I have a confession to make: I am geographically challenged.
I can study a map, read directions, and convince myself that I know exactly where I’m going, only to discover a few minutes later that I have somehow managed to walk in the opposite direction. I mean, it makes complete sense. I still remember dropping a geography course in high school after receiving my first assignment: draw a map from my house to the school.
Apparently, my struggles with geography started long before this trip.
Now imagine someone with my sense of direction deciding to spend 25 days traveling alone through South Korea, Japan, and Thailand.
What could possibly go wrong?
Quite a bit, actually.
South Korea Gave Me False Confidence
Before leaving home, I researched transportation systems, payment methods, downloaded navigation apps, and familiarized myself with the places I planned to visit.
To my surprise, South Korea was relatively easy to navigate.
With the help of Naver Map, I learned to use the subway and bus systems in Seoul and Busan. There were moments of confusion, of course, but figuring out how to navigate the underground walkways was a game changer. Once I understood how they connected different streets and stations, getting around became much easier.
I was beginning to feel rather accomplished. Perhaps I wasn’t as geographically challenged as I thought.
Then I arrived in Japan.
Welcome to Tokyo!
My first day in Japan was already off to a difficult start.
After arriving from Busan to Tokyo, I encountered problems with my luggage. My suitcase had been damaged during the flight. This was definitely not part of my travel plan. I had to navigate the airport, which surprisingly had more extensive security procedures, but super easy to navigate. I also had to figure out transportation to the hotel while tired from traveling since 5:30 am and frustrated that my suitcase had been damaged.
Later that evening, I decided to explore Ariake, the neighborhood where I was staying. That seemed like a harmless enough idea. Walk a little, grab a bite, and get back to the hotel and rest for my tour the next day.
Except I got lost. Suddenly, the confidence I had developed in South Korea disappeared.
Google Maps, which I had relied on so heavily, seemed determined to confuse me. Between unfamiliar streets, bridges and underground walkways, multiple train lines, and directions that didn’t seem to match what I was seeing, I struggled to figure out how to return to my hotel.
Fortunately, a woman from India noticed my confusion and offered to help. She walked with me to the nearest train station and stayed until I received clear directions.
I was grateful, but I also wondered how I would manage the rest of my time in Japan if I couldn’t even find my way back to my hotel on the first night.
The Long Road to Meiji Jingu
A few days later, I set out to visit Meiji Jingu, a well-known Shinto shrine in Tokyo. I followed Google Maps, or at least I thought I did.
Somewhere along the way, I misunderstood the directions and walked far beyond where I needed to be. When I realized my mistake, I turned around and retraced my steps, twice. By the time I finally got the Tokyo station, I was tired and frustrated at my lack of navigational skills, especially since my stating point was that station.
Imagine standing at Tokyo Station, one of the busiest transportation hubs in the city, surrounded by Shinkensan trains, buses, and metro connections. You’re trying to find the entrance to the metro, so you walk outside and follow your map. An hour and a half later, after walking in circles and retracing your steps, you find yourself standing exactly where you started.
All because you turned right instead of left. Ninety minutes. One wrong turn. I couldn’t make this up if I tried.
How could something that looked so simple on a map become so complicated in real life? I finally figured out the train, but then walking from the station to Meiji Jingu was another story, especially while it was pouring rain.
I was close to giving up when a woman who had previously lived in New York noticed that I needed help. She asked where I was going, shared her personal story getting lost, and walked me to the entrance.
After all that wandering, I finally arrived.
Finding Peace at the End of the Wrong Turn
And what I discovered inside made the journey worthwhile.
The Shrine was beautiful, the Iris Garden, and Kiyomasa’s well was peaceful. I found a place beneath the Azumaya gazebo to rest and take in my surroundings. As I sat there, I began reciting Psalm 51.
The frustration of getting there slowly gave way to gratitude.
I had spent so much time worrying about how to reach the destination that I almost missed the opportunity to enjoy it.
Making the Train by Seconds
My journey from Tokyo to Osaka brought another transportation adventure.
There was a train delay. At one point, I stepped away to get lunch, thinking I had enough time. Apparently, I did not.
Confusion about the platform, a search for an elevator while managing my 50-pound suitcase and a backpack, and even a bathroom line that consumed precious time nearly caused me to miss my train. By the time I realized how little time remained, I was rushing to find the correct platform and board the Shinkansen.
I made it onto the train just moments before departure. I was relieved, exhausted, and probably more grateful for that train seat than anyone else in the carriage.
And when I arrived in Osaka? I got lost again. Of course I did.
A ten-minute walk turned into thirty minutes, but eventually, I found my hotel. The remaining days navigating the streets eventually got better, and the congested and bustling Shin-Osaka and Osaka Train Stations are now some of my fondest, traumatic experiences from the trip.
Learning to Ask for Help
I wish I could say that all this wandering transformed me into an expert navigator. It didn’t.
I still struggled with directions. I still misunderstood maps. And I still occasionally questioned how I could be so capable in other areas of my life yet have such difficulty finding a train station and platform.
But I learned something important. Being independent doesn’t mean knowing how to do everything yourself. Sometimes independence means having the confidence to ask for help, reconsider your plans, and try again.
As a Christian, I often reflect on Proverbs 3:5–6 and its reminder to trust in the Lord rather than lean entirely on our own understanding.
That doesn’t mean abandoning preparation or common sense. It means recognizing that our understanding will sometimes be limited, and that’s okay.
I had researched, planned, and prepared for this journey. Yet I couldn’t anticipate every challenge.
Sometimes I needed a map. Sometimes I needed a stranger. Sometimes I needed to stop and think. And sometimes I simply needed patience.
Getting lost was frustrating, but every time I found my way back, I became a little more confident that I could do it again. Little did I know that this growing confidence would eventually change how I experienced being lost altogether.