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treated us warmly. “Days cannot be all the same” we comforted each other and hoped that the
forthcoming evening with the village teacher and his wife would turn out to be a better
experience. The teacher Andrea and his wife, whom I had already met on my preliminary visit
to the village in September, invited us for a drink in one of the bars on the coast.
After the night fell, Andrea and his wife stopped at our place in their blue Mercedes-Benz and
honked impatiently in order to get us out of the apartment. We put on our wind jackets in a
hurry and just managed to jump into the car when Andrea speeded away through the narrow
village streets, heading to the coast. He did not mind the slippery roads. The drive took us
about one kilometre down from the village, which stretches on the hilly plain overlooking the
entire coast. We felt quite good, smelling the coastal breeze and observing the waves crushing
against the rocks. We were soon approached by a young shepherd-dog, guarding the property
of its owner Behar. Behar came to Dhërmi/Drimadhes 30 years ago. During the period of
communism he worked in the village cooperative, but after its fall he became the owner of a
restaurant and a small hotel.
At the time, Behar’s little restaurant was completely empty, except for his family members.
Behar stood at the counter, while his youngest son Romano, after whom the restaurant got its
name, was enjoying the latest show of Fame Stories on one of the Greek TV channels.
Behar’s wife and their older daughters were in the kitchen preparing supper. Andrea led us to
one of the small rectangular tables in the corner and ordered drinks. “Ouzo for me and coffee
for her”, he shouted in Albanian with an imposing stance, pointing to him and his wife. He
took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and asked us for our orders while lighting a
cigarette. We ordered tea and he quickly passed the word on to the bartender, again ordering
in Albanian. He put his jacket away and leaned towards us, now speaking in the local Greek
dialect: “We are going to Athens next week to visit our children. We are planning to stay
there for a couple of weeks… in order to finish a couple of things”. He paused for a moment,
inhaling the cigarette smoke before asking me if I would be prepared to take over his teaching
in the local school, substituting his history lectures with the lectures of English language.
I have to admit that I was quite pleased with his proposal, because I expected less favourable
news when I noticed his serious attitude. I expressed my willingness to cooperate and said
that this would be a great opportunity for me to learn Albanian. He then explained that my
teaching would be a kind of a trial that would last until his return. After that he would
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