Written by walter

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Monday, 25 October 2010

When giving directions, we are advised to be simple and clear. The inquirer thanks and ‎we depart. What happens next we are not so sure. However, we are told that some ‎people have poor navigation skills such as the following quoted story::‎

I was touring Europe in a rented car. It was early in the morning when I reached Munich. ‎Actually, I had driven the car in many European cities simply by using a city map. ‎Without a map, of course, I felt like a fish out of water; therefore, I parked the car at the ‎first available parking lot and kept waiting for the sun to rise and shops to open in order ‎to buy a city map.‎

At a distance, I could see a giant cubic structure. The fear of getting lost had already set ‎in. I knew there were two basic rules in finding one's way: the "route perspective" and ‎the "survey perspective". Consequently, I decided to take all precautionary steps such ‎as finding a distinct landmark which happened to be a white plastic awning above a shop ‎next to the parking lot. Additionally, I chose the front fender of the car as my point of ‎departure A and connected a virtual line to the gate of the arcade as my point of arrival B ‎etc, and kept registering all the broken line.‎

Having bought the map, I made an about turn to the gate. At the gate I made a full stop to see that I was seeing the white plastic awning. There was no white ‎plastic awning in sight. Panic took me over. I knew I was lost! Returned to the bookstore ‎and surveyed the vast compound. To my chagrin, I saw there were more than four exit ‎gates to the arcade.‎

Blaming myself, I desperately stood on the cobblestone side walk. It was rush hour and ‎Germans were scurrying back and forth to work. Now, amongst so many people, ‎absentmindedly I chose a female pedestrian wearing an above knee flowery skirt, ‎exposing her handsome legs in red sandals, matching her pedicured toes and red flower ‎designs in the fabric of her skirt. ‎

Anyway, knowing that Germans dislike tourists asking questions in English, I desperately ‎explained what had happened to me. She looked at her watch and said she had 15 ‎minutes to spare. Then, she bade me to follow her.‎

You know what most men think every second of their life when they walk in a busy street ‎crowded by attractive women, but I would like to refer to the immortality of aesthetics ‎rather than carnal fulfillment. After so many years still the picturesque view of those ‎minutes vividly come to my mind as she walked on the cobblestone way in front of me: ‎that rhythmic clatter of her sandals; that movement of her skirt exposing the back of her ‎knees; that movement of her blond hair over her top; that occasional shifting of her purse ‎from one shoulder to another and I, mesmerized, walked in the wake of the wafts of her ‎exquisite rich perfume. ‎

Having reached the destination, she graciously said, 'Bitte'.‎

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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