It was shortly after breakfast that we met with a mother and son who we shared a meal with the day before. The mother was a Chinese woman who lived in Tokyo with her son, who identified himself as Japanese. Both of them spoke a bit of English and I still had a bit of my Japanese. The woman was also kind enough to teach us a few simple Chinese phrases, and even gave us an introduction to the nuances of Chinese tones and inflection.
Anyone who hasn't tried to learn another language however, may not be aware of how taxing communication can be -- especially on the first day of study. When she suggested that we play a numbers game that her son had invented, and proceeded to explain it to us in Japanese, English, and Chinese, for some reason I found it difficult to concentrate on the numbers. It was also at about this time when I realized that the floor beneath me moved itself in ways that were entirely new to me. I always figured that boats rocked back and forth with the rise and fall of the ocean. What I learned is that boats will rock not only back and forth, but also to and fro -- and then everything in between, so that, there was always a constant lift and fall and sway and then a lilt and sometimes even some heave that was inescapable.
Our faces began to zombify before the numbers and the languages, but our companions were eager to play their game and practice their English. We had to exaggerate our condition a bit and politely escaped to our room where we fished some Gravol out of our luggage and attempted to cope with our new environment in motion.When I eventually became somewhat accustomed to the motion of the boat, I went back to the cafeteria where there were tables and I could write in my journal. I managed to catch up with Darren, a guy we had met earlier, but hadn't acquainted with yet. Darren is from Hawaii, and has taken a few months off from his work as a school councilor to travel around the world.
You can read about his world travels at his blog: http://comealongwithme.wordpress.com/
We talked for a few hours and one thing that stuck with me from our conversation, was his mention of some photos that he had seen of some old theaters being demolished. These were old theaters that he had grown up with and gone to see many movies. He told me about how amazing these buildings were and how surreal it was to see them being gutted and torn apart. Seeing the upholstery from the seats, and the colour of the walls, and the silver screen -- everything looked the same as it did when he was growing up. We talked about how a theater is an interesting place full of distinct textures and aromas. It's also a place of many places -- a place where we can see many places real and imaginary. Often, we'll have seen a film that will have changed who we are and the way we think; we leave the theater a different person than when we entered, forever changed by this place of places.
There were two theaters in my neighbourhood growing up. One of them is still there and i haven't been to it in years. The other closed down years ago, but the building is still part of the mall and was refurbished into a framing business. I went looking for a frame a few years ago, and I remember walking along the theater complex walls that we had lined-up against to buy our tickets at the box office, and then opened the glass doors where they had torn our ticket stubs, and then into the foyer where they had sold popcorn and put up movie posters.
Inside the place was filled with displays of empty frames. They didn't have what i was looking for at the time, and so the saleswoman took me to one of the storerooms, which was actually one of the old theater rooms. The doors were the same, hidden in an enclave, so that the light form the outside wouldn't disturb the show -- the movie ambiance. The same doors with the massive handles running the length of the door were still there and the hinges felt as smooth as ever. All of the lights were on in the theater, illuminating the place in a way that i had never seen before. The chairs had all been taken out and the screen at the front of the room was still there, but someone had cut a line across it from one corner to the other -- probably in the interests of avoiding competition. As we walked down the steps to the front of the theater, boxes of frames were stacked across the terraced floor where the seating used to be. The lady tried to show me some of the other frames that she had, but I was focused on trying to remember which movies I would have seen in this exact room. All of the rooms were the same though. Interchangeable. Theater 3 could have been the same as 8. Did we turn left out of the theater that day, or right?The lady didn't have what I wanted and we left the room. I asked if i could use the washroom and saw the same rows of urinals against the white tile. In the time that i was in the building, it was just the woman and me, and i wondered why all of the urinals were still there. We used to line-up outside of the theaters because they were so busy. We paid money -- $6.50 in the evening, and $4.50 for a matinee (I know because i still have the ticket stubs) just to enter those glass doors. We'd arrive early to get good seats. Beat the crowds. Now the place is full of empty frames -- empty spaces, and i can walk in anytime during store hours.
I found an article and some photos on vintage theaters being demolished in Hawaii -- maybe the same ones that Darren used to frequent? http://cinematreasures.org/news/13069_0_1_0_C/
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