Lost in London

Although many women seem to have the curse of a bad sense of direction, I believe mine to be the worst.

I have travelled internationally and locally, seeing the beaches of San Diego, the castles in Edinbough, Scotland; the Vatican, Spanish Steps and Sistine Chapel of Rome; the view from atop of the Eifel Tower; Madison Square Garden, the subway and the Empire State building of New York; pub hopping, visiting Shakespeare's home in England, and wine tasting throughout the picturesque Tuscan countryside.

I also got to know many of these wonderful places by losing my way, becoming impressively lost and finding myself again. I was a chronic-disoriented-traveller who quickly learned to rely on the kindness of strangers for help. I have met strangers who sympatheized with my angst; I met others who could care less to help me find my way. I have spent countless hours of my life getting catagorically lost and finding my way again.

Once, I got lost in London an hour after I arrived. As soon as I got to my hotel room, I enthusiastically threw my bag on the bed (including my itenerary with our hotel's name and address on it) and set out to explore the world. Four hours later after several pub stops and fish and chips tastings later, I searched my pockets for the itenerary, and realized the hotel's information was in the hotel room. Where was I? Where was the hotel?

I panicked and began to cry in front of an tired, unsmpathetic bellhop.

What's the name of your hotel he asked. Had the cat got my tongue? I had no idea. What street is in on, he asked me and began to chuckle. Don't know that either I told him. The tears began to drop onto my cheeks as he shrugged his shoulders at me.

It's one thing to get lost in your car on the freeway half an hour from home. It's quite another to be disoriented and scrambling to find your way in another country. I walked in circles and for hours that afternoon. Long story short? I met both helpful strangers and unsympathetic bellhops that day, but the reason I finally stumbled back to old hotel of mine in the end? MY instincts. No matter what country I've been in or how lost I've gotten myself -- my instincts have gotten me back to where I need to be.

Instincts, and that helpful itenerary you stick in your pocket from now on -- just in case you get lost again. Trust me, I wouldn't put it past myself.