I could hear the drops crash into the fabric of my hammock when I woke up. No. No. No. I thought to myself. I was supposed to bring a rain shield constructed by rope, a plastic cover and some sticks, but had been a bit behind schedule and took off without having protection from the rain. As positive as ever, I had been hoping that there would be no rain, which was just a wish upon a star.
It was 4 am. The sun would be up in about two hours. I imagined the bumpy dirt path leading me back to the road; it was going to be really heavy to get my bike through the wet mud. I listened to the slow rain in silence, and knew I had to pack all my stuff, change my clothes and drag out my rain jacket before I could leave the forest. And all of that had to happen while it was completely dark. It was not a tempting thought, so I decided to stay positive; maybe the rain would wear off before sunrise, and I could dry the hammock by the river while eating breakfast. The positivity kept on going until 6 am, when the rain really started to pour down. I didn't think, I just did. In a matter of minutes I had packed everything, pulled on my raining equipment and was dragging the heavy bike through mud with all the powers in my body. The sky kept on pouring down huge raindrops more and more frequently, and I eventually found shelter by a sklep (shop). A large group of students were waiting for their school bus, and all of them looked at me with surprise. I knew I looked like a hobo, but right now all I wanted was to get some food into my stomach. I sat under the shelter by the sklep for almost two hours, and the rain was almost gone. I got on my bicycle and promised myself to get a rain shield when I reached my friends in Slovakia.
It was 4 am. The sun would be up in about two hours. I imagined the bumpy dirt path leading me back to the road; it was going to be really heavy to get my bike through the wet mud. I listened to the slow rain in silence, and knew I had to pack all my stuff, change my clothes and drag out my rain jacket before I could leave the forest. And all of that had to happen while it was completely dark. It was not a tempting thought, so I decided to stay positive; maybe the rain would wear off before sunrise, and I could dry the hammock by the river while eating breakfast. The positivity kept on going until 6 am, when the rain really started to pour down. I didn't think, I just did. In a matter of minutes I had packed everything, pulled on my raining equipment and was dragging the heavy bike through mud with all the powers in my body. The sky kept on pouring down huge raindrops more and more frequently, and I eventually found shelter by a sklep (shop). A large group of students were waiting for their school bus, and all of them looked at me with surprise. I knew I looked like a hobo, but right now all I wanted was to get some food into my stomach. I sat under the shelter by the sklep for almost two hours, and the rain was almost gone. I got on my bicycle and promised myself to get a rain shield when I reached my friends in Slovakia.
The day went by with powdery rain and grey clouds hanging above me. Most hilltops were filled with mist, and it was hard to see more than a few meters ahead. I didn't enjoy it much, but still kept on going; with the temperature I didn't get as tired, and were actually not in need of so many breaks along the way.
Pokoje. I read at one sign. Anna had taught me that word when dropping me off at the train station. It ment room, like in a private house. They were normally priced somewhere between 20 and 35 zloty. I followed the signs to a house, and was met by a woman whom didn't speak English.
"Pokoje?" I asked.
"Tak," [yes] she nodded, and told me the price was 30 zloty. I asked her if there were more available options in neighboring villages, and she nodded again. I decided to keep on going for an hour more.
I was met by another 'Pokoje' sign, and found my way to a big building. The son of the household could speak a little bit of English, and he told me the room was 80 zloty. It was way above my budget, and he said it was a hotel down the road that would charge 40 zloty. It was a better deal, and I found my way there with the increasing rain streaming down. Very soon it was going to be dark outside, too.
Pokoje. I read at one sign. Anna had taught me that word when dropping me off at the train station. It ment room, like in a private house. They were normally priced somewhere between 20 and 35 zloty. I followed the signs to a house, and was met by a woman whom didn't speak English.
"Pokoje?" I asked.
"Tak," [yes] she nodded, and told me the price was 30 zloty. I asked her if there were more available options in neighboring villages, and she nodded again. I decided to keep on going for an hour more.
I was met by another 'Pokoje' sign, and found my way to a big building. The son of the household could speak a little bit of English, and he told me the room was 80 zloty. It was way above my budget, and he said it was a hotel down the road that would charge 40 zloty. It was a better deal, and I found my way there with the increasing rain streaming down. Very soon it was going to be dark outside, too.
I entered the hotel through a double door made of dark wood, and came into a cozy backyard. The hotel restaurant looked clean and had a very traditional East European vibe to it. A smiling, chubby elder man with a grey mustache came out while I parked my bike.
"Pokoje?" I asked, and he gave me a huge smile. Under his glasses the eyes were filled of curiosity of his new guest.
I asked if he spoke English, and he did.
"The room is....110 zloty. That's normal, right?" he said.
"Oh! That's too expensive. Someone up the road said it would be 40 zloty. I'm actually trying to camp outside, but the heavy rain has forced me to seek shelter." I explained and pointed to my sleeping bag on my steering wheel.
"Well, what's your budget?" he looked surprised over my response.
"30 zloty. You see, me and my bicycle are on our way to Serbia.." I started, and he laughed out loud.
"To Serbia! Are you Serbian?"
"No, I'm Norwegian."
"Norway! Norwegian! Wow! And on your bicycle to Serbia!" he couldn't stop smiling, "But you have your own sleeping bag, yes?"
"Yes, I do."
"Pokoje?" I asked, and he gave me a huge smile. Under his glasses the eyes were filled of curiosity of his new guest.
I asked if he spoke English, and he did.
"The room is....110 zloty. That's normal, right?" he said.
"Oh! That's too expensive. Someone up the road said it would be 40 zloty. I'm actually trying to camp outside, but the heavy rain has forced me to seek shelter." I explained and pointed to my sleeping bag on my steering wheel.
"Well, what's your budget?" he looked surprised over my response.
"30 zloty. You see, me and my bicycle are on our way to Serbia.." I started, and he laughed out loud.
"To Serbia! Are you Serbian?"
"No, I'm Norwegian."
"Norway! Norwegian! Wow! And on your bicycle to Serbia!" he couldn't stop smiling, "But you have your own sleeping bag, yes?"
"Yes, I do."
He said I could stay in one of his rooms for 30 zloty, as long as I had my own sleeping gear. According to him, the laundry was really expensive, so he could give me the discount if I didn't use his bedsheets. For whatever reason, I felt blessed over the hospitality, and told him I would eat and drink in his restaurant in return.
He opened up a beautiful clean room to me, and I instantly put up my hammock and sleeping bag so it would become dry. I had a long shower and headed down to his restaurant. I ordered a soup and a beer, and he kept the conversation going about the beautiful mountain area around the village, his highly educated sons, and how much he had heard about rich and developed Norway. Maybe I could try to bring his sons to Norway? I explained my lifestyle and lack of connections in my motherland, and he kept on smiling and asking me about my bicycle trip.
He opened up a beautiful clean room to me, and I instantly put up my hammock and sleeping bag so it would become dry. I had a long shower and headed down to his restaurant. I ordered a soup and a beer, and he kept the conversation going about the beautiful mountain area around the village, his highly educated sons, and how much he had heard about rich and developed Norway. Maybe I could try to bring his sons to Norway? I explained my lifestyle and lack of connections in my motherland, and he kept on smiling and asking me about my bicycle trip.
I had a peaceful night in a comfortable bed, and woke up at 6 am the following morning. After another shower I repacked my backpack and went down to the restaurant. The smiling man with the mustache was not there, but two of his sons and his wife were opening the restaurant and greeted me good morning.
"Our dad told us there was a Norwegian girl staying here, so we had to come down to check it out." one of the sons said. They both gave me a firm handshake.
I ordered a coffee.
"Would you like some breakfast?" the other son said, and I shook my head.
"No, actually I'll just buy some bread and fruits from the supermarket and eat it in my room. It's cheaper." I smiled to them, and while my fresh coffee were in the making I ran across the streets and picked up some breakfast and lunch for the road.
Returning to the restaurant I was drinking my coffee while talking to the two sons.
"Our dad told us there was a Norwegian girl staying here, so we had to come down to check it out." one of the sons said. They both gave me a firm handshake.
I ordered a coffee.
"Would you like some breakfast?" the other son said, and I shook my head.
"No, actually I'll just buy some bread and fruits from the supermarket and eat it in my room. It's cheaper." I smiled to them, and while my fresh coffee were in the making I ran across the streets and picked up some breakfast and lunch for the road.
Returning to the restaurant I was drinking my coffee while talking to the two sons.
Suddenly, their mother brought out a huge plate of food; six slices of bread, three kinds of cheese, butter, honey, bananas, apples and grapes.
"Don't worry. It's free. Our mom thinks you are a strong woman going all the way to Serbia, so she wants to give you breakfast." one son smiled to me son. I thanked the mother in Polish language, and started eating. I couldn't finish it all, but she brought even more food to the table. I exused myself with a big clap on my belly, and she brought silver foil and plastic bags from the kitchen and started to create a lunchbox for me. Eventually I asked them for the bill, which was supposed to include the dinner, beer, coffee and room.
"Don't worry. It's free. Our mom thinks you are a strong woman going all the way to Serbia, so she wants to give you breakfast." one son smiled to me son. I thanked the mother in Polish language, and started eating. I couldn't finish it all, but she brought even more food to the table. I exused myself with a big clap on my belly, and she brought silver foil and plastic bags from the kitchen and started to create a lunchbox for me. Eventually I asked them for the bill, which was supposed to include the dinner, beer, coffee and room.
"You only pay 30 zloty. Only the room." the man with the mustache had shown up again, and sat behind the bar.
"Oh, no! Your wife has fed me so much..." I started, and the entire family went against me. They all insisted that my company was payment enough, and again repeated how much they loved my mission on going to Serbia on a bicycle; they were just happy to help.
I pulled out two 20 zloty notes from my wallet.
"At least take ten extra, I don't need any change." I said in with a thankful manner, but the man laughed at me and gave me my change.
"Only 30 zloty!" he smiled.
"Oh, no! Your wife has fed me so much..." I started, and the entire family went against me. They all insisted that my company was payment enough, and again repeated how much they loved my mission on going to Serbia on a bicycle; they were just happy to help.
I pulled out two 20 zloty notes from my wallet.
"At least take ten extra, I don't need any change." I said in with a thankful manner, but the man laughed at me and gave me my change.
"Only 30 zloty!" he smiled.
NORSK/NORWEGIAN:
Jeg hørte dråpene falle forsiktig mot stoffet på hengekøya mi da jeg våknet. Nei. Nei. Nei. Jeg hadde planlagt å ta med noe for å beskytte meg mot slike situasjoner; ett slags regn dekke satt sammen av tau, presenning og noen pinner. Jeg hadde ikke planlagt godt nok, og det var en av tingene som hadde blitt satt på vent. Marthe Den Evige Optimist hadde håpet på solskinn og eliminert tanken om regn på første etappe. Noen ganger var ikke håp godt nok.
Klokka var fire på morgenen, og det var bekmørkt ute. Solen ville begynne å klatre opp horisonten om to timer. Jeg så for meg den gjørmete stien og den våte skogen jeg måtte slepe meg gjennom for å komme tilbake til veien; det kom til å bli tungt med sykkel og bagasje. Jeg lyttet til det svake regnet i stillhet, og visste at for å starte turen ut av skogen, måtte jeg pakke sammen tingene, skifte klær og dra ut regntøy fra sekken min. Og alt det måtte skje i den kullsvarte natten som enda lå fredelig og ventet på en ny dag. Tanken fristet ikke, så jeg bestemte meg for å være optimistisk en liten stund til; kanskje regnet ville stoppe før soloppgang, og jeg kunne tørke hengekøya ved elven mens jeg spiste en god frokost. Jeg likte min egen ønsketenkning. Det var bare synd at realiteten ikke ble slik.
Rett før klokken seks begynte det å hølje ned, og jeg reagerte kjapt. Jeg sluttet å tenke, og dro meg selv på autopilot. I løpet av minutter hadde jeg pakket sammen sakene mine, dratt på meg regntøy, og slepte sykkelen gjennom den våte og tunge gjørma med alle krefter i armene mine.
Regnet ble mer intenst for hvert minutt, og jeg søkte tilflukt under ett halvtak utenfor en sklep. En gruppe studenter ventet på skolebussen sin, og alle stirret på meg med halvrare blikk. Jeg visste jeg så ut som en halvdruknet sigøyner, men alt jeg kunne tenke på var å få i meg en matbit. Jeg ble sittende under det beskyttende halvtaket i nesten to timer før regnet tonet seg ned til svak yr, og hoppet på sykkelen mens muligheten var der; med løfter til meg selv om å få tak i regn dekke til hengekøya i Slovakia.
Klokka var fire på morgenen, og det var bekmørkt ute. Solen ville begynne å klatre opp horisonten om to timer. Jeg så for meg den gjørmete stien og den våte skogen jeg måtte slepe meg gjennom for å komme tilbake til veien; det kom til å bli tungt med sykkel og bagasje. Jeg lyttet til det svake regnet i stillhet, og visste at for å starte turen ut av skogen, måtte jeg pakke sammen tingene, skifte klær og dra ut regntøy fra sekken min. Og alt det måtte skje i den kullsvarte natten som enda lå fredelig og ventet på en ny dag. Tanken fristet ikke, så jeg bestemte meg for å være optimistisk en liten stund til; kanskje regnet ville stoppe før soloppgang, og jeg kunne tørke hengekøya ved elven mens jeg spiste en god frokost. Jeg likte min egen ønsketenkning. Det var bare synd at realiteten ikke ble slik.
Rett før klokken seks begynte det å hølje ned, og jeg reagerte kjapt. Jeg sluttet å tenke, og dro meg selv på autopilot. I løpet av minutter hadde jeg pakket sammen sakene mine, dratt på meg regntøy, og slepte sykkelen gjennom den våte og tunge gjørma med alle krefter i armene mine.
Regnet ble mer intenst for hvert minutt, og jeg søkte tilflukt under ett halvtak utenfor en sklep. En gruppe studenter ventet på skolebussen sin, og alle stirret på meg med halvrare blikk. Jeg visste jeg så ut som en halvdruknet sigøyner, men alt jeg kunne tenke på var å få i meg en matbit. Jeg ble sittende under det beskyttende halvtaket i nesten to timer før regnet tonet seg ned til svak yr, og hoppet på sykkelen mens muligheten var der; med løfter til meg selv om å få tak i regn dekke til hengekøya i Slovakia.
Dagen snek seg forbi med pudderregn i luften og grå truende skyer som hang over landskapet. De fleste bakketoppene var tildekket med tåke, og det var vanskelig å se mer enn ett par meter foran seg. Jeg hadde ikke akkurat den beste dagen i mitt liv, men fortsatte fremover; med den halvkjølige temperaturen ble jeg ikke like sliten, og hadde ikke behov for like mange pauser. Jeg fikk unnagjort nesten seks mil den dagen, fant jeg ut i ettertid.
Pokoje, leste jeg på ett skilt. Det var det siste polske ordet Anna hadde lært meg, mens vi var på vei til togstasjonen. Det betydde rom, som i ett rom til leie i en privat bolig. Vanligvis skulle de koste rundt 20-35 zloty.
Jeg ble møtt av en dame som ikke kunne engelsk da jeg banket på.
"Pokoje?" spurte jeg.
"Tak," [ja] nikket hun, og fortalte at prisen var 30 zloty. Jeg spurte om det fantes flere alternativer til overnatting i billige rom i de nærliggende landsbyene, og hun nikket igjen. Jeg var ikke helt utmattet enda, og bestemte meg for å trø på enda en time.
Litt over en mil senere ble jeg møtt med ett nytt Pokoje skilt, og fant veien stedet langs en smal landevei. Jeg stoppet foran en stor bygning, og sønnen i huset kom ut; han kunne snakke litt engelsk. Han fortalte meg at rommene kostet 80 zloty, som var langt ovenfor mitt budsjett. Det fantes visst ett hotell ved togstasjonen i landsbyen til 40 zloty, så jeg bestemte meg for å sjekke det ut. Regnet hadde begynt å falle hardere igjen, og snart ville sola og temperaturen gå ned. Jeg krysset fingrene for at hotellet ble mitt siste stopp for dagen.
Jeg ble møtt av en dame som ikke kunne engelsk da jeg banket på.
"Pokoje?" spurte jeg.
"Tak," [ja] nikket hun, og fortalte at prisen var 30 zloty. Jeg spurte om det fantes flere alternativer til overnatting i billige rom i de nærliggende landsbyene, og hun nikket igjen. Jeg var ikke helt utmattet enda, og bestemte meg for å trø på enda en time.
Litt over en mil senere ble jeg møtt med ett nytt Pokoje skilt, og fant veien stedet langs en smal landevei. Jeg stoppet foran en stor bygning, og sønnen i huset kom ut; han kunne snakke litt engelsk. Han fortalte meg at rommene kostet 80 zloty, som var langt ovenfor mitt budsjett. Det fantes visst ett hotell ved togstasjonen i landsbyen til 40 zloty, så jeg bestemte meg for å sjekke det ut. Regnet hadde begynt å falle hardere igjen, og snart ville sola og temperaturen gå ned. Jeg krysset fingrene for at hotellet ble mitt siste stopp for dagen.
Jeg åpnet en stor dobbeltsidig mørk tredør, og kom inn til en koselig bakgård. På venstre side lå hotell restauranten, og på høyre side ett lite hvitt hus med flere dører, noe jeg antok var hotellet. Alt var rent, hvitmalt med mørkebrunt treverk, det var en autentisk øst europeisk stemning over det. En smilende rund mann i slutten av femtiårene kom mot meg da jeg parkerte sykkelen. Han var kanskje ett hode lavere enn meg, utstyrt med grå bart.
"Pokoje?" spurte jeg, og han ga meg ett stort smil. Under glasset på brillene kunne jeg se spor av lysende nysgjerrighet over sin nye gjest.
Jeg spurte om han pratet engelsk, og han ble enda mer engasjert over gjesten sin.
"The room is....110 zloty. That's normal, right?" forklarte han.
"Oh! That's too expensive. Someone up the road said it would be 40 zloty. I'm actually trying to camp outside, but the heavy rain has forced me to seek shelter." forklarte jeg og henviste til soveposen som var plassert på styret.
"Well, what's your budget?" han så litt overrasket ut over svaret mitt.
"30 zloty. You see, me and my bicycle are on our way to Serbia.." begynte jeg, og den runde lille mannen lo en varm latter.
"To Serbia! Are you Serbian?"
"No, I'm Norwegian."
"Norway! Norwegian! Wow! And on your bicycle to Serbia!" han klarte ikke slutte å smile, "But you have your own sleeping bag, yes?"
"Yes, I do."
"Pokoje?" spurte jeg, og han ga meg ett stort smil. Under glasset på brillene kunne jeg se spor av lysende nysgjerrighet over sin nye gjest.
Jeg spurte om han pratet engelsk, og han ble enda mer engasjert over gjesten sin.
"The room is....110 zloty. That's normal, right?" forklarte han.
"Oh! That's too expensive. Someone up the road said it would be 40 zloty. I'm actually trying to camp outside, but the heavy rain has forced me to seek shelter." forklarte jeg og henviste til soveposen som var plassert på styret.
"Well, what's your budget?" han så litt overrasket ut over svaret mitt.
"30 zloty. You see, me and my bicycle are on our way to Serbia.." begynte jeg, og den runde lille mannen lo en varm latter.
"To Serbia! Are you Serbian?"
"No, I'm Norwegian."
"Norway! Norwegian! Wow! And on your bicycle to Serbia!" han klarte ikke slutte å smile, "But you have your own sleeping bag, yes?"
"Yes, I do."
Han sa at jeg var mer enn velkommen til å sove i ett av rommene for 30 zloty, så lenge jeg hadde min egen sovepose. I følge ham var klesvasken så dyr, så han kunne bare gi meg den store rabatten om jeg ikke brukte sengetøyet hans. Uansett hvilken grunn som egentlig fantes over gjestfriheten, så var jeg hjertelig takknemlig, og fortalte ham at jeg skulle spise og drikke på restauranten hans i tillegg.
Han åpnet opp en nydelig, rent rom til meg, og det første jeg gjorde var å henge opp hengekøya som enda var fuktig fra den regnfulle morgenen. Jeg fortsatte med en lang dusj, før jeg gikk ned til den koselige restauranten hans. Jeg bestilte en suppe og en øl, og han fortalte meg entusiastisk om det nydelige fjellområdet rundt landsbyen, hans høyt utdannede sønner, og alle tingene han hadde hørt om det rike industrilandet Norge. Kanskje jeg kunne prøve å skaffe jobb til sønnene hans i Norge? Jeg fortalte han om livsstilen min, og at jeg ikke hadde så mange kontakter i moderlandet mitt, men smilet på den runde mannen forsvant ikke av den grunn. Han spurte i vei om sykkelturen min.
Jeg hadde en fredelig natt i en komfortabel seng, og våknet klokken seks neste morgen. Etter enda en dusj pakket jeg sammen tingene mine og ruslet ned trappen og inn i restauranten igjen. Den smilende mannen var ikke der, men derimot to av sønnene hans og konen. De var i ferd med å åpne restauranten og ønsket meg god morgen.
"Our dad told us there was a Norwegian girl staying here, so we had to come down to check it out." sa en av sønnene. Begge ga meg ett godt håndtrykk.
Jeg bestilte en kaffe.
"Would you like some breakfast?" sa den andre sønnen, og jeg ristet på hodet.
"No, actually I'll just buy some bread and fruits from the supermarket and eat it in my room. It's cheaper." smilte jeg, og mens kaffen ble klargjort løp jeg til andre siden av veien hvor det fantes en butikk med brødmat og frukt. Jeg kjøpte to rundstykker og to bananer, som skulle bli frokost.
Tilbake på restauranten sippet jeg den sterke espressoen mens de to sønnene spurte mange spørsmål om meg, Norge og Asia.
"Our dad told us there was a Norwegian girl staying here, so we had to come down to check it out." sa en av sønnene. Begge ga meg ett godt håndtrykk.
Jeg bestilte en kaffe.
"Would you like some breakfast?" sa den andre sønnen, og jeg ristet på hodet.
"No, actually I'll just buy some bread and fruits from the supermarket and eat it in my room. It's cheaper." smilte jeg, og mens kaffen ble klargjort løp jeg til andre siden av veien hvor det fantes en butikk med brødmat og frukt. Jeg kjøpte to rundstykker og to bananer, som skulle bli frokost.
Tilbake på restauranten sippet jeg den sterke espressoen mens de to sønnene spurte mange spørsmål om meg, Norge og Asia.
Plutselig kom moren deres ut fra kjøkkenet igjen, med ett svært fat mellom hendene; på fatet lå det seks skiver brød, tre ulike oster, smør, honning, bananer, epler og druer.
"Don't worry. It's free. Our mom thinks you are a strong woman going all the way to Serbia, so she wants to give you breakfast." smilte en av sønnene til meg. Jeg takket moren på alle flotte polske ord jeg kunne. Jeg klarte absolutt ikke å spise alt hun hadde funnet frem, men hun fortsatte å legge ost, brød og smør på fatet. Jeg unnskyldte meg med ett klapp på magen, og da slo hun til med sølvfolie og brødposer; resten av maten pakket hun om til en stor lunch.
"Don't worry. It's free. Our mom thinks you are a strong woman going all the way to Serbia, so she wants to give you breakfast." smilte en av sønnene til meg. Jeg takket moren på alle flotte polske ord jeg kunne. Jeg klarte absolutt ikke å spise alt hun hadde funnet frem, men hun fortsatte å legge ost, brød og smør på fatet. Jeg unnskyldte meg med ett klapp på magen, og da slo hun til med sølvfolie og brødposer; resten av maten pakket hun om til en stor lunch.
Etter mange takk og bukk spurte jeg etter regningen, som skulle inkludere middag, øl, kaffe og rommet.
" You only pay 30 zloty. Only the room." mannen med smilet og barten hadde dukket opp igjen, og satt bak kassen.
"Oh, no! Your wife has fed me so much..." startet jeg, og hele familien gikk imot meg. Alle insisterte på at det hyggelige selskapet var betaling nok, og repeterte om og om igjen hvor mye de elsket min egen utfordring om å sykle til Serbia. De var glade for å kunne hjelpe til.
" You only pay 30 zloty. Only the room." mannen med smilet og barten hadde dukket opp igjen, og satt bak kassen.
"Oh, no! Your wife has fed me so much..." startet jeg, og hele familien gikk imot meg. Alle insisterte på at det hyggelige selskapet var betaling nok, og repeterte om og om igjen hvor mye de elsket min egen utfordring om å sykle til Serbia. De var glade for å kunne hjelpe til.
Jeg dro ut to 20 zloty lapper fra lommeboka.
"At least take ten extra. I don't need change." sa jeg i en takknemlig mine, men igjen lo mannen av meg og ga meg vekslepenger.
"Only 30 zloty!" smilte han.
"At least take ten extra. I don't need change." sa jeg i en takknemlig mine, men igjen lo mannen av meg og ga meg vekslepenger.
"Only 30 zloty!" smilte han.
- M
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