The Majestic hotel, Barcelona, 2002
I started to get used to the travelling and to the storytelling. but boredom overtook me everytime i was in a strange city where i had no other reason than pouring out words. If i asked any personal question to R. he would evade immediately. it was not part of the deal. the deal should be all that we took care of, in his opinion. i would make up a story, or tell a true one, he did not care so much either way. i would pour out my words, and then leave.
I had a boyfriend at that time, who had a lot of other girlfriends whilst having me. And now I was taking the liberty of an affair too. As i was going to be in this super hotel in Barcelona anyway, i decided i would have him accompany me, so that i had someone to return to after my job was done. He was a guy I knew pretty well, we were actually rather good friends. And during that friendship an attraction had become more and more evident between the two of us. He had enough of money, working as a logistics organiser for big events, and had to work on a really huge deal in Barcelona the same time that i was booked there. He had a girlfriend at that time too, and she would come over the next day, so we knew that if we wanted anything to happen between the two of us, today would be the time. We had made the appointment months before, but thank god his girlfriend was stupid enough to tell him she would come over. So one night was all we had.
In those months, when we started planning our affair, we figured that it would be funny enough to both book a room. Whilst making this affair up, we started to steal an occasional kiss. Or we would all of a sudden find ourselves holding hands as we walked on the street figuring out the details. We promised ourselves that after this night we would never see each other again.
so when i checked in to the Majestic, i knew he would be there soon too. The Majestic was huge, with this really overpowering entrance hall, a bar with a live pianoplayer and it had a terrace on the roof, swimmingpool and massage included, from where I could overlook the whole city. And that is all that I saw of the city that time. I do not think that Barcelona and I will ever be close friends.
After checking in and checking out the room, i went downstairs to reception to see whether my affair had arrived. he was not there, only a note saying he had to work till late in the afternoon.
There was another note by R. he would be in meetings untill at least ten o clock, maybe later, as dinners could go on for hours in Barcelona, but I was free to do some shopping, this note was accompanied by an envelope filled with the amount of money that I myself normally used for a whole month to live by. I think I only spent a little money on some tea, and from my own money I bought some make up.
It was a really really hot summer day, cool make up was needed.
i felt very strange. meeting two men in the same hotel for different reasons, and having my boyfriend at home.
it was my first ever affair and i was not quite sure how to handle it.
it so odd to wait in such a hotel room, even for a couple of hours, if you have been anticipating the moment of cheating for months already. You sit on the bed, admire the crispy soft white bathrobes, brush your hair with extra care. You put your make up on just perfectly. And there you are. Alone. And all of a sudden it is no longer just a room. It has become a place that is waiting for that which is about to happen. All the obvious hotel things become grotesque during the wait. The fake gold overindulgence that is so common in these luxury hotels, seen through in the extreme. The totally uninteresting magazines that are layed out on the coffee table in a most esthetic fashion, offered to you to be leafed through with no goal to inform you of anything what so ever, the empty gestures, the unpersonal perfection.
I had imagined myself to be the really stunning temptress secretary, and wanted him to be my tattood rock and roll hero popstar. He had a magnificent body, and it was covered with beautiful coloured tattoos. all through summer he wore a thight sleeveless shirt. That was my fancy, my fantasy. unfortunately, he had had an other idea, and was wearing an expensive designer blouse, which covered up his tattoos. Bummer. it turned out that we both had had our expectations, some of which where partly fullfilled, but they never exceeded the original dream. Allthough it had been fun to ride the elevator up and down the hotel fifteen times, because that was how long one of our kisses lasted.
We lay on the bed and talked a little, watched some tv, and kissed some more. Then i rushed to R.s room to tell him his story. but i had my affair in mind all the time. i had to be carefull, i felt, i did not want to give my secret away. this tale had to be as neutral as possible.
i decided it would be a moviescript. R. agreed on this, saying: "but i do want you to also do different voices and gestures during the dialogues"
Scene 1.
Interior evening/night
We see an entirely red room. it is a hotelroom, but different from most. these hotels are getting rarer and rarer in europe. the ones that have their own kitchen, and suite. this is one of those. it is a nice warm evening, we know, because we have seen a young man walk down the street before. he wears a t-shirt. outside the people are parading their best summer attire down the allyway and they mix with the pavement so well. The walls are red, the ceiling is illuminated by red Chinese lanterns, the floor is covered with lush red carpentry. The room itself is furnished rather sparingly, however, the furniture that is there is obviously of very high quality, expensive antique Japanese laquerwork. There is one painting in the room, it is sort conflicting with the rest of the interior design. It is a classical Dutch painting. not of one of the Great Masters, not a Rembrandt or a Vermeer, but it could easily be a Ruysdaal or a van Mieris. It is a portrait of a girl, she must be seventeen, and she is looking at us directly, inquisitively.
Our protagonist (the main character, whom the audience should identify with, so mostly the good guy) - let's for the fun of it call him Stef, enters the room, whilst the antagonist, in this case a girl, and no, her name is not mine, dont forget it is a story i am telling you, is sitting on a couple of velvet blood red cushions on the floor.
we get the feeling that there has been conversation going on, it was paused, and will now be resumed. their conversation seems to be in an impasse. The body-language of the boy tells us that he has never been in this room before, he has far from conquered the territory he has entered. he does not feel comfortable. He is almost anticipating in his moves, he is focussed on the worst to come. He stands opposite the girl, and behind him we see the entrance to the kitchen.
It is rather dark in the kitchen, so it is hard to see what goes on there, but it is obvious that the kitchen has an entirely different atmosphere. We see empty boxes, piles of dishes, at least 23 garbage-bins, fruit-flies doing their daily flight, that kind of mess. A complete negative to the austere cleanliness of the living room.
The girl smokes. Very thin filter-cigarettes. In front of her, there is a tiny table, and on the table is a miniature tea set, of the finest bone china you have ever seen. She picks up one of the cups, and takes little sips of the tea. the tea is starchy and very very black. Black as moonless nights.
How shall we call her, and when will you stop thinking it is me I am writing about? Do i have to alter her looks in a way that you have to be sure? give her red curls, and good cleavage then. Blue eyes and a cherry mouth. We will call her Franca from now on.
Franca
Yes, but the question was if you realise how bad it is to loose. How devastating.
Stef
I hardly ever loose
Franca
I only lost three times, not counting the times i thought it wiser to loose. If I win all the time, nobody will play with me anymore..
Stef
So you seriously just had me come over to play a game of backgammon.
Franca smokes, and stares Stef down.
Franca
You have played backgammon before, have you ?
Stef
What do you think?
Franca
Oh, probably very seriously even.
Stef
And that's the only reason you woke me up with your phone-call at fucking three o clock at night.
Franca
i did not have the impression you were indeed sleeping.
Stef
No, i wasn't but normal people do sleep at three.
Franca
(scolding)
and you are so normal.
Silence. Franca starts pouring from the teapot again, highly concentrated. First her own cup, then his. The tea seems to be sirup, it pours so slowly, the blackness is shiny as if the tea where made of glue or lacquer instead of liquid, water. She throws a lump of sugar in each cup.
Franca
against the bitterness.
She smiles at Stef. Her big blue eyes pin him down, she does not blink. Stef seats himself on the other side of the table. he picks up a cup, and takes a sip. The tea is obviously still bitter, as he has trouble finishing the cup. All that time Franca is watching him precisely. After his third sip, she takes a ebony briefcase. the briefcase is inlayed with mother of pearl. It is a backgammon game.
Franca starts to put the stones on the board. The stones are made of bone and ebony, they are not perfectly round, they seem to be hand carved. The felt on which the stones are put is of course, red.
Franca
so you want to win?
Stef
that is not the goal
Franca
then what is the goal to you?
Stef
The game, the tactics, the moves you make to distract the other from that which is really important to you.
Franca
Everybody wants to win if they play against me, because i never loose.
stef
(interrupts her)
the element of chance, if you only have bad dice, i win.
franca
(ignores his remark)
we play for 64 points. and you are the one to decide how quickly we get there. Each of us is free to double the stakes at any time. If you really think you want to win at a certain point, you are allowed to double.
It is obvious that stef is irritated. He is not in the mood for a game that could take hours. He still cannot believe that she sent him over just to play a stupid game. He is moving uncomfortably at his pillow and looks rather galled at Franca. His eyebrows go up, he does not have a clue of what she is getting at.
Franca
Ahh, but it is not just a game. We still have to decide the prize for the winner, and the punishment for the looser.
Stef
punishment
Ahh, does the conversation now take a turn that stef is not pleased about at all. Reward, Punishment, that is only fun if it is a game indeed. Franca is way too serious. He distrusts her smile. But he keeps mum. He tries to observe her moves, as to find out what she wants.
franca
This is an incredibly old backgammon set. Did you know that the game has been played for centuries and that the rules have hardly ever been changed?
Stef
nope, i only know that backgammon is played in coffee-shops by people who are way to stoned to do anything else.
Franca
Too true, but those guys only play to win. I want us to play to loose.
Stef
So that we can receive punishment
Franca
one of us will be punished
Stef
and who decides what the punishment will be?
Franca
ohh, the looser gets to choose his own penalty.
there it is again: her sweetest smile. she takes another sip. Stef takes another sip.
Stef
you are beyond weird
and your tea tastes like piss.
Franca blinks her eye to stef. but reaaaallly slowly. as in slow-motion, more of a grimace. There is no kindness in that gesture.
And Cut. The director of the movie has to step in now. the scene is way to static there is no advancement in the scene, it is not working. But the scene will have an end one day. I can even tell you how it will end, i have a feeling that my prediction is pretty accurate as well. It will be far from an happy ending. But it will be a pretty one, aesthetically. These two will start playing. And she will play to loose. She has a good reason for that. I have a feeling that the game will take weeks, and that she will not be defeated easily, even if her goal is to loose. The punishment she will inflict on herself is that she will become his.
And the tea? Opium of course, you silly!
R. rolled over on the bed and gestured me to hand me a cigarette. i gave it to him. He smoked it. "so, you take drugs, and you like to play games with men?" i answered that i used to take drugs, but never too many, my only addiction ever had been the cigarettes. "but you like games?" "not unless you mean the backgammon, it is just a story" R. said he felt that this story was a goodbye story to someone i did play games with. i said it was a make believe, a moviescript. "this story is true. i can feel it. you are playing, and you know you have lost. anyway i have to sleep. see you tomorrow same time."
i went back to my room. all had changed. i did not feel comfortable anymore. maybe R. was right, and maybe this was the moment i was loosing the game.
My affair had been waiting. we took a bath, We and we made out, but we didn´t make love. During the night I willed myself to be in love with him, but it just didn’t work. And in that one expensive night, we lost our friendship. The whole precious mild erotic summer that had cherrished and embraced us so tenderly had evaporated. We were now balancing most uncomfortably between awkwardness and contempt for the other. But that night, as I lay beside him, watching him sleep, i knew it was over. I woke up some time during the night, and saw him sitting at the desk, he was writing something. In the morning he had gone, and i found this letter, written on the stationary of the Majestic hotel. And I think that two years later we once met on the street and just said hi to one another.
Dear Fräülein,
But it is strange. I don’t know why exactly, still can´t put my finger on it. This afternoon and night was a kind of dream. Very nice, sweet, but I don’t know who you are anymore. I would have wanted the whole thing to be just casual and nice fun, but I think that it was too important for me in hindsight to say it was just that. And now, I can just feel the loss of our casualness and niceness. It will never be just fun again. The innocence has dissapeared forgood. Something is now between us and that naivity. Now, I cant stop thinking that from now on you think that I and I think that you think, but I know myself, and I do know that in a couple of weeks I will be me again. So please let´s just agree that you will not think I feel bad about the whole thing, or that you start disliking me as in: oh dear, there he is again, feeling bad about what happened. Because then I will start avoiding you, and that would only make you think etcera etcetra and so forth and on. I am sure I will be my good old self in a couple of weeks, we can hang out together again, drink cheap lambrusco and play cards as we always do. I still just want to be your pall. Want us to laugh about stupid people wearing the wrong kind of shoes and watch star trek the next generation..
The whole night we have now spent, you have not once said my name. Not when i stroked your hair, not when you kissed me. I really felt a lot for you. This summer, you were one of the most important people I have met in a long long time. I fell in love with your body, your sense of humor and your way of looking at things.
Very attractive, but I am not one to play with fire.
So, it is au revoir ma cherie.
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