The act of traveling is an art rather than a science. Science has plans and projects outcomes and, while art can do the same, it does not care. Traveling has some destinations, but the real joy is in the process, the going, the encountering of new sites.
Art has missteps, as well. Real art is a exploration of possibilities which means that sometimes things do not work out as expected. It is my contention that the unexpected is the very best part.
Carlisle, England is a nice town but not very different from those around it. It was in Carlisle that we met a man and his dog who were, together, the archetype of English people who give directions.
When you do not have a GPS and rely on intuition over maps, you have to ask total strangers for directions. You have to trust people you do not know.
We stopped a gentleman who was walking his cocker spaniel along a busy street in Carlisle. When we rented the car near the train station, it was easy to get on the motorway toward south Scotland. Coming back into the town, the streets were one way and we got lost. The man with the spaniel was ever so English. He took forever to think about our question and then propose an answer. As we wondered if he knew how to get to the train station he looked up from his pondering and explained that he knew several ways to get there, but was considering which one would be the easiest and quickest for us to take. When he decided, he spit it out, we followed it, and got there just right.
You do not need a GPS - there are men with cocker spaniels all over the world.
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