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I was 18 years old and walking home to my apartment on Franklin Avenue in Boise from work as a waiter at Plush Pippin on State Street. As I zipped along the street, Eric, who was Wendy Belcher's boyfriend (my first boyfriend Jerry and I lived with her), was playing football in the field at Boise High and he saw me passing at shouted out: "The Wall fell down, maaaaaan! Those Germans are freeeeee!"
I was like: "Huh?"
So he shouted: "The Berlin Wall! It's been knocked down! It's over, maaaaaaan!"
And that's all I remember. I vaguely recall a conversation later that evening with someone much older than me who talked about how this was an historical moment and that I would remember this night. Who was that? Russ? Josh?
I did know a lot about Germany since I started studying German when I was 12 years old. But I was much more interested in German language and literature and not so much about politics. Then (I was only 18!). So I didn't quite know what an important process had started that night.
We had all these friends who lived in (what we called) "the Franklin house," a huge old mansion a few doors down from our apartment. I do remember being up in Heather and her sister's attic apartment, holding their kitten, and listening to them talk about Germany and all the changes these developments would lead to. Haha, my most vivid impression of that old house, though, is the "water wars" that were constantly going on (the water pressure was terrible and everyone had to fight to be in the shower first or there would be no pressure anywhere in the apartment) and how STDs made their rounds throughout the entire building (we called Mindy "Clamindy" and Lea "Gonnolea" haha). All these straight kids screwing each other non-stop. In our apartment, we just had our crazy roommate, Wendy (who kept a mannequin, Mona, dressed up in the living room year round: at Christmas, she'd be decked out in slutty Christmas clothes, in summer, slutty summer clothes, etc etc) and her boyfriend Eric. They'd get drunk and beat the shit out of each other (not him beating her, them beating each other). Oy. How long did Jerry and I live there? Six months?
Woops, got sidetracked wallowing in the past. The Berlin Wall. In the long run, I guess this hasn't really affected me personally very much. Or who knows, maybe the hand of history is so far reaching that its effects are impossible to truly understand on an individual level.
All I can think about now, these 20 years later, is my own life and how far I've come since that November night so long ago. It seems like I've lived 10 different lives since then, many countries, a few relationships, many friendships.
Here is the Franklin house today. It looks similar but much more upscale. When I lived there, it was full of poor young students and stoners. It was practically falling apart. Our place (just a few doors down on the other side of the street) has been torn down and replaced by an office building. Too bad, too. It was such a beautiful place: it had this sun room in the back overlooking the garden that was one of the most beautiful rooms I've ever lived in. It was my favorite place to sit with a book.
Ah, well. Time marches on. As the Chinese say, "You can't welcome the new until you get rid of the old."
Quiet days. Mildly depressed as I always seem to be every November what with a long cold winter ahead of us.
It doesn't help that nearly everyone we know is traveling or making plans to: I&C are headed to France for two weeks, M just got back from Peru, C is in Berlin (we have Mac for two weeks), JP is in Japan, and R just got back from Hawaii. Even C&J are off to Italy in the spring.
And we're stuck here for the time being, facing a cold & bleak Quebec winter. Sigh.
I shouldn't complain. We've made a lot of sacrifices the last few years and it's been well worth it. And the end is in sight: just one more winter and we will just about have it set up so that we can leave every winter from now on. Or nearly every winter.
I think this is partly just job boredom. It comes in waves and because I've been doing a new part of a project, learning a new software system, I could distract myself for the past few months. But I guess I'm over that. Anyway, it's fine, another new project starting next month so that'll get me through a chunk of winter. Hopefully.
Thank God for friends. Last night M was working, so I went over to I&C's and we hung out in their kitchen chatting until late, then ordered Indian take out and watched "Good Night and Good Luck." Then, since I had missed the last train, I decided to forgo the taxi ride and I walked home from Point-St-Charles -- it took over an hour. But it was nice, walking over the canal in the moonlight, through downtown and past the throngs of drunk McGill and Concordia students, up St-Denis and through the Plateau. What a great way to spend a Friday night.
OK to work now. I've got a full day in front of this computer to get through, then a big dinner tonight around the corner that I am not really looking forward to.
I want this life:
M's immigration is done! We got a letter, zipped into the office and they gave him his little stamp of approval. Whew, what a relief. Nearly two years of waiting. It'll be mid-December before he can actually LEAVE the country (we have to have his PR card in-hand first), but it's officially FINISHED and he is now a permanent resident. Thank you, Canada (and Quebec)!
It feels a bit anticlimactic after being a bit stressed about this for so long. I guess it's because we are tight money-wise now until we get all the renovations on our place done so we still can't really take any major trips in the near future.
Now I can start my paperwork to apply for Canada citizenship. It'll take a while, too, but I should be able to travel until it's done. So it won't hold us up like his application has.
Let's see. VERY busy week this week. Worked 14 hours all day every day since Monday. Why does everything come due the same week? Good news is, after Sunday, things should calm down a bit (well, in my lexicon that means I'll go back to just working 8 hour days every day!).
Shouldn't be a major weekend: dinner tomorrow with some friends and a birthday party (two, actually) on Sunday.
Reading an excellent book right now, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which everyone has been talking about the past year. I was skeptical (any book on NYT bestseller list I am usually dubious about), but I stood at the bookstore and zipped through the first chapter standing in the aisle. A good sign. Been slow going just because I'm so busy, but it's a great read so far.
Friday! We were supposed to have the baby all night but her mom called and said she was staying home tonight. So now I have an open Friday night! I could go out but I think I'm just gonna go rent a couple of movies, buy a couple of beers and chill out on my own...
of all the short stories that have been ruined by the YEARS of bad English comp papers I have read.
"A Rose for Emily" by William Faulkner
"Story of an Hour" by Kate Chopin
"The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson
"Story of an Hour" by Kate Chopin
"The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
"The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson
"The Glass Menagerie" by Tennessee Williams (OK, not a short story but a play).
"Hill Like White Elephants" by Ernest Hemingway
"Hill Like White Elephants" by Ernest Hemingway
I will never be able to read any of these stories and their plot structures, characters, symbols, aspects of their imagery, and tone will be seared into my brain until the day I die. If I ran my own college, I would ban all teachers from assigning all of these works to students.
The other day a student came to me with, surprise, an essay by David Sedaris that he was being asked to write about. I just about fell over dead and told myself that if I ever met that textbook writer, I would shake his hand!
I know all I do lately is write about movies, but I've been trying to see one nearly every day with the film festival going on (AND another one starting in two weeks!).
Saw one this afternoon which I really loved. It was a Finnish movie (I've never seen a Finnish movie I didn't love), called Kaski in Finnish (translated as "Tears of April" which doesn't quite sound right to me, but what do I know). Set in 1918 during Finland's Civil War, it is an interesting and complex film, solid (and beautiful) actors, gorgeous scenery, music which was the perfect complement to the action on screen. War is hell and this movie certainly tries in its small way to capture it, but what I love about seeing movies like this one is how a whole new chapter of history opens up to me: I didn't even know Finland HAD a civil war (basically it was sucked into the chaos of the Russian Revolution) much less how brutal it was. The story focuses on the stories of two people as they negotiate the dangers all around them.
I do love to hear the Finnish language, too. I don't speak a word of it obviously but it sounds so soft and musical.
GREAT film.
Happy Thanksgiving! We had a great dinner yesterday that was busy, exhausting but lots of fun and YUMMY. The last few years we've been doing both Canadian and American Thanksgiving but I think this year, we won't. Too exhausting doing one and if it's another year before we do it again, FINE with me!
Started back into all my jobs today (had a week off from one job last week). Blech. Tired already. It's actually 10.10pm and I have four more hours to go tonight. And I have to teach all day tomorrow (they moved my Monday to Wednesday because of the holiday).
Mainly this week has been a movie-watching week what with some good stuff playing and the film festival continuing.
Cairo Time
I loved this movie. It was really sweet and simple. A very understated script and the actors, too, did less rather than more and it worked so well. Plot is very straightforward: a married woman arrives in Cairo for a brief vacation there with her husband who is an aid worker in Israel (in Gaza, actually). When her husband is delayed, she finds herself bored, lonely, and somewhat uncomfortable at being in a foreign city alone. So a husband's former coworker shows her around. Well, naturally, they fall in love, but not in the usual way: nothing happens, really. No love words are confessed and the husband isn't painted as this big asshole who deserves to be left or cheated on as is usually the case. Instead, the the viewer tags along as the retired cop and the married woman visit the sites, see a wedding, take the train, wander around, etc. It's got these political rumblings, but nothing overt and it's not some awkward metaphor for western interactions with the Middle East. It's just a kind of love story and it's told with grace and beauty. Cairo the city becomes a kind of character, too: dirty, exciting, poor, extravagant, full of men, etc. A couple of scenes have stayed with me for days.
Guts
This Spanish movie, in the tradition of "Scarface" or "The Usual Suspects" wasn't too bad but I didn't like it that much.
A recently released small time thug tries to make it in the world of Spanish organized crime. And he succeeds. So he's transformed from small time criminal into a suave big time criminal.
It was entertaining but easily forgettable. Some great shots of Galicia and the coast. And I love how the director made of point of the "fat people" coming out as the winners (something which NEVER happens). In a year, I doubt I'll remember very much about this movie except that it has a surprise ending and it's a pretty unexpected movie in other ways, too.
It's really strange how "hot" gangster movies have become the last 10 years. Thanks to the Sopranos, I guess. I have never actually sat through an entire episode of that show though I have nothing against it. I guess it's just impossible to keep up with all the stuff there is to watch and we almost never turn on our TV to watch what's on (we watch TV but almost only on DVD).
This was a brilliant, dreamlike movie that has stayed with me all day. It's a silent movie from 1924 and VERY long. But I was so fascinated by it: set in 1820s Sweden, it's based on a Selma Lagerlof novel from the late 19th century. I really loved this and will definitely want to watch it again. It's also Greta Garbo's last Swedish movie before she left for Hollywood. After this, the entire Swedish film industry sort of fell apart because they lots its main director, its main producer and two of its biggest stars after MGM head saw this movie and offered them all jobs in California.
I do like silent movies because they are so often striking: they are so unusual and affect me in distinct ways. I remember them for months afterwards. They are so much more emotional than sound movies, I feel. And the acting has to be so extreme at times (far far far from "understated).
Musashi: The Last Samurai
Waste of time. I like anime, I like Samurai movies. But this one was like something you'd see at 3am if you were watching bad TV in Tokyo. It was more like a documentary but the tone was bizarre, the story unfocused, and the entire narrative set-up/device annoying as hell. The movie was packed but no one got up and walked out which surprised me since I wanted to about four times. Masa and Ken, too, both hated this movie (though they insisted on sitting through it).
Too bad this movie was such a drag because only a few more days of film festival left and I am busy. Ah, well: at least four more festivals coming up in the next month or so!
One of the best things about living in Montreal is the plethora of film festivals we have each year. Since none of them are huge, international events, they are not swamped with crowds or media, so it's easy to get tickets, the movies are often not crowded (for the most part), and you can see some amazing movies for a reasonable price.
It's easy to get lulled into ignoring them, in fact, there are so many each year. The last year or so (I'm not sure why), we've seen almost no movies at film festivals, but this year I picked up the flyer for the Festival du nouveau cinema and suddenly I had a list of movies I just had to see.
Last night we saw a Portuguese movie called Goodnight, Irene which was really lovely. About an English voiceover actor who has made his life in Lisbon (the movie is half in English, half in Portuguese and the director is actually from New York), a heavy drinker, acerbic, bitter, and isolated from everyone, a painter in his building befriends him. At first I was thinking that the movie was going to fall into cinematic cliche (grouchy old man learns to connect to humanity through a young, attractive ingenue), but the film takes a radical shift in direction when the painter vanishes and the old man and another young man in the neighborhood decide to try and find her. Some of the best stories are the simplest, really: it's not about finding the painter. It's about this developing friendship between the old British man and the young Portuguese man as they try to uncover the truth.
What I loved about the film was that there was absolutely no sexual tension whatsoever: not between the painter and
the old man, not between the two men, nowhere. And it struck me while watching it how much sexual tension drives the plots of movies so much today--even if they don't contain actual sex scenes, the open-endedness of sex is there to keep the audience engaged ("Will they? Won't they?"). But not in this movie. And I found that so refreshing, not for any moralistic reasons but because it reminded me of how many important relationships in our lives have nothing to do with sex.
The cinematography is beautiful: both of the city of Lisbon, and the Portuguese and Spanish countryside. It's most certainly not a "road trip" movie as some of the reviews are indicating (where do they come up with this? The last 20 minutes of the movie take place in a car but it's got nothing to do with road trip movies and most of the movie is set in the painter's apartment).
Anyway, I highly recommend this movie. It's a bit "meaning of lifey" in a few spots but not in a pretentious way at all and the acting is excellent.
And several more movies on my roster over the next week: a Spanish movie this evening, a Swedish movie tomorrow, etc. Loving life this weekend.
