Look Who's Giving Directions Now

Last week, two women came up to me and asked me for directions. I couldn't believe my ears - someone was asking me for directions?? It's usually - and by usually, I mean always - the complete  opposite. I have two theories why these women decided to trust me as their impromptu GPS:

1) There was hardly any one else on the street, and thus, they had no choice but to ask me.

AND/OR

2) I was wearing my Aladdin pants, which automatically makes me climb up three points on the Chilean look-alike scale.

Not only did they ask me for directions, I actually knew where they needed to go. One of the few areas of Santiago that I actually know. Directional competency is such a rare event for me, and thus, always a huge treat. It's like the eclipse of the moon. Or a four-leaf clover. Or getting more than a microwaveable rock (from Barnes and Noble, always) for Chanukah. Or seeing the Tooth Fairy. This was huge.

"Sigan al derecho, como una cuadra o más," I told them. "Después, hagan una izquierda en Regina Pacis, y a la derecha en Jaime Guzmán. Caminen una cuadra más, y estarán en Elecer Parada." 

Now I know I will still constantly continue to get lost in Santiago, but I will always have that day, that small victory, that one tiny boost of the navigational ego. And no one can take that away from me. Unless I forget about this moment, which, knowing my memory, is entirely possible.