Describe a time when you got lost

I'd like to talk about the time I got properly lost in the Old Quarter of Hanoi, about three years ago, on my first trip there without my parents. I was trying to walk from my hostel to a small café a friend had recommended. On the map it looked like a ten-minute stroll, so I set off with a vague memory of the route and my phone at eleven percent battery. The Old Quarter is a maze of thirty-six streets that were originally named after the goods sold on them, and the problem is that many of them look identical: narrow shopfronts, motorbikes parked three deep, and a tangle of cables overhead. I took what I thought was a shortcut, then a second one to correct the first, and within fifteen minutes my phone had died and I had absolutely no idea which direction the lake was. My first reaction was a kind of quiet panic. I remember standing outside a shop that sold nothing but tin boxes and pretending to be interested in them while I worked out what to do. In the end I did the sensible thing and asked. An elderly woman selling sticky rice from a basket pointed me towards Hoan Kiem Lake, and once I could see the water I could orient myself again. The café turned out to be two streets from where I'd started. What I felt afterwards was mostly embarrassment, but also, oddly, a bit of gratitude. Getting lost forced me to look up from the screen and actually see the place: the tin-box street, the smell of the rice, the woman who laughed at my accent and helped me anyway. Ever since then, whenever I travel somewhere new, I deliberately spend the first hour without navigation, just to get a feel for it. I do keep a power bank in my bag now, though.