Have you ever smacked a piñata? Not just stood there and clobbered it, but been to a birthday party where they blind folded you, spun you in circles, and handed you a bat, then let you swing wildly in the dizzing dark?
If so, that's what I think moving is like.
You're disoriented, feeling your way in the darkness, blindly trying to figure out what the fuck you're doing.
Also, it feels like bystanders are probably laughing.
For me, I have to first locate the essentials (Target), then branch out from there. Thankfully, smart phones help a lot with navigation (10 years ago when I moved to FL, if I got lost, I was just screwed), but even my smart phone can be dumb, and I've found myself needlessly adding extra mileage in pursuit of necessities in the past 10 days.
The one thing that helps provide me with centrality is running and finding the necessary running routes.
Here, in North Carolina, they don't seem to believe in sidewalks, or shoulders for the roads, but they do have greenways -- nicely paved trails that wind prettily by scenic creeks. The running there has been lovely, like this run on Mother's Day:
Or, this early morning run last week:
It would be nice to step out my front door and get to these places on foot, but I value my life and hate the thought of Jerry having to find my body in a ditch, so for now, I have to drive to such running locales.
I haven't found the DMV yet, but I know where to run. For me, that's really the first step to citizenship in a new place. I still feel weirdly out of place, and am certain I will for awhile, but finding my running groove helps make it feel like I'm finally making some solid connections with the piñata.