It’s good to get lost

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t want to be around people. It just wasn’t a socialising day. Within minutes, I decided to get lost in the Australian National Botanical Gardens.

The first time I went there, I was a traveller. A high-energy trekker, equipped with a backpack full stuffed with a jacket, cap, water, and snacks. And I tried to cover the whole area in one day—because that’s what I do when visiting a new city. I crave to see everything, experience everything in one visit. As a result of that over ambition, I lost my way in the gardens, strayed from the main path every time I saw a flower or a streak of sunlight glinting through a puddle, and ended up missing a few parts of the garden.

This time, I knew better. I had a plan, a purpose. I chose a trail—the eucalyptus walk—and decided to stick to it.

Except, I got lost again. It took me longer than it should’ve, but I went around in circles before finding my way back on to the trail.

And you know what? It’s ok. It’s ok that I got distracted by plants, that I gravitated towards weird shaped-branches and odd-named bushes. It’s ok that I didn’t follow the trail exactly as it was mapped. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about seeing them all. It’s about appreciating what you did see.

And I saw a lot.

Lizard - Australian National Botanical Gardens

Floriade in Canberra

For 32 years, Australia has welcomed spring with tulips. This means, at this time every year, the government assembles millions of flowers in a grand public park in Canberra, and invites people from all over the country to visit and experience nature.

In all its glory—
Floriade,
human vanity.

The festival is called Floriade. And this year’s theme was World in Bloom. For an entire month, these flowers sit in their designated spots, laughing in the sun, opening its petals, attracting birds, selfie sticks, and macro lenses of all sizes.

To call it glorious is an understatement.

With flowers, the lake, herons, and falling buds in the backdrop, people flocked to photograph themselves and the free pricelessness.

To call it beautiful is injustice.

Floriade hosts people from all over the country. Not just various shades and accents of white, but also hundreds of shades of brown and black. The air echoed with varieties of Australian, American, Asian, and European.

As I sat on a bench, flower gazing and people watching, flashes of colour showered not only from the blossoms and the sunshine they reflect, but also from the rainbow of whirlwind coming from spring dresses, khaki trousers, yoga pants, singlets, hats, and caps, mingled with heaving sighs and perfumed sweat.

What a great celebration of spring.