While on break between theater tours, I traveled through the Albanian alps. Ask dusk began to fall after a day of hiking in a remote mountain region, I discovered my tent had fallen off my pack back at some point during the journey. Around the bend was a small stone house. upon approaching a young woman exited the house to greet me. She spoke simple engish and I explained what happened. She invited me in for a turkish coffee. I ended up spending two weeks with this family, living in their home, and assisting as best I could in their daily chores: plum picking, finishing, milking, hay making, and tending to the small, illegal patches of marijuana on the mountiains.
I became curious to explore what is meant by the word hospitality. How do we accept a stranger? What do we show them? What do we hide?
