Intrepid Olivia goes off on an adventure Embrace life and give free hugs.

I’ll never forget the day that I had a layover in San Francisco. That day I was what I like to call, a novice traveler. I hadn't ventured further from my home country - New Zealand - than Australia before and here I was jet-setting off to the other side of the world to go live in the bustling city of London for two years. With London being on the other side of the world to New Zealand, I had to pick between flying through Asia or the USA as there is no direct flight. I chose the states; mainly because everyone speaks English and if I got lost - which frequently happens - I would at least be able to ask for directions.

After landing at the airport and making my way through customs I decided to see if I was allowed to go out and explore the city during my layover. I strolled up to the information desk to ask, and I was! The lady at the desk gave me directions of how to get to the train into town but being in my tired post-flight state, I had only asked her to show me on the map how to get to “the Bridge” – just assuming she would know I meant the Golden Gate Bridge. So when I arrived at the location on the map, imagine my surprise to find the bridge I was looking at wasn't red like I’d seen in the movies. Instead, it was grey. “Maybe they painted it?” I thought like an imbecile, “I’ll just take a couple photos anyway”. After taking my photos and feeling slightly disappointed that the bridge wasn't what I thought it was, I looked down to my map to see where else I could go. As you could guess, I was at the wrong bridge.

I jumped on the F Train along the waterfront to take me towards the Golden Gate Bridge but from the train I couldn't see where the bridge was, so when a whole lot of tourists got off I figured this must be the right place and got off with them. It wasn't the bridge; it was at Pier 39, probably the most famous pier in San Francisco. Bustling with people and brightly colored shop signs, it still wasn't a bad place to be lost. Feeling my luck for seeing the Golden Gate Bridge was running out rapidly, I went to the end of the Pier and climbed up some stairs to see if I could catch a glimpse. Thankfully I could see it, although the haze across the bay kept me from taking any decent photos. I’d also somehow stumbled onto what Pier 39 is apparently known for; sea lions. Hundreds of the furry, fishy smelling things; just floating in the boat yard by the Pier.

Turns out sometimes all you need to find something special is a little miss-direction.