Getting lost

When I turned the corner, I expected to find another left turn a few metres up the road, but there wasn't one. So I just kept walking, trying to take in everything around me -- the whitewashed townhouses, the cracked pavement with grass growing in it, the church behind a black painted fence. I guess I was trying to figure out where I was. I couldn't; there was no road sign, and still no left turn. More walking. Finally, I came across another road, turned left, and followed it until I came to another major road, one that I recognized. In walking, for who knows how long, and who knows how far, I had managed to come to a place I had passed on the bus before. This time, I got back on the bus and got off at the proper stop -- where I promptly got lost again. I had left two hours early to find the room I was thinking about renting, and I still got there 30 minutes late. By the time I finally arrived, they had rented to the room to someone else. "We would have called," she said, "but you don't have a phone."

Yes, I'm aware I don't have a phone. Yes, I'm aware of how inconvenient it is for everyone else. Yes, I know everyone thinks it's stupid and irresponsible of me not to have one.

That night was the first time I cried in London. I tried not to; I hate crying. But I couldn't help it. It seemed like this situation just kept replaying itself -- I'd get lost, something that was supposed to be there was gone, the strange city would rise up and swallow me. It was so terribly frustrating. "Surely there's something I can do," I thought. But there wasn't. I had no choice but to go out and wander the city by myself. A map wouldn't really keep me from getting lost. I was lost before I even arrived. It's strange how my situations have echoed my feelings, or maybe it's the other way around. Regardless, it's a striking parallel. I have felt so confused since I arrived. London's so big, and I can't help but wonder what I'm doing here sometimes. I just don't fit in like I thought I might. I am a stranger, the observer who is astonished over and over by the massiveness of the city. And that's okay, I guess. But it does lead to the feeling that I'm nothing more than a wanderer, aimlessly walking down the streets. Sometime soon, I think this feeling will diminish, but it's something I'll always associate with my trip.