Get Lost

New York has prepared me for disorientation. My first days of subway riding were fraught with confusion (What is Uptown/Downtown/Brooklyn/Bronx/Queens? What color/number/letter?) In that first month, I habitually got lost. On my way to parks, museums, restaurants, etcetera I would inevitably turn the wrong way and get incredibly lost. Once I learned not to panic, I began to enjoy losing my way. Suddenly the "Way" seemed to easy, too perfect, or something and I felt compelled to get lost. After two years of intentionally confusing myself, I began to regard this as the best way to travel. From New York to Dublin and Berlin, I've cultivated this rare skill.

I arrived in Berlin, Germany with one intention: to get lost. The past week I've been doing exactly that. I walked from Schoeneberg to Kreuzberg in search of a Colombian restaurant. Three miles later, I had discovered many things: adorable cafes, Turkish restaurants, and small shops. I also found the restaurant closed and a U-Bahn station right across from the Tierra                  Colombiana. The ironic consequences of getting lost!

A few days after, I decided to go exploring around NYU Berlin's campus by the Kulturbrauerei. In no time at all I was terrifically lost. Walking in the rain, I found an excellent German bookstore and an organic grocery store. I eventually made it back to NYU just in time for class. The fun of having no idea where I am lies in the feeling that I am an explorer. Wandering without a map allows me to feel as though I've discovered Berlin; that I am the first and these things have never been seen before.

I am so accomplished at maintaining this delusion that I felt as though I discovered the Siegessaeule, Tiergarten, and the Otto von Bismark statue in the park. All famous historical sights discovered by yours truly, Malarie. The irrationality does not bother me. I feel quite proud.