We had a paper map because my friend insisted. I thought it was unnecessary. My phone had everything. Three hours into the valley, the signal disappeared. At first we were not worried. The path was clear and we could see the river below us. But after the second bridge, the path divided, and neither direction matched what I remembered. My friend opened the map. It was printed in 1998. According to the map, there was a village an hour to the east. According to the map, there was also a forest where we were standing, and we were standing in an empty field. "Twenty-six years," she said. "Things move." We went east anyway, because a wrong direction chosen quickly is better than the right one chosen at midnight. The village was there. Smaller than the map suggested, but there. An old woman sold us bread and let us charge nothing, because there was no electricity in the shop. We slept in a room above it. In the morning the signal came back, and my phone showed us exactly where we were, three hours from the car. I still carry that map.