I had watched a movie in a theater only once since September, and it was not a great experience. Perhaps I’ll write about that later. One of the reasons I was looking forward to England was to watch a movie in theaters (or in the cinema, as they call it here) in English. I went to movie theaters so much in the United States, at the Reitz and Regal, that I was having withdrawals. In Spain they like our movies but in their language. Subtitles are the norm in the United States, but the Spanish for some reason prefer awful dubbing. The Spanish voices usually sound nothing like the authentic English voices they replace. The Spanish voice acting is not as good either. I did not know any of the actors in the British movie I watched in Spanish so it was not so bad that time.
Atonement was just released in the United States, but it’s been playing in the United Kingdom since September. Yesterday I watched it in Odeon Leicester Square, the only theatre in London where it is still playing. The ticket was £9.50 or about $19, but I think it was worthwhile. At least my withdrawals have subsided.
I might have enjoyed it more had I not watched the trailer so many times. I knew the general outline of the plot. A little girl makes a false accusation against her sister’s lover Robbie which results in his sending off to war. It seems that their lives have been ruined. The film boasts some spectacular shots of war-torn France, but as far as the story, there isn’t much more to it than what I just described and what is shown in the trailer. If you are going to watch the film, watch it on a big screen because that is how the war shots are best viewed. I might like it better if I see it again. I was very disappointed with Casino Royale the first time I watched it, but it grew on me.
There are a couple themes highlighted in the film and probably the book as well. First, I’m glad I don’t have a little sister, and my brother has not ruined my life. Second, the film shows that love (or feelings for another person that we call love) can not only bring out the best in a person, but also the worst. It’s not something anyone likes to be reminded of, not even in movies, but it’s true. Third, I’m very thankful for modern day word processors. But at the same time, the film makes typewriters look very classy.
Atonement will probably receive well-deserved Oscar nominations for cinematography and art direction. The musical score was also unique. I’m not sure about the more important categories (best picture, screenplay, acting, directing). It already cornered a few Golden Globe nominations so it’s a possibility. Atonement is at least as good- I think better-than The Departed, which won everything last year.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
History Lesson
I'm going out of order. I'm sorry- for some reason I want to write this one first.
The lectures in my history are the hardest to understand, but the professor is the nicest lady ever. She talks so fast that I can't pick out many details from the lecture. I can tell you whether it's about economics, culture, social class, etc., but that's about it. She could tell I was completely lost in the very beginning so she gave me a list of books to read and write about in place of the exam. One of these books is about the Camino de Santiago, in which I took a special interest. I told her that I want to ride the entire Camino, and she printed off a list of hostels in each of the stops for me.
She wanted the class to meet in front of the historical archive in dowtown Pamplona for a little field trip last Wednesday. I was the only one who showed up so it was just a one-on-one time with her. I think I learned more that day than in all the lectures up to this point. She didn't allow much time to stop and read everything in the museums. She knew it all so she explained it verbally. I'll never look at the shield of Pamplona the same way again now that I know what it means. I saw some seals dating back to the medieval period, and learned that there cave men in Navarra, so to speak. After leaving the first museum, we went to a bar (remember "bar" has unlimited meanings in Spain) for coffee. I don't normally drink coffee. I think this was the first time I actually enjoyed the coffee instead of tolerating it. She said it would be "rapidÃsimo" (very fast). We were actually there for ten minutes. She asked me if I could translate a paper she wrote into English because English is the international language and whoever she's giving it to wants it in English as well. I'm really looking forward to doing it to repay her kindness a little. I'm also touched that she's given me this responsibility of faithfully representing her work.
The people of Navarra are obviously very proud of their history, and rightfully so. Navarra is probably as significant as the rest of Spain combined because it borders France. I wondered before how my professor could know so much about history that she doesn't even look at notes when she lectures, yet she does not speak English. While we were touring the museums, it occurred to me that when you love your country (or nation, rather) so much, you don't feel a need to learn another language and/or culture, even if it is the international language. After all, non-native Spanish speakers are few and far between in the United States.
The lectures in my history are the hardest to understand, but the professor is the nicest lady ever. She talks so fast that I can't pick out many details from the lecture. I can tell you whether it's about economics, culture, social class, etc., but that's about it. She could tell I was completely lost in the very beginning so she gave me a list of books to read and write about in place of the exam. One of these books is about the Camino de Santiago, in which I took a special interest. I told her that I want to ride the entire Camino, and she printed off a list of hostels in each of the stops for me.
She wanted the class to meet in front of the historical archive in dowtown Pamplona for a little field trip last Wednesday. I was the only one who showed up so it was just a one-on-one time with her. I think I learned more that day than in all the lectures up to this point. She didn't allow much time to stop and read everything in the museums. She knew it all so she explained it verbally. I'll never look at the shield of Pamplona the same way again now that I know what it means. I saw some seals dating back to the medieval period, and learned that there cave men in Navarra, so to speak. After leaving the first museum, we went to a bar (remember "bar" has unlimited meanings in Spain) for coffee. I don't normally drink coffee. I think this was the first time I actually enjoyed the coffee instead of tolerating it. She said it would be "rapidÃsimo" (very fast). We were actually there for ten minutes. She asked me if I could translate a paper she wrote into English because English is the international language and whoever she's giving it to wants it in English as well. I'm really looking forward to doing it to repay her kindness a little. I'm also touched that she's given me this responsibility of faithfully representing her work.
The people of Navarra are obviously very proud of their history, and rightfully so. Navarra is probably as significant as the rest of Spain combined because it borders France. I wondered before how my professor could know so much about history that she doesn't even look at notes when she lectures, yet she does not speak English. While we were touring the museums, it occurred to me that when you love your country (or nation, rather) so much, you don't feel a need to learn another language and/or culture, even if it is the international language. After all, non-native Spanish speakers are few and far between in the United States.
Monday, December 3, 2007
The Netherlands part 3
I thought the the trip from Brussels Charleroi to Brussels Nord would be a quick few minutes through the city. Instead, the train left Brussels (or what I thought was Brussels) and cut through open country. I was in the middle of nowhere. But everyone from my bus was on this same train. All these people couldn't be going to some place in the middle of nowhere. Could they?
As the guy walked down the aisle checking tickets, I pulled out 15 euros to pay for the ticket. I assumed the metal box strapped to his waste was for change. He checked the people sitting behind me and then walked past me and the elderly man snoozing in the window seat across from me. "Oh, well" I thought. I got off at Brussels Midi having no idea where I was and thinking I might have taken the wrong train. I explained this to the man running the information window. He told me which train to take, but did not tell me where to buy a ticket so again I assumed I needed to pay for the ticket on the train. By the time I reached Roosendaal, I figured out that I was supposed to buy a ticket beforehand. Oops. When I reached Roosendaal, I bought a ticket to Tilburg.
Then I made a mistake that I still deeply regret. I was so anxious to get out of there that I boarded a train that was close to the right platform, but not quite there. It was the wrong train. The word "Amsterdam" written on the wall in red lights should have immediately caught my eye, but I didn't notice until the train was already moving. I got off at Dortrecht and took another train back to Roosendaal. When I was in the bathroom in Roosendaal, I noticed my camera was no longer in my pocket or in my backpack. I tried to catch the train I left it on, but missed it. My camera was never recovered.
I finally reached Tilburg at about 5:00, I think, four hours later than I expected to be there. Poor Brother Edward had been waiting for me at both of the times I could have arrived. He returned home, of course, and I called him on my cell.
As the guy walked down the aisle checking tickets, I pulled out 15 euros to pay for the ticket. I assumed the metal box strapped to his waste was for change. He checked the people sitting behind me and then walked past me and the elderly man snoozing in the window seat across from me. "Oh, well" I thought. I got off at Brussels Midi having no idea where I was and thinking I might have taken the wrong train. I explained this to the man running the information window. He told me which train to take, but did not tell me where to buy a ticket so again I assumed I needed to pay for the ticket on the train. By the time I reached Roosendaal, I figured out that I was supposed to buy a ticket beforehand. Oops. When I reached Roosendaal, I bought a ticket to Tilburg.
Then I made a mistake that I still deeply regret. I was so anxious to get out of there that I boarded a train that was close to the right platform, but not quite there. It was the wrong train. The word "Amsterdam" written on the wall in red lights should have immediately caught my eye, but I didn't notice until the train was already moving. I got off at Dortrecht and took another train back to Roosendaal. When I was in the bathroom in Roosendaal, I noticed my camera was no longer in my pocket or in my backpack. I tried to catch the train I left it on, but missed it. My camera was never recovered.
I finally reached Tilburg at about 5:00, I think, four hours later than I expected to be there. Poor Brother Edward had been waiting for me at both of the times I could have arrived. He returned home, of course, and I called him on my cell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)