When traveling, or exploring, or simply in a new place, I don’t really mind not having a plan or a schedule. I’m happy to discover things, to wander, to get lost.
In May of 2015, Oneal and I went to Dumaguete for his birthday. We had no plan, no itinerary, we just wanted to wander around.
One evening, after a good dinner and a rum Coke that had more rum than Coke, Oneal and I were trying to decide how to get back to our hotel. We couldn’t remember if the road we were on led back to the seaside boulevard.
So I said, “Let’s see what’s there,” and tipsy, full and sleepy, we walked along the road past sleepy houses and small videoke bars and even smaller watering holes, past stray dogs and families hanging out on the street around a parked scooter. Tricycles passed us, offering us a ride, perhaps wondering what these drunk tourists were doing in this part of town. Some parts of the street made me slightly nervous despite my slightly-inebriated state. A bakery at the corner shone its bright light on the dark street, and we turned right, thinking (hoping) that this road would lead us back to our hotel. Large trucks and dirt lots surrounded us, and we kept saying out loud, “Yeah, this is probably it,” but thinking to ourselves “Yeah, I’m sure it’s safe here….”
Eventually we found the cafe where we had breakfast on the first day, and a short distance away, our hotel. Nothing happened, and we were perfectly safe the whole time.
But it’s funny and pretty exciting to walk down a strange road, to get on a jeep, and to have very little idea of where you’re going to end up.