“Hey,” I call out, “did you ever get to see any of the UNESCO World Heritage sites?” That’s always been her dream to see as many as possible. A moment later, Alana pokes her head out of the bathroom.
“Yeah. A couple. Not as many as I wanted, but… you know. Enough.”
“Where have you been?” I ask. “Worldwide, I mean.”
She thinks. “Most of Europe. Some of Southeast Asia. One spot in South America. Three or four in Africa. Russia.”
“Damn,” I say. “Sounds like we have the same travel itinerary.”
“Oh?” She arches her brow.
“My job takes me all over,” I say with a laugh. “Weeks in Sweden. Months in Korea. Small towns across Europe. Anywhere they’ll send me.” Anywhere to get away. I don’t tell her that part.
“So, what’s the best place you’ve ever been?” I ask. “Like, what’s the greatest city on the planet?”
Midge is now kneading biscuits on my chest. I rub under her chin as Alana comes out of the bathroom. She glares at me and says, “I don’t know what magical witchcraft you’re doing to my cat over there. My roommate lived with Midge for two years before she even came near him.”
“I guess I have the magic touch,” I say, careful not to move too fast. “By the way, I live here now, because the cat has chosen me and I cannot move.” She laughs, which is a glorious sound if you ask me. “So, out of all the places you’ve traveled,” I say, “what’s your absolutely favorite place on the planet? Or if that’s too personal, then what’s your favorite city?”
“Reykjavík.”
“What?” Oh that can’t possibly be right. It’s so small, is it even technically a city? “Reykjavík? Iceland?”
“No doubts at all. It’s the best.” She stands in front of me with her arms crossed like that’s supposed to convince me she’s right.
When I don’t react, she pets her cat on its head and down the length of its body, her knuckles brushing against my stomach. I guess the cat bakery is closed because Midge stops making biscuits as she stands and jumps off my body.
“In the whole world, not just Iceland. That’s the answer you’re standing by?”
“Oh, what are you going to say? London? Paris? Please don’t say Paris.” Her frown and response come from a snobby world traveler without a doubt.
“No. I was going to say something like Kyoto or even Osaka.”
“Oh my God, you’re so cute and cliché,” she says, trying to mock me. Hmmm, an idea is forming.
“You’re going to have to prove to me that Reykjavík is a superior city, because there is not a chance in hell, I’m going to believe you on this.”
“You need me to prove it to you?” She cocks her eyebrow. “Oh yeah. Challenge accepted.”
“I expect a PowerPoint presentation.” While she loves office supplies, it’s a data driven presentation that she lives for.
“Shut up.” She looks me in the eye, picks up Midge and goes into the kitchen. I hear the rattle of cat food pouring into a tiny bowl and then the sink refilling her water dish.
“Let’s go,” she says.
“Let’s go where?” This is not the turn I expected.
“Reykjavík. I’m going to prove to you that it is the greatest city on the planet.”
Wait.
“What?”
“Do you have your passport on you?”
“I mean, I have my digital passport.”
“Yeah? All right. Let’s go.”
