Well, I got lost. It was bound to happen living in city I don’t know and struggling to speak the language. I decided to trust my instincts and hop on the bus assuming it would just take me home. As I started to recognize less and less and lost sight of Pichincha, my landmark, I knew I was in trouble. I stood in panic for a few minutes, gripping the metal railing, hoping to see a familiar face or recognize something but I had no such luck. I debated asking someone for help because I truly wanted to figure this out on my own, like so much else in my life. Once I realized there really was nothing to be afraid of I decided to ask for help. What did I have to lose? Mess up a few words in spanish? I finally asked someone who was more than happy to help me find my way home, and I even received a new friend out of doing so.
Although I did have a few moments of panic and recognized absolutely nothing around me, I trusted that everything would be okay. This was a big step for me: the girl who always needs to know where she is going and what is next. I have had to trust that everything is going to be okay many times during this experience so far. Not knowing where I would be living for the next 8 months was incredibly anxiety producing, but I learned to live with it. Not understanding what I was eating (which now I know was cow intestines) but just going for it. I find myself on a daily basis wondering where the heck I am going or what I am doing, and I have learned to not only live with that but even grow fond of it. There will be few times in life where I will truly not have any idea what is next, yet be able to trust that it will all work out. I feel extremely lucky in that sense and many other ways and want to cherish these experiences, no matter how difficult (or gross) they may be.