Formentera

On finding my way and the magnificent Balearic island

My husband is an excellent navigator. 

He can arrive in nearly any new place and land on his feet. He pores over maps before reaching a destination. And as soon as he hits the ground, he has to get a lay of the land.

In short, he does not like being lost.  

My husband, Rodrigo, enamored with a sundial at the port of Ibiza . Who knew these still exist?!

I, on the other hand, am another story. 

I like to wander. I gloss over maps. I don’t mind getting lost (because I do it a lot!), meandering, and asking people for directions along the way. 

When we lived in our little town in Altentejo, Portugal, before venturing out for my first solo outing he said, “This town is a square. It’s impossible for you to get lost here.”

To which I replied:

(If you don’t know the story behind the Usher ‘Watch This’ meme, read this.)

Inevitably, I rely on him for navigating a lot. But the truth is, as the youngest to three caring siblings, I am used to someone else leading the way. My sisters have always been there to problem solve with me, look over logistics, and help me get around.

So, when I moved to Portugal, following the leader was a way of life. However, there have been moments here when I’ve felt my own internal scales of reliance tip a little too far. 

Recently, on our trip to Formentera, a small, glistening Balearic island near Ibiza, I became hyper aware of this tendency.

When I left it up to Rodrigo to figure out the transportation around the island, he called me out on it.

“You can find the way too, you know,” he said. And while I deflected and claimed to know my strengths and weaknesses, it was true. 

I can and should find my way.

Later, as we walked down the long candescent road of El Pilar de la Mola, a quiet enchanting village on the eastern edge of Formentera, I thought more about it.

Roaming through the former quarters of Far de la Mola, the historic lighthouse which was established in 1861 and once a beacon for sailors, we discovered a stunning view of the cliffs protruding into the Mediterranean sea.

And this is when it dawned upon me that finding my way, or rather not finding my way, is a big part of what has made me feel a sense of losing myself over the past three years.

Whether stumbling through the curvy cobblestone streets of Lisbon or chasing down intercity buses, I am nearly always relying on Rodrigo to help guide me. And the language barrier has only amplified this. More often than not, I have leaned on him to communicate on my behalf, which has only hindered my ability to articulate my own wants and needs.

Things like: Reading a menu and choosing what to eat. Ordering a coffee the way I like it. Scheduling an appointment for a manicure.

These may seem insignificant, but the small things add up, don’t they?

Yet there have been many moments when I felt like I knew the way, but I second guessed myself, doubting my ability. Or times when I’ve wanted to ask questions but refrained from it, for fear of speaking incorrectly in Portuguese. Holding back out of fear.

A beloved friend of ours, Rana, who shared a similar experience after moving from Amman, Jordan to Cairo, Egypt, once articulated this feeling so well.

“It’s like always being in the passenger seat of the car, and not the driver’s seat in your life,” said Rana.

Back on the island, as I stood from afar and watched Rodrigo admire Molí Vell de la Mola, a beautiful rustic windmill which was built in 1778 and used to mill flour, I suddenly became aware of how many navigation symbols we were surrounded by. 

Molí Vell, the old windmill in El Pilar de la Mola.

How ironic, I thought, as he peered through the tiny window of the windmill, and described its history confidently, knowingly.

And that was when I made a quiet promise to myself to begin to find my own way again.

To pay attention to the way our windy roads connect. 

Use the ocean as my guide. 

Look for landmarks. 

Trust my instincts.

Speak without hesitation.

And most of all, go forward without fear.

As always, thank you so much for being here with me for this Summer Sunday.

Warmly,

Summer

P.S. So many of life’s transitions call on us to find our way again. Whether it’s moving to a new place, losing a parent or partner, ending a marriage or beginning one. Are you navigating a new place, space or time in your life? How are you finding your way? Please write to me anytime. I always love hearing from you.