Blueberry Picking - Or Lessons For the Lost

We went outside the city to pick blueberries last weekend. There was a large group of people going and we were all to follow each other to get there. The bus was to be in the lead because he knew where he was going.

This is the map we were provided in case we got lost:

Because in a 98% Catholic country, you should always use churches and cemeteries as landmarks. Just makes good sense and is in NO WAY confusing.

So, a group of us missed a turn (I really don't know how that happened, what with that fabulous map) and continued on down the road for about 3 miles before we were rescued by the bus.

Then just our family missed another turn. We drove in circles for about 15 minutes before I said, "Let's just go home!"

Dylan said he was having fun and we should continue.

We finally found the right road and followed the above map, until we came to where the road forked. We took the left fork because that's what the map said.

Then we came to another fork (which was surprisingly not listed on said fabulous map):

and then stopped in a nearby village and asked for directions. They told us it was right back up the road.

Unfortunately, we then ran into a person in our group, who told us to take the left fork. She also informed us that the bus driver and the rest of the group were lost (apparently the bus driver was following that map).

So we did (lesson - always listen to the villagers, never the idiots in your own party).

Then we drove around. Came back to this fork:


Turned left just before the fork.

A friend called and sent someone to get us.

All along, we should have taken the right fork. It was seriously just behind the trees.


And we picked 1 1/2 kilos of blueberries (approx. 3 lbs.) so we've been eating LOTS of blueberries. This was all my idea.

And I don't even like blueberries.