Wandering through Skopje on a wet Saturday, I have a difficult time initially finding a cafe that sells more than just coffee.
I pop into one promising place in the Old Bazaar, but the proprietor shakes his head, no food, only Turkish coffee.
At the Lama’s Palace, I see a few cakes on a shelf in a window.
The server doesn’t speak English very well, but I manage to order a latte – yes, hot, not cold – and I point at a cake, though I don’t know what kind of cake it is.
I take a table at the outdoor patio and when my cake is served, I give it a try.
I still don’t know what it is, but it’s cold, creamy, and has a caramel flavour. It’s delicious.
The music on the patio is loud and switches between pop songs and Turkish music.
The tables are covered in checkered tablecloths, most of which are torn in one or two places.
The tablecloths are covered in carelessly cut pieces of plastic that have been screwed to the tables at the corners right through the tablecloths.
The tables are strategically placed to avoid rocking or tipping because of the broken and uneven cobblestones below.
Half of the tables are filled with customers, all men, except for one table with some young tourists, a couple of women among them.
All of the men are smoking, drinking coffee, and eating cake.
A few are speaking animatedly.
A feral cat wanders through the tables looking for a handout, but gets no luck.
He leaves, but comes back in a few minutes after the tourists have been served, and has a small piece of meat thrown his way, which he gobbles down quickly.
A second, larger, piece of meat is thrown to the cat.
He sniffs it, bats it around a bit, sniffs it again, licks it, bats it around some more, leaps in the air like the meat is attacking him, places a paw on top of it, sniffs it again, licks it again, then finally takes it in his jaw, runs off under an empty table with it, and eats it.
The coffee and cake are delicious, the servers friendly, but goodness, the house flies are maddening.
