You should know that it is also unusual for me. But because Terschelling is a small island, Oerol pulls out the strangest antics to accommodate the artists of their festival.
So I’m in a hotel with a swimming pool. And because I don’t have a swimming pool at my disposal every day, I try to go swimming every day, early in the morning when no one is there yet. I swim laps lazily, listen to that typical hollow-sounding pool music and float on my back as I count the tiles on the ceiling.
But this morning I’m not alone, a gentleman walked into the pool. He’s wearing short jeans, blue and white striped slippers, a light yellow shirt and a cap. A deep brown head, more from working than from sunbathing. He holds a package of towels from the hotel under his arm and holds a telephone and a table tripod in his hand. I recognize him as one of the men who, in fluorescent yellow suits, steer bicycle traffic in the right direction at the festival site. I think he said hello to me last night when cycling away.
He clicks his phone into the tripod and fiddles around on the screen, I can’t really see what he’s doing. Then he takes two steps back. From the pool I can see the grid of a group conversation via Zoom on his phone light up, different figures waving. The man waves back, adjusts the tripod slightly and then starts to walk around the pool. He holds his cap in his hand. He gives me a little nod, but doesn’t look at me further, keeps contact with his phone over his shoulder.
There is a hot tub in the corner of the pool. The man grabs his phone and tripod, puts both on the floor next to the hot tub, and takes off his shirt. Quickly he slides into the sparkling white water. Occasionally he waves at his screen, but he also sits with both arms on the edge for minutes, smiling broadly without saying anything. ,,Family?” I ask calling from the pool and I point to the phone. He raises his thumb in affirmation, points to the screen and yells “Tito!” back.
I saw a lot of beautiful theater on Terschelling this week. There was the boy from the snack stand who, with infinite patience, kept repeating to countless drunken people at three o’clock in the morning that they really only sold croquettes and frikandellen, the chips were gone. There were elderly people who tried to climb on their electric bicycle with modern dance and two boys who proposed to each other on the beach with twinkling lights in their eyes. But they didn’t make it to the traffic controller who was in the pool with his family.
I walk out of the pool and ask the man where his family is. “Czech Republic,” he says. ,,Hello!” a woman’s voice calls from the phone. I decide to call my mother.