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 var sikker på, at museet lå tre gader væk. Ifølge hendes kort skulle hun bare dreje til venstre. Men Lissabons gader opførte sig ikke som gader i andre byer. De steg opad. De snoede sig. De sluttede pludseligt uden varsel.

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.

Efter tyve minutter stoppede hun på en lille plads, som hun aldrig havde set på noget kort. En kat sov på en stol. En gammel kvinde hængte tøj op fra en altan.

"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.

"Undskyld," råbte Sofía op til hende. "Ved De, hvordan man kommer til museet?" Den gamle kvinde rynkede panden og forsvandt ind i lejligheden. Sofía troede, hun havde været uhøflig. Men et minut senere kom kvinden ud af bygningens hoveddør, langsomt, med et stykke papir i hånden.

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."

Hun havde tegnet et lille kort i hånden. Tre gader, to hjørner, en fontæne. "Stol ikke på telefonen her," sagde hun på omhyggeligt engelsk. "Telefonen bliver forvirret i dette kvarter."

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

Sofía takkede hende. Hun fandt ikke museet den eftermiddag. Hun beholdt det håndtegnede kort resten af rejsen.