"I have a headache, stomach ache and my legs hurt from going up and down too many times yesterday..." That much I managed to write down before the lights went out in the cinema and the film started. All this happened on Sunday. I was wrong, as I usually am when it comes to judging people and their intentions, and L.V. really was thinking over the money, not my reliability, as I suspected him of doing in my previous post. So in the end we did go to Karlovy Vary to do our "crazy waiting" in the town's most prestigious hotel. When we fought off some initial uneasiness (L.V. experienced a juggling disaster there which he did not want to go back to and we went through a shared entertainment catastrophe in a similar hotel in the same town at a posh New Year's Eve party 2008), we changed into costumes and produced our tiny red carpets to welcome the 400 distinguished confectioners one by one (hence the hurting legs a day later). There was one specially distinguished guest, the town's mayor, and we were warned to be careful. He turned out to be a nice man with a charming wife (of course). When we approached them the second time in the course of the evening and L.V. offered him a piece of cheese in a mouse trap, he made an unexpected move and spilled half his wine into the coffee of the lady standing next to him, the other half travelling the extra bit further to her chest. We avoided him for the rest of the night. The evening was a success.
During our journey back - a long one, late at night - it began to snow and we discussed life and films, which we seldom do. The conversation was going so well that I forgot to fall asleep in the car and went to bed at around three a.m. (hence the headache the day later).
At least the stomach ache eventually proved to be caused by something else than laborious comedy-making. I went to see a doctor. His name and the pictures on the walls in the waiting room suggested he was Lebanese. He had a very strong voice and it was almost impossible to read while waiting for the examination, as I could hear all the details concerning the medical condition of the patients who went inside ahead of me. This was only fun until the moment I realised that my turn was coming up. So, after some crazy waiting in the waiting room, there was time for comedy again. The doctor's accent, I realised, was the cause of many misunderstandings, which usually resulted in the doctor blaming the patients for withholding important information from him. And yet he seemed to be enjoying it all very much. He spent a lot of time with me (considering how many people were waiting outside), explained everything three times and told me not to carry heavy stuff and not to do one more thing, which I am too shy to disclose. I felt "not guilty" on both those counts, but agreed to be careful none the less. In the end he gave me an ultrasound photograph of my private parts to keep and I promised to carry it around in my wallet (I did not, but I should have - I am sure he would have enjoyed it). When I finally left his office, people were looking at their watches a bit too obviously.
So, the lights are going down in the cinema and the film starts: L'Instinct de Mort, "the most expensive French film of all time" - not surprising, really, given that it is really two films. Most of the money seems to have been spent on realistic violence and I ended up disturbed, as I should have expected. Instead of going to see the most expensive second part of all time, I went to Jamajka to drink beer and read the magazine I bought for M. and T., because it has the same name as their daughter - Živa. I learned some exciting news from the life of trees and ants. I will have to buy another copy to keep. At one point an elderly woman, all dressed in white, came to my table and said "Good evening". I replied accordingly, wondering, whether she would join me. After a minute or so of standing she left without saying good bye. I got up, paid for the beer, deliberately forgot a lighter with some evil design on the table, and left. It began to rain. The temperature was just above zero.
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