A suitcase full of poisonous pellets

The rain beats down in stormy gusts on Luhačovice. Nevertheless, I stubbornly join the first group of visitors to the museum. I turn out to be the only one who doesn't speak Czech so I decide to go outside for some fresh air... thus locking myself out of the museum. The glass door slides into the ditch, and there I am, back in the rain. I perform the familiar pantomime act of the man in the glass box (in my case: a man who wants to get back inside the glass box), scanning the glass wall with flailing arms, looking for an opening, while thick water drops keep on pouring over me.

In the city's central square (gravel!), I am again amazed by the scale of this festival. There is a concert in the stately Kur building, there is an orchestra playing on the square, there is a parade in belle epoque costumes, there is an awful lot of everything! I get talking to a filmmaker who is ecstatic that I am from Belgium, because that is the country of Pieter Breughel, isn't it? Carolyn Gair uses only waste material in her short film FORAGE (US). She lovingly talks about the objects she gathers that don’t have any value for other people: a sardine can, a rusty bottle opener, an old postage stamp, a limp spring... She is proud to show her film in the Czech Republic because she has a passion for Jan Svankmajer and for Czech animation. The next day I see her on the street , all excited and happy as a child. The festival has arranged a trip for her to the film studios on the hill, the cradle of Czech animation. I am proud to be involved in a festival that is willing to go the extra mile just to make people happy.

Jaroslava invites us for a visit to her favourite coffee shop (excellent homemade lemonade!) and a short walk through her hometown. Here lies the beautiful tennis court, a relic of glorious times, where she stood on the gravel every week with her mother. Stately wooden villas bear witness to a prosperous past. Surprising though: a green lawn, pouring rain and not a snail to be found! Meanwhile, all over Belgium, gardens are being eaten bare by these monsters with feelers. Across the country, snail pellets are sold out. I consider stocking up in the Czech Republic and returning home with a suitcase full of poisonous pellets.

It was an extra eventful day in the TV studio. Each interview came with a different obstacle. For one guest we had to convert the studio because of a hearing problem, the next one was too emotionally affected by the death of her pet to talk about her film, and once I even had prepared for the wrong movie. Unforgiveable! I won't reveal which interview that was - the studio crew didn't notice, so whoever can guess which of this year's Festival Bubbles was shot without me having seen the film may pick up a prize next year. On the way back from Luhačovice, I tell my adventures just a little too enthusiastically (read: disrespectfully?) to a colleague and I get punished for that. In fact, my studio guest for tomorrow is sitting on the next row and in the studio she will confront me with being so loose-lipped. Slightly embarrassing.

Officially, the festival ends with the prestigious awards ceremony at a fancy gala evening. But for me, the unofficial end takes place on a dance floor in the park. There I meet not only the remaining guests, including Hungarian cameraman Balazs Hatvani, who had sworn to me that he never danced (I take his modest foot movement as proof to the contrary), but also many members of the festival team: Jaroslava (in flaming red sports outfit), Lucie, Petra, Michal, Lenka... Guests and staff dancing together into the night, that’s usually the defining characteristic of a successful festival edition.