Darkness.

Silence.

Water dripping somewhere.

Women giggling in the distance.

Then silence again.

More darkness.

Water dripping.

And then suddenly a bright light comes on. It completely illuminates and blinds us. For a while we can’t see anything. Then our sauna appears. It’s old and shabby and starting to fall apart. It was built in the 1970s and its basic facilities also date back to that era. There’s a sweatbox, showers, an outdoor plunge pool and a relaxation room with loungers.

We see the attendant who looks after the sauna. Then she leaves.

 

Autumn

 

So once again we’re sitting in that sauna of ours in Czech Paradise, sweating body and soul. Outside it’s autumn. And the one who’s been working in a Christmas decorations factory his whole life and is about to retire opens the door to the sweatbox in the sauna and sits down on a bench.

And the one who’s a teacher and whose wife died last year in a car accident also opens the door to the sweatbox and sits down on a bench. They sit in complete silence, sweating.

And the one who’s a taxi driver opens the door to the sweatbox, looks around, sits down and says:

– It’s like a brothel in here.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– Yeah, but without the whores.

And the one who’s a taxi driver sits down in the hottest place directly opposite the stove, where he always sits and no-one else is allowed to, and looks at the other two and says:

– What do you mean? I can see two sluts!

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– And I can see a third one!

– Hey, leave it out, right?!

– You started it.

– No, actually, you’re right. Takes one to know one, right? The main thing is we don’t play around.

– What choice do we have, eh?

And they all laugh and carry on sweating.

– I just hope you’ve had a shower.

– You and your hygiene! You’re like my old dear.

– Hey, I know what you’re like. You’re a notorious slob. The sauna is sacred – you come in here washed.

And the one who’s a fireman and saves people’s lives flings open the door to the sweatbox, goes right up to the top by the thermometer where he always sits, looks at it and says:

– Ninety-six. Yeah, yeah, yeah, bring it on. That’ll sort us out. All right, lads!

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– Did you shower?

– Yeah… Of course.

– Well, you’d better have. You’re a notorious slob too. Anyone who hasn’t washed has no right to be in a sauna!

– Sure thing, sheriff.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– Hey, what was that accident today in Ves?

And the one who’s a fireman and saves lives says:

– I don’t know. I’ll find out. I was off duty.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– Apparently some Octavia.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– It was a Fabia.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– You’re a Fabia, it was an Octavia.

– But they said it was a Fabia!

– Damn it, it was definitely an Octavia.

– I think it was a Fabia. Metallic blue, apparently.

– It was blue, yeah. But it was an Octavia.

– Fabia.

– It was an Octavia, damn it!

– Fabia.

– Bullshit, it was an Octavia! Head-on collision with a lorry. Fatal!

– I think it was a Fabia.

– You don’t make things easy. Were you there?

– No.

– There you go then.

– So you were there then?

– No, I wasn’t.

– Well, there you go then.

– But they told me it was an Octavia.

– Who did?

– A guy who was passing told me.

– And someone told me it was a Fabia that crashed into the lorry.

– Jesus, you really don’t make things easy. Why are you still arguing?

– You’re the one arguing.

– Hey, you’re a fireman, you must know what kind of car it was.

And the one who’s a fireman says:

– I told you, I don’t know. I’ll find out. I was off duty. I was chopping wood for the winter.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– And are they safe cars, those Fabias and Octavias?

– And the one who’s a fireman says:

– Safe… Hard to say. I know that when I arrive at a head-on collision and the legs are moving, then I know it’s a good car. Or the person was lucky. And if the legs aren’t moving, then I know it isn’t a good car. Or the person was unlucky.

And the one whose wife died in a car accident last year says:

– It’s awful the way people drive these days.

And the one who’s a taxi driver and used to be a driving instructor looks at him and says:

– Well, don’t look at me. It’s not my fault that people drive like animals.

And the one whose wife died last year looks at him, nods and says nothing.

And the one who’s a taxi driver looks at him again and says:

– I’m sorry. I know, your wife – she was a fine woman.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– She certainly was. We were all gutted about it.

And the one whose wife died last year looks at him and says nothing.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– I’d ban half the population from driving cars. People drive like animals.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– Because people are animals. Take all those wars. All those crises. If people weren’t such animals, the world would be a beautiful place. Everything would be in harmony, do you understand? Like poetry. Do you understand?

– I understand. But probably only half of it.

– Whatever. If you read books, you’d understand.

– But you know, a world without people, that’s impossible too.

– But a world without animals would be better.

– Well, yeah, that’s true. Maybe without you and all your crap. I’m surprised you didn’t go and study at some philosophy school.

– The communists wouldn’t let me. That’s why I make Christmas decorations, but we do export them all around the world. So what. Nothing matters.

– Yeah, yeah, the communists. Everyone’s always using them as an excuse.

– Well, you don’t have to use them as an excuse – you were a communist yourself.

– Only because I had to be.

– Sure.

– Not everyone can be a dissident, right? Anyway, it’s back in fashion again, being a communist, not a dissident.

– You can shove that fashion up your arse! And it’s you that’s talking a load of crap anyway, not me. I reflect on things, and myself most of all.

– Hey, don’t take it the wrong way, mate. There’s a bit of the animal in all of us.

And then it’s quiet for a while, the sweat drips off us and the stove crackles.

And the one who works as a fireman stands up, looks at the thermometer and says:

– Ninety-seven! That’ll sort us out. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bring it on.

And suddenly the door opens and all of us are in the sauna. The guy who sells insurance comes in.

And the one who was the national table-tennis champion.

And the one who delivers dog food.

And the one who’s a doctor for women’s bits.

And the one who’s the youngest of all.

And the one who sells cars.

And the one who spews out data in an office.

And finally the one who can’t see. And the one who’s a doctor gives him his arm and leads him to his place. All of us here have our own set place.

But no-one wants to sit in the corner opposite the stove – you’d die there.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– My wife loves me, so she does. The thing I like most is that she’s so quiet. I was really lucky that we told each other everything important during our first year together. Now we don’t have to say anything at all. She comes home, shuts herself in the living room, lights candles around her and closes her eyes. And I watch TV in the kitchen. Or read. Other people argue and shout at each other, but we enjoy our silences. And then we always have something nice to eat. She’s not a bad cook either.

And the one who can’t see and tunes pianos says:

– My wife is always wanting to talk.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– So why not find someone for her to talk to? Some old lady, so you’ll get peace and quiet.

– But I like talking to her.

– Yeah, and what about?

– Well, what she’s been doing, what she’s been reading, what she’s seen, her experiences.

– Her experiences, eh?

– Yeah, and about the kids and stuff.

– Listen, I like talking too. But with guys. Here in the sauna. I said everything I had to say to my wife ages ago. It only took a year. Now we enjoy our silences together so much, you wouldn’t believe how great it is.

And the one who’s the youngest out of all of us, who’s right at the start of the journey of his flagellum and is collecting the first scars on his dick and works in a car plant, says:

– I’m seeing an older woman at the moment – she’s about thirty. Divorced, free spirit, no worries. In the morning I open up her bathroom cabinet and see a load of toothbrushes in a glass. So I think to myself, fine, she likes brushing her teeth, that’s healthy, that’s hygienic, I brush my teeth as well, I’m hygienic too. But they belong to the guys she’s had, who’ve lived with her, who’ve slept at her place. She keeps their toothbrushes as a memento, like some kind of trophy.

And the one who’s the town’s doctor for women’s bits and is the oldest, most experienced and calmest out of all of us says:

– Such cases do occur.

– But it’s a bit out there, isn’t it? It’s not normal, is it? It’s not hygienic, or is it?

– And does she do it with passion?

– She does.

– Well, that’s the main thing. As soon as there’s no passion, then something is wrong. It doesn’t matter if it’s sex or toothbrushes. And whether it’s hygienic or not is neither here nor there. Sex is essentially not particularly hygienic. It can’t be, all those juices – it’s nature. And nature is dirty. But dirt is healthy, I can tell you that as a doctor.

And the one who’s a taxi driver turns to the one who’s about to retire and says:

– You see? And you’re always going on about hygiene.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– But there’s dirt and then there’s dirt. At the entrance to the sauna it’s clearly written that you have to shower before you go in.

And the one who’s the youngest says:

– Exactly. All of us are hygienic in the sauna.

And the one who’s a taxi driver turns to the one whose wife died and says:

– Listen, I taught everyone how to drive properly, I taught them consideration to the point where I had to pack it in and start driving a taxi so I didn’t go mad from teaching them consideration. It’s not my fault that people act like idiots and drive around as if they’re at Monte Carlo, women as well as men, and kill each other. It’s not my fault that people are animals.

And the one whose wife died last year gets up and goes off to cool down. A few of the others go too.

And the one who’s about to retire is still sweating and watches the man whose wife died leaving and says:

– His wife really was a beautiful woman. I worry that he’ll never get over it, that one day he’ll top himself.

And the one who’s a taxi driver is still sweating as well and says:

– Why would he top himself?

– I just think he will.

– He’ll get over it. There’s a bit of stuff waiting for everyone who’ll take him for a ride on the carousel.

– The carousel?

– You know, bang, bang, uh, uh, pussy and boobs, round and round like a carousel. You just have to be careful you don’t slide off and end up with one extra brat.

– Oh, like that. No, I reckon he’ll top himself soon. He’s a sensitive, educated person. He isn’t an animal like us. He’s a teacher.

– Come on, though, top himself?

– His wife really was a beautiful woman.

– Yeah, she was.

– The way she used to walk, that was nice. She had great hips. Not too big, more on the small side. But nice and rounded.

– They were big.

– No, they weren’t. They were small. Like her breasts – just the right size for a hand.

– She had big hips.

– Rubbish! They were small. Stop arguing all the time.

– You’re the one arguing. And how do you know about her breasts anyway?

– Well…we were quite friendly…

– Really?

– I mean before, obviously, a long time ago.

– Really? Good, was it?

– Yeah, it was good. But don’t tell him.

 

And the one who sells cars and travels the world fishing is lying in the relaxation room, resting.

And lying next to him on a lounger is the one who sells insurance for homes, lives and cars and he says:

– So how was the holiday?

And the other one, who sells cars, says:

– Great.

– Two weeks, was it?

– Yeah.

– Was it hot?

– Yeah, it’s in the south. It was good to be able to go there out of season.

– Weren’t you supposed to be there for a month?

– Originally, yeah.

– Two weeks with the commandant was enough, was it?

– No, it was great. A month would have been too long.

– And what do you see in front of your eyes now when you close them?

– How do you mean?

– Well, when you close your eyes, what do you see?

– Well, erm…darkness.

– Darkness?

– Darkness. Oh, like that… Well, the sea. And fish.

– After two weeks on holiday with the commandant, you see the sea?

– Yup.

– Shouldn’t you see other things after two weeks by the sea with a woman? And what about that commandant of yours?

– Oh, like that… Yeah, of course, it was great with her.

– Hey, you can’t change it now, you can’t talk your way out of it. That was a test question – what you see when you close your eyes – that’s how you can tell what it was like and how things stand between you. You can’t fix it with that sea of yours. The main thing is the commandant didn’t mind it and she liked it there.

– I reckon she did.

– You see, that’s the most important thing. It isn’t important if you like it, what’s important is always how the commandant likes it. But really, the most important thing is always to be flexible.

– What?

– Equalize the pressure. Be flexible.

– Ah-ha.

– I’m as flexible as anything.

– Really?

– Yeah, that’s the way it’s got to be. You have to be flexible. But that sea that you saw in front of your eyes after two weeks by the sea with your commandant – you can’t fix that, my friend. That’s already out there. Now you now know where you’re at.

 

A while later, in the sweatbox, the one who’s a fireman gets up, looks at the thermometer and says:

– Exactly one hundred! Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s the way. There’s no fucking about with us.

And the one who can’t see says:

– My friend who’s a piano tuner and a musician like me and is blind too – well, this friend of mine really likes sleeping. He says that when he’s sleeping he can see. He sees in his dreams.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– I once had a Vietnamese guy at the driving school, a slightly older guy, he fought in that war of theirs, and whenever there was a noise – all it took was a small fart or something falling, like a bottle on the back seat – he’d immediately hide under the steering wheel as if it was an air raid on Hanoi, and we’d immediately crash because of that as well, he’d hit the brakes cos of that air raid and the guy behind would slam into us.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– My wife loves me, so she does. Even though we have those silences together. She got me a grave for my fiftieth. A nice spot in a new cemetery, second row, in the sunshine. I’ll have a nice place there when I’m gone.

– I eventually had to get rid of that Vietnamese guy. You can’t explain to the insurance that you have a client who lived through the Vietnam War and lies down underneath the steering wheel, and that the crash isn’t your fault cos you didn’t have time to hit the brakes and grab the wheel because you’re not that fast, you’re not a hero because you weren’t in the war in Vietnam, you were only in the crappy Czechoslovak People’s Army.

And the one who’s the youngest out of all of us, who’s right at the threshold of all our fuck-ups, which he can’t see yet, says:

– One morning I saw my thirty-year-old with those toothbrushes, cleaning her teeth with all of them in turn, stroking her breasts with the other hand and looking at herself in the mirror. And then her hand went lower and lower and she, like, played with herself. I mean, that’s not normal, is it? That really isn’t hygienic.

 

 

And in the relaxation room, the one who was the national table-tennis champion throws himself down onto a lounger and says:

– It’s going to be a full moon tonight. I won’t be able to sleep again.

And the one who delivers dog food around the country says:

– I can always get to sleep. But my old dear, she never gets to sleep. She’ll toss and turn and sigh and then finally poke me and say: I can’t sleep, the moon’s bothering me, I’ve got all these worries and you just lie there sleeping, nothing bothers you.

And the one whose wife died last year, who is now sitting meditating, says nothing.

And the one who can’t see says:

– That blind friend of mine says he’d prefer to sleep all the time. That it’s really nice to see the world. I can understand that.

And the one whose wife died says:

– And has he ever been able to see?

– Never. He was born blind.

– And could you ever see?

– Only as a young boy.

And the one who was a national table-tennis champion, has been divorced twice and is now single and claims he’s really happy says:

– But how can he know he’s seeing something in his dreams if he’s never seen before, eh? I mean, he doesn’t know what it’s like to see.

And the one who can’t see says:

– I don’t know. But somehow in his dreams he can see. And so he’ll sleep all day because he wants to look at things.

– That’s nonsense, isn’t it?

And the one who’s the town’s doctor for women’s bits says:

– Such cases do occur.

– I think it’s nonsense.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– It just so happens I taught a blind person how to drive. Well, he was only blind in one eye – his daughter put it out with an arrow when they were playing cowboys and Indians. He was a good driver, but when he was forty he had a heart attack at a crossroads. He stopped, people beeped their horns and got angry, but no-one went to him, no-one opened the door, no-one helped him. He was there for two hours at the crossroads in front of Kaufland and everyone drove around him. It’s terrible how people behave towards each other these days.

And the one whose wife died says:

– And do you ever see anything?

And the one who can’t see suddenly bursts out laughing.

We all look at him.

And the one who’s a taxi driver says:

– What’s so funny?

And the one who can’t see says nothing and keeps on laughing.

We all look at him.

– Come on, what’s so funny?

And the one who can’t see eventually stops laughing and says:

– I’d tell you, but no-one would believe me.

– Come on, tell us.

– No, there’s no point. No-one would believe what I see.

 

Meanwhile in the sweatbox the one who’s the youngest of all and always sits right at the top says:

– I don’t think it’s normal to suck guys’ toothbrushes. It’s not hygienic. So I decided never to leave my toothbrush at my thirty-year-old’s place. I always take it home with me. But otherwise it’s good, she does everything all the way. An experienced thirty-year-old, not some daft twenty-something.

And the one who’s the town’s doctor for women’s bits and always sits on the floor right beside the stove says:

– The crap you guys talk… It’s not hygienic. I’ve had enough. I’m off.

And the one who’s about to retire says:

– Don’t go yet.

– I’m going.

– Sweat it out properly first.

– I’ve sweated enough listening to all of you.

– It’s not even dripping off you.

 

Translated by Graeme Dibble