Jiří
Yesterday, I took a super modern bus from Český Krumlov to Prague, one where you could watch a movie on a screen attached to the back of the seat in front of you. Just like in airplanes. After browsing the movies available, listed under foreign movies I checked the Czech ones. I chose Jan Svěrák’s Kolja. I had seen it ten years ago, but I wanted to see it again while riding through the Czech Republic. It’s a capturing story about a fifty-year old seducer, a bachelor and bohemian who ends up having to take care of a Russian child named Kolja. While watching the movie, I realized the apartment where the main character lives was near Malostranské náměstí, the square I used to visit every morning for at least an hour, waiting to capture something striking with my camera. But, apart from me, the square was a favorite place of Jiří a retired clerk. Jiří would sit and read newspapers every day from 09.30 to 11.00 a.m. under the only tree in the square. I had made a photo of him walking by in a red shirt three days ago. Before we would only pass by each other, but that day he sat at the table next to mine. He pulled a bunch of newspapers along with a book from an old leather briefcase and started going through them. Before turning each page, he would lick his thumb. I could sense his loneliness. My curiosity got the better of me so I struck up a conversation with him. He spoke some Croatian, which helped us understand each other. While still working at the Ministry of Economy, he used to vacation every summer at the Sibenik coast in Croatia. Now he lives alone, gravely ill. With no one to take care of him the need to talk to someone was obvious. We talked about life in Prague and the former Czechoslovakia generally. As the day wore on it became hotter. The sun had already climbed beyond the maple’s crown, shining down on our shoulders. I decided to ask him about Kolja.
- “Mister Jiří, have you ever seen Jan Svěrák’s Kolja, he won an Academy Award in 1997?”
- “Of course I have,” he said eagerly. “That’s where they shot the movie,” he pointed to a lavish baroque building, whose attic housed Luca’s oval room, the main character in the movie. “Come, let’s go inside. You’ll help me climb the stairs and smell the spirit of Kolja and Prague without tourists.”
It took us more than 15 minutes up the stairways. Jiří had to stop and rest on every stair. There were only two apartments in the attic. He leaned on one of the doors and started crying. I didn’t know what to do. I touched his shoulder, and he turned and hugged me. In tears, he said:
- “This is where I lived when they were shooting Kolja.”