Scarface The Book

To many, the nickname 'Scarface' brings to mind the image of Al Pacino slumped behind a massive desk piled with mounds of cocaine, yet few are aware that the iconic 1983 Brian DePalma film is in fact a remake of a 1932 black and white film directed by Howard Hawks and produced by renowned aviation entrepreneur Howard Hughes. Fewer still are aware that the '32 film was based on a 1930 novel by Maurice Coons written under the pen name Armitage Trail.

Scarface '83 was a film of incredible popularity in a time of action-packed movies where triumphant endings were the norm, and yet it is a tragedy by the end of which everyone is dead. This phenomenon is intriguing for, while that big studios will always push for love interest and happy endings, this film, which did the opposite, has reached an incredible cult status.

The '32 film, though amusing, is quite toned down in comparison to its remake. Here the characters are Italian, not Cuban, and the illicit traffic of the day is bootlegged liquor, not cocaine. And yet the gist of the tragedy is the same: a young (foreign) Upstart who is more ambitious than his moderate boss; the boss's girl, a cold shouldered trophy dame whom the Upstart covets; the womanizing best friend, or right hand man, who is loyal to the Upstart until he falls in love with his sister; the young sister who, once a symbol of innocence for the Upstart, is now involved in the same shameless world he is; the alienated mother who is ashamed of her son and, of course, classy clothing, surprise murders, gang rivalry, law enforcement persecution and police corruption.

Now, the book, is slightly different.

Mr. Trail spent two of his years in Chicago frequenting the hang-outs of these Italian-American characters (gangsters glorified in so many movies). It does not come any closer to the source than this, and it gave me a great thrill to read the work of someone who was witness to the very history that he wrote about.

Mr. Trail tells a story measured in its violence (compared to '83) and moderate in its social commentary (compared to '32) and yet more gritty at its core. Think a film noir. It is the story of Tony Guarino (a veiled biography of Al Capone) from the days of his youth until his ultimate demise. The elements of tragedy explained earlier are there, but toned down in function of a dynamic story which is unique and exciting.

Now, while the '83 film blames cocaine heavily for the Upstart's downfall, the novel points out how following a lifestyle of crime and violence invariably leads to a tragic end because of the very people it attracts, namely, back-stabbing acquaintances who will be around only so long as they see a profit in doing so, but will betray, sell out, and flee when most needed.

In the novel, Tony Guarino, or Tony Camonte as he later renames himself, eventually tires of fighting, but realizes all too late that he has a wolf by the ears, and that as soon as he lets it go he will be chewed to pieces. Hence there is no retirement for gangsters, only a fight to the death.

Armitage Trail does not delve on descriptions, yet this has its charm too. Because he was describing the Chicago of his own time, he did not feel the need to, assuming that everyone would know, for example, what a car looked like, though for us today, we would need to Google the image of a 1920's car to specifically see what he referred to. This is not a period piece but a piece written in its period.

Now it must be said that this edition, by Blackmask.com, is an editorial joke, riddled with spelling and orthographic errors, yet legible all the same. So be prepared to see some pretty bad typos and mistakes as you read along.

The novel itself, by Armitage Trail, is incredibly exciting and fun to read.

Scarface is a must read, as even for those not interested in the genre will find it thrilling, and especially for those who find themselves enjoying HBO's Boardwalk Empire, for they go hand in hand.

Saving Terminator: Salvation

I never saw the movie. I stopped caring about the franchise at Terminator 3, which I also did not see. I did not see T3 because it was clearly a poor re-hatch of the amazing T2. And Salvation? Well, when I heard it starred whats-his-face as a terminator with a heart I lost any interest immediately. Why? Because the producers are recycling the same premise with a different wrapping: what it is to be human.

And while T1 had the simple premise of robots from the future, T2 focus almost exclusive on the question of what it is to be human. We see it when John Connor tells the Terminator he cannot kill people. Why? Because he can’t! We see Sarah Connor muse on this when she sees her son playing with the Terminator... the perfect father. Sarah Connor also sees some children playing with toy guns and ponders on the self-destructive nature of man. And further Sarah Connor tries to kill a man for a crime he has not comited yet.

So what premise would I have used to approached the script for Salvation? Easy: prophesy.

You see, prophesies and ‘the chosen one’ are staples of fantasy ( over used tropes, really ) yet rarely used in Sci-Fi. But here it lent itself perfectly. It is a time traveling prophecy. Imagine this:

We start Salvation in the future with a battle hopelessly lost by the human resistance.
Skynet win.
John Connor is already a grown man and an established leader.
He sees his people die and suffers tremendously because of it.
The people believe it is hopeless.
But John Connor knows better.
He knows that at some point Skynet will send a T800 to the past and try to kill him.
He knows someone called Kyle Reese is sent back in time to save him.
He knows Kyle Reese is his father.
He also knows that later Skynet will send a T1000 on a second attempt.
He knows the T1000 was foiled by a reprogrammed T800 sent back in time.
This T800 John Connor knew, personally, from his childhood (Terminator 2: Judgement Day)

But how did this happen?
Here is an outline of how I would have drafted the script:

The resistance is being crushed and there is no sight of a Skin Tissue T800.
John Connor knows that his past could not have happened at least until these models have been created and deployed. 
The resistance despairs.
But John Connor encourages them on. He knows that his fate is coming.
Then he is assigned a new sergeant: Kyle Reese.
John Connor knows that he is his father.

Bam! Father issues!

John Connor knows that the time is approaching.
Yet he cannot share this knowledge with anyone because they would think that he went crazy.
Bam! Imagine the drama of not being able to confide on the very people you are trying to save.
He confides on a Hacker.
John and Kyle ( son and father ) go into battle.
Kyle Reese proves himself a brave soldier, but he has lost his faith.
John Connor tells him, ‟No Fate but what we Make, it is what my mother used to tell me. Here is a picture of her for you, Kyle, so she can inspire you to continued the fight.” 

Bam! Next battle, a Skin Tissue T800 infiltrates the headquarters and the resistance loses another battle.
This is the scene where Kyle Reese looses the photo of Sarah Connor to the flames, seen in Terminator 1.
While everyone dispeirs, John Connor has hope because the sight of the Skin Tissue T800 means that the wheels of fate have been put motion. Now it is a matter of finding the time machine. But how?

They capture the T800 which infiltrated the base.
The Hacker hacks into its CPU.
They get the location and the floor plans for the time travel facility.
The resistance wants to follow John Connor’s leadership but raiding the facility is suicide.
Plus many believe he is delusional with the whole time machine idea.
Because how could it be possible?

John Connor convinces the other generals. They decide to create a diversion battle while a crack team infiltrates the facility, including John Connor, Kyle Reese, the Hacker, and the hacked T800.

A double action sequence ensues, where the resistance outside is massacred in the diversion while the crack team reaches the time machine.
They see Skynet send the Skin Tissue T800 back in time to 1986.
BTW: This battle is part of the Terminator lore, so it lines up with the previous movies seemlesly ;)
The crack team is discovered and outnumbered by T800 models.
But the Hacker hacks into the local network and overrides Skynet.
He takes control of every T800 in the facility.
The team is saved.
They send Kyle Reese back in time to 1984.

The Hacker thinks they are done.
But John tells him they need to reprogram another Skin Tissue T800.
They need to send it back to the year 1990s.
BTW: This is a production mistake because, for John Connor to be 10 years old in Terminator 2 the film would have needed to take place in 1995.  ;)
 
The Hacker does not understand why but he reprograms the Skin Tissue T800.
They send it back in time.
He also finds a Classified file in the Computer Mainframe.
It is for a prototype named T1000.
With the hacked batalion of T800s, the Hacker and John Connor set the time traveling machine with explosives.

As they are leaving the facility, the Prototype T1000 emerges from the lab.
It is informed by Skynet to kill John Connor.
The T1000 sees John Connor running away with his team.
The T1000 walks to the time machine.
It sees the last travel log ( 1990s )
It chooses to walk into the time machine instead of chasing adult John.
It sets off the time machine even as the explosives mark the countdown.
In a blinding flash, the T1000 disappears before the whole facility explodes.
It travels back to the last destination, 1990

In the future, the facility explodes with a bang and flames.
No more time machine and no more T units. 
The team runs to help the resistance.
With the hacked T800s, John Connor and the Hacker arrive to save the remnants of the resistance. The battle is won. Yeh!

And then the Hacker says that he has acquired access codes which allow him to hack any T800 unit within a 1km radius. The resistance has the advantage, and there is hope for the future. 

The End.

What do you think?





 

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The Pit That Cannot Be Filled

Dear Ramon,

I was happy to read your letter. As far as your question is concerned - whether moving to The States would be a good move for you - let me tell you a few things.

If the question is whether to travel or not, my answer will always be the same: travel. You have to see the world with your own eyes. Life is meant to be experienced.

To move there? Why not? Give yourself a year or two at the most, and journey as much as you can while you are there.

And as far as happiness is concerned, I don’t think that it is something that you will find there, nor in any other place.

Fist of all, happiness is an illusion, it is a trick of Nature to keep an individual struggling and struggling to obtain more and more. It is a pit that cannot be filled, because it was so designed.

One is wiser to search for Realization. The difference? Simple: Happiness is based on what one can obtain from this world, while Realization is based on what one can give to the world.

These are my thoughts. I hope they give you perspective.

Take care,

-Georg

Re-Reading George RR Martin

Game Of Thrones Theme - Piano

Game of Thrones... Three words which are enough to erupt fervour in any fan of the series. From binge-watchers to cos-players, Game Of Thrones has spawned a legion of followers who know and either love or hate every detail about it. Hell, the show even won at the Emmys while I was writing this blog!

I first came across Game Of Thrones years ago. I was living in L.A. at the time, working at a Best Buy in Porter Ranch, when I wondered into the break-room to see my colleague Micah reading a book. I had a lot or respect for Micah because he was an extremely smart and charismatic scholar, so seeing him so absorbed in this huge tome which he was reading could only spark my interest.

"What are you reading, man?" I asked.

"Why don't you take a look?" Micah offered me the book.

I then did what I usually do when appraising a potential read, and that is to open it on a random page and start reading it from there - spare me the cover, the summary, the endorsements and the intro; I like to jump straight into the middle of a book and let its style and substance persuade me on their own. And it did.

I started reading where Micah had left off, and it was that brutal scene where Tyrion falls in love with a country girl only to learn that she was a whore who had been paid for by his older brother Jamie ( If you have not read the books, then you probably don't know what I am referring to - sorry). I was so riveted by the prose that Micah had to interrupt me a few times and literally pull the book away from my hands. I purchased myself a copy that same day. Three days later, I had finished reading it and I was out to purchase the next book in the series. I was literally falling asleep with the book in my hands only to wake up and continue reading. So enthusing was the discovery of George RR Martin.

The impact this work had on my life cannot be understated. First of all, having grown complacent and cynical after years of watching predictable big budget movies and reading cheesy over-emotional fantasy novels, discovering this gritty and utterly volatile epic was like being born again as a spectator. The descriptions were so lavish, the character so human and the plot so counter-intuitive, that it was impossible to predict what would happen as much as it was impossible to stop reading to find out.

Secondly, this book found me at a time when I was giving up on music. At the time, things were not working out for me and so I had decided on a life change. Reading Georg RR Martin, I remembered my own naive efforts at writing when I was nine, efforts which I revisited and then abandoned once and again along the course of my adolescence and adulthood. It gave me hope that 'good stories' were possible, and so it spurred me to - once again - revisit my naive efforts at writing, but this time with a vengeance.

I began to write even as I continued to read. I remember I got into the habit of underlining every word that Martin wrote which I did not know or did not understand. Then I would sit down with a dictionary, pen and paper, and search for the definition of each, writing these down as I went. I can still remember sitting at a café in North Hollywood, where the waiter, seeing me with the dictionary, came up to me and said, "I am sorry, but I have to ask, are you reading a freaking dictionary?!"

I only laughed.

He did not know about Game Of Thrones then.

I bet he knows about it now.

Part of me misses the days to follow when - while travelling through Scotland - I would run into a fellow traveller with a copy of Game Of Thrones in his hand. We would then engage in an exciting and passionate conversation to which only a few were privy.

Seeing the expansive growth of Game of Thrones fans after the début of the HBO series has left me with mixed feelings. In a way, I suppose that I suffer from the Black Album syndrome as suffered by the fans of Metallica when - upon the release of their Black Album in 1991 - everyone and their sister was singing along to the lyrics of Enter Sandman.

And please don't misunderstand me, the production executed by HBO is unbelievable. Not in my wildest dreams could I have hoped for such a truthful adaptation, and I believe most fans of the books feel the same way.

And - by the way - this 'truthfulness' to the source material in this production has everything to do with Martin having worked in network TV before. He was fully aware of all the artist traps which producers and studios lay out before unsuspecting writers. He bid his time, turning down one offer after the other, until the producers David Benioff and D.B. Davis convinced him to meet for lunch... A lunch which lasted long enough for the diner crowd to begin to flock into the restaurant.

But back to the fandom. Practically everyone who has had a chance to watch at least one episode of the HBO series is now a fan. And that is saying something. They go round saying things like, "Winter is Coming," or "Khaleesi," at which part of me wishes they had a chance to know more about the characters and their back stories. The books are so full of them. So I ask them, "Have you read the books?"

"No..."

"You should."

Now, I do not want to be that bitter Metallica fan who accuses the band of selling out. I rather chose to approach it as George RR Martin himself approaches it in his interviews, that is, "The books and the show are two completely independent animals."

With that perspective in mind, it is easy to accept the differences between one epic and the other, as well as accepting fans from one media to the other. I think that HBO fans are extremely lucky to live in a time when HBO Game Of Thrones exists. I am happy for them. That being said, I whole-heartedly encourage them to take the time to read the books. They are awesome.

I have already re-read the first book in The Song Of Ice And Fire series - Game Of Thrones. Only last year did I read the latest instalment - A Dance With Dragons - and currently I am re-reading the second instalment - A Clash Of Kings.

From a writer's point of view, the craft of Georg RR Martin is nothing short of exquisite. His choice of words, his sentence and paragraph structure, his weaving of plot and flashbacks, are all carefully laid out like a flawless tapestry. For as much as his readers complain about him taking too long to publish his books - and I am one of them - it must be said that once his work is published it is nothing short from perfection.

Secondly, from an HBO fan point of view, there are dozens of sub-plots and details which the TV series had to inevitably leave out, just because of the sheer time-constraints of video production. There is so much richness to the world which Georg RR Martin created that, if a fan loves the TV series, reading the book will be nothing short from orgasmic.

Thirdly, even as an original reader, then TV fan and then re-reader, it is fascinating to peruse the epic with knowing eyes. There are so many clues, so many insinuations and so many back-stories and motivations which eluded one's attention upon the first read, and yet they are so obvious upon a second read when knowing of things which are still to pass.

For example, the opening of A Clash Of Kings tells us how Maester Cressen tried to poison Melissandrae with the Tears of Lys... The very poison used to kill King Joffrey at the Purple Wedding. Also, while sitting at court with Bran in Winterfell, we are exposed to the entire back-story of the Bastard Of Bolton, long before his appearance and prominence as Theon's torturer and his eventual occupation of Winterfell castle. Upon a first read, this back-story blends with the many back-stories narrated for characters as they stepped into the plot, and easily forgotten. But, upon a second reading, we can see how meticulous George RR Martin was to plant each of these seeds in place so that they would germinate and flourish later.

In conclusion, the craft of George RR Martin is something that goes beyond the simple telling of a story. It is art in its purest form, and as such, it can be appreciated over and over again, with more understanding each time, and with more admiration each time.

If you have not had the chance to read the books, do yourself a favour and purchase/download a copy today. It will change your world. I know, because it changed mine.

.

A Writer As A Storyteller

When I arrived in Prague, while looking for work as an ESL teacher, I came across an ad for Mysterium Tour. This company - a night tour company narrating tales and legends of Old Prague - was looking for a narrator in English to guide tours round Old Town.

Having learned already of the thriving tourism business in Prague, and reading about the Gothic-themed experience which Mysterium offered, I was very excited to apply.

I met with the owner, Andrea Arciacona, one afternoon for a brief interview. Liking what he saw, he then invited me to take part in a tour alongside him - a tour guided by a Russian storyteller of his - and then invited me to take the next step, which was to study and learn a script which I would later narrate to him.

I studied the script intensely for a few days, knowing how much my situation relied on this offer. I had no acting training whatsoever even though in my head I fancied myself capable of the craft were I to dedicate myself to it. And I was not far wrong, though I had not counted on the difficulty of memorizing as script word per word.

I met with Andrea in one of Prague’s many twisting, cobblestone streets, and there I narrated for him the tale of the headless horseman - a Bohemian legend. It was fun. And Andrea was impressed. I then decided to show off (cocky man that I am) and asked him if I he wanted to for me to narrate some of the other stories which had been narrated during the tour which we had followed a few nights before. I did and he was even more impressed.

So began my career at Mysterium Tour Prague. It was slow at first, with many tours led for a mere romantic couple or two, all in the cold of the winter in Prague. But with each tour I better remembered the scripts and further improved my delivery. Then came the point when I could recite the stories so well that I could take a step back and analyse them as stories in themselves.

Enter the author. With years of research and practice under my belt, I took a good look at these legends and realized that many of them were missing something... a certain spark which might not have been necessary to folk sharing these tales in the dark of a lantern lit tavern, but which was necessary for the sophisticated audiences of today.

I returned to the source material to ensure that I did not digress from the originals, and then began to fill in the plot holes with character flaws, laws and beliefs of the times, and vivid descriptions to bring the stories to life.

So the legends which were humble paragraphs on the page became tales of riveting dynamic when told during the tours. Our guests engaged in them much more and could relate to them much better, identifying with the human element which has been the common to every great tale since the beginning of time.

As an author, I could not be more elated to enjoy this experience. Telling stories on paper - that is, on word processors - and telling them live to an intimate audience are two completely different experiences, and yet each of them benefited from the other. As a story teller, I offer pauses and decoys which keep the people in suspense, just like as a writer I make us of the element of detail and improvisation to make my prose all the more engaging.

-Georg Freese

Senior Storyteller

www.MysteriumTours.com/Prague

Enter this code for a discount when booking:

mt-Georg

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The Thirty-Eighth Milestone

Well, many people have asked for another milestone blog entry. I am flattered. Yet the interesting thing to me is that you get to read both of these posts in one evening while for me it has been a whole year since I posted 'The 37th Milestone.'

And a lot has changed in that year.

I now live in Prague, Czech Republic. I am learning Czech. Its a cool language.
I now live in a flat with two awesome girls, one from France, the other from Tennessee. I play piano at a hostel, I tell stories at night tours, and I teach English. And all of these together sustain my living. It is awesome - Every one of these "activities" I love, and I get paid for each one of them!

Also, I've met a lot of girls since I arrived here.  I had a brief romance with a Czech girl who is now  one of my closets friends. In fact, all of my friends here are girls, including my BFF from Budapesht.

And yes, I am still single.

I am now spectacularizing the flat where I live. I am pimping out the bedroom and bathroom. I love doing home-improvement stuff like that. I love to cook as well, and in Prague I have cooked often and for many people.

I've gotten to know every winding street and vista in this Magic City.

I watched a 'fight club style' tournament of medieval armoured fighters in a list surrounded by crowded stands. I was in the front row.

I've rowed a boat round the Vltava River with an adorable friend.

I've been to Budapesht.

So, truly, much has changed since I was living in Upstate New York. Ha! I can't say that I had predicted all of this, but Prague has been everything that I could have hoped for... And more.

I sincerely wish that all people get to experience fulfilment like I am doing now.

The Thirty-Eighth Milestone.
38 years old.
Man, it feels weird to write that number.
Even more so to read it.
Am I supposed to feel old?
Because I don't.
Not at all.
I am exactly where I want to be.
And I am exactly who I want to be.

na zdravi

-Georg Freese
June 3, 2015

Little by Little, my first day in Prague.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014. 14:00.
Hostel common room. Empty. Sunny outside.

Dear Aleksandra,
In keeping with the tradition introduced last summer, I will tell you of my adventures in diary-entry format.

My first day in Prague was not pleasant. Czech people are very reserved and have no apparent sense of humour... taking my cheekiness for rudeness. This type of cultural mistranslation I expected, but it was lame to experience all the same.

I checked into the hostel, took a shower and went out to see Eva's flat [ Eva being a person whom I had contacted the week before regarding the rent of a room ]. The flat was surprisingly close to downtown and not too difficult to find - though maps are impossible to follow in a city where there is not a single straight street to be found anywhere!

Eva was nice, but the flat not so much so. The room was old and dusty. There was no living/dining room and the kitchen was quite small. Still, I would have considered it for the convenience of its location and immediacy, except for that Eva was asking for 10,000 Ck deposit on top of the 7,600 monthly to move in. I told her I would think about it, because whipping out 17,600 CK would leave me with very little to live with until I can secure an income.

I took a lonely walk along the riverside worrying about money, rent and work. As I smoked my cigarette, I was haunted by feelings of regret, fear and existentialism.

When I got to the old town square I was starving so I bought myself a bratwurst from a stand. I tell you, Spanish food does not hold a candle to Czech food. Czech food is fucking delicious - the mere scent of it is mouth-watering. The lady there then tried to cheat me from my change. I knew that she would, because I had done my homework and learned that this is what they do to tourists regularly. When she saw me counting the coins suspiciously, she thought better of it and gave me the rest of my change (20 Ck.). Bitch.

Old Town square was full of titi bar peddlers, tour guide hustlers and pickpockets. I did not enjoy it because it felt like a field of tourist traps and, even though I do not consider myself a tourist, not speaking a word of Czech pretty much made me one.

I walked into a random bar for a pilsner beer. This was a local's pub where no one spoke any English. The most awkward transaction followed where I asked the lady behind the counter for a beer, she gave me a receipt for 42 Cz, I handed her a 200 Ck note and she gave me 358 Ck change. I tried to tell her that she gave me too much change - which was weird, since I was prepared to haggle over being short changed, not over changed. The woman said I had given her a 500 note, which still would not have made sense mathematically. I insisted in giving her the 200 note back but she only accepted the 100 one - presumably as a tip. So basically, I was paid 58 Ck to drink a beer at that bar. Sweet.

I returned to the hostel in low spirits, checked my emails, found no replies to my work applications or flat rentals. I then balanced my funds and decided to go for Eva's flat. Unfortunately, Eva replied saying that she had decided for another applicant with whom she had met the day before. Whatever.

Everything was coming to shit quite quickly, so I decided to do what I do best: meet, charm, learn and explore.

I started with the girl at the reception - because talking to girls is always fun. Her name was Hanna and she was incredibly cool and helpful. After confirming some of my views about Prague and providing me with additional resident's information, she directed me to a hole-in-the-wall pub round the corner where I would find English speakers, weed and a piano... My kinda place.

I found the pub after wondering round the streets for a little bit - god damn it is easy to get lost in a city with nothing but crooked streets! I met a friendly dude at the door - Marcus, from Serbia, who spoke good English and guided me inside the pub. He showed me the piano and then took me to the girl with the weed. I prized him with a pint of Pilsner which, at 35 Ck, was a give away. (US$ 1.62, or EU 1.2).

So we ended up outside the pub with a couple and a group of Germans, smoking weed and drinking pints... Right across from a Police Station! Gotta love Europe.

We went back inside and started jamming at one and then another of the three pianos available. They were all fucked one way or another, and barely playable. Anyhoo, I ended at the smokers patio jamming at the piano there with this German/Czech dude playing guitar and this girl singing. People were loving it and clapping between songs. After a while we ran out of beer, so I decided to go around with my hat in my hand asking for beer money for the band. I got enough Korunas to buy three pints and still had some change! Ha!

So we partied until they kicked us out, sometime round three.

I had forgotten what it was like sleeping in a hostel... people walking in and out in the middle of the night, boys and girls in their small clothes - myself included - and random travellers making out in the hallway. It was hilarious. It was rejuvenating.

I woke up the next day for the hostel breakfast. It was awesome. They eat whole grain bread here in Czech (a concept seemingly unknown in Spain), and their sausages (and I am assuming that these must be the cheaper ones) were delicious. So where the eggs, and the cheese, and the pancakes, and the coffee. No, I tell you, Aleksandra, food in Czech is fucking amazing.

Thereafter I browsed the internet looking for a flat and a job, sent a few applications and then chilled for a bit.

I then talked to Brent, whom I had chatted with briefly during breakfast earlier. I had then overheard him talking with the manager about a new employment arrangement. Brent is a painter from Canada who will be redoing some of the artwork along the walls. He referred me to a guy who will be performing a marionette show here later this evening - Jill, who is from Brazil. Jill is teaching Portuguese and some other language, so I will ask him, once I meet him, if he knows of any teaching opportunities.
It was then that I noticed that there was a piano at the common room. Indeed, Marcus had told me the night before that in Prague there are pianos everywhere. So I decided to try it and, to my surprise, it was perfectly tuned and had an incredibly responsive mechanism. Playing it was a delight.

So after playing for an hour or so, and receiving the praise of the guests lounging round the room, I decided to go to the reception and meet the manager. His name is Jacob and he is super cool. I offered him a deal along the lines of playing for his breakfast crowd in the morning in exchange for accommodation. He was open to the idea so we will give it a try tomorrow at 9am. So there you go, all things willing, I will have my accommodation accounted for during the upcoming week(s) by playing breakfast piano.

Little by little, Aleksandra, little by little. 

-Georg Freese