The Course Of Understanding part 5

5. THE EVILS OF MAPS
Those who know me (notice the absence of "well") will not be at all surprised by the events in this chapter. Anyone who has traveled with me (and more especially, those who have been with me in a strange European city when we discovered we were late for the last bus back to camp, and after following my lead by running hard across the city, discovered that we’d made very good time in the wrong direction), these people can tell you that I have a diseas—gift. The gift is that I can make any situation requiring navigation of any kind "interesting." "What, just two blocks to the grocery story? You can’t miss it? We’ll see about that!!"
I have been accused of being bad luck, of having the sense of direction of a slug, or of deliberately trying to get everyone lost (for reasons varying from a desire to kill off my friends, to a plan to run for governor of Tennessee). But really, the truth is much simpler: and like almost all probl— gifts, the source is found in the realm of relationships. As a rule, I do not get along with Maps. It’s impossible to know who started this feud, and the truth probably lies in the irrelevant deeds committed by the ancestors of our two clans. For myself I’m willing to make peace, but the Maps will not hear of it (not having ears). I had hoped to escape the bloodbath by fleeing the country, but the Maps seems to have excellent trans-Atlantic communications, and I found the war waiting for me the moment I stepped off the plane, more vicious than ever (hey Daniel, remember London?!). So the battle continues, now on an intercontinental scale. My enemy often allows me time to forget, to become confident, and then strikes with the power of a spring-powered paper cut.
But, you might protest, maps have allowed so many great advances in our society! Maps inspired Columbus to discover America! Perhaps the maps were responsible for whispering misleading suggestions into ol’ Chris’s ears, but let’s not forget what he was looking for! It’s a good thing for him that the Maps were unaware that America was sitting in his path, because from looking at Maps Chris had miscalculated the distance to India by about 10,000 miles. He’d been sent on a suicide mission. And in the Americas the war really got going: Lewis and Clarke, holding a half drawn map and boldly searching the country for the Northwest Passage ("We KNOW it’s around here somewhere!"), Cortez being guided on the trail to the seven Gold Cities of the Aztecs ("Seems a bit dodgy, but the map says they’re around here somewhere, so it must be true...."), and that other guy on a mission to find the Fountain of Youth ("I’ll find it, it’s just a matter of time!"). Thus the tomes of history continue, right into the present age, when even the grid-system doesn’t help us, and if we don’t get lost on the road, we get lost trying to fold the map up again! Take my advice: throw it out the window, close your eyes, step on the gas, and you’ll have a better chance of reaching your destination than if you follow a map. Look at the above examples: they all followed maps, and they’re all dead, right? Lessons of History!
My distain for Maps started long ago, and is well documented. Some of you (those who have not managed to repress the memory) will remember that years ago I was involved in a group effort to write a book. My chapter in this story (which was fantasy) placed our main characters in a dark forest, lost, holding only a map given to them by a slightly suspicious stranger (the type who populates dark forests). They attempted to follow the map out of the forest. After a while they stumble into an eerie clearing, with a giant redwood tree standing tall in the middle. They find this strange, as this tree was a landmark on the map, and they thought they’d been going away from it. Regardless, they carry on. An hour later, they find themselves in the same clearing, staring fearfully at the tree. This continues through the haunting night. Here is an excerpt:
"For the past 8 hours the giant Redwood had stalked them, hunted them, but had never, as far as the travelers knew, moved. Half a dozen times they had stumbled into the clearing that housed the monstrous tree. There had been shorter and shorter time periods between one sighting and the next, as if it were pulling them in closer and closer. They had begun to fear it, to dread going around each corner for worry that the tree would be there, mocking them. It was only the smug feelings that the tree seemed to send them that had kept them moving, far into the night."
When they tried to understand how this happened, this dialogue ensued:
" "I don’t understand it," said Kayla. "How could we keep going in circles like that? And how could we have always end up in the same spot? You realize that the odds of it happening naturally are bordering on impossibility." She looked at the silhouette of the tree, as if she expected it to leap out of the ground and attack her.
"However it was done, it bears the marks of a mastermind. Someone very cunning is behind this."
"But who?" asked Kayla in desperation. "We have played into their hands with every move. Who could be so cunning to know exactly when, where, and why we would do everything? Who could have made a map so twisted, yet so accurate, that it would leave our heads spinning and cause us to do exactly what they wanted us to do. Whose map is this?!"
"Mine," said the Tree. "
It turned out that the tree was in fact pulling them in, holding them, and the map was its agent. Those who held The Map, supposedly the key to liberty, could never escape. An important reminder, filled with metaphors, not the least of which is my sincere belief that maps are evil.
So returning to the main character of our present story, we find him in front of hostel number two, in the middle of a quiet and darkening city, holding only a map given to him by a slightly suspicious Tesco employee for a small fee: the promise of his firstborn child. No no, this is a reasonable price in fantasy stories! Oh, right, reality. Bratislava. Okay, so here’s the truth. There are no magic maps that can mislead you and control your movements simply because you’re holding it. In reality, you must first look at the map before it can shatter you in its jaws, rather like crocodiles.
This being the case, I made it back to the center, without mishap, in 20 minutes, due to the fact that I didn’t need to look at the map. This made me confident. The map sensed this.
I then had some difficult things to plan. I knew I would not be sleeping in a bed that night. Besides the logistics, this idea didn’t frighten me much. But the rain-clouds did. Okay, serious cold, bad wind, these I could at least survive. But in the event of rain, well, that could be down-right dangerous, and probably something I’d want to avoid. "But Caleb," I said, "what will you do if it rains after 4:00, when you must be in line at the Embassy?" Since I had a little free time (approx. 15 hours to opening time), I moseyed back over to the Embassy to have a look see at the layout, from this perspective. After carefully examining the roof of the building, the near-by structures, and the general surrounding area, I had an answer: "What will I do? I will get very wet." I looked up at the sky, quickly looked down again, and started to steel myself for this possibility. Around this time night was falling, and so was the temperature: quickly approaching 0 (in Celsius, =32F).
Now it’s difficult to remember what this means now that we’re in spring, with the sun shining, or warm rain falling on the backs of singing birds. It’s just hard to remember the significance of cold, because nobody wants to. But at this time, because I could feel it, I was afraid of the cold. Now, I’d come prepared for this. I’ve learned a little about living with cold. At the time I was wearing no less than 18 articles of clothing (think about it. How many are you wearing now?). But still, the wind was finding every nick in my armor, and I was worried about it getting much colder, especially since I wouldn’t be moving for the coldest part of the night. I knew that with this wind, it would be much worse, and I didn’t know how much further the temperature was going to drop. Another 5 degrees down, and it would be painful to remove my gloves for more than 10 minutes. Another 10 down, and I wouldn’t be able to feel my toes unless I kept moving. At 15 below my moustache would crack with ice. At 20 below (very unusual, but I’ve felt it once or twice), Kleenex would no longer be a need, and it would be best to avoid licking my lips. Now, with these possibilities in your mind, add the thought of rain pouring down from an icy sky. I worried. Also, I prayed (in that order, I’m ashamed to admit). My choice of prayer was rather strange, looking back: "Lord, I know you’re watching out for me. I ask for nothing other than your will. I don’t ask to be comfortable, I don’t ask to be saved from difficulty, and I don’t even ask to be safe. Only please Lord, if I may ask one thing, don’t let it rain!"
After sending this through the menacing clouds, I started to plan. I needed to find some places that were open as late as possible. This would probably land me amongst some unsavory people, as the only places which were likely to be open at this point were late-night bars and shady clubs, but for once I preferred the company of any representative of my own species rather than the company of the elements.
At the far opposite end of the square that housed the Czech Embassy and the American Stronghold, something caught my eye. First of all, it was open, and I had a feeling it would be open late. In these circumstances, this place, which normally would have made me run in another direction, gave off a sensation of familiarity, of comfort, of understanding. I moved closer, smiling for the first time, and not at all out of irony. Arriving in front of the place, I found I had not been mistaken. My smile was illuminated by the bright florescent glow of the Golden Arches. At last, a complete respite from culture shock and language barriers, with more possibilities of feeling at home than in my country’s own Embassy. They were open until midnight that day, and I wrote it into my mental schedule of the night, in pen.
Of course it was then 6:00, and I didn’t really want to spend 6 hours there. I thought that might be overstaying my welcome. Maybe I was still hoping I would be able to find something interesting to do. Also, I knew that staying until midnight in McDonalds was only the beginning of the night, and would still leave 9 hours until the embassy opened. So I still needed to look for other places that I could stay in until 4:00, especially if it was raining. I set out on this mission.
I wandered the center for the next two hours, and found that most of the bars or clubs were only open until 1:00 on Sunday. However, I did manage to find about three places that claimed to be open until 2:30 or 3:00. Around 8:00 I noticed some advertisements for some local cinemas. One of the places was playing "The Last Samurai," which I’d been thinking about seeing. I thought this might be a nice way to redeem some of my time in this city, so I looked for the address of the cinema. After a few moments of consulting my Map, I found the street: "Why, that’s just right on the other side of the center! I’ll just walk over and check the playing times."
This portion of the story will be very difficult to relate without a visual aid, because the whole experience was increasingly surreal and eerie. However, I will do my best. As you will remember, the embassy square sits with its back to the river, facing the center to the north east. The street I was aiming for, Namesti 1. maja, is on the north west side of the center, directly above my position, with a tangle of short, intercrossing streets between us. I looked at the map, and found that I needed only go straight up on one street ( which for some reason changed names three times in its short length: strakova, venturska, and michalska), and then take a slight turn right onto suche myto, and follow that until it ended in 1. maja. I started walking along this route, but after about 10 minutes I realized the streets were not conforming to my plan. I looked around for a street sign (which are usually placed on random corners of buildings, usually in the darkest and most concealed corner they can find. This prevented me from just following directions from one street to the next, because it’s very difficult to verify what street you are actually on), and finding one I took out the map. It took me a while to find my location, and when I discovered that I was on Klobucnic (a side street pointing north-east, and three streets away from the one I wanted), I wrinkled my brow a little. This was really off course, and it meant my direction was about 90° off, but I couldn’t understand where I’d gone wrong. Anyway, judging from this new information I formulated a new plan, corrected my direction, and started off again. After about 10 minutes I repeated this again, and discovered that I was, impossibly, on Rajska, which was even further east. From Klobucnic, the way to Rajska bears no similarity to the way to 1.maja, is in the opposite direction, and it was impossible that I was there. But unless someone was going around switching street signs that night (which is the only rational solution I’ve been able to come up with), then the truth was that I was very turned around. This started to concern me. I looked at the map again, saw I must go up Rajska until I hit the main street Spitalska, turn right, then take the first left onto Marianska, which would put me near my cinema. This I did. Not being able to find street signs, I simply went up Rajska to its end, took a right on a main street, and then the first left. This street I followed longer than seemed correct, and I considered trying to reference my map again, but decided against it. Everything in the city was very quiet, and very dark by this point. Being out of the center the streets were not so well-lit, and looking down the side streets was like looking at an old photograph of an atmospheric east-European alley, except it was no photograph. I was not comfortable.
My discomfort was significantly enhanced as I looked ahead and saw something absolutely impossible. At this moment the wind rose, and as it blew my hair back I heard it whistling in my ears. The effect was similar to hearing a wolf howling in the unknown distance, and for the first time I began to feel suspicious, to feel like looking over my shoulder, just to be sure. What I saw before me was the river.
Significance? The Danube makes no turns in this part of the city. From the Embassy, pointing due north and walking confidently and with a clear sense of direction, I had made a 30 minute semi-circle and found myself about 5 minutes downstream. I still do not know where I went wrong, or how it was possible, even after weeks to examine the street map and retracing my steps. It was almost as if I had been holding the map upside-down (which I wasn’t), though this still wouldn’t explain how I’d completely changed directions.
The smart thing to do here would be to give up and find another source of torture. But of course that was impossible. I started to feel threatened by my map, but I still fought this idea. "No, I made a wrong turn or two (or twenty) somewhere," I told myself. "I can still follow the map to the right place. After all, I’m not superstitious."
I really wonder how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into in an attempt to prove I’m not superstitious.
I turned my back to the river and started north again. Making my first reference, I found myself at Kamenne Namesti: so, take a left at the end of the square onto Nam. SNP, going due west. When it ends turn right, and north to 1.maja. I followed this route (without seeing any more street signs), and the next time I saw a sign and checked it on the map, I felt fear and frustration battling in my chest: I was far to the East, and farther north than 1. maja itself! Frustration seemed to win the battle inside me, and from there anger. This.... was.....not.....possible! I decided to make one more go at it. Redirecting myself, according to the map, I walked for a good 15 minutes, constantly looking for landmarks or street names. At the next opportunity, I found myself at Odborarske Namesti. You guessed it, further east and north, as if I had continued straight on from the river, and not changed directions three times.
It was now approaching 9:00. I actually considered trying for the cinema once more, but decided against it. In my mind I started to get the strong feeling that this street did not want to be found, or that something didn’t want me to find it. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew I was finished messing with it. Frustrated and very unsettled, all I wanted now was to get back to the center. This part would be easy, since I knew what direction I’d come from, all I needed was to turn around and return. Looking at my map I saw an opportunity to cut across the curve I’d made and go straight down one street to the center, a shortcut. For reasons that have never been made clear, I decided to take this shortcut. While I knew something was going on, this choice makes it obvious that I had no idea what I was dealing with. The Map had chosen its battle-ground.
I walked to the shortcut street and looked down it. There is only one characteristic that lingers in my mind: dark. Dark, Shadowy, Sinister, Evil. I felt it, but it was still faint. There were no street-lights, no light on in the houses, nothing moving, everything shrouded. I took several steps forward, and stopped. "This isn’t smart Caleb." "Why, there’s nothing there" "Exactly. It’s a dark city street, at night. Don’t go down there." "Of course it’s dark at night, silly. There’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s no reason to go the long way around when I know this is the right direction. This street will lead us straight to the center. What, are you afraid of the dark?" "Yes. If you want to go down that street, you’re going without me." "Fine, pansy. I’ll see you later." "I hope so."
And so, the dialogue finished, my logic got up and left. We met later that night, but he’d be no help here. I stood just within the boarder of the shadows for a few moments more, hoping my eyes would adjust. They didn’t. When my breathing started getting heavy, I knew I had to go or back-down. Finally, I took a step forward, hoping it looked confident. I tripped on the curb, stumbled, and jerked up, expecting to catch a glimpse of eyes watching me. I could feel them, but I couldn’t see them.
I continued walking carefully. I will confess that I’d brought a pocketknife, and at this point I found my hand clutching it anxiously.
When I came to the end of the street in about two minutes, I was panicky. This street shouldn’t have ended! It was suppose to go straight through. At that moment, a stream of thought came to me. I thought about the entire day of stumbling around the city, of strange directions, of the impossibility of the course that had brought me to this place. Suddenly I saw the common link, to which I had somehow been blinded. My map was not to be trusted. I had the unexplainable sensation of being directed, controlled, manipulated. The images from my chapter for our book came rushing to me, of a map that pushes rather than leads, commands rather than advises, no escape. Thinking about the ramifications of this revealed that my internal battle between frustration and fear was not over. Anger melted in my heart, and I was afraid. If my map couldn’t help me, and I was unable to correctly choose my direction, then anything was possible. Of course I was sure I was pointed towards the center, but given my record so far that night, the odds were almost against it! So, no help from the map, good evidence against my own senses, what did I have left? Really, I could be going anywhere right now. I could be lost. Not lost like you-can’t-find-the-right-address lost, lost like dark-forest-without-a-north-star lost. What if I wasn’t able to get back?
I looked down at the map in my hand. I resisted the temptation to throw it away, and quickly put it into my backpack. I didn’t use it again on this trip. However, I knew it might have already done its worst.
I thought about going back the way I’d come, but even if I went back up this street I wasn’t sure I could retrace my steps. I looked right and left, finding no clues. I knew if something had hold over me, then it didn’t matter where I went, only that it was no good staying there. And if I still had a semblance of direction, then I should go right. Nothing for it, I’d have to trust myself blindly, and have faith. I decided to go right.
At this moment I heard a sound behind me. Slow motion hit my mind, and I felt my hair stand up as I jerked around. There on the pavement, no more than five feet behind me, was a black cat, sitting with its tail curled around its legs. It was sitting exactly where I had walked not seconds before, and it was looking straight at me. I remember swallowing hard. My friends, I am not superstitious. I have a firm faith in the Bible, which says nothing about cats being a servant of evil. But at this moment I think I lost several years of my life. I didn’t make a sound, but not because of courage.
For several years I stared into the infinite, deadly, indifferent abysses that are the eyes of a cat. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink. I was waiting for him, waiting to see what he would do. When he stayed still, I realized he was only a messenger. The message was: get out. I turned and ran to the right. I didn’t look behind me.
The street to the right ended quickly. I went to the left. This continued far too long. Right, left, straight, left again, right, trying to stay as centered as I could and just hoping to bump into something I knew. There were still no lights around, nothing moving. The awareness of danger was close, tears were closer. After twenty minutes like this, I stopped, ready to despair. I would have stopped moving long ago, but I knew I had to return to the embassy before it opened. Though this was almost 12 hours away, in the present situation it really seemed like an impossible dead-line.
I lifted my head and looked over the buildings in front of me. There, lit up in the distance, was Tesco. I was saved.
I took a few more turns to the store, and have never been so happy to see a supermarket before. I could have kissed the ground before it. After this, I started walking back towards the embassy.
A few minutes down the center, I came to a large poster on the sidewalk. It was a tourist information map of the center, which I hadn’t noticed before. It had a big "you are here" star, and it showed that Namesti 1. maja was very close. I actually considered it. "No, Caleb, no. Just walk away." A few minutes later I came to another similar map. This time the "you are here" star showed that I was significantly closer. Strange. Still I walked away. The next map told me that if I turned right, I would hit 1. maja. I went right, walked up the street, looked around for a street sign, and found myself on Namesti 1. maja. I don’t remember what I felt, but I’m sure it was complicated.
It seems I’ve been mistaken about maps, and I want to make this clear so as to not be responsible for any unfounded prejudices or persecution. Not all maps are bad. Maybe most are okay, and loyal to humans. This explains why my map of Prague is very helpful, and has never led me astray. This explains why I could look at the tourist poster maps and practically trip over the street I wanted all along. However, there are those maps that have gone bad, which have hate for the human race. I don’t know what they want, and I count myself lucky to not know. I believe that anyone who discovers the ambition of these maps will not tell the story. My map of Bratislava is now in a box, by itself, carefully sealed and stored away in my attic. Someday I will destroy it.
So there I was, on Namesti 1. maja. I walked up the street a little, looking for this cinema. It was now 9:30. Suddenly I saw it. I stood in front of it, gloried in the success, in survival, planning to project all of this onto the film and really enjoy myself, and try to forget. I walked to the door. Sign on the door: closed. Oh, right. It’s Sunday.
"Okay," I thought, "I’m done." I turned around and headed for McDonalds. There was still a long night in front of me.