The end of a working week:

Many Albanians are creatures of habit. They tend to live in the same town or village for most of their lives, especially if they are men. Their families stick close by, and they are extremely generous to visitors. "You can't out give an Albanian," is a well worn phrase, but one which best sums up this race.
Two events of note in recent days. I had a visit to a solicitors. It's not that I had done anything illegal, or that someone was threatening to take me to court, possibly for driving too cautiously. Quite simply, to get a twelve month visa, I needed to have a housing contract. I do want to stay the full year, and at the moment the stamp in my passport allows me to reside just three months. Come to think of it, having travelled to Kosovo last weekend, I was stamped out of Albania, but didn't receive a stamp back in when I returned the next day. Perhaps the Albanian police think I'm in Kosovo and the Kosovan police think I've absconded. Perhaps I do need a solicitor after all.
My first brush with the lawyer was on Wednesday when I met my landlord, Bedri, in the centre of Tirana. He speaks no English. We went together to the solicitor's office, I with my passport and he with his identification card and house deeds. We got the housing contract drawn up in twenty minutes for the price of 4400 Lek. I fully expected to pay it all, after all I was the one who needed this document. Bedri insisted on paying half, while the solicitor offered a compromise. She suggested I paid 2000 Lek, Bedri 2000 and that we used the remaining 400 lek to have a drink. We walked back into town and enjoyed a coffee as I tried in my best Albanian to express my gratitude to him.
Second act of kindness was at the Art Grill restaurant where I am right now. A beautiful place that makes excellent risotto and traditional dishes. Last Friday, one friend, Gary,  left his camera here by mistake. The meal was good, but the giving of a digital Nikon would have been an excessive tip. We left about 10pm. On Monday, Gary mentioned he'd misplaced his camera and thought he may have left it in the Art Grill. Sadly, I didn't get back to the place until Thursday. I went in just before it was about to pour with rain. I was met at the entrance by Artan, the owner who greeted me with the word, "Camera!" Someone had handed it in and he'd held it for six days not knowing where I lived.
So now the weekend lies ahead during which I hope to visit local mountains for a much-needed run. The Tirana Marathon is looming up fast and my training schedule needs to get back on track.