The Art of Getting Lost

For the first 17 days in July, I have found my way in Victoria, Langley, Bellingham and Portland.  Even with a lot of help from Google Maps and the old-fashioned paper variety, I have managed to get myself turned around and utterly lost.  Many times.  At first, I found the sense of being lost as disconcerting, particularly when I landed on a freeway and had no idea of what direction I was headed. 

Vancouver Skyline - July 1 2014 - one place I did not get lost

Sitting at a Japanese restaurant in a Tacoma mall, I was wondering if I could recommend eating there and then I realized that I probably couldn't find it again.  On a journey where most days I don't go into the same bathroom twice, I see that the opportunities appear before me all because I chose a different road.  How much of this actually happens or did I notice before I decided to move to the coast?   So many opportunities in my life I have stumbled upon. 

I did amuse myself pretty heartily in getting lost.

Travelling alone, I am both the pilot and navigator.  Sometimes they don't agree.  I have an instinct that the next traffic light is my turn but for some reason I continue in the middle lane, see the street sign at the last minute and I am scrambling to find my way back.  One of my detours took me full circle back to where I had been - to my utter surprise.  I started all over.  And isn't that one of the beauties in life - that we get to begin afresh?

Every day.  And every day, I have new opportunities for getting lost.  I can get used to that. 

Pike Place Market - Seattle - Adorned for engagement photos

 

 

It is what I find along the way that is what life is all about.  The surprises, seeing something in a different way, a great conversation with a stranger, new understandings.  That is the gift of new places.  And getting lost. 

Thai Tom

Each of the two times we walked by the place, it caught our attention. First for all the action. It reminded me of a night club with music and people spilling out of the door. A fast-moving woman bustled through the door with a wooden plaque in hand, thrusting it towards newcomers in the queue. What also caught out attention was that it was always busy.

Our last dinner in the "Yu Dub" district of Seattle, we decided to check out the big attraction. We were the third party in line, as we were presented with the menu, scuffed from much use, and a taped announcement at the bottom that prices had been changed to $7.50. The queue moved quickly and we were first in line when the server brought out pen and paper and asked what we wanted to order.

As we walked in, I was struck by how small the place was; a narrow walkway separates small tables against a wall and the counter seating. The counter forms a "L" shape around the kitchen galley where three people work with orchestrated harmony. But harmony is hardly the word to describe the frenetic pace as the chef moved between 4 to 6 woks each sizzling with individual orders, with music to match.

We were ushered to the end of the counter; on my left, the woman who had brought us the menu tallied bills and handed the orders to the chef. We were elbow to elbow. Another server swept the dishes to and from the customers, and wiped down the tables. A total of 5 staff, who were always on the move.

From my perch, I saw the award for the "Best of" in 2009. But my eyes were quickly averted to the chef who was stirring, adding, and shaking the pots on the open flames ahead of him. When an order was complete he would pick up the wok with his right hand, the serving dish in his left, turn around to the counter, slide the food into the dish and then turn to the awaiting assistant and flipped the now-empty wok into the waiting hand. This move I watched again and again, as we would watch a knife juggler. What I noted on watching the second time is that the ladle that was always in each wok was also a part of the toss, both held together by some scientific force, for there was always an instant when it wasn't be held by anyone.

The assistant walked back to the dish pit to the third team member, picking up a clean wok/ladle and bringing it back. This helper keep a sharp eye on the cook, replacing any empty food containers, chopping when necessary. Every once in a while, these two would break into laughter. Which was a delight in itself.

Because sitting at the counter, I was feeling the heat, and getting caught up in the busyness. It was intense.

Our food arrived. My choice was Swimming Rama, a combination of spinach, chicken, in a wonderful sauce. It was incredibly tasty! And so was the Pad Thai that BJ ordered. One of the women that ordered ahead of us had soup, which was made the same way that ours was. Fresh. On the spot. Individually seasoned. Great quality at a great price!

Thai Tom was definitely one of those "finds" that inspire!