Unfiltered Latitude

The constantly lit streets of Tokyo can feel forbidding. As I wandered through unfamiliar streets, with Google Maps (mis)guiding my steps, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy even though I knew that the city was safe. True to form, my 30-minute walk turned into an hour-long search for an elusive hole-in-the-wall restaurant and wine bar. This was an all-too-familiar feeling, and my emotions were undecided – was I enjoying the cool April air or was I frustrated and in desperate need of food and wine?

Whether wandering through the streets of Milan or Beijing, Seoul or Kigali, the feeling of being lost in a new city never gets old. On the one hand, the thrill of experience and stumbling upon hidden gems is always welcome. On the other hand, when you have limited time, and a long checklist, aimless wandering feels like time wasted.

A few years ago, I’d have found this experiencing disorienting and frustrating. Now, I see it differently. What if getting lost was an opportunity to reorient yourself? Had I not gotten lost, I would have missed out on the opportunity to meet the 73-year-old Japanese man who married a Norwegian woman and spent most of his life in the UK. This was all at the random wine bar on the corner managed by a Lebanese man who studied in France then moved to Tokyo. I probably would have missed the opportunity to learn from this wise man the importance of carving out time to be alone. I devoured the unsolicited advice he offered as he explained that even though it was close to midnight, his wife knew that having a glass of wine on a Tuesday night had become a ritual and a moment of reflection. We exchanged stories of travel and life, and I learned that his wife only spoke Japanese when she shouted at him. In that moment, I felt found. A reorientation of sorts. In that moment, I felt a sense of connection—a kind of reorientation.

Perhaps I was never destined to find my intended location, which, as I later learned, was almost impossible to find and that I likely walked by multiple times – exclusivity means that there are no signs for restaurants. Perhaps, instead, I was meant to spend the night seeing life through a different lens and stopping in the middle of a busy walkway like a typical tourist to capture a failed picture of cherry blossoms, much to the amusement and frustration of locals rushing to catch the next train.

I’ve come to realise that my frustration with getting lost is the fear of never being found or finding myself. This realization isn’t a universal truth; it’s a personal journey, a gentle nudge to let go of the need to control every detail and to be open to what I can’t plan for. It is a request to be more curious.

So as a first post, I invite readers to get lost. To be curious. To venture into the unpredictable. And, maybe even find yourself anew.