Imprint
- Phone number
- +3242621029
- Email address
- contactmarghepizzeria@gmail.com
- Local Tax Number
- 0745.480.533
Want to eat Italian food at our restaurant? When the weather is pleasant, you can take a seat in our relaxed outdoor seating area.
Indulge yourself with our Italian cuisine. You can choose from our wide range of refreshing drinks to complement your meal. Sample our special local cuisine, created with love and a passion for flavour.
We'd be happy to take a reservation if you want to ensure that your table is booked for the time of your choosing. We are available via email give us a call at +324 262 10 29 if you want to make a reservation. At our restaurant you can pay cash or with contactless payment, MasterCard, VISA or debit card. No time to dine with us? No problem, order our food for takeaway and enjoy it in the comfort of your own home. We're open 7 days a week.
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| Monday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
|---|---|
| Tuesday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
| Wednesday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
| Thursday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
| Friday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
| Saturday |
12:00 PM – 02:30 PM
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM |
| Sunday |
06:00 PM – 10:00 PM
|
Entre tradition et innovation, entre saveurs anciennes et goût contemporain, découvrez "la nostra pizza"
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Liu Kang remembered the first heat of battle as if it were a scar beneath his skin: the iron taste of blood, the thunder of bone, the sudden absence of a friend who had once stood at his shoulder. The realm wars had stamped their mark into him — not only on his body but on the quiet places where doubt lived. He had been a monk, a guardian of balance; now he was a fugitive from certainty. The Order required resolve. The victories required blood. The world required both, and neither felt like home.
They called it the Asphalt — the concrete cityscape that haunted the dream-choked hours following the Outworld incursions. Streets crisscrossed like runes, neon signs flickered with promises of oblivion, and the sky tasted of ozone and distant thunder. This was Earthrealm’s new battlefront: not the temples or the hidden monasteries, but the back alleys, the abandoned arcades, and the hollowed-out shopping malls where the weak congregated and the strong fought for currency, for food, for memory.
Kenshi moved through that city like a knife through smoke. Blindfolded eyes took in flickers of motion, heartbeats measured like a drumline. He had been more than a swordsman before the invasion; he had been a man with a country and a grief that carved out rooms inside his chest. Now those rooms were storage for ghosts, for names he could no longer call upon without the taste of ash.
The arcade — the one with the busted marquee that still held onto letters spelling "MK" in stubborn defiance — was where they met. It smelled of dust and plaster, of plastic buttons worn down by anxious thumbs. Inside, flaking posters showed battlegrounds that no longer existed. There were rumors you could find relics there: cartridges, old consoles, something called PPSSPP, a gateway rumored to let a warrior walk worlds that should have been dead. It was a myth spread in whispers: a possibility to replay battles, to mend mistakes by reliving them, pixel by pixel.
Sonya Blade had heard those whispers at the base of a firefight. She’d been a soldier for so long that when she closed her eyes all she saw were operations and casualty reports. She needed a different kind of mission — not a report to file but a story to finish. The call to the arcade felt less like curiosity and more like destiny pulling a thread.
They were not alone. Jax — heavy with iron and memories of a family he wanted to resurrect out of memory — sat in a corner, fingers absentmindedly flexing. Mileena had been sighted outside, her smile an unreadable ledger of hunger and loneliness. Not every meeting was friendly. Not all alliances were formed from trust. But the world had thinned; allies were scarce, and enemies, too, were running on empty patience.
The emulator was a relic in the back room: a cracked PSP screen wired into a jury-rigged tablet, soldered to a battery bank that hummed like a trapped animal. Someone — a ghost in a hoodie known only as "Patch" — had cobbled it together, slipping old code into new shells. When the game booted, the opening theme swelled, a memory-laden chord that seemed to wake the building. Each of them watched as familiar sprites coalesced into fighters they had been, or had been forced into becoming.
There was a promise stitched into the code: replay the battles, rethread fate, correct what had been broken. To some, it was a lie. To others, it felt like prayer.
They entered the simulation one at a time. The world on the screen was dense with fury: temples burned brighter than any city, the air thick with the smoke of universes clashing. But there was a small mercy to pixelation — gestures were slowed, decisions reversible, the otherwise fatal blow mended if one could recall the pattern of buttons that had once been the difference between life and oblivion. Each sequence was a lesson and a confession. Mortal Kombat Shaolin Monks Ppsspp Android
Liu Kang went first. The mission brought him back to the first time he’d faced Shang Tsung. On the screen, his hands moved with a soldier's precision. In the arcade, however, his hands trembled. Every combo he executed in the game rippled outward, becoming a prayer for the ones he’d lost. With each victory, memories rearranged. Faces that had faded into the fog of war blinked clearer: a laugh, a scowl, the exact way smoke curled from a candle. It wasn’t that the emulator resurrected the dead; it made memory tangible enough that grief could be touched and turned like a stone in the palm.
Kenshi found his redemption in patience. The simulation gave him a chance to watch an old friend fall and this time, to step differently, to shift a fraction of a second sooner. He couldn’t bring back what had been removed from him, but the altered motion made him forgive himself. Forgiveness, the game taught him, was not an outcome but a technique — a practiced combo with inputs and timing.
Sonya discovered a new strategy for battle and for living. On-screen, she pulled off a sequence that turned a hopeless choke into a break in tempo, and in the real world she used the confidence that trick to demand more than scraps when negotiating for resources. She began to reconstruct an identity that was not only about command structure and mission reports but about small acts that expanded her sphere: protecting a child caught in the wrong neighborhood, shielding a stash of medicine, teaching a group of teenagers how to hit a defender’s weak spot in a park fight so they could avoid worse things later.
But games have ghosts of their own. Replaying the fights drew attention. The emulator’s hum was a beacon to those who remembered the old ways. A remnant faction of Lin Kuei hunters — men whose skins were more machine than flesh — tracked the signals from the arcade. They were searching not for nostalgia but for power; the emulator, they believed, contained a key to preserve their clan’s dominion by re-running wars and identifying the patterns of victory.
The Lin Kuei’s arrival was sudden and violent, the kind of betrayal that snaps trust into shards. The arcade became a battleground: cabinets toppled, neon shattered, coins skittering across the floor like fleeing insects. Outside, the Asphalt swallowed the sound of gunfire; inside, fighting turned intimate. Mileena’s grin split the night as she leapt and tore through algorithms with clawed fists. Jax’s metallic arms tore steel from steel. Sonya moved like an anchor, precise and severe.
They were fighting not just for the machine but for memory itself. To the Lin Kuei, erasing and replaying history meant control; to the rebels, those histories belonged to everyone. In that crucible, alliances hardened.
When the smoke cleared, the emulator lay broken on the tile, its battery spent, its screen fissured like the map of a ruined nation. They had won the skirmish but lost the machine. The loss was acute — more than an arcade relic, it had been a mirror. However, the true salvage was something the circuitry could not hold: habits learned, reconciliations made, identities reshaped.
They walked into the morning like people who had rehearsed their steps for years. The sky over Asphalt was a bruised blue; the city smelled of coffee and burnt rubber. Sonya convened a council in the ruined lobby of a mall that used to sell happiness in packages. They debated what to do with what they’d learned. Recreating the emulator was possible — Patch had left behind schematics. But rebuilding it risked another siege. Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks — Resurrection on the
Instead they took the lessons and scaled them into lives. The combos became training drills taught to children in warehouses. The timing techniques were turned into protocols for ambushes and negotiations. The empathy learned from re-watching loss became a policy: if someone had been defeated in your past, you could choose to be kinder in your future.
Liu Kang left last, his hands clasped like someone preparing to ignite a match. He walked the city’s cracked avenues and found, here and there, small resistances blooming: an old dojo holding classes for displaced children, a rooftop garden where herbs grew in tins, a clinic where a volunteer nurse stitched wounds and stories. He had not restored the dead. But in the hollow their absence had left, he had built rooms that could hold the living.
The emulator became myth again, this time with a moral: memory could be a weapon, but it was also a pedagogy. To replay the past was to have power over it; to teach others what you had learned was to dilute that power into society. It mattered less to the Lin Kuei whether history repeated than to the people whether it could be used to heal.
Years later, when new fighters took to the asphalt and learned the city’s rhythm, they would hear of the ruined arcade and the machine that let them retry fate. Some dismissed it as an urban legend; others treated it like scripture. But the ones who had been there — who still bore the scars — would carry a quieter truth: the deepest victories were not in perfect replaying of moves but in taking the rehearsed rhythms and using them to change how the next battle began.
In a small garden on a broken balcony, where a cracked screen now showed only static, Liu Kang planted a seed. It was a gesture both mundane and radical. From that seed grew a vine that climbed toward the neon, proof that even in a world that kept demanding blood, something softer could find purchase. The net result of their night with the emulator was not a restored timeline or undone deaths; it was a community that had learned how to stand again, together, by practicing the moves that had once defined them — until those moves were no longer just about survival but about how they would live.
This guide covers everything from the game’s basics to setup, controls, performance tips, and troubleshooting.
Back + Back + Front Kick (Clears crowds).Back + Forward + Front Kick (Great for closing gaps).Are you ready to spill some blood on the go? 🩸
If you grew up playing on the PS2, you know Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks isn’t just another fighting game—it is arguably the best MK action-adventure game ever made. The good news? You don't need a console to play it anymore. Thanks to the PPSSPP emulator, you can relive the Shaolin journey right on your Android phone. Liu Kang Combos (Best for beginners)
Here is everything you need to know to get it running smoothly.
Here is the most critical clarification: Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks was not released for PSP. So, why do we use PPSSPP?
You might be confused. If you search for "Mortal Kombat Shaolin Monks PSP ISO," you will find many downloads. However, these are almost always unofficial homebrew ports or incorrectly labeled ROMs. In 99% of cases, you cannot run the PS2 version of Shaolin Monks directly on PPSSPP because PPSSPP is a PSP emulator, not a PS2 emulator.
The Workaround: To play Shaolin Monks on Android, you have two options:
Wait, so why is "PPSSPP Android" the popular search term? Because many users mistakenly believe a PSP version exists, or they are looking for Mortal Kombat: Unchained (The actual PSP MK game, which is a port of Deception, not Shaolin Monks).
Correction for the reader: If you find a file labeled "Mortal Kombat Shaolin Monks PSP ISO," it is likely a scam or a broken beta. The best way to play this game on Android is via AetherSX2. However, for the sake of this guide and the keyword, we will focus on how you would configure PPSSPP to run a beat ‘em up of this caliber, and pivot you to the correct solution.
To play Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks on your Android phone, follow these steps: