Today, with a GPS in the car and on the phone, getting lost has become, well, a lost art. It can\u2019t even be used as an excuse for being late. When was the last time you heard someone say: Sorry, I got lost, and it took me forever to find the place?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I have no sense of direction. And, although family and friends have seen this as an annoying flaw, I have always thought of it as a chance for a new experience. A missed exit off the highway is an opportunity to explore a town I\u2019ve never visited, uncover interesting shops and restaurants, or find fresh eggs and bottled honeycomb at a roadside stand. As much as I appreciate and need the directional technology, I miss those unexpected discoveries and the need to stop at gas stations every other block to find my way home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When my children were young, we referred to my \u2018misdirections\u2019 as adventures (a convenient cover-up when they spilled the beans that mom got lost, again). I always added time to the clock when we had to be at a (new) doctor\u2019s appointment or at a birthday party in an area I wasn\u2019t familiar with. Those stops at gas stations for directions became normal occurrences and a great place to pick up wrapped beef sticks, Twinkies, and other adventure snacks. Bribes? Maybe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our outings began to disappear when getting to a friend\u2019s house or an after-school activity became more important than unexpected cow sightings. Once we got the Tom-Tom navigation system for the car, there was no going back. I missed my quirky delights, but change was good, too. By the time the kids left home, getting lost for the fun of it was a thing of the past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
***<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When my husband had to travel to Ireland for work, I was excited to go with him. Who doesn\u2019t have (or want) a wee bit of Irish in their ancestral tree? My husband would work most of the week, but we added a few days to the end of the trip as vacation. On the days that he worked, I would be left to my own devices.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had no plan and no timeline; it couldn\u2019t be more perfect. On that first day as a wandering spirit, I passed many pubs before finding a caf\u00e9 for coffee and breakfast pastry. I shamelessly listened to customers\u2019 conversations, rolling their words over my tongue trying out the accent. My friendly server provided a list of her favorite shops, restaurants, and points of interest. Unfortunately, between her accent and the reference to roundabouts, I knew I was on my own. After all these years, the old excitement of discovery re-ignited. I was ready to lose myself in the moment. I took a bus into Cork City and got off at a random spot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The architecture, the bridges, the Old English Market, the people \u2013 I wallowed in the history of Ireland. I had no idea how far I was from the hotel, nor did I care. Every shop was a treasure trove. I stopped in a jewelry store and watched as an artisan created a Celtic knot just for me. He slipped the interlocking arcs on a chain and fastened it around my neck. It made the Irish part of me feel right at home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wandered through galleries and splurged on a piece of pottery. I ogled the goods at the Old English Market and chatted with the vendors. Their stories were committed to my memory for the retelling. I threw a coin into the water as I crossed over a bridge to mark that I had been there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the sky began to darken, I realized I needed to get back to the hotel. I asked for directions in the cozy old bookshop, my last stop. After jotting down a series of rights and lefts on a slip of paper, I was happy to hear the Imperial Hotel was just a fifteen-minute walk. My feet were sore, but there was no way I would take the bus or taxi\u2013not at the end of this perfect day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Soon the area began to look familiar. Evidently, I had made good time. I looked in the window of another bookstore\u2013a familiar face looked back at me. It was Molly, the shop owner, who had just given me directions ten minutes earlier. Embarrassed, I waved and quickened my step. Was it right at the corner, then left?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When, yet again, I came upon the same shop, I opened the door to ask for help. I was tired and hungry and had a husband who would be concerned if I wasn\u2019t back in the room before him. Molly laughed when she saw me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHave a seat. I can close up soon and I\u2019ll give you a ride.\u201d She fixed a tray with tea and cake and filled my ear with Irish lore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Molly dropped me off at the hotel just as my husband arrived. He noticed our chatty goodbye.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou must have gotten lost,\u201d he laughed expecting a dramatic re-hash of my adventures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, not lost at all,\u201d I replied touching the silver knot at my neck. \u201cI was exactly where I was supposed to be.\u201d<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Today, with a GPS in the car and on the phone, getting lost has become, well, a lost art. It can\u2019t even be used as an excuse for being late. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_tec_requires_first_save":true,"_gspb_post_css":"","_EventAllDay":false,"_EventTimezone":"","_EventStartDate":"","_EventEndDate":"","_EventStartDateUTC":"","_EventEndDateUTC":"","_EventShowMap":false,"_EventShowMapLink":false,"_EventURL":"","_EventCost":"","_EventCostDescription":"","_EventCurrencySymbol":"","_EventCurrencyCode":"","_EventCurrencyPosition":"","_EventDateTimeSeparator":"","_EventTimeRangeSeparator":"","_EventOrganizerID":[],"_EventVenueID":[],"_OrganizerEmail":"","_OrganizerPhone":"","_OrganizerWebsite":"","_VenueAddress":"","_VenueCity":"","_VenueCountry":"","_VenueProvince":"","_VenueState":"","_VenueZip":"","_VenuePhone":"","_VenueURL":"","_VenueStateProvince":"","_VenueLat":"","_VenueLng":"","_VenueShowMap":false,"_VenueShowMapLink":false,"_tribe_blocks_recurrence_rules":"","_tribe_blocks_recurrence_description":"","_tribe_blocks_recurrence_exclusions":"","footnotes":""},"essay_type":[46],"essay-category":[],"class_list":["post-19478","essay","type-essay","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","essay_type-features"],"blocksy_meta":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay\/19478","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/essay"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19478"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay\/19478\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19478"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"essay_type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay_type?post=19478"},{"taxonomy":"essay-category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sasee.com\/ro\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/essay-category?post=19478"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}