Children just outside a schoolyard line up at a little popcorn stand, attended by an elderly woman. They are noisy while waiting in line, but polite when it’s their turn with the woman.
On the patio of a cafe bar, a man jokes with the bartender inside, but he speaks loudly and looks at me so that I might benefit from his humour, though I do not speak his language. Still, when he laughs, I chuckle too and give him a thumbs up.
In a neighbourhood near the edge of Tirana, which likely sees very few tourists, I enter a kiosk to buy a drink. It’s very hot and I’m thirsty. The young man behind the counter, who is chewing on a toothpick, says in English, “There are more fridges over there”, and he points. I check them out and then ask him how he knew to speak to me in English. He makes a circle with his hand in front of his face and says, “I take one look at your face and I know you are not from around here.” We laugh. He asks what I think of his country. I tell him I love it here and that I especially love the mountains and landscape. He says, “Yes, Albania is a beautiful country, but the government is messed up.”
At my hostel, a couple of very funny young men from India invite one of the female workers to their flat in Prague where they are living and working. You will love it there, one of them says. You won’t have to pay anything. You will have your own room and only need to clean up after yourself. She says that’s very generous. He says it would be even better if she could bring a couple of her girlfriends with her for them. We all laugh.
At the corner restaurant, I tell the middle-aged man behind the counter, who must be the proprietor, that I’ve never tried souvlaki before. His eyes widen. He doesn’t know very many English words, but when he sweeps his hand across all of the fixings that can be added to a souvlaki, he says, “Everything”, not as a question, but as a statement to mean that someone who has never had souvlaki must of course have it with the works. After it is served, I see him watching me from the counter as I take a bite. It’s delicious. I give him a thumbs up, he nods and smiles and gives me a thumbs up right back, and then he carries on with his work. Another satisfied customer for this hard-working gentleman.
The hostel does not have a printer, so I find a printing company in town. The owner is very busy. One customer walks in, steps in front of me, realizes his order isn’t ready and yells at the proprietor, who is trying to explain something to him. After the customer leaves, I ask to have a bus ticket printed, as required for a particular bus company that does not like to accept the electronic ticket. The proprietor takes my phone, logs into WiFi, forwards my email to himself. He then asks his assistant to print it, but she cannot find it. He asks for my phone again, realizes he made a mistake in the email address and re-forwards it. All the while, he scurries back and forth from his printing projects. Finally, he prints my documents. And despite that I have inconvenienced him, he refuses to take any money. It’s only two pages, he says.
