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This tale has proven to be a favorite among student that I have shared it with. A poor man in Albania has to kill his rooster for a meal. But, on second thought, he opted to cut the rooster in half. He ate one half and saved the other half for a pet. Now, the Half Rooster was nobody's fool. He knew he had to go out to earn his fame and fortune in the world before the poor man got hungry again. With the help of Frog, Fox, Wolf and Mouse, the Half Rooster succeeded in his mission. I first arrived in Albania shortly after it opened up to the West. In those days there were no travel books or…mehr

Produktbeschreibung
This tale has proven to be a favorite among student that I have shared it with. A poor man in Albania has to kill his rooster for a meal. But, on second thought, he opted to cut the rooster in half. He ate one half and saved the other half for a pet. Now, the Half Rooster was nobody's fool. He knew he had to go out to earn his fame and fortune in the world before the poor man got hungry again. With the help of Frog, Fox, Wolf and Mouse, the Half Rooster succeeded in his mission. I first arrived in Albania shortly after it opened up to the West. In those days there were no travel books or Internet searches. The border crossing was just that. A crossing. No signs of civilization, no restaurants, and no hotels welcomed me at the border. There were few cars back then. The main form of transportation was by donkey cart. And, I arrived at night with no idea where to go. I was told the closest hotel was in Gjirokaster, 20 miles away. A taxi driver had a hotel business card that said, "We speak English." It was good enough for me. That was how I met the Kotoni family. Their home was a two hundred-year-old Ottoman building that over-looked the old town. The family exuded so much Albanian hospitality and warmth that I decided to stay an extra day in Gjirokaster. During my stay, I signed their guestbook. However, I didn't just sign it. I drew the skyline of the old city as seen from their front porch. Nobody ever did that before, and I wasn't forgotten. Fourteen years later . . . Taulant, the family son, found my website. Now living in the USA (and certainly no longer eight), he said his parents still thought fondly of me and showed off my drawing to any and all guests who came to their now expanded guest house. I decided it was time to go back to Albania and make another drawing in their guestbook. As it turns out, I've visited the Kotonis four times -- two of them were muraling adventures. Every time I return, it is like coming home to family. I look forward to the day when I can go back to Albania for my fifth family reunion. Faleminderit, Kotonis.
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Autorenporträt
When you have traveled as much as I have, and your focus is on people and murals rather than resorts and spas, you gather stories along the way. In my previous book, Cooking Disasters, I shared some of the spectacular events that required a bit of divine intervention in order for me to survive. But, in this book, there are no close brushes with death or violent wrecks, no more rogues with knives or angry witch doctors, and -- thankfully -- no more bouts of malaria. I learned very quickly that those were the kinds of stories not to write home about. Fortunately, I also have several stories that don't require any guardian angels. They're the ones I could write home about. Yes, I've had some remarkable moments in my journey. One of the tales that you'll read about happened in Namibia. When I told my friend Abdelhadi that I was going there for a mural project, I said, "It's a once in a lifetime event." He was quick to correct me. "No, this is another in a series of Phillip Martin occasions that happen to nobody else but you." I think he was right. I have been blessed everywhere I wander. I've met the most gracious people who have opened their doors and hearts to a wandering artist. After you read these tales, you may also agree with my friend Abdelhadi.