Of getting lost

img_0921I have been living in my new home for almost two months now. For almost two months, I have been going to the nearby park almost daily for my run.

Every time, I walk down the four flights of stairs instead of using the elevator. Every time I see one of my neighbours in the foyer, leaning against the wall, waiting for someone or something (I still haven’t worked out what’s the story with him, we greet politely and that’s it), and then I go outside to start a light jog for the distance between my home and the park, about seven minutes.

I am bad at directions. So bad that the second day that I went to the park, I accidentally took the wrong exit (it did look terribly similar to the one I had come from) to find myself in a street that looked somehow familiar but that I wasn’t able to place against the direction of my home. I did try to walk along the external wall of the park, reached a crossing, got even more confused, went back to the park through the wrong exit and finally, ten minutes later along the path, I was at the right entrance.

Being very bad at directions, I am usually weary of adventuring into unknown paths, no matter how well I know the area.

Today I was in a hurry because we were awaited somewhere for lunch, but I didn’t want to give up on my run, so instead of following my usual route, I took an early turn. It did work, that is, I didn’t get lost and I ended up where I thought I would, so this is not a story of getting lost. It is a story about finding something. Because by taking the unknown path, I have come across something I had never seen before. A pond with some massive water jets springing into the sky, a wooden bridge, ducks, swans etc.

I took a picture (see above) because I couldn’t believe my eyes. Apparently, everybody else in my home knew about its existence, but not even that was enough to dampen my enthusiasm about not getting lost and stumbling across a magic place instead.

So, I guess the title of this is a bit misleading as it is not a story about getting lost.

As far as my neighbour is concerned, I forgot to mention that what makes his story interesting is the fact that when I come back from my run (between 45 and 50 minutes) he is usually still there, still waiting in the foyer, still doing nothing. I sense more stories coming my way.

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