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Once upon a day in Albania, just an ordinary day as there are a dozen in a month, I was looking  for a bicycle. I felt like zigzagging on two wheels along the streets of Shkoder, a lovely quiet village in the north of Albania.

People of Shkoder love bikes.  Crowds quickly pedal  in the  streets. As much as I wanted to do the same with squared feet!  Could maybe borrow a  bike . Or find a shop .  Wouaw, here there is one.  Vainly  try  to explain  myself.

Help! Arrives a  chap. Does he speak English? No? Yes, he  manages. A Albanian native Belgian  fellow living for nine years in Sint-Niklaas(Saint-Nicolas). In a small pub, we have a beer  followed by a 'Fernet' and a strong coffee on the side. “Shall we eat something?” he asks. He is about to drive back to Belgium. We have a quick snack and he leaves. 2.OOO kms to reach Belgium. I ‘ll still stay for a while.

Then a man comes in. He puts the  stool against  the wall, takes off his sun-glasses and lays them down carefully on the table . He orders his lunch   and  keeps  on  his hat.  Quite  old that man, rusted, brittle, with a lot of rinkles  , and smooth in the sametime. He sits in front of me.

To  spice his course, yes,  he has enough strength in his hands to do it. Salt & pepper. He is salted & peppery. Salt & pepper on his just born rice-dish. To check very seriously the amount of pepper, that’s what he is doing.   No need for sun-glasses for such a delicate seasoning

I click.
An image is frozen.
Pepper-salted hat (HoedGekruid) is born.
On August 3th, 2006 at 11.47 am.