While we wait in a long queue, my bakery friend gestures at the walls. Des petites annonces, he says, thoughtfully. That’s what’s missing. You used to have loads of little notes tacked up on the walls of the bakery, people selling things, or offering their services. Tutors, he says. Learn Spanish! Learn Greek! I wonder when they stopped having notes like that on the walls of bakeries. It’s probably the internet’s fault.

But on the internet you can learn Greek, I say, because I can see the line is going to take a while longer. They have apps for that.

Oh, apps! I don’t want to learn Greek from a bot. That owl! I want to learn it from a young Greek student who’s trying to make ends meet while he does his masters. Or an old Greek woman who’s lost her husband. A real person, with a story. Maybe I will just move to Greece.