I knew where I wanted to go. I asked for directions but didn’t fully understand because of the language barrier. I was by myself as my friends had already went back to America. I remember just sitting there waiting hoping I ended up in the right spot. As I sat there waiting I thought to myself, What if this is the wrong train? What if I am going the wrong direction? Does it really matter? I suppose its not really the destination that matters but the journey. As long as I’m moving and trying that’s all that matters.