Sophie's Smokin' Slavnosti

With three weeks under my belt, Cesky Krumlov continues to work out nicely.  I have vowed to nary wander from my bridge following an unpleasant experience playing in the town center in which the guy running a Bohemian Crystal store blasted music insanely high, definitely killing his own business, to either drown me out or get me to move.  So degrading.

But the good news is that my marionette is working!  I was having a hard time getting her to move how I wanted, but luckily there are TWO marionette museums in this town.  So I went to one of them on a rainy day, tried and failed to get in for free since it was a professional visit, and examined the wares.  Sure enough, looking at them (particularly legs and feet) gave me some ideas, and now my girl is dancing better!

Photo from my 2012 Cesky Krumlov visit

I also happened to meet an engineer who took a look at it and came up with some great solutions to improve the setup as well.  Time to take a trip to a Czech hardware store!

Improvements aside, the marionette took last weekend off.  The third weekend in June means one thing to Cesky Krumlov: Slavnosti Pětilisté Růže, or the Five-Petalled Rose celebration.  The already medieval town goes back in time and fills the squares, gardens, and theaters with era-appropriate entertainment and events.  Admission is free for people in costume, and many visitors and locals get into it and dress up.  My hostel's owner said that when her kids were babies, she covered them in knedlíčky dough and claimed they had the plague.  Whatever works!

And so the town was full of peasants, wenches, lords and ladies, monks.  Even Jesus, a jolly executioner, and a totally partied-out Mozart.  There were jesters, jugglers, snake charmers, and knights performing alongside rustic stalls selling sausages, Trdelník, warm mead, and beer.

On Friday I simply enjoyed the festivities (damn that mead is strong!), planning to busk Saturday.  I didn't think I could throw together a relevant costume in time, and planned to just wear my normal piano outfit.  But in people-watching I noticed many women wearing stuffed donut-like hats, and contemplated my inventory.  With the extra piano fabric I brought for emergencies and a needle and thread, I was able to follow the instructions on this awesome website and make a proper hat.  I stuffed it not with the hair of a dead woman as the instructions suggest, but with spare plastic bags:
 
http://www.virtue.to/articles/women_roll_hats.html

My friend and coworker Karen french-braided my hair and, with the hat on, decided my outfit would look better if I rolled up the top and rocked a hybrid belly-dancer look.  It's the rare occasion that I expose my belly (last time, for a college musical, a friend used stage makeup and expert shading to give me a six-pack), and I was glad to be in costume.  I learned that playing accordion with an exposed stomach gives you funny red marks that I have decided to call Bellow Belly.  Here are some photos of the styling session:

And Saturday I busked.  I opted to not bring my whole set-up because I wanted to be mobile.  So I walked around all day with my accordion on my back and collected tips in a basket lined with more piano fabric.

Festivals can be tricky, because heightened foot traffic doesn't always mean good tips.  Especially if folks pay admission to enter; they think all entertainment is included.  Luckily I did okay on the nice side street leading to the brewery which hosted events all day.  It wasn't mobbed, but steady foot traffic.  All the buskers were out, including several children playing "Greensleeves" on stringed instruments.

Of course, I don't have a great repertoire for medieval fairs.  Naturally I looped "Game of Thrones" as often as possible, punctuated with the odd Italian or Irish song.  At night I busted out the pop music.  Game of Thrones was a huge hit, and made me the vast majority of my tips for the weekend.  At one point, Jon Snow walked by.  That is, a guy with semi-shaggy dark hair wearing a black cloak with a fur top and carrying a sword with a white handle.  He showed signs of recognizing the song, so I asked him, "Jon Snow?"  He nodded.  So I said, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."  And he politely smiled and nodded, not understanding.  Oh come on!

Later that night, when my accordion was safely at home, I was walking to meet up with friends, and I came upon two cloaked figures in front of me.  One was humming Game of Thrones and I sincerely hope it was because of me.

I had an afternoon session, then didn't pick up again until about 22:30.  I've always said that busking is better when it's dark out, but it gets dark so late here that that doesn't happen in normal life.  But here the streets were still packed, and I did well playing until midnight when the fireworks began.  A man in a peasant outfit came by pulling a wagon full of sheep skins.  Sheep skins and an adorable little boy, also in peasant garb.  He barely fit in the wagon, lying down, and I think the idea was for me to play him to sleep.  He just watched me with his eyes open, smiling.  Warmed my heart. 

I tried playing after the fireworks, too, when people were leaving.  This wasn't great, but I achieved something I hadn't done before: busking after midnight.  I ended the night on my bridge, where the day began.  These two guys came by and started talking, so we did the standard charade of identifying English as the language to speak.  One of them held out his beer to me, and said, "Tasting?"  I declined, and his friend offered me a cigarette.  When I declined that too, they asked, "But what do you need?"  I said, "Nothing."  So the first guy said, kindly mocking, "I'm happy playing on the bridge; I don't need anything!"

Over the weekend I met another performer in the oft-tiny world of buskers: Paolo Garbanzo.  He hails from Virginia although he's the official court jester of a castle in England.  It turns out we know a few people in common, and have been at the same festivals at the same time.  Go figure.  Nice to know one more person in the field!

My favorite tipper of the weekend was a local bank teller.  Twice I've gone in to change coins into bills, and this one guy has helped me, and done so very warmly.  But everywhere I go when I show up to a bank with coins or $1 bills, I can't help but hope the teller is curious about where I got it all.  Here is no different, so I was pleased when this guy walked by in normal clothes with a lady, said hello, and tipped for Game of Thrones.

Equally heart-warming was this older very friendly cop, whom I met my first day busking.  He's the one who saw me drinking out of my water bottle and asked if it was alcohol.  Fast forward two weeks of waving when he drove by on my busking bridge: this time he walked by and asked, "Where is your marionette?"  I love small towns!

I highly enjoyed the spirit of the weekend, and now, four days later, I finally cut off my admission wrist-band.  Now it's time for the music festival!  Dobrou noc!