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Back in 2014, I had to start college, and right before choosing a Major, I had this sudden urge to travel. I have no idea why I had this cinematic notion that choosing a field of study was this thing which could be resolved by sitting quietly by the ocean for hours. Fast-forward to 6 years later, man, am I still confused about my career path. So my mother had this plan for a trip with her co-members of the NGO she is involved with, and I decided to join them. I should mention it in here, that, solo female travel or even traveling with your friends being a woman is a bit of a toughie in Bangladesh, but let's not get into that. I don't remember every detail of the trip, but I remember this, that the moment I stepped onto the bus to Teknaf, my heart instantly sank. Let's be honest. We do not want to travel with the people we do not want to travel with. I hope I am being relatable like a popular meme in here. I mean no offense to all the mom and dad like people in the world, but I should've known that I could not possibly expect to find anyone in the whole trip (but a creepy gawky guy younger than me) who was anywhere near my age group. We got on board a launch (the Bangladeshi version of a water vessel) to reach St. Martin's from Teknaf. All through the way, I could really relate with Rose from the movie Titanic, with bouts of existential crisis and wanted to jump into the sea then scratched that idea as I feared that this could be the chance for the creepy kid to play Jack. We reached St. Martin's. It was a picture out of a calendar page, around it, was the contrast of the bluest of water I had ever seen in my life with my own eyes, but I was still peevish. I spent a whole day sitting inside the hotel, whining over my soon-to-take educational decision, testing my mother's patience with me to the limit. Then the following day, I was dragged out of the hotel room like a cat to walk on a leash. We went sight-seeing to one of the villages in the island by a speedboat, the name of which I don't remember or I didn't care to remember. Then when it was the time to return to our hotel, all the uncles and aunties wanted to take a hike in the scorching heat on the way back. But us, the lazy mother-daughter duo did not budge. Hence, we paid the price. We found a Trawler to return to the hotel after a lot of frantic to and fro from one corner to another of the shore. And for the first time, through that precariously 'Titanicasque' journey, riding the high waves with a joke of a boat, I found my existential crisis ebbing away. It was our last night in St. Martin's. I was happy. But I was confused why. Was it because my dreadful trip was finally ending or was it because the sea was breathtaking at night? But I finally found my zen moment I had hoped for. We decided to eat outside the hotel, in a restaurant, on our last night. While my mother and her colleagues and the creepy kid was busy with their after-dinner conversations, I sneaked out from there. I headed towards the hotel, alone. My leap into the unknown, leaving behind all of these relatively known yet unknown faces, passing by more unknown faces on the way. The real terror started then. It was dark. Back then, I did not have a phone equipped with a torch light or anything. I lost my way. But then I found it. Like a blind person I followed my instincts and found a bushy shortcut to the back of the hotel building. Thus, my weird trip ended with the memory of a creepy guy developing a crush on me and finding my way successfully on a dark road. FYI, I chose law. And now, I'm trying to find my way again.