Its Thursday morning, and already a whopping 47 degrees (1). No problem, the water barrel sequence isn't scheduled to be shot until tomorrow afternoon. The crew predicts 80 degrees and sunshine tommorow afternoon. Its Friday morning, 43 degrees. I love the late summer in Germany. As we begin to shoot in the early afternoon its 55 degrees, and feels like it could snow any minute now. Anyway, I was glad that I wasn't the only one who had to plunge into a barrel. As I dove head first into the 50 degree water my friends were already swimming around like water skeeters and pollywogs. They weren't cold so why should I be. The whole scenario wasn't as bad as it seems. Once I was in I didn't want to get out again. The whole situation was so absurd that after a while it seemed funny. All the other actors who were gathering around the barrel thought so too and were starting to roll around on the ground with laughter. Besides, I got my first bath in a week. Just kidding, but a warm shower wouldn't have been bad now that I mention it. As the director shouted out the encouraging words, "Its a take" I shot out of the barrel making a B-line for the shower. I gave the director a wet hug, and dripped my way into the house past the camera crew, who had to hold back to keep from cracking up, and on upstairs to the bathroom. I shed my wet garments and eased in under what I thought would be a gush of warm water. I guess in my haste I missed the director's announcement that the water boiler was broken. As a wave of cold water splashed over me I wished I were back in that barrel, which in that moment seemed a tad warmer, but besides a little coackroach scampering around in the corner, there were at least no water skeeters or pollywogs in the shower. Braving the shock of a cold shower made me hungry, my only thought being that schnitzel I had ordered. I got dressed and headed for the restaurant. When I arrived everybody was stuffing their faces already still snickering under their breathes. At least the waitress brought my food right away, salmon, a slight mistake on the producer's daily menu. I hate fish, but at this point I couldn't prove if our Austrian producer was trying to play a joke on a meat-eating landlubber like myself. What the hell, bon apetit.

Mark-Alexander Solf

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