Britta's Letters from (and sometimes about) Berlin
Showing posts with label Casablanca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Casablanca. Show all posts

Sunday, 21 May 2017

Movie-like Moments

©Brigitta Huegel

In my memory I have a secret collection with the working title: "Movie Moments in my Life". It is filled with thrilling snaphots - like the adventure when I was smuggled into the room of an Old Pensioner in Chelsea, or when an Oxford taxi driver stopped his taxi meter to show us Inspector Morse's locations - for free...,.
Above you see a poster of the Austrian movie "Wilde Maus" decorating my bathroom door.  (If you have good eyes and preen hard, you might see that Josef Hader - who wrote this movie and played the main part - signed it).
That movie means a lot to me, it is hilarious and touching, bizzare and yet down-to-earth.
Above you see the protagonist in a huge white field of snow, trying to kill himself by freezing slowly to death - but Life has other plans.
And my Movie Moment? 
I met a new acquaintance in a well-known café in Berlin. We chatted for hours - and after a visit to the loo I told her: "Imagine, there is the poster of that movie that means so much to me!"
When another hour later we decided to leave, my new acquaintance said: "Wait a minute - I will just spend a penny." So I waited, patiently and quite long.
She came back, face aglow. Under her arm a huge white paper roll. "Let's go - quick!" she hissed.
I followed.
"It was so difficult to peel it off the wall", she said triumphantly. "Took me ages!"
And then she handed itover  to me.
"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." as Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca has said.






Saturday, 15 June 2013

"Look into my eyes, babe!"


In the German synchronisation of 'Casablanca', Humphrey Bogart says "Look into my eyes, babe" instead of 'Here's lookin' at you, kid". With my eyes I had a special adventure yesterday, on my way to the Sales. It was very difficult to find Southern Moulton Lane! When I asked a young man if he could show me the way I didn't realize that he was a salesperson - sorry: the manager of a cosmetic firm called Gold-Oro (they might have thought "Make assurance double sure!", or "Even the simplest person will fall for gold + gold.") 
I should have become suspicious when he asked me to come into the shop - to look up the address...
Inside he offered me a hand massage - "Look!", he cheered while rubbing my hand with a lotion, "look: such a marvelous result! Our Peeling hand creme is made with the ingredience 'pure gold' - so good for the skin!" I answered testily: "I love gold around my neck or finger - in form of jewels." 




"Britta", he said, "but you know the best thing you can give your skin? Gold! Ah - which skincare do you use?" "Shiseido." "Good - very good - but you know: We sell ... Luxury!". He told me the price of the 'Luxury' - for one eycream they wanted 500 GBP!
"But it will last for two years!" he said - forgetting that just before he had told me it is not good when skin 'get used to a cream like Shiseido for a long time.'
He was not only very talkative, very beautiful and touching me all the time (I thought of the Moomin-figures called "Klippdass" in German Moomins - they leave little sticky footprints wherever they go) - no, he knew every trick in the book. He even invited me to holidays in his house in Israel!
When I announced that I had to go now he became imploring, and started to haggle like a carpet dealer.
Can you imagine: I would have got that wonder cream - but only NOW! that offer would be only valid if I buy NOW! - for a paltry sum of 200 GBP - and when I announced my leaving again, he added a facial 'for nothing' that normally would cost me 85 GBP.
One characteristic of mine is that I can be stubborn as a mule. And I am not daft: I have written a 250 page manuscript on beauty and beauty products. And I am schooled in negotiation too.
So I tapped him on his arm, looked as deep into his beautiful eyes as he had in mine, and said - as he had done: "Love - you are such a charming man! I'm sorry to disappoint you - it hasn't be your fault, you were very good - but sorry - I have to go now." As I saw his crestfallen face I added soothingly: "Maybe I think about it all and come back."
He said: "In the next life." Then he laughed.
Which showed me: he wasn't daft either. And a good guy, underneath the salesperson.
As I.