Ain’t no sunshine when you’re lost

small voice in my head, the one that had laughed about the possibility of my missing the bus, returned.

This time though, there was a certain finality about the way it said, “You’ve missed the last bus.” Because I had missed it. By a good 20 minutes.

I swore out loud when I realised this and simply stood there, not knowing what to do, alone in a strange city after midnight. Eventually I continued walking into the town, purely for the sake of having something to do. Deep down, I knew I was stuck.

I also remembered the issue with my phone’s pin and realised it wouldn’t help me now. Not only was I unable to phone my aunt, I couldn’t even access her phone number.

I continued walking, trying not to think about how screwed I was.

It was nearing 12.45am. I looked up the street, in the direction the bus would have gone to take me home. I turned that way, not really sure what I was doing. I had only been in this city for a few days — how on earth was I going to find my way home alone at night with no Google Maps?

So yeah. There I was, alone, at 1am in a foreign city, in the snow, in minus temperatures, with a locked phone and minimal battery and absolutely no idea of how to get home. Great. The bus from town to my aunt’s house took about 25 minutes. That was surely over two hours of walking.

In the beginning, while I was still in shock and unable to believe my situation, I simply walked. There was no one else in sight as I navigated my way along the streets.

I was pretty sure I was following the bus route. I recognised a few buildings and so managed to convince myself that, for now at least, I was going the right way. Just keep the sea to your right.

I laughed out loud at the fact that I was worried more about the cold than I was of being robbed. That’s the difference between Norway and South Africa for you.

The road along which I was walk- ing was draped in a thick, white blanket of snow and the street lamps spilt pools of yellow light onto the icy road. I walked and walked until I had lost feeling in my legs from the cold.

“Well, one day you’re gonna laugh about this,” I remember telling myself out loud.

Even though I certainly wasn’t laughing right then.

I think I may have jumped into the air and felt a surge of pride at my navigational skills when I eventually recognised the street ahead.

I had endured almost three hours of feeling like an idiot — a really cold and tired idiot.

I reached the house at around 3am, not knowing what to expect. Would they all be up waiting for me? Would they rush up to me as I opened the door and exclaim loudly how relieved they were to see me alive? Would they have to cancel the search parties and notify the police? I opened the door. They were all asleep. — © Alexandra Kinmont