The owner of our hotel in Polis doesn't seem to like me a whole lot. He's friendly with J., but when he looks at me, he squints, sending me waves that seem to express: "I know what you're up to. We don't take kindly to people like you around here." He must have me confused with someone else. He offers us a drink, or some sweets? twice and we say no thank you, waiting for him to hand over the key, so we can retreat to our room. We go for a little walk around town and find that it's neat, but not much to speak of, which is good, for we are in search of peace and quiet. When we get to the centre, there are cafés, restaurants and sports pubs lining the tiny pedestrian
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