long-lost husband had returned.
I’m going to keep going out on these excursions until I learn my way around. If I’m not going to be missed when I’m gone, I might as well not get lost.