Lost & Found.

You’ll come to realize that sometimes when lost, we find things we never thought of looking for.

I came to this realization this past weekend whilst traveling on what I thought to be a simple journey to Niagara Falls, but which turned into quite an adventure.

The theme is Fall.

The theme is Fall.

My father’s birthday was this week and my entire family booked a trip to go down south to spend some time in luxury. Beyond my hint of jealousy, I was disappointed that I could not go because I had work. I finally decided to beg my boss to let me go and off I was on Friday morning.

Everything was planned and I left home for a doctor’s appointment before the journey really started.

When the first bus was late, I knew things were not going to go as planned. An hour and a half later and I’ve missed my first bus on the route to Niagara.

This isn’t good.

Frustrated and hungry, I walked to the bus stop with all my things and emotions and slouched onto the bench in the bus shelter. Along comes a woman, who I soon discover is Jamaican, and we begin to talk about everything we miss about the island and what we don’t understand about it.

Casino: class is in session.

Casino: class is in session.

Once the bus comes, we both hop on but it’s a full bus so I sit where I find space: beside a man who I soon discover just moved from India. After asking him if I’m going the right way (and getting a confused response because he didn’t really know), we talked about India and Canada and everything we love about it and what he understands about English.

Once at the next bus station, we part ways. In a flurry, I’m on my next bus going to where I should be. Things are looking up.

But this is where I get (properly) lost.

Thanks to terrible signage, I miss my stop. “Hi, Mr. Bus Driver,” I said. “You’re still going here right?” He gives me a dazed look. “I already passed there; were you sleeping or something?”

Panic flows over me. Unlike the stress that comes with being lost in an unknown country as I’ve experienced many times before, there’s something about being lost in a place you thought you knew that can throw you off just the same.

“Here, get on that bus over there and go back to the stop you missed.” The bus I should get on leaves before I do. Damn.

So I wait.

And then a girl comes up to me and asks if I know when a different bus is coming. And so I tell her my whole story and I soon discover she comes from where I do and we talk about that place and how it’s special and what I understand about buses to Niagara.

Then my bus comes.

I get on and ask specifically where my stop is and what the sign will say to get off. The driver tells me a slightly-less wrong answer but I manage to get off at the stop I initially thought was my stop that is my stop.

Almost there.

I ask a girl in the bus shelter when the next bus is coming. She says she doesn’t know because she’s not taking it. I soon discover she’s going where I just came from and we talk about my difficult trip, the bus company’s confusing signage and what we don’t understand about it.

Pellar Estates: The theme is Fall.

Pellar Estates: The theme is Fall.

She leaves and it’s just me. Alone in that lot, waiting until my bus finally came and I’m reunited with my family.

Sometimes when you reach your destination, you get just that: exactly what you were expecting. But rarely is every two journey the same. My trip didn’t go as planned, no. But think of all the people I met and their stories I heard. I can’t recall if I’ve ever openly spoken to so many strangers before in a day. It’s as if I traveled the country (and a bit of the world, too) just through their words.

This very short trip taught me a lot; but most of all, it taught me to speak up and to listen. There’s a lot going on out there, beyond ourselves. A lot.

À la prochaine,
Moi

Music for the Moment:

“Me with bike.”

The infamous poet T.S. Eliot once said, “Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go,” and my trip to the modest island of Ireland proved just that.

Control is good; control is stable; control is power. But to depend on life to constantly give one control over ever possible detail of everyday happenings is an impossible feat, and nonetheless ridiculous at that. Still, my developing mind is naïve and, from time to time, I regain hope that at some point what has been planned will go as planned.

Guinness Lake: named after the beer, but so much better...

Guinness Lake: named after the beer, but so much better…

Yet, as I continue to travel and discover others parts of the world and the people who reside there, I continue to grasp the fact that control is not everything; in fact, the appreciation for the lack of control involved is what can make an event become an adventure. I had been organizing this trip since before I left home: the plan was to go to Ireland during my March break for a week, participate in a few tours in and around Dublin, the “city where the girls are pretty”, and then make my way to a nearby city to visit a co-worker who would greet me with a much-needed familiar face and show me around her temporary neck-of-the-woods.

Little did I know that once I arrived in the land of luck, a cancellation here and a sorry there would leave me with three empty days in a foreign land and a hurried search for a place to lay my head at night.

I was not in the greatest of moods, to say the least.

My anger grew gradually but never quite reached the level of stress and nervousness which I had at the thoughts of the control slowly slipping from my grasp (Drake’s Trust Issues, one could refer to the feeling as). But once again, a little step-outside-the-body moment and I was back to reality. I was in DUBLIN for pete’s sake; when would that ever happen again?

So I pulled up my big-girl pants, booked an extra two nights at Abigail’s Budget hostel (great place!) and set out to do what I intended – to LIVE. Since I had already lost control over my previous plans, I sort of just decided to wing the rest of the trip, which turned out to be the best plan ever.

Phoenix Park: take a ride around, even the little things will have you stopping for a gaze...

Phoenix Park: take a ride around, even the little things will have you stopping for a gaze…

To sum it up, I managed to meet a  bunch of great people from around the world (from Brazil to Boston with quite a lot of French in between); got to see some amazing sites which should make Ireland a definite destination on anyone’s list, like the Cliffs of Moher and Guinness Lake; witnessed a raunchy (but it’s Ireland, I mean, come on!) comedy show; and opposite to that, experienced the upscale side of Dublin as I watched a psychologically-intriguing play at one of Europe’s oldest theatres.

Smock Ally Theatre: one of Europe's oldest...

Smock Ally Theatre: one of Europe’s oldest…

And like all adventures, this one did indeed go out with a bang. As I had to hurriedly search for a place to rest my head after my plans fell through, I was left without much choice on my last night, and being momentarily homeless in the airport was my best bet. But then I remembered that I signed up as a member of a site called “couchsurfing.org” and as fate so had it, after multiple requests for a couch for the night, and even more frequent denials, late in the afternoon on Friday, I received a message from a friendly stranger asking if I still needed help.

And he sure did lend quite a helpful hand.

Cliffs of Moher: never have I seen a view...

Cliffs of Moher: never have I seen a view…

Which brings me back to Sir Eliot’s quote: control, as I’ve said before, is good. Control is stable. But control is also limiting. As I let go of whatever real control I had left or could have slightly regathered, I was able to open up my eyes and mind to the endless possibilities that were practically slapping me across the face as they passed.

Now, I’m not saying sleeping in a bunch of strangers’ houses is what gives you real sense of living, let’s be practical here; I do advise, however, to loosely hold the wheel sometimes, because you never know where the side road may take you. If it is a dark, sketchy side road though, with an unnecessarily high amount of potholes, back away, I repeat, BACK AWAY.

À la prochaine,
Moi

Music of the Moment: