Went to see a film today called Mahler on the Couch in which Gustav Mahler is so upset about his wife Alma's extramarital affairs that he goes to see Sigmund Freud for his expert opinion.
Freud is in Amsterdam, about to board a ship for the Mediterranean, and the story shifts between the scenes there between the General Director and the good doctor and different parts of Austria where the Mahlers lived.
But the thing that made me smile when the young ladies working in the Dutch hotel asked what they were drinking that these two Austrians who came from the Hauptstadt of coffee, Vienna, ordered tea. Almost like another character in the scene was the tea service.
Seemed so stereotypically dignified. Everyone else was focused on the serious discussion of how Mahler felt he'd failed as a husband. I was interested in that part, too. But part of me was also so pleased that these two were over here with me on the leaf-side.
I'm well aware that it could've been a decision of the film makers that had no basis in fact. It might've been a historical reality that when in Amsterdam, one had an easier time being served tea. All of that's immaterial to me.
In my fantasy world, if I was invited to join them in the lobby, I'd join them for a cuppa. Happily.
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