…and they don’t serve food. It’s the bar under the hotel where I am staying for a ridiculous 15€ (I would happily have paid triple that; last night I paid double and had mice thrown in for free!). I sighed but they were very apologetic. I smiled, they smiled, we all smiled. It was the best way of communicating as they spoke no English and me no Albanian. ‘C’est la vie!’ After a couple if beers I asked if there was anywhere around the hotel where I could find food. A diagram was drawn on the back of a receipt and I ventured off. Not very far. It was pitch black & I’m a coward. So I came back covering my eyes to indicate that it was too dark (and probably that I was a coward…) They laughed, I laughed (just not as much as them). They offered ‘patatine’ – crisps – and I started eating them when the boss arrived…
My lack of food was explained to the boss who, after a few moments on the phone passed it to me. It was his son; ‘spaghetti?’. Yes that would be good… I tried to chat with the boss but it was difficult. He had been to London but doesn’t like flying so America is out.
The food delivery arrived from the restaurant very soon afterwards and I scofifed the lot. What a kind man!
The fully story of cycling day 11 when I arrive in Tirana.