Not getting Lost

"Excuse me, are you lost?, " Said the old lady. She spoke nearly perfect English, and you could barely make out the french accent.

"Err, no, thanks I'm fine", I replied, looking around, not sure if she was talking me, or not.

"Ah okay, okay. I saw you earlier, in the village, in the shop. You were asking for directions"

"Ok, Yes, I was. I heard there is a big party (I didn't want to say rave, she might be scared, depending on her preconceptions ), somewhere close to hear, but I didn't know the way"

Nobody seemed to know of the party, and even I wasn't sure it existed. It was info from a 10 minute chat from Scandinavian traveler, near the bus station.
Not exactly cast iron, credible information .

I wasn't important in the slightest, just the way the breeze was blowing me that day.
I had no plans.
I didn't have a map either.

When the old lady asked if I was lost, and I replied I wasn't, it was true. I didn't have a clue where I was though, but I wasn't lost.

I ....was...right....here. Simple really.

If you dont know where you going, you can hardly be lost, can you?

When I hit the shores of France, (not D-day style 'hit the shores of France', more of a walk off a ferry, style, of 'hitting the shores of France.')
I decided not have any maps. - I'd thrown away the ones I'd carried.
I remember strategically looking at the them before I set off. Planning routes, estimating times, etc.
I spent weeks organizing . In my 'old life.'

After only one day after setting off on the road and hitching to the coast , and with a very 'giddy' feeling of being free (for the time in my life, I suppose)
I thought, 'fuck this, lets just see where I go, no plans'

I'd like to say I'd thrown the maps, wildely over the side of the ferry, into the brown waters of the English channel, the wind blowing in my face, in a grand, dramatic gesture.

But I didnt - I put them in the trash can instead.

I wish I had map to find out where the toilets were though.
Maps are useful. I wish I had a map.
I bet the troops hitting the french beaches, all those years ago had maps.
...At least for where the toilets were

I wanted to go south, so I guess that would be a good place to start.
Paris was south, I knew that – and there was a sign for Paris.

This is it then. I'm 'officially' on the road ....