Mar 16 2009
Albin
Albin karaokes in central Pristina. Nate Tabak, 2009.
Albin picks up. The 20-something Pentecostal Renaissance man (a former or current pastor, depending on the source) who believes that the Rapture is near cannot come to dinner. He’s at church, in the middle of a service, but will join us at the bar later. Thank God for the cellular phone.
I’m taking it easy tonight. In Pristina this means not ordering booze every time your glass is empty. Red wine with dinner, so I get a Coke. Still on Cipro for the food poisoning. Likely the delicious ĉevapi in Prizren, but no one believes this. They’re convinced that my weak American digestive system couldn’t handle minced-meat sausages served with mounds of kajmak (clotted cream); no way could it have been bacteria because of lax food preparation standards. In any event, the crash course in Kosovar living is over without injury or infidelity.
Albin’s with his bubbly, blonde lady friend, Yllka. For 25 minutes they speak with Bashkim in Albanian about genitalia sizes. The notebook is out, and I need to talk to Albin. Albin the Jim Jarmusch enthusiast. Albin the bearer of a get-out-of-apocalypse-free card and a license to debaucherize. Albin the man with a line into some Pristina rappers, including Nora, the hotel receptionist. Albin the key to a prime radio piece.
After some clarification about the unethical nature of paying reporting subjects, Albin agrees to introduce me to these rappers the next day. A righteous dude, even if he believes I’m going to Hell.
Man, this is good stuff.
Another wonderful piece! Watch what you eat. Designated driver sounds like a fine plan!
Nate man, I like your stile
You really are the C M F.
Bless you Nate and all the Abrahams children
Albin