Chapter 7 🤦🏼‍♀️

The journey from privacy to the hostel was anything but straightforward. Although I was only moving within Whistler, what should have been a half-hour bus ride turned into a 2.5-hour adventure. I had firmly resolved to explore the city during my private accommodation, but at the very first bus stop, it became clear that I was not exactly a master of orientation. I constantly found myself at the wrong stop, and that was just the beginning of my little odyssey. I felt like a living GPS error.

Upon arriving at the right bus stop, I waited patiently for the bus. When boarding, I tried to pay with my debit card, as I was accustomed to in Vancouver. The bus driver told me, after the failure status of my card, that this was not possible. Annoyed by the situation, I looked around and tried to devise a Plan B. I asked him if I could pay in cash, but I only had bills with me. “It only works with coins,” he explained. However, instead of leaving me there, he smiled and let me ride for free. A small ray of hope in my chaotic day. I swear, I internally crowned him the “Bus Driver of the Year.”

Blinded by his kindness and with the wrong bus schedule from Google Maps, I then ended up getting off at the wrong station. After reorienting myself with my mishmash of maps, I searched for a new bus connection. Because without a visible footpath, it was actually only an 18-minute walk, but it was awful to walk with the suitcase on the road, and then it started to rain. Whatever, I thought, I'll figure it out. But the problem of paying for the bus ticket still persisted. I couldn’t use my Visa card, there was no change in sight, and the app that was supposed to help me couldn’t be downloaded. I felt like a person in the digital dark ages.

Suddenly, I saw him again – the bus driver who had brought me here. He drove past me, and I felt like the Doppler effect. But I wasn't alone. At the bus stop, three German tourists joined me. A little joke of irony, as I still didn’t know this would be the last time during my stay at the hostel that I could speak to German-speaking people. The hostel was truly secluded, and it almost seemed as if only families were in the house. I considered making myself a “I am lost” sign.

Once at the hostel, I immediately set off in search of a store, wandering further and further into the wilderness. Seriously, where I was wandering around, it looked like there might be the next axe murderer lurking. And then those typical Range Rovers were driving around, which you only know too well from horror movies. I felt like I was in a bad movie – “The Return of the Lost Tourist.” No store found. Before I accidentally went hiking for two hours again, I decided to postpone the shopping until tomorrow and thankfully found my way back.

But even here, I had to pass by a few weird corners. I didn’t know what I was thinking, but inside me was a glimmer of hope to find something that could lift my slightly depressed mood. My inner voice told me: “Turn around. Go back. Nothing else is coming. If anything, you’re putting yourself in a bit of danger.” In between, I saw people who appeared harmless, but in contrast to Whistler Village, this was the poor and creepy version, which everyone in the village would have probably advised me against.

I resolved to look as if it were intended to wander around here. Hoping that nobody would see just how lost I was.

The next morning, I really had a few tough moments. I just didn’t want to get up. I would love to estimate what I was doing here, but it didn’t register in my mind. I tried to create a plan for the day since I realized that I was really missing structure. Thanks to ChatGPT, I knew a bit of what the day could hold for me. But I also had to deal with a problem once again: that stupid bus app that I couldn’t download. A few thoughts from yesterday told me that my Play Store was still registered in Germany. Took a quick look, sorted it out swiftly. But the path to that was a marathon. After I had half fallen out of bed – seriously fallen, I had been sleeping on a loft bed – I could then look forward a bit to the day.

While my mind told me to look for a job and a place to stay where I could live for a few months, I realized that this was not for me. I need more than three days to get used to an environment and people (aside from the potatoes). Being alone gnawed at me, even though I was constantly in touch with my friends and my mom. I simply needed human closeness. The feeling of loneliness is hard to describe. Many do not recognize the difference between “being alone” and “being lonely.” You can stand in the midst of 20 people and still feel empty, without anyone to connect with. How I missed hugging Leo or petting my cat. Actually, I also missed the beach in Vani. But this adventure was here to help me get to know myself better, away from Germany, where I thought I knew myself. And maybe, just maybe, by the end of this journey, I would also find some new learnings – or at least a few good stories to tell.