There are maps, then there are guide books. While I’d rather navigate my way through strange cities with the convenience of a GPS device, you, always the map guy, like doing things the manly way — simple for you, but ten times more complicated for me.

“Giant buddha? Where?” you ask the man cozily lounging on the hot pavement. Presumably a homeless old man who also may not understand much English. At least, the way you are speaking it. “Where buddha?”

I laugh at your grammatically incorrect inquiries. Do we lose sense of what is right in foreign places? Do we speak in funny languages just because we assume they can’t speak ours?

“Giant buddha? Statue? Where?” The old man groans and tries to kick you away. He misses, but only because he’s too old and slow. Frankly, you deserve a nasty kick. You speak like an idiot and the man responds in a way anyone would to an idiot.

“Try speaking normally and maybe people would understand you for once,” I say as I run out of patience. How hard is it to find a big fucking buddha? How many giant buddhas are there in this country?

I start walking towards a 30s looking woman near the stoplight. I smile as I approach her. Surprisingly, she freaks out and crosses the street at once. You laugh stupidly at me.

What a couple we are. A couple of idiots.

“Damn it. If the buddha’s so gigantic,” I say as I kick the lampost and in turn, hurt my foot badly. “Why don’t we just keep on walking? I’m sure we’ll see the tip of its head or something, at the very least.”

You shake your head. “We’ve lost hours already. We might lose the whole day if we do it your way.”

“And how far has your way gotten us so far?”

A couple of tourist Caucasians, probably in their 50s, passes by. Your face brightens up and I recognize the look on your face. I immediately cover my face, anticipating humiliation yet again.

“Buddha? Where?”

The couple looks confused. I couldn’t believe my ears. “There are millions of buddhas here, sweetie. Take your pick.” The sweet old woman smiles and moves on. I proceed to hate my life.

You’re a stubborn man and while I may have found that endearing at first, I swear that it drives me insane now. Once upon a time, you listened. You would ask me what I wanted for lunch, where I wanted to go for vacation, how I pictured my life to be five or fifteen years from now.

Seven years have passed. Where are we again?

In a foreign land, with a foreign language. You also seem like a foreign man to me now. After years of trying to know who you are, inside and out.

Together, we are lost. Backpacks full of maps and guide books we can barely understand. Also, we are stuck.

You run towards me from who-knows-where. I didn’t even notice that you left at all. ”It’s in another island. We can get to the terminal by bus, then to the island by cable car. Amazing, isn’t it?” Your smile reeks of pride. This is your shining moment.

We ride a bus to the terminal and when we get there, we find the longest lines made up of hundreds of people all waiting to see the gigantic buddha. This frustrates me. And it frustrates you that it frustrates me.

“This is what traveling is all about, love.” You try to cheer me up, but you fail. I stand behind you quietly. “Now let’s get in line to see that fucking buddha and get this over with. Shall we?”

I follow you to the end of the nearest line. Just to get this over with.

Even I seem foreign to myself now.