Movie Night

Tonight’s adventures are a result of a film the world loved and I loathed.

It had been recommended to me that I watch “Lost in Translation.” I’ve seen the film before and hated it, but this friend insists that it will have new meaning now. Perhaps this is true; the last and only time I watched it was when I was young and in love and could never understand the situation of the characters on which the movie was based. Now, however, I am immersed in a strange land where so much culture, language, and life is quite literally “lost in translation.”

From what I remember, the movie is about two lost souls meeting in a foreign land. Sure, there’s more to it than that, but this is the gist of it. Just the other day I was speaking with Tony about fascinating it is that sometimes you just meet someone in this foreign land and you click. You chat, you have fun, you laugh. Then you part ways. Some time down the road you look back and realize that, though you may have not realized it at the time, you needed that person and that person needed you. You both fulfilled something in each other, reminded each other about the little things in life, the passion, the fun. You grow into a better person because something – fate maybe – through your paths together. Interesting.

Regardless, I was determined to rent this movie tonight. After a delicious dinner at Kikourou (a tiny pizza place by the beach, similar in atmosphere to Le Will), I jumped on my scooter and vanished into the darkness, bound for St. Tropez. But nothing’s easy. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to remember this.

The video shop was closed, but they have these neat little vendors here where you insert your card and rent a movie whenever you want. Trouble is, I don’t have a card. And the machines are all in French – slang French at that.

I knew that somehow I could buy a card and then rent the movie all from this impersonal ATM-like machine hidden in a crevice on the side of the building. I just couldn’t figure it out with some hott guy behind me looking over my shoulder, anxiously awaiting his chance to rent his movie with his card. So I let him go first. When I was sure he was done and long gone, I double checked that there was no one else nearby to watch me make an ass out of myself, and I pulled out my French dictionary. I stumbled through the commands, working with my Credit Lyonnais bank card and the membership card the machine spit out at me, laughing at myself and cringing to realize that some of my old coworkers from Papagayo were across the street – probably laughing at the tourist who couldn’t work a stupid movie machine (yes, that’d be me.) Two membership cards and 40€ later, I got my damn movie. I’ll have to sort the rest out later.

I must say, driving back with “Lost in Translation” securely packed in my bag, my scooter full of gas, my tummy full of good food & wine, the only complaint I could ever dream up was that I wished desperately for a leather coat. Scooting at night is not a warm adventure. Shivering in my jeans and tee, I wound my way up the narrow mountain road to Chez Michel and considered stopping at the bar to retrieve an earring that Bruno borrowed (a hoop that he literally just took out of my ear one night, a hoop that my friend Sean gave me years ago for high school graduation, a hoop that has a lot of sentimental value and sees a lot of use) but figured I just couldn’t be bothered with the whole ordeal or stopping there – fixing my helmet hair, kissing everyone hello and goodbye, explaining to them their ridiculous drunken adventures from Monday (seeing as I was the only one… hence why I walked away with a tee shirt), etc. Instead I just drove my and blew the bouncers a kiss – and how psyched was I that I could manage up that bumpy road one handed blowing a kiss from my scooter. That takes talent. Or practice. Or both?

Either way, I had it. And I found my way down the dusty driveway to the side of my big white pup, waiting patiently for me to arrive home.

Now it’s time to watch an old movie with new eyes…