Seeing Yellow
I'm taking the Random-Yellow-Card-Question Challenge.
If you were lost in an unfamiliar city, what would you do?
There have been many times that I have been lost in an unfamiliar city. Back when my move to Los Angeles coincided with me learning to drive, I spent hours upon hours being lost. Usually it had something to do with me turning East into the setting sun or getting directions for approaching from the North and then needing to come from the South instead and not flipping all of the turns.
But as scary as it may be to be lost in Lost Angeles, I remember being more afraid when I got lost in Brussels. I was tagging along with my friend on a school field trip to a concentration camp (Breendonk) and on the way back we stopped to do what everyone wants to do after spending time thinking about man's inhumanity to man: shop. My friend and I had no Belgian currency (before the days of the Euro) nor did we really see anything worth looking at in the closest mall, so we set off to explore the winding alley ways of the old city. The trick about winding alley ways is that you never know where they are actually going to take you and you can't see over the roof tops to any land mark that will help you get back.
As it got later and later and we couldn't find the magic street that would take us back to the plaza where we were to meet, the people we passed began to look more and more sinister and my friend, who could always attract men from 50 miles off, looked more and more like Little Red Riding Hood lost in the forest.
Just as I was remembering proper techniques for screaming and thinking how to transform myself so that every action would announce "You had better not mess with me" we saw a most blessed sight: a church steeple. We hurried toward it and found ourselves in the sought after square, where we very docilely explored not an inch beyond until the rest of our group showed up.
If you were lost in an unfamiliar city, what would you do?
There have been many times that I have been lost in an unfamiliar city. Back when my move to Los Angeles coincided with me learning to drive, I spent hours upon hours being lost. Usually it had something to do with me turning East into the setting sun or getting directions for approaching from the North and then needing to come from the South instead and not flipping all of the turns.
But as scary as it may be to be lost in Lost Angeles, I remember being more afraid when I got lost in Brussels. I was tagging along with my friend on a school field trip to a concentration camp (Breendonk) and on the way back we stopped to do what everyone wants to do after spending time thinking about man's inhumanity to man: shop. My friend and I had no Belgian currency (before the days of the Euro) nor did we really see anything worth looking at in the closest mall, so we set off to explore the winding alley ways of the old city. The trick about winding alley ways is that you never know where they are actually going to take you and you can't see over the roof tops to any land mark that will help you get back.
As it got later and later and we couldn't find the magic street that would take us back to the plaza where we were to meet, the people we passed began to look more and more sinister and my friend, who could always attract men from 50 miles off, looked more and more like Little Red Riding Hood lost in the forest.
Just as I was remembering proper techniques for screaming and thinking how to transform myself so that every action would announce "You had better not mess with me" we saw a most blessed sight: a church steeple. We hurried toward it and found ourselves in the sought after square, where we very docilely explored not an inch beyond until the rest of our group showed up.
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