Getting Lost

So today was actually my first time to get lost in Sevilla… I’m usually really good at paying attention to where I came from and I almost always backtrack that path because then I will always know where I am and I do this until I am comfortable with the area before I start to venture off.  Today I thought I was comfortable with the area I was in.  I started off from the setas here, this big mushroom like structure, and started walking home.  I was walking and walking and walking pretty sure I was somewhat walking in a direct diagonal towards the street I needed.  Occasionally I would pass a row of shops I remembered and I was like alright, I guess that means I’m going the right way, so I kept walking, knowing eventually I will hit one of the main roads.  Well I turn a corner onto a familiar plaza and then I think to myself this can’t be right, look to my right and there are the setas again!  I walked in a full circle.  It was funny but I was hungry and I wasn’t sure if my host mom had made dinner so I was more annoyed in the moment, I mean seriously it took me an hour to get home when it shouldn’t take more than about 25 minutes.

This post is also a great time to take a look at an existential phrase we tend to hear a lot when we travel.  I have heard so many of these american students say “Let’s go get lost”.  I know this means that we should go out and explore and immerse ourselves in the culture.  But the term “Get lost” has such a different connotation for me.  I have had such a hard time creating my identity and accepting who I am that when I hear get lost and find yourself I get anxiety.  I feel like because I have taken such a long time to become me that I am more at risk to really lose myself, I mean just totally lose my identity.  Sometimes when I’m particularly depressed I already feel like this and so the thought of intentionally going and weakening this identity feels as though  I could actually truly lose who I am and that scares me.  Scares me just about as much as having no idea which way is home when I’m in a dark alley.

 

Photo of the Setas de Sevilla

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