The Excitement of the Unknown
I was in Madrid when I called my mom, who lives in Hawaii. I had just arrived, and before even stepping out, she told me something she used to say when we traveled together: “Don’t begin with a fixed route. You have to discover things as you go.”
I smiled and said, don’t worry mom, I love to get lost.
That is usually where everything begins.
Sometimes, I go for a walk with no Google Maps and no plan, just following what pulls me. It is my way of feeling the energy of a place. Sitting in a coffee shop, observing. Noticing the atmosphere, the subtle details, the rhythm of the space, how people move within it. The quiet sound of the coffee machine in the background becomes part of it. Nothing is forced, but everything reveals something.
I’am drawn to places that belong to everyday life. The frutería, the pescadería, the bakery. Listening to how people speak about what they sell, the familiarity in their voices. Last Christmas, I bought boletus mushrooms at a frutería simply because they looked beautiful. I had no idea how to cook them. The man called his wife and asked her to explain the recipe to me over the phone. That moment stayed with me, not because of the mushrooms, but because of the gesture. The ease with which something ordinary can become meaningful.
In a market in Bangkok, I walked without direction, letting the space unfold on its own. At some point, I stopped trying to understand where I was or where I was going, and kept walking, curious and excited.
When you move this way, something begins to reveal itself. The rhythm of a place, the pauses, the way people interact, what is said and what is not. It is not something you look for, but something that appears over time.
There are days when I choose an area without a map and follow whatever catches my attention. Crossing streets without knowing where it leads, letting curiosity decide what comes next. If I get lost, I can check my phone, but often I choose not to. I ask someone instead. That is where connection happens.
In Bilbao, I once asked an older woman for directions. She was sitting on a bench in a plaza. Instead of explaining, she stood up and walked with me until I reached the right place.
Tourist places rarely draw me. What interests me is where life is actually happening. Long tables filled with families, mothers, fathers, grandparents, children, even their pets, sharing a Sunday lunch. There is something honest in those moments, something that cannot be staged.
Getting lost is when it reveals itself. The excitement of the unknown.
It is a quiet kind of excitement, a mix of curiosity and, at times, a subtle discomfort, stepping outside of what feels familiar. But that is where something shifts. That is where the mind opens.
You begin to see differently. You grow in culture. You become more attentive to others, less quick to judge, more aware, more present. You start to understand that not everything unfamiliar needs to be explained.
Maybe travel was never only about the places, but about what happens between you and the people you meet when you stop trying to control everything.
