Monday, 17 May 2010

In 500 metres, turn left.

It’s coming up on 2 years since my husband and I left our hometown.  Hometown is much smaller than Newcity, but I wouldn’t call it a village.  Newcity is no metropolis, but it is 8 to 9 times bigger than Hometown. 

So, tell me what you think.  After more than a year, we probably shouldn’t be lost all the time, right?  Like, we shouldn’t be relying on Monica (our GPS device) every day? 

In Hometown, we knew every nook and cranny; every shortcut; every ‘bad’ neighbourhood; every “where Studio 801 used to be”. 

Don’t get me wrong.  We are learning our way around Newcity, we’re just taking (what I would consider) a frigging LONG time to do it. 

And not only is Newcity still new, but Hometown is getting less and less familiar.  Every time we go, we end up playing a really pathetic version of Eye-Spy in which we are pointing out things that are different, or asking each other if that random sign or building was there before. 

In our defence, Newcity doesn’t just have a bigger population, it’s more spread out too.  And less than 2 years cannot possibly compare to more than 20… can it?  And to be fair, my husband knows his way around better than I do, but neither one of us is giving out directions. 

So, on Friday night, we wanted to find someplace new for dinner.  We searched the Interwebs for a long time and finally found something promising near our house – a cool little burger joint (kinda like Wild Wing, but for burgers).  Despite the fact that this place is famous across Newcity, and is not even ten minutes from our house, we didn’t. even. know. it. existed.  We had never even driven on the roads that took us there.  Seriously. 

That's why excursions like these are often depressing – why can’t we just know where to go and how to get there?

Well, I discovered an upside.  Dinner was friggin awesome.  And I like to think of it as a splendid new discovery.  It seems that every time I venture out, I discover new land – like Christopher Columbus (except I didn’t steel the burger joint from the original owners nor infect them with disease).  It’s like scratching away the black crayon wax to reveal bits and pieces of the rainbow underneath.  Little by little, I WILL find my way around this place.  I have to. 

And, so, on Sunday, when I drove to my friend’s house for the first time, I didn’t need Monica to guide me.  I had an idea of where I was going, so I printed a Google map, and found my way across the river, into entirely uncharted territory.  All. by. my. self.  Halleluiah.  Maybe there's hope for me yet. 


  1. I love that you've named your GPS. You sort of remind me of my brother, but in a good, non-creepy fashion. He names things too. The sad part of that, however, is that not only does he name them, he also labels them with a label-maker he bought for that purpose and that purpose only.

    Sometimes I just don't understand how we're related. *shrug*