Bless the Czechs! Their coffee always comes with a little glass of water. This attention to detail is beautiful.
I’m writing this in a pleasant little café in Prague near the apartment I’ve rented, which is near the theatre where I performed on my previous three visits to the Prague Fringe. Tonight is opening night, and I thought it might be good luck to go back to the theatre where I was so happy before. But the reception there was so frosty (the bartender seemed inordinately angry that I asked for food), so I left. I guess the universe is telling me to move on and concentrate on the present, a lesson I constantly need reminding of. Thank you, nasty barmaid!
* * *
But earlier, there was a lovely thing that happened.
So, the day I arrived in Prague (three days ago), there was a terrible snarl-up at passport control that resulted in a very long wait. Basically, there were no agents working for the better part of an hour, by which time the queue was monstrous. (Maybe their systems were down?) I stood in the line behind a pleasant-looking couple who I guessed were Canadian. We didn’t speak to each other at all, but we were within close proximity for a looooong time.
Yesterday, I was on my way to my tech rehearsal and a couple passed me on Kampa, and I only realized it was the couple from the airport as they went by. I was kicking myself that I hadn’t recognized them in time to give them a flyer for my show—but my flyers were all comfortably ensconced in my backpack.
Today, I was out putting up posters, and I entered Old Town Square for the first time on this trip. Of course, it was crawling with people. I needed to get my guidebook out of my backpack, so I looked around for somewhere to sit, and noticed a ledge on the side of the town hall. As I walked over to sit, who were sitting there beside me? The couple from the airport.
It must mean something, this serendipity. Anyway, this time I walked up to them, told them who I was, and gave them a flyer. They were lovely! Indeed they were Canadian! And they’d already heard about the Fringe, and had picked up a brochure, which they had back at their hotel!
This kind of brief encounter is the stuff of Fringe.
* * *
And then there was renewing acquaintance with a gorgeous volunteer named Rebecca who was here the last time (or last two times) I was. She told me she was happy I was back! This felt so good.
* * *
The two surefire remedies for opening-night Fringe stress: chatting with nice folk—and drinking! (The latter is said in a spirit of jocularity. I’m not a big drinker, but I have taken note that I feel less stressed every time I down a pivo.)
Six hours from now, God willing, I’ll be doing my show! Bartender, another!!
(I’m joking. Really.)
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