The man who rolls his cigarettes quickly (Tony from Canada, Gjirokster, Albania, June 2022)

There is a man in Tirana who smokes. 

He is very Albanian. 

Tirana is a chaotic place but everything seems to work somehow, one way or another.

In the afternoon it becomes moggy and the air gets difficult to breathe.

Machines spread the streets to cool them, and we want to go cycling.

The traffic contributes to the city’s chaos.

The cars are ready to hit one another. The roads are one big game of chicken.

Still, we want to go cycling.

We find one place to rent bikes.

It is underground and the sun can’t reach it so well.

Inside there are two men.

One is scrawny and bald and the other taller and with a sharp beard.

When I say Përshendetjë they start speaking English.

All the prices are in Euro and Leke, but Leke isn’t worth so much and we pay in Euro.

The taller fellow eyes us as we choose our bicycles.

He tells they are mostly all the same; a little beat up but good enough for the city.

He sips a little cold coffee with sugar.

My friend and I pick our bikes and he starts the paperwork.

The bikes are 400€ if you lose them.

When he explains the rules he asks us where we are from and he writes “Kanada” (with a K).

We fumble for our ID’s and he seems amused by the bears on them. 

He tells us to sign.

He’s got our names, he jokes, our addresses, our ID’s; we are practically best friends.

He laughs and hands us our paperwork.

When we sign he rolls a cigarette with his coffee.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It takes him just a few seconds.

The paper and tobacco go together and up to his lips.

He licks the sticky bit, seals it, licks the excess paper and bites it off with his teeth.

There aren’t so many people who can roll their cigarettes in Vancouver or even who smoke; he did it with such passion. Such confidence.

He didn’t look up when he rolled.

He couldn’t have had an idea how impressed I was.

Some time late I had to return the bicycles alone.

I waited outside the shop for opening.

Twenty minutes, thirty passed.

I called to ask him the deal; he was supposed to open half an hour ago.

That seems to be the way things work in Albania.

On the phone he said he would be there shortly.

He was just out running some errands.

Inside, I want to see him roll another cigarette though I was too embarrassed to ask.

He didn’t.

He only told me about some things in Albania and said he didn’t like the sun.

The room was cool though so it was all right.

He said he liked Canadian bikes.

Tourists entered looking for rentals and he was all business.

While he was helping them I left