4.0 The Fifth Voyage of Alberta Bound

4.1 You are here

Wandering in Milano, Alberta becomes depressed. She has lost her home (but she left it), she has forgotten her name (but she changed it), and she is hungry (but she has no stomach).

She looks on the maps: the ones she drew herself (so she knew where she had been), the ones she took from five-star hotel reception desks (so she knew where she couldn’t afford to be), the ones people drew for her on serviettes, tissues, small pieces of paper (so she knew where to go if she really wanted to be lost). The maps tell her the same thing:

Diddly.

My home. I thought I was just supposed to be able to knock my heels three times and command my silver slippers to take me wherever I wish to go and I would be home.

“No princess. You’ve said two things there,” laughs the local too-old-to-be-a-street-urchin. “You have to decide where you’re going first....do you want to go wherever you wish to go, or do you want to go home?”

“Don’t get philosophical on me. I know where I want to go.”

“So go there.”

“But I don’t know how to get from here to there. I need an itinerary.”

“Is this geography or metaphysics?”

“Geography first, then metaphysics.”

“I think I can help you.” He is juggling tennis balls. “Step into my office.” He points with his chin to a shop in La Galleria across from La Scala, then lets the balls drop, leaving them on the ground to roll hither and yon as he approaches Alberta, putting an arm about her, turning her. Andiamo, princess. You’re facing the wrong way.