20 October, 2009

Hot Dog And A Movie... Again

Wow! Barely two weeks and we've gone to the movies again. Y'know, when we lived in the States, we went to the flicks very seldom. Partly that was because up until just before we left Olympia, Washington for Belize, the theaters in the Oly area were not what you'd call world class.

We also had a drive-in theater near by that was fun to go to. We'd take a couple of Kentucky Fried Chicken dinners with us and line up with all the other drive-in movie nuts waiting for the gates to open, usually demolishing our dinners while in line, necessitating getting pop corn and soda from the concession stand once we were in the theater parking area and had chosen our "spot" for the night's movie.

But, as happens, I digress. In fact, I need to back-track some. Doug bought Mexican auto insurance on-line (for about $260 US for six months), so we got to ride over to Chetumal in style. And, since we have our Belize residency stamps in our passports and our Multi-pass papers for the Mexican side, crossing the borders is suddenly almost a non-issue. In fact, you could say it's pleasant.

We crossed the borders into Mexico, and drove into downtown Chetumal. Our first objective was to stop and see a couple of fabric stores we had heard about. We wanted to find material for shorts and shirts. We found materials for shorts, although the colors may take a little getting used to - orange, lime green, sky blue, stuff like that. Now, of course, for the shirts, you expect tropical shirts to be somewhat wild. Well, we found fabrics that not only are they wild, but in a couple of cases, are simply out there. I'll take some pix after we have Alex (our local Corozal tailor) make the shirts. You better put on some shades first, though.

After visiting the two fabric shops, and a zapateria (shoe store), it was on to Plaza las Americas and Cinepolis for Bastardos sin Gloria, our flick of choice for today.

For some reason, hot dogs consumed while at the movies just seem to be really so much better than those eaten just about anywhere else. We got to the theater in Chetumal early enough to have a hot dog and a soda before the movie starts. Then we reload with popcorn and another soda (or water) and stroll into one of 13 or 14 screening rooms.

Today's feature was Inglorious Basterds, starring Brad Pitt. This was the first flick I've ever seen where the sub-titles did absolutely no good. Allow me to explain. Being good Americans, we're reasonably good with English. We don't know French (other than oui, alors, and mercy buckets). My German is just about as bad. Dianna at least understands some German (her mother was German). Our Spanish is bad but improving one or two words at a time - at least we realize how bad we are with it and how far we have to go for improvement. And, for this movie, our Italian is atrocious, although miles better than Brad Pitt's character's use of that language.

Now, I'm guessing that if you see this flick anywhere in the English-speaking world (first-world English world, that is), you'll see it with English subtitles, since a goodly portion of the movie is in French and German, with a smaller bit of English in there, followed by, without a doubt, the absolutely worst Italian you'll ever hear. Brad Pitt's character speaks a few words of Italian, heavily laced with a heavy Ozark mountain southern twang.

Ok, you might say, I can live with that. But wait - there's more. Let's try having the subtitles, instead of in English, put them up there in Spanish. Hoo boy! We didn't stand a chance. We did manage to keep the drift of the story straight, but for us, the subtitles were an unnecessary touch. Our Spanish is bad enough, by the time we figured out what the Spanish said, we were one-and-a-half scenes further along in the movie.

Some of the movie, even with the language being way more than we could deal with, is just an absolute hoot. Brad Pitt's character is such an over-the-top Indiana Jones with an attitude kinda guy, that in this situation (behind enemy lines in Nazi-occupied France, that he makes the perfect comic book American hero-type - square-jawed, rugged, don't give a damn, kill the Nazis just defines and fits his personality to a tee.

Inglorious Basterds is a fun romp through the espianage and miltary posturing and uniforms of World War II, totally unimpeded by anything like historical accuracy. There's a good deal of blood and enough bodies to fill a freight car enroute to Dachau. After all, it's a Quentin Tarrentino film.

The filming is great in places, providing a visual feast. The sound too, is exceptional. I really noticed it when characters merely sipped their drinks, or some of the many other subtle off-camera sounds that made the scene come to life.

I'd consumed enough Coke Lite that I had to go to the head mid way through the movie - something I haven't done for years. I hope that's not a sign of getting older...

After the movie, Doug and Twyla wandered through Chedraui again. Dianna and I went outside and soaked in the sunshine while they were shopping. We wandered back in to the mall after a bit to wait for them and we got into a conversation with one of the mall security guards regarding English usage. His question was, if he had a male friend, it seemed like it was ok to introduce him has "his friend" or "his buddy". Was there something like that for a woman friend. He was unsure if it was alright to use "buddy" in introducing a woman. We agreed and couldn't think of something similar to "buddy" to use in introducing a woman friend. That's what we told him, to just introduce her as "his friend...".

About that time, Doug and Twyla came back out of Chedraui and we decided to take a quick trip over to the Bodega Aurerra store, which is owned by Walmart. Being the practical shoppers we are, Dianna and I bought a bundle of white plastic clothes hangers.

From Bodega Aurerra, we headed back down the boulevard toward the Pemex filling station (the Mexican State-owned petrol company) that was on the way back to the Belize border.

Just before the filling station, we stopped at a place along the road that sold clay pots - large ones, small ones, and in between. They also sold frog planters (which reminded me of a large psychedelic-colored frog, Jerimiah, that I had for years when I was single. In fact he rode, strapped into the front passenger seat, from San Diego to Colorado Springs with me when I got out of the Navy). They also sold an assortment of iguanas and rough-hewn wood patio furniture. We looked, got some prices (around two large pots for $50 US), but didn't buy anything this trip. There's other dealers anyway, so we'll be shopping around some.

After the pottery place, we went to gas up the Isuzu. While there, we bought ham sandwiches from a street vendor - didn't even have to get out of the car. They were good, as we had them for part of our supper after getting home. Stuff like that is a little weird though. Mexicans, as well as Belizeans, like to put sugar on stuff like meat pies, ham sandwiches, etc. It still tasted pretty good, although it seemed, with the sugar, to be more of something you'd have for breakfast than supper.

After food and fuel, it was on to the border. We were all looking forward to seeing how it would be to cross the border coming back. Would it be any different that crossing it by bus? Turns out, not really, just a little easier.

Doug let us out when he stopped to drive the car across the Belize border. Dianna and I went through Immigration and Customs (with our hangers and my two bundles of shirt fabric) with no problem. As we came into the parking lot, Doug was just pulling up as he still had to go inside and clear through Immigration and Customs as well. He saw us and said we were in charge of the car, leaving it unlocked. It seemed loosie-goosie to me until he mentioned they had already inspected the Isuzu.

Once we were all back in the car, it was a smooth and uneventful ride back to Corozal. Our girls, Cindy and Secret, were waiting for us excitedly (near their supper-time of course). We kicked back, opened a couple of Belikins, propped up our feet, and relaxed. A nice end to a nice day.

1 comment:

Julian in SC said...

You know, it is slowly getting to me.. Here you are, somewhat younger than me -- and everyday I have to find out how you managed to spend your day. Me, I go to work. You, you work at not really working -- you do have projects, I admit that. but in between.. shssszzzz.

Oh well, at least one of us is in paradise. ENJOY!!