ARRIVAL: LOST IN CAUSEWAY BAY

“Excuse me. No camera. Please step aside,” an officer ordered.

All the dark thoughts and what-ifs came to me at once.

What if someone had put a bullet inside my bag? What if somebody had slipped some kind of drug into it? What if I was sent to jail? What if they ordered me to return to my home country immediately?

What if, what if, what if, what if…

I knew I had never done any of those things. I also knew the possibility of them happening was very slim. Still, the thoughts kept harping at me like an uninvited guest who refused to leave.

That was when I learned again that happiness is rarely free and easy.

When I finally decided to take my first solo international trip, Hong Kong was the undisputed first destination. Simply because I wanted to chase happiness; and what could be the perfect place for that other than Disneyland?

Picture this: streets designed straight out of a movie, families walking side by side, couples holding hands, screams and laughter filling every corner, rides taking you into different worlds, and fireworks lighting up the sky with magic.

This was how I imagined Disneyland as a child—and even as an adult. And this was my chance to grant one of the wishes of the little Suzette within me.

And so, just like when I was a kid, I swallowed my fear and answered everything they asked as best as I could. When they found nothing inside my bags, they asked me to enter a room, where I was patted down to double-check that I was not hiding anything.

I had heard enough stories about first-time solo female travelers from the Philippines being questioned that I had mentally prepared myself for the possibility. But simulation is not reality. No amount of planning will ever make you truly ready.

And when reality comes, there is really nothing much you can do except to continue moving forward, whether you feel prepared or not.

So I did.

When they finally let me go, I rushed toward the booth where I could get my Octopus Card. With merely three minutes left before closing time, I got one and was able to board the bus going to Causeway Bay.

For almost two hours, I was in that dreamy space where it felt as though everything was falling into place.

But I was proven wrong.

What followed was more than two hours of walking, taking wrong turns, constantly checking my phone, and convincing myself that I was only a few minutes away from finding my hotel even though I had no idea which direction to take next.

It was already past 9 p.m. when I arrived in Causeway Bay. Confidently, I opened Google Maps and typed in Mini Hotel Causeway Bay. According to the app, it was only a few minutes away from my stop.

It seemed easy enough. I only needed to follow Google Maps.

What could go wrong, right?

Only that when I took my second turn, Google Maps suddenly created a different route. What should have been a five-minute walk became another ten minutes. Then, ten became twenty.

Either I sucked at following directions, or Google Maps was giving me the wrong ones—or perhaps it was both. But no matter whose fault it was, the truth still stood: I had been walking around seemingly the same block for almost an hour, and Google Maps was now telling me to cross a freeway.

Exasperated and tired, I did the most sensible thing I could think of and ditched Google Maps.

I would do it the traditional way, I thought.

I looked at the map on my phone, read the street signs, and followed the guideposts. Confidence blossomed in my heart again, only to be crushed when I realized that I was supposedly already standing on the street next to my hotel, yet it was still nowhere in sight.

I tried asking the locals, but most of them could not understand English. The few I approached did not seem eager to help either, probably because it was already 11 p.m.

Hopelessness settled inside me.

My bag and luggage seemed to grow heavier every second. In my desperate attempt to find out where my hotel was, I approached a foreign man.

“Come. I know what building you are talking about. It’s just after this overpass,” he told me with a friendly smile.

I watched him while weighing my options—or rather, the possibility of being kidnapped and killed.

My inner guide told me there was probably an 80 percent chance that he was going to take advantage of me. So I said no to him and yes to more aimless walking.

It was already past 11 when I somehow walked back to the street where I had initially started. I surrendered to the thought that perhaps I was fated to sleep on the streets of Hong Kong.

So I decided to do the most sensible thing possible: stare at a street sign for a couple of minutes and then take one step forward.

That one step led me to a store that was about to close.

I heaved a sigh and asked one of the staff members for directions. He asked where I was from, and I told him I was from the Philippines. He smiled and called his workmate.

She was a Filipino.

In that moment, after what seemed like an eternity, I felt less alone.

She told me I was only two blocks away and gave me directions. But perhaps I was just a bad listener, or perhaps I really sucked at directions, because I was lost again after only a couple of minutes.

I eventually found myself standing at a crossroads, waiting for the green light. Almost all the stores were already closed. I stood there with my luggage, about to cry, when I was joined by a man who looked to be in his early twenties.

I studied him from my peripheral vision and thought that perhaps he could speak English. I decided to ask a local one last time.

Thank goodness I tried again because he pointed me toward the easiest route, and apparently, I was only three minutes away from my hotel.

Looking back, it was funny how I stood at a literal crossroads—lost and hopeless—yet it was also the moment when I finally found the path I needed to take.

Sometimes, we think we are lost, but perhaps that is exactly where we are going to be found.

When I finally looked at the tiny sign of my hotel, it felt like an oasis.

By the time I reached my room, I no longer cared whether it was spacious or beautiful. All I cared about was calling my friend and recounting my first night in Hong Kong—not from the streets, but from my comfortable bed.

I slept peacefully.

THE PEAK: LEANING INTO THE VIEW

The next morning, I woke up with renewed confidence and excitement.

This was the day I was finally going to Disneyland.

But first, I planned to make a stop at the historic Peak Tram and see Hong Kong from above. Getting to the tram was easy. Although I did get lost while looking for the MTR at first, at least it did not take me three hours this time.

Thank goodness.

And double thank goodness, navigating Hong Kong’s MTR was like a walk in the park.

With only a few minutes of delay, I was finally aboard the historic Peak Tram although technically, it is a funicular railway.

It was such a joy to sit in the front and watch the tram slowly get pulled up the steep slope. Seeing the railway and Hong Kong from the side of a mountain gave me nostalgia for a time I had never even experienced. The tilted view made the ride even more memorable and somehow sentimental. Watching the buildings appear to lean at impossible angles made me think of the times when we also need to lean on others before we can see life from a different perspective.

After the Peak Tram, I decided to head toward Sky Terrace 428. Since I arrived before 10 a.m., I went outside first and took some nice photos with my handy-dandy photographer: my tripod.

At exactly 10 a.m., I lined up for Sky Terrace 428.

And there, I faced one of my greatest fears: escalators.

Yes, you read that right. I am afraid of escalators.

At the time, it felt like my ultimate test of bravery.

With shaking feet and cold hands, I stepped onto it while trying to put aside the thought of my shoelaces getting caught and trapping my foot until somebody had to cut me free.

With my brave-girl face on, I reached Sky Terrace 428 and was rewarded with a beautiful panoramic view of Hong Kong from 428 meters above sea level.

STOPOVER: A GENTLE REPRIEVE AT HONG KONG PARK

After riding the Peak Tram back down, I started looking for the nearest MTR station so I could finally go to Disneyland.

But then, I was stopped by a kind-looking lady. She told me that I should go to Hong Kong Park first because there was an area filled with beautiful flowers and butterflies. I was hesitant because I already knew where the MTR was, and I did not want to get lost again and waste more time. But she was quite persistent. She even led me toward the park.

While we were walking, she began talking about Christianity and religion.

That was when I began to suspect why she had approached me: perhaps she was trying to recruit me into her religion.

Thankfully, she was not too persistent about recruiting me on the spot, and she let me go when we were already near the park.

I entered without really expecting anything, but I was immediately blown away by the landscape before me.

A beautiful staircase stood ahead, surrounded by trees. It was the complete opposite of the city I had been in only moments before. Now, all I could see were trees, greenery, and the park stretching around me.

When I walked farther, a turtle paradise appeared before me.

And just as the lady had promised, there was also an area filled with flowers surrounded by butterflies.

It was a gentle reprieve amid all the chaos the city brought.

I was so glad I listened to the lady because Hong Kong Park eventually became my favorite part of the entire trip.

Yes, it even defeated Disneyland.

Sometimes, we think the magic we are looking for is waiting at our destination. But most of the time, it is really hidden in the little stopovers we needed to take.

Had it not been for Disneyland, I would have stayed there until dusk, simply lingering around and making the most of every quiet moment in the park.

But alas, I needed to go.

Another kind of magic—the chaotic kind—was waiting for me.

So, with a bright spirit, I continued toward the happiest place on Earth.

DESTINATION: THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON EARTH—HONG KONG DISNEYLAND

When I finally arrived at Disneyland and saw the iconic castle standing before me, my heart filled with joy and excitement.

I could not help but skip-run while singing the most fitting song for that moment: “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid.

I fully knew that the people around me were only actors and mascots playing the characters I loved. But in that moment, I still felt like I was part of their world.

I stood there for a while, admiring the castle and taking everything in.

I AM IN DISNEYLAND.

I felt so blessed and privileged to be there when so many Filipinos could only dream of doing the same.

It made me grateful for the job I sometimes complain about because, even if it is not my greatest passion, it was helping fuel the passions I had discovered: traveling and writing.

The rest of the day went by in a blur.

My first ride was Hyperspace Mountain. It was fun and had just the right amount of thrill. For a few minutes, I imagined that I was actually somewhere in the galaxy and had somehow become part of the revolution.

Next, I watched The Festival of the Lion King and cried a little when Simba and Nala sang “Can You Feel the Love Tonight.”

Then, I got dropped a couple of times on Toy Soldier Parachute Drop. Thankfully, I did not drop dead. 😉 Afterward, I enjoyed Frozen Ever After and the Cinderella Carousel, where I pretended I was not the only adult riding it.

But my favorite ride was Mystic Manor. It gave me that whimsical feeling of being a child again, back when my imagination could turn anything into magic.

Finally came the conclusion of my fun, chaotic, and surprise-filled day: Momentous, a nighttime show featuring fireworks, castle projections, fountains, lighting effects, and Disney music.

It was the perfect moment for someone who had grown up watching Disney.

My favorite part was when “Remember Me” from Coco played. I could not help but cry. I was in awe that I was finally seeing it with my own eyes and experiencing its magic for myself.

Truly, Disneyland is one of the happiest places on Earth—perhaps just a little below my home with my family and dogs, nature, and Hong Kong Park.

The many hours of walking were worth it.

DETOUR: AN ANT-SIZED PERSPECTIVE AT NGONG PING 360

The next day went by quickly.

I was feeling under the weather, so I stayed inside my hotel during the morning. I was supposed to go to Macau, but my body had other plans.

It did not really affect me that much because, by then, I had already learned that traveling comes with things going outside of your plan. Besides, I was not really a fan of too much city life, so I decided it was okay to miss it.

Fortunately, I felt better in the afternoon, so I was still able to go to Ngong Ping 360.

I arrived just before closing time, which meant there were no long lines. I was even able to ride inside a Crystal Cabin alone.

It was so much fun, and I am sorry for using this word again, but it was magical.

Watching the enormous buildings slowly shrink into ant-like sizes as we traveled upward gave me a different perspective.

Everything we encounter—all our problems and worries—seems to shrink against the sheer size of the universe we live in.

And somehow, that comforted my troubled heart.

I ended the day in Mong Kok, where I bought pasalubong and stopped to watch street musicians perform.

By then, I thought Hong Kong had already given me enough surprises.

Apparently, it had saved the most chaotic one for my final day.

DEPARTURE: I GOT LEFT BEHIND, BUT SEE, I LEARNED

When I woke up at 3:30 a.m. on June 26, the rain was pouring so heavily that it felt like there was a storm. I tried to comfort myself by thinking that perhaps it would stop soon. But by 5 a.m., it was still pouring. I eventually decided to go outside with my small, flimsy umbrella and tried to find the bus stop.

I did not find it.

Instead, I ended up soaking wet.

The wind grew stronger by the second, so I decided to find the nearest place where I could take cover. By then, it was already 6 a.m. My flight was shortly after 8 a.m., and I was becoming more worried with every passing second.

I tried calling for taxis, but no one accepted my ride. I wondered whether there was a special kind of taxi that went to the airport. Then I tried Uber. It failed me. I registered all three of my cards, but every one of them was rejected.

Soaking wet and about to cry, I went outside again and decided to make my way toward the train station. By 6:30 a.m., I boarded the first train. I was finally able to breathe a little. I could still catch my flight as long as everything went according to plan, I thought.

And, for the nth time, it did not go according to plan.

Because out of all the days I could have boarded the wrong train, it had to be that day.

Just. My. Luck.

I got off at the next station and ran toward the next platform, and then the next, and then the next, trying desperately to catch up with time.

But I am only a mere mortal. By the time I finally boarded the train going to the airport, my heart sank.

I had only five minutes left. I knew I would not make it.

I looked outside the train window, digging my fingers into my palm, and desperately holding back my tears.

I was an idiot, I thought.

Had I checked in online, perhaps I would still have been allowed to board. But I had not.

Still, amid all the cruel things I was saying to myself, there were also brighter thoughts trying to come through.

I thought about the Burnt Toast Theory—the idea that small delays and inconveniences may sometimes protect us from something worse—and somehow, it comforted me. Maybe the universe was protecting me from some impending doom that I did not exactly know about. After all, in the grand scheme of things, we are all ant-sized.

Then I thought about all the trouble I had already survived. From the moment I landed up until that moment, I had been a brave, somewhat young, independent girl.

I had come to Hong Kong on my own.

I would leave—and live—on my own.

I should be proud of that.

When I finally arrived at the airport, I was only five minutes late for the check-in deadline. But late was still late, and the counter was already closed. With nothing else left to do, I rebooked my flight for the nearest available schedule.

I arrived back in the Philippines at around noon, exhausted but proud of myself.

Looking back, the trip was truly exhausting. I guess that was why it took me more than a year to finally write everything down.

For a long time, I felt both proud and disappointed in myself. Part of me believed that my first solo international trip had been a failure.

But I know now that it was not a failure.

It was simply messy.

And, as I had already learned, the road to our happiest place on Earth is seldom easy. Most of the time, it is filled with exhaustion, fear, and hopelessness. Perhaps that is exactly what makes the happiest moments feel even happier 😉

And with that, I am finally closing this chapter.

May the odds be ever in our favor next time, dear stranger, lol.