EMERGING from the bowels of the city in an unfamiliar neighborhood, you climb the subway steps, your pupils dilating as the sunlight strikes them, your ears adjusting to unfamiliar sounds.

Once you reach the street, you survey the intersection, squinting as you peer down each block in turn, trying to make out the name on the street signs. Your eyes scan the skyline for some recognizable tower.

Finally, you decide to walk: “This way?” You go for a few blocks, unsure, your senses on the alert. In this fog of momentary disorientation, you are nonetheless aware of various clues: a whiff of halal spices, both foreign and familiar; a heated conversation in Polish in your left ear; a taxi driver cursing in Caribbean Spanish in your right.

The slight incline of the hill announces itself to the muscles in your legs as your eyes continue to examine the horizon for some familiar landmark. The sun peeks from behind a building. Like a sailor who has been cast out to sea with only the most rudimentary navigational instruments, you check your watch against the angles of the shadows cast by the buildings, triangulating this information with the slight breeze. A left at the next block? Maybe.