The Beauty of Getting Lost Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Robert Frost

All very last minute I booked a rail pass for Italy. I never imagined myself travelling alone. Yet there I was, about to set out on this big adventure. I remember the feel of my wings beneath my shoulder blades stretching out from my body, ready to take off on this surreal adventure.
I got off the train in Verona, bought a map, opened it, and went blank. Only one thought in my head: ‘Lynsey, you can’t read a map!’ I started walking though. My feet have a skill: they’re usually able to get me where I need to be; I just enjoy the scenery whilst they do.
The next leg of my journey took me to Venice and my first misadventure. The view that met me outside the station is one that beguiles me still: behind San Simeone Piccolo, the sky was dotted with sunset-pink clouds; the contrast against the rusty green roof was enchanting. Those who have been to Venice will tell you it is a magical place: it is.
Following instructions for the youth hostel, I got on a bus leaving Venice and disembarked too early. After two days of walking, my blistered and tired feet were not in the mood to help, so it was down to my brain. Lost in the dark, in a strange place, map-less, I seriously questioned why I had bothered coming to Italy. Close to tears with no means of helping myself out, I called my mum. She had to read out directions from Google.
I learnt a few lessons from this: if you’re travelling somewhere, arrive during daylight. Always have a map or use a smart phone. Make sure you check the stops of buses or trains before departing. Lastly, your parents will always get you out of a tight spot, but it’s less embarrassing if you can do it alone, like the mature grown up you’re supposed to be.
I planned to explore and enjoy Venice. My feet led me through bustling alleys ignoring the map, into quiet backstreets. There was so much beauty to be found in getting lost. Italian architecture is so charming and rustic: crumbling terracotta plaster and redbrick frameworks beautifully set against the murky green of the canal. Peacefully exploring the city off the beaten track, it didn’t matter that I had made mistakes along the way, I was awed by my surroundings.
During the best and worst moments of my trip, I questioned how I had ended up there. Despite, and because of my inabilities, I enjoyed myself more: problems I faced were difficult to deal with, but they were minimal against the marvel that was my first solo trip, and I wouldn’t change a thing (but I will learn from my mistakes).