Last summer when Meg and I were driving to Halifax (Renee was also in the car, but asleep, so she's innocent in all of this) I saw Meg miss a turn-off and didn't tell her, because I'm bad at telling truth to power. This proved two things: 1) I'm not very bright, and 2) I have a pretty loose definition of "power," if I'm scared of Meghan Sheffield.
This afternoon my truth to power deficiency reared its ugly head once more. I got to a fork in the road, and there weren't any yellow arrows around to tell me where to go. One went uphill, and one was flat and shaded. So in spite of the fact that the Austrian couple who had zoomed past me a couple hundred yards back were taking the uphill route, I picked the flat one, figuring that they'd also had to guess, and had probably guessed wrong.
Well, I don't know how long it took me to realize I was lost, or how long I wandered around in that vineyard for, but I know that it was long enough for me to take my shoes off, lie down and have a nap. And then wander some more. Finally I saw Najera (the town I'm sleeping in tonight) in the distance and dragged myself into town.
Except it wasn't actually Najera.
It was, however, siesta. And I don't know if you've ever tried to find someone to get directions from in a small town in rural Spain during siesta, but let me tell you that these people take their naptime very seriously.
A few hours later I'm finally in the hostel in Najera, waiting for a shower to free up, but I am very sore and cranky.
Lessons learned today:
1. The easy path and the right one are not always going to be the same thing.
2. I should never be trusted to find anything.
3. Seriously, never follow me anywhere.
4. No, really. I'm an idiot with directions.
P.S. Dad, relax. I'm fine. I made it here.