Even though Annika was a foreigner, a lot of people in the neighbourhood seemed to know her. The first place we went was a bakery that had set aside a cup of wayward sesame seeds for her. The next place was a tiny supermarket with a carton of expired eggs waiting behind the counter. I noticed Annika was speaking Catalan with some of the shopkeepers.
“People are a lot friendlier if you know some words and phrases,” she explained.
As we continued our rounds, she told me that she’d just turned twenty-eight, and that she’d been away from the Netherlands for almost a decade, travelling and living in different places. “I’ve actually never gone back.”
I knew there must be a reason, but I didn’t ask why. Annika and I both had places that we’d left behind for good. She probably didn’t want to ta
