Out Watching Movies

Puskin Art Mozi in Budapest (photo lifted from
Facebook because I'm not snapping photos
at the movies).

Some movie theatre memories, in no particular order:

Going to the Pushkin – a classy, small indie theatre in Budapest – for the first time with Kata.

Watching Independence Day with my brother on my fourteenth birthday.

Walking out of Western Film on my old university campus after watching Mystic River and feeling so dejected that our entire group decided against drinks and swiftly parted ways.

Toonie Tuesdays at Galleria, Westmount, and other long gone movie theatres in London... Canada.

Speaking of long dead theatres in London, RIP Capitol Theatre, whose "Opening Soon" sign hung on its front door for so many years, and might have planted the seed of my powerful pessimism.

Going to the Montreal Forum – former home of the Canadiens – during my brief Montreal Days for movies and once to attend an impromptu press conference during the Dawson College shooting.

Standing outside a theatre, smoking and rehashing a movie with friends on a Christmas visit home while the snow fell in the deserted parking lot – save for a red Aerostar and a black-blue Volvo.

It might be a generational thing, or it might be growing up in the suburban wilderness of London, Ontario, but going to the movies was a thing we did often. 

The need didn't change when I moved to a foreign country with an indecipherable language. In fact, the need increased, along with the obstacles in my path to watching a movie in my mother tongue.

I don't mind reading while I'm watching a movie, so subtitles are be fine with me, but both Germany and Hungary dub foreign movies into their own language. Ostensibly it's to protect and strengthen the local language, but I'm certain it's to throw money at the local voice acting industry. I don't mind, voice actors got to eat, but it also eliminates most movie options for me.

So I carefully scan the listings, looking for the correct acronym – OmU or OV. The locations showing movies with these acronyms are few, usually just the super-duper cineplexes, and their surround sound systems, mandatory 3D glasses, with enough screens and seats to accommodate the locals and those pesky foreigners.

This also narrows the options to the guaranteed money-makers in English like the reboots, comic books movies, whatever joy machine Pixar has created, and, for some reason, whatever inconceivably popular cash machine Kevin Hart or that Mall Cop guy has made.

Blockbuster can entertain most of the people most of the time, but it can't entertain all the people all the time. Sometimes you just want to escape the shopping mall sterility of the super-screen-o-plex and watch an actual film in simpler surroundings. 

Thank goodness for small gems like Budapest's Pushkin Art Mozi and the Dorf's Bambi Filmstudio. These are little Art Deco oases in a barren blockbuster landscape for the English-speaker. Even if Bambi, like so many other German cinemas only sell sweet popcorn, not the salty stuff.

These theatres are smaller, more cozy, more comfortable, and play some films in their original language. Granted, they are not places to watch Rogue One, but they are places to watch the latest Woody Allen flick (both Allen and Star Wars are averaging a movie a year now, so one can achieve movie cinema balance).

Am I sounding like a grumpy expat? I don't mean to. Everything has its place. We saw Rogue One in all its 3D glory at the sole gigantor-plex that plays English movies in the Dorf. A movie like that is made for the jumbo screen.

When we can watch a movie that doesn't have a budget bigger than the GDP of Lithuania, it's nice to ditch the 3D glasses and vibration chairs and lean back in less grandiose surroundings and watch to a more intimate movie. Even if there's no salty popcorn.

One more thing!

That multi-screen-o-plex that shows the English movies in the Dorf runs a great program everywhere Wednesday: CineSneak. You pay a lower than usual admission price to watch a recently released English-language movie, the catch is you don't know that you're about to watch. 

We've gone to a few now and we haven't seen a bad movie yet. They're not something you typically see the Dorf, usually somewhere between an indie flick and a blockbuster. Plus, they have salty popcorn!

Starting 2017 in Miskolc

Unless you hate music, the EU, or American elections that make sense, you probably continually felt the need to wash the dirt of 2016 off. Except it didn't come off.

Thank goodness for the Hungarian baths. The places people crowd on the morning of New Years Eve to wash off a year of indecencies with thermal mineral water before committing more indecencies that night.

But I'm not dwelling on 2016 here. I'm letting social media deal with that and moving on. And how couldn't you move in a place like this?

The Cave Baths, just a reminder: that's not us.

We didn't have to go too far for our bath: the cave bath in Miskolctalpolca is only a two-hour train ride from Budapest.

The New Years Eve morning wash-off at the baths before the party is a tradition in Hungary. I experienced it with a few friends on my first New Years Eve at Szechenyi. We had to arrive early to beat the crowds.

At Miskolc, Hungarians in the line-up outside were ordering their year tickets. Inside, the bath was already crowded with locals and tourists at 9:30am.

The bath could handle the overflow – it was big, cavernous even. The caves twist and turn, and bathers waded along, many with cell phones and selfie sticks to document their bath. There was a normal cave bath, then a warmer pool, and a few warmer thermal pools that were not so cave-like – our favourites.

We lasted about three hours in the pools before our fingers and toes went pruney and, let’s be honest, we got bored wading, floating, and soaking. This is likely why all those tourist information photos of the baths show old men playing chess in the water.

The castle of Diosgyor.

On New Years Day, we wound our way through the foggy streets of Misckolc on a tram. It was almost completely deserted. Everything closed. Everyone staying warm at home. Not us. We were sightseeing.

We made our way out into the suburbs of Miskolc to reach our first stop: Diósgyör castle.

This seemed like a strange place for a castle. It’s not on a high hill, so it’s hard to see. We had to walk through a residential neighbourhood until we finally caught a glimpse of it.

Like everything else on New Years Day, it’s closed. So, we walked around its base where the moat used to be. We snapped photos in the mist until our toes get cold enough that we decided to leave.

Back on the tram to the end of the line. Then onto a bus, heading further, deeper into the hills around the city. We were off the Lillafüred.

Walking on water in Lillafured.

As the bus rose into the hills, the fog thickened and the temperature dropped. The town, like Miskolctapolca, where our cave bath is located, is a resort town, but just a little more upscale. A grand old hotel sits on a hill overlooking a waterfall and terraced garden to one side and a man-made lake on the other side. There was forest all around us.

We were cold and tired, so went into the hotel for a hot coffee (Irish coffee for me) among the hotel bar fanciness.

Classy coffees in the fancy Grand Lillafured Hotel.

We ate a hearty Hungarian meal at a less grander, more affordable establishment next door and washed it down with strong Transylvanian craft beer (Csiki, I recommend it!). Then we ventured onto the lake for a walk on water. 

People like to travel to see new things and experience new things. Some of us, even me, convince ourselves that you have to go far off to the edges of the map to see something fresh and new. 

This trip, though it was meant as a side trip during the Christmas break in Hungary, proves that you don’t have to go far off the beaten path to see something new and incredible. There are great things nearby, no matter where you happen to be. Maybe just a two hour train ride away, you just have to train your eyes a little closer to your own surroundings.

If you go:

We managed to get a room at Amaretto Szallas at the last minute after checking in and immediately out of the disaster zone that was our first hotel. It's run by a nice couple and is close to the baths and public transit.

We had a great, simple lunch at Corso Pizzeria. Highly recommended.

The Cave Baths at Miskolctapolca are a great place to soak up some minerals. Every local we met said we should visit in the spring and summer too. When we saw all the outdoor pools closed for the winter, we realized a trip in the summer would be well worth it.

Just go to Lillafüred. It's pretty.

When it's as cold as it was in Lillafured, you don't have to chase waterfalls.

The month that was November

I haven't published since October so, feeling guilty, I poked around my Drafts folder and found nothing even barely blog-worthy.

Blame the job stuff: meetings, commercial writing, tweaking, revisions, ,more writing, more tweaking throwing everything out, starting again, presenting again, trying to find the stuff that was thrown out and presenting it again. On and on went the Sisyphean roller coaster that is advertising.

But! Other things happened outside of the advertising bubble (thank goodness!) and so here is a roundup of the month that was November, or, as they say in German, November.


The Underwear Situation

Until now I have visited Canada with enough frequency that my underwear drawer has remained well stocked with good Canadian underpants, like the good ol' Canadian boy I try to be. I am currently in the longest stretch between visits to Canada (18 months) and have stretched my underwear drawer thin. 

Instead of turning yesterday's underpants inside out and donning them for a second day, I went underpants shopping in Germany for the first time. It lasted five minutes, cost little, and I was proud until I tried on a pair. 

For starters, a German medium is like a Canadian small. The tight elastic bands around my waist were so tight they gave me a muffin top. They also wedgied me and generally constricted everything in uncomfortable ways. 

Arguing over the return policy for underpants it didn't seem like a fun way to practice my German, so I went to a fancier store and paid a premium for quality underwear for the German larges. I threw in a pair of loose boxers, just in case.


Voting with hearts, not minds

One thing you learn in advertising is that successful brands don't make a rational argument to get you to buy their product – they make an emotional argument.

Think you're aware of what they're doing and all your purchase decisions are based on rational thought? Wrong! Studies show people are great at rationalizing their emotions in order to validate their purchase decisions.

The same can be applied to voting. My favourite example is Barack Obama, who ran on hope and won. Canada's new PM ran on "Sunny Ways" against a grumpy, cynical rival and also won.

This year we saw the other, darker side of emotional positioning in politics. 

Voters in Britain were told their country no longer belongs to them and were invited to take it back, despite the political and economic consequences. The Donald in America, appealed to a fearful, frustrated white working class with nostalgia, bigotry, sexism, and vague promises of prosperity to win the presidency. 

Of course, great advertising can't save a lousy product, so both of those emotional propositions were buttressed with lies, half-truths, and obfuscations.

Next month, Italy holds a referendum on constitutional reforms that could decide the fate of the current centrist government. Austria has the run-off vote for its presidency this Sunday. French presidential elections are next spring. German federal elections are in the autumn. 

Emotional messages around the nation work, especially when supported with falsehoods. 

If the current Powers That Be wish to remain in power, they will have to find similarly strong emotional messaging for voters – dismissing anyone outside the centre as racist or radical doesn't count. And they shouldn't feel like they have to lie, they're selling a great product: Democracy.


iPhone ergo iMarshall


I have joined the 2010s! I still type like one thumb, I haven't joined the Snapchat, and I still miss the simplicity of a flip phone or my old Blackberry's keypad, but I'm adjusting. 

My last phone for the last two years was a Windows phone, which had a nice interface and was easy to use by Luddite standards. Now, I am easing myself into a new operating system, with new swipes and taps and icons and actions, and a daunting new world of apps.

It also comes with a cool camera, so as I adjust to the 2010s, I will take some pretty pictures along the way.

The era of the iPhone Photos in Strange Places has begun!