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'.
