Relationships

I've struck up a relationship with a butcher near my apartment. He speaks to me in rapid-fire Albanian while I smile and gawp at the display case containing big trays of unlabeled meat cuts and whole lambs. Unlike other retail clerks in Tirana, he does not know a single word of English.  Plus, I think he speaks with some kind of accent, because even words I know sound different when he says them. About 90% of the time I have no idea what he's talking about. Truly it is a miracle that we are able to complete any type of retail transaction at all. I feel like an idiot every time I go there.

Why, then, would I continue to patronize this shop? Well, at this point I feel like we've both invested so much energy in our efforts to communicate that we would be losing all that if I switched butchers now. Plus, he is always so cheerful, and he doesn't display any hint of impatience with my incomprehension and slowness. And in a funny way, his refusal to slow down or speak more clearly is like a testament to his belief that I am indeed capable of communicating in Albanian. It's like a vote of confidence in my language skills. How can I walk away from that?


So the other day I upped the ante. My one and only kitchen knife had gotten so dull that I had to do something. I slipped it into my backpack and took it to his shop. He was happy to sharpen it for me on the spot, for free. After an awkward exchange about where the knife came from (at least I think that's what he was asking me), I smiled and thanked him. We didn't need words to appreciate the beauty of a perfectly sharpened kitchen knife.