Street maps of the city are deceptively simple, but diabolical Town Planners have, over the years, created one-way streets, streets that disappear into underground garages and never see the light of day again, streets that disappear into gray, anonymous buildings, reappearing blocks away.

Brand new to the city, we got lost on our way to the Irish Festival on the way to Veterans Park, which is sometimes confusingly regarded as part of White River Park. We were pretty frazzled when we got there. In the misty twilight the ghosts of Union soldiers were assembling to march to Chickamauga.

The down-to-earth Irish Hoosier community soon banished the ghosts, as Celtic and Rock bands fought from different bandstands. Beer flowed, revelers danced, stalls sold Irish Lace, small American flags, pots of chutney, cartons of tea, and the spiciest shrimp cocktail on the planet.

We wandered around on the warm summer grass and sipped our beer. Hoosiers were very friendly, and kids danced past, waving balls of pink cotton candy. It was pleasant and interesting, but in the back of our minds we were thinking about how to get back to the hotel.

“We can't go back that way,” we kept saying. “It's a one-way street, remember. And was it North or South State street, and was that other road North West street, or West North street.”

We decided to leave early, and got lost in an area of unexpected Mexican mercados and bodegas.

It took us a while to learn the ways of the city, but we're pretty adept now, and we plan to stay the course at the next Indianapolis Irish Festival.