lost in Orvieto

I didn't want to talk about it. I thought that talking about it would cause me to focus on it more. I was trying to just forget about it and pretend it didn't exist. I should have known better. With six years of education in psychology and counseling under my belt, I should have known that talking about a feeling helps one to process it and cope with it.

Had I listened to my own counseling advice and actually expressed to ya'll how terrified I was to set out on a road trip to several unknown, never-before-visited-by-me towns in Italy without my trusty navigator/partner/love-of-my-life, then I may not have gotten myself and my grandparents utterly lost in Orvieto. I'm talking like, totally, completely, had-no-clue-which-side-of-the-town-I-was-on-and-couldn't-understand-the-map-L-O-S-T   LOST!



Then, it got dark and I got scared, so I made my grandparents climb up and down yet another hill with me, even though they were dog-tired and pretty frightened themselves. Then, all of a sudden, I was sure I knew where I was, so I told them to sit down while I went and got the car. I told them I would be back to pick them up. I had to walk back to them with my tail between my legs, because I was wrong. I had no idea where I was.

I felt defeated.

Finally a couple of angels appeared and walked with us through the streets and hills of Orvieto one last time and guided us right to my car.

They say this town holds evidence of a miracle in its cathedral.

You can believe in miracles if you want, obviously. But, if you ask me, the fact that I stopped and asked a couple for help after being so frustrated with everyone else in the town leading me in the wrong direction, and that the couple happened to speak perfect English and happened to be natives of Orvieto and happened to know exactly which parking garage I was describing to them, is, well,  nothing short of miraculous.