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 gater unna. Ifølge kartet hennes trengte hun bare å svinge til venstre. Men gatene i Lisboa oppførte seg ikke som gater i andre byer. De steg bratt oppover. De snoet seg. De sluttet plutselig uten forvarsel.

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.

Etter tjue minutter stoppet hun på et lite torg hun aldri hadde sett på noe kart. En katt sov på en stol. En gammel dame hengte opp klær fra en balkong.

"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.

«Unnskyld,» ropte Sofía oppover. «Vet du veien til museet?» Den gamle damen rynket pannen og forsvant inn. Sofía trodde hun hadde vært uhøflig. Men et minutt senere kom kvinnen ut av inngangsdøren til bygningen, sakte, med et 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 hadde tegnet et lite kart for hånd. Tre gater, to hjørner, en fontene. «Ikke stol på telefonen her,» sa hun på forsiktig engelsk. «Telefonen blir forvirret i dette nabolaget."

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

Sofía takket henne. Hun fant ikke museet den ettermiddagen. Hun beholdt papiret resten av turen.