When I arrived yesterday, a rather substantial older lady wearing a large brown coat was already standing at the window. She was quite entertained by her own conversation, although the gatekeeper behind the window was also quite entertained. The conversation went something like this:
"Good day. I was listening to this program this morning about trading and didn't have a pencil at hand and hoped you could give me the number. You don't know if you have it, do you? There wasn't anything at hand to write with." She seemed to be referring to a program through which people can advertise products available for sale or trade—it's kind of like the classified ads, but on the radio. They also advertise available jobs on some programs.
The man behind the glass seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. "Oh, you mean today's program? The meruňkovice?" He was right (I don't know how he knew), and immediately began shuffling some papers to find the number. I thought that he had all the necessary information, but there were more questions. "And what are you interested in exactly? The meruňkovice?" (Meruňkovice, what you might call one of the "Shot[s] of Moravia," is a strong brandy like slivovice but made from apricots.)
"Yes. Well, you know," she said and smiled back at me as if I might have some private information about this meruňkovice, "it's so hard to find stuff that tastes right." I actually had no idea that it had much taste other than the afterburn, but I'm no connoiseur.
"Aha!" The gatekeeper had found something. "Yes. Here it is. Do you want to write down the number? There's only 20 litres."
I hope that's enough.
Tags: brno, moravia, stories