When tears come

Most of the time, I love this adventure: making new friends, learning a new city, communicating anything in a new language, enjoying beauty all around.

But then, there are the moments when the novelty wears thin, where the frustration of never being quite certain rubs through.

Wednesday, I was supposed to catch a bus to the neighboring town where I watch 2 little boys and help them with their English skills.  When the bus arrived, it looked completely different than I remembered, so I asked the driver as I got on if it went to the town I was going to.  No, she told me. And then mentioned a different destination.  I got off, feeling a bit confused.  If that wasn't the right bus, then which bus was?  As the right bus didn't magically appear, I realized I should have taken the other bus.  But, it was too late now, and I didn't have any credit left on my cellphone to call and tell the family I would be late.

I headed off in search of an R-Kioski, a store where I could add additional time to my cell phone, and almost there, passed another bus with the same number.  Thinking I had a chance to fix my mistake, I got on, and again, asked if they went to the town I was going to.  Again, the answer was no.  The driver, who didn't speak English, started giving me a detailed explanation of his route.  A kind passenger translated for me, though it didn't keep me from feeling lost.  I didn't recognize a single place they said, and although it seemed that it's final destination was somewhere in the vicinity of where I wanted to go, they thought it would take 40 minutes to get there and I was still without credit to call to say I was going to be late.  Undecided for a moment, I froze on the bus, then thanked them for their time, got off, and walked towards the R-kioski.

Crossing the bridge over the river, tears rolled down my cheeks.  I felt powerless- unable to communicate fully what I wanted to in Finnish, unsure of which bus to take, unfamiliar with so many place names, and without the ability to make a simple phone call.  And, not only powerless, irresponsible- I had somewhere I was supposed to be, and at the moment, had no idea how to get there.  "If I were home, it wouldn't be like this" was my thought.  I'd have a car.  I speak the language.  I can add credit to my phone with a phone call and my credit card.  And if I were lost, all the local place names would at least sound familiar.

Fortunately for me, when I finally was able to make a call, the boys' mom was understanding, I was directly across from another bus stop, and the next bus came in 10 minutes.  I ended up being an hour late, but it was ok.  And I think, that's one thing I've been learning on this international journey of mine- it's okay to make mistakes, failure is not the end of the universe.  I try my best, give what's in front of me everything I can.  But sometimes, it might not work out.  I might miss the bus, or completely miscommunicate, or end up missing a rescheduled class.  But it's ok.  Life goes on.  I learn.