End-of-summer toronto trip.

When heading towards Toronto that morning, I got disoriented in my hometown and subsequently missed my train. After changing route and repurchasing tickets, I arrived at downtown only to lose my way a few more times before finally navigating towards the right direction. Upon returning, I stepped onto the wrong bus but still somehow made it home in the end.

My mom calls it the traveler's tuition. She is not talking about the time and money that you deliberately set aside in anticipation of a particular trip. Rather, she is referring to the unforeseen detours, delayed departures, and unexpected deviations from the original plan. For as soon as you alight upon foreign territory, the certainty of knowing what occurs next becomes one of the first things to abandon. Miscellaneous accidents and serendipities unfold as though they have been predestined in the plotline, yet this spontaneity is at the very soul of adventure.

I nevertheless consider it as a necessity, to periodically depart from the current routines for the sake of visiting somewhere new - to reawaken from the slumber of mundanity and feel reinvigorated by a familiar rush of adrenaline. The sobriety of being on the way is a remedy from rigidity. I am willing to commit to the unpredictability along the way, trusting that each detour will be worthwhile.