Bandung without a map

A bookstore in Bandung

I went to  this city, to Bandung without a map. Traveling without a map is like reading a dummy, a book without words. Opening the book, I start to read whatever I want or imagine and love to visualize. My mind and the book are blank. When I like it, I read the invisible words and phrases from left to right, from the bottom to the top, the Chinese or the Japanese way. Even it's possible starting in the middle, half way the page, reading up or down the page.  It's like a poem, my own rhythm and rime. The pages can do without numbers and I might read repeatedly the same white, unnumbered page, the endless stream of thoughts, ideas, words.  Reading in all directions without getting lost, following my own brand new lines, my own paraboles.

That's the way I walk the city without a map.  So, I left the hotel to find a bookstore.The man at the front desk of the hotel had given the address and put it on paper. He reduced my options and commanded me decisively to follow his directions. I had to go straight, left and right and pass the mosque. The store was close by and I could  go on foot. It was a ten minutes walk. I crossed the street, jumping in the stream of cars and motorbikes trying to reach the other side. The shop should be not far behind the big mosque. It was well known. Everybody would know where to find it. When I passed the building, the muezzin started to cry out loudly competing with the traffic noise. I think it was an electronic muezzin with a high vibration, a faceless angel from heaven, flying wingless through the air pollution-ed streets and squares. At the corner of a mall, I talked for some minutes to a security guard. I felt safe, still hearing the voice from heaven. The man told me to go straight on. No problem, mister. It's nearby,  just five minutes by car, he said. Ah, no car? That's even better. No traffic jam.  It was a crowded street, people dancing like fishes on the move, turning left or right at an invisible sign. I stopped  at the tourist office. Excellent, I thought, the right place to confirm where I was heading to. The office was empty, but a guy standing outside called on his mobile. After a while, a man looked around the door ajar and said: take a seat. He closed the door and he resumed his shower - a mandi. I could hear the splashes of water. It took a while and then he entered the room, clean and his hair still wet and uncombed. He told me the bookstore wasn't here, but at least half an hour from this place. You go straight from here and walk on. No problem, mister. Crossing the street again, I asked a police officer who told me I had to cross the street and to take the second left. So, I did. I entered a department store repeating my question to a friendly shopkeeper. He knew another bookshop and wrote the name and the address on a piece of paper. Asking him the place, he said well take the staircase, it's on the first floor. Upstairs, a girl walked me up to the shop. Another girl smiled and led me further into the silence of sleeping personnel. She showed me books and maps, but not those I needed. I'm sorry, she said, you better try the big bookstore opposite the big mall. It's not far from here. Go left and then straight, always straight. No problem, mister. Good luck.