Lost in Lisbon

Sofía was sure the museum was three streets away. According to her map, all she had to do was turn left. But Lisbon's streets did not behave like streets in other cities. They climbed. They twisted. They ended without warning.

Sofía si byla jistá, že muzeum je jen tři ulice daleko. Podle její mapy stačilo zabočit doleva. Ale lisabonské ulice se nechovaly jako ulice v jiných městech. Stoupaly do kopce. Zatáčely sem a tam. Končily bez varování.

After twenty minutes, she stopped on a small square she had never seen on any map. A cat was asleep on a chair. An old woman was hanging clothes from a balcony.

Po dvaceti minutách se zastavila na malém náměstíčku, které nikdy neviděla na žádné mapě. Na židli spala kočka. Stará žena věšela prádlo z balkonu.

"Excuse me," Sofía called up. "Do you know the way to the museum?" The old woman frowned and disappeared inside. Sofía thought she had been rude. But a minute later, the woman came out of the front door of the building, slowly, holding a piece of paper.

"Promiňte," zavolala Sofía nahoru. "Nevíte, kudy se jde do muzea?" Stará žena se zamračila a zmizela uvnitř. Sofía si myslela, že byla nezdvořilá. Ale za minutu žena vyšla z vchodových dveří budovy, pomalu, v ruce držela kus papíru.

She had drawn a small map by hand. Three streets, two corners, a fountain. "Don't trust the phone here," she said in careful English. "The phone gets confused in this neighborhood."

Nakreslila malou mapku rukou. Tři ulice, dva rohy, fontánu. "Nevěřte tady telefonu," řekla opatrnou angličtinou. "Telefon se v této čtvrti plete."

Sofía thanked her. She did not find the museum that afternoon. She kept the paper map for the rest of the trip.

Sofía jí poděkovala. To odpoledne muzeum nenašla. Papírovou mapku si nechala po celý zbytek výletu.