Life goes on, the weeks go by, life here is good, certainly a bit 'of nostalgia there, between the rain drops and the MP3 player that goes by surprise songs that recall the beauty of my city . And that's when you least the aspects of a weekend like many others, but unique. The usual routine, you work a bit 'even if it's Saturday and the desire is not a lot, you browse a bit' on the internet, then you go out to dinner. Not raining, the sun came out after a week of rain. The scout group in Tirana, where work often uses the structure for activities and meetings. This Saturday is the clan that is here on out. My evening with it as planned, meat and beer with friends, then returns home. I enter the car in the garden and there are kids in a circle around the fire, turn off the headlights to not ruin the atmosphere. Parking, out of the car and one of them is asking me to join them. The desire to tell the truth is not much, I sleep and I'm tired, but how to say no! I approach the fire and roast them incerchio to cook on the grill. Spending an hour in their company as well, playing, chatting, eating chestnuts and sipping a little 'home-made red wine. The chestnuts are cooked perfectly, the wine is not the best, not even speak much to each other as they chat in Albanian.
That does not seem so idyllic situation, but instead as if by magic sleep is gone, the chestnuts are left to eat, and wine does not seem so bad, I listen with pleasure their conversations and words of Albanian beginning to understand. The fire appears to be a universal language, the smell of smoke, laughter and jokes, the song before going to sleep. This I have done hundreds of times, but each time is unique. When the smell of fire you feel the smell of home, all that has gone around and you seem to live in a fairy tale, only this story does not end here, I'll take with you for life, is the tale Scouting, the red flower of Mowgli, the camp of the scouts and guides, scouts and rovers. Here is how an evening all to be unique, as are many, but unique! "No perfume is the smell of the fire,"
Sir Robert Stephenson Smyth, Lord Baden-Powell of Gilwell, Chief Scout of the World
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