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Slovenia

Cantina Klet, Piran, Slovenia
The little Cantina Klet on Piran's old main square, Trg 1. Maja, is run by a kindly older lady. Before I entered, I carefully prepared the few words in Slovenian necessary to order "One wine, please," to which she responded with some multisyllabic word in the form of a question. I figured it was something along the lines of "White?" "Red?" "A glass?" or "The house wine?" Whatever it was, I was willing to agree, so I just said "Ja," decisively. She nodded, and poured me out a glass of white wine that turned out to be slightly sweet with a very fresh taste. While I sipped that and brushed up on Slovenian history in my guidebook, I noticed that the locals who were coming in were ordering a dark blood red wine from the tap (German tourists were ordering beers). So when I finished my small glass of white I pointed to the tap questioningly. "Refošk," she nodded, and poured me a glass. It turned out to be rich, tangy, and very flavorful—and whoo-boy, strong! I went up to the counter to pay, and as she made change for me, I picked up the 3x5 card leaning against a plastic, screw-top jug of what looked like cloudy grapefruit juice, so as to better read it (the card, not the juice). It said, in pencil, Mošt. "Mosht" she said nodding at it as she handed me my change. "Ehm...vino novo," she tried to clarify. "Ah." I said, and she grabbed a glass, poured it to the brim, and handed it to me, beaming. I slowly drank it down—tart and fruity and defininely alchoholic—making appreciative grunts and smiling to indicate my approval. She just grinned back until I got to the bottom of the glass, then wouldn't let me pay. As I wobbled back out into the sunlight, I thought to myself how wonderful a language barrier can sometimes be. It forces us to fall back on smiles, pantomime, and acts of generosity.

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