HIFF stands for the Hawai'i International Film Festival. The Festival ran for a week-and-a-half and I managed to see four movies. Every year I tell myself I should take vacation during this time so I can see more movies!
The first movie I saw was called, Fruit Fly. It was a musical set in San Francisco. A performance artist comes to San Francisco via the Philippines (went looking for her birth parents) and Maryland (where she grew up with her adoptive parents). She moves in with a gay male set designer, a lesbian couple and a runaway teen. It was a fun, raunchy, tongue-in-cheek film that had songs like, "Public Transportation" and "Fag Hag." In one scene, one of the protagonist's friends says that she's not a fag hag (she sees it as a pejorative term), but more like a fruit fly. Hence the title. It was a fun way to start my HIFF experience.
The next movie I saw was Made in China. This was a film about a young creator of novelty items in Texas taking a trip to China to make a deal to produce his product. He is scammed by his "Chinese contact" (found on Craig's List) and finds himself befriending a successful business man in a neighborhood bar. Hilarity (sort of) ensues.
The earnestness of the main character really has you feeling for him, yet he seems so naive, you want to slap his head at the same time. Well, not really slap his head (since in general I am a pacifist), but grab him by the shoulders and shake him (in a verbal, non-violent way). It got a bit boring in the middle, but overall I enjoyed it. The actor was there for a Q&A after the movie. He said it was guerilla film making. All filming was done without Government permission and the city shots and scenes with "locals" were done on the fly...so one take only.
The third movie I saw was my favorite. It is called Flavor of Happiness. Except for having a Japanese actor play a Chinese chef, I loved this movie. I guess I can excuse this supposedly Chinese character's very Japanese ways on having lived in Japan for so long. This was a touching, funny and lovely story about a Chinese chef who cooks delicious, simple, quality dishes and the young single mother he takes on as an apprentice after he has a stroke. The relationship between the characters and their performances were so subtle and nuanced and beautiful. And the food looked awesome. You could tell the director loved food. I mean, that's the perfect way to describe it...the food shots were lovingly done. My friend called it "food porn," and while funny, the shots were a bit more...uh...refined(?) than that.
The movie reminded me a little of Ratatouille, where home cooking, done simply and well can evoke memories of the past. A time when the characters felt safe, comforted and loved...feelings that are all too scarce in their adult lives. In the Q&A with the Director and Producer after the movie, the Director said he's a foodie and always wanted to make a film about food. Chinese food is his favorite, and while filming (a different movie) in China, there was this one dish -- scrambled eggs with fresh tomatoes -- that he never tired of, since it reminded him of his childhood. This is the dish featured in the film.
Another great thing about HIFF is that the films shown here are sometimes their American debut. Some of the Asian films have been screened at European film festivals, but not in the United States. That is the case with the last HIFF film I saw, the Japanese remake of Sideways. I think I liked the American version better (I say "think" because it has been awhile since I saw it). Although it was fun to see the Japanese touches in the movie. For example, when the Paul Giamatti character arrives in Los Angeles to meet his friend who is getting married, he talks about some recent disappointment in his life and decided to come to America for the wedding (and this pre-wedding trip) hoping the western winds would help blow away his discontent.
The director of the film was there for a Q&A after the movie and he said that there is a rumor that an Indian version of Sideways will be in the works shortly. There is a trend in the international film industry to take a well-established American film and do the foreign country's version of it.
Although there were many more films I would have liked to see, I am happy with the four that I managed to view. HIFF, HIFF, Hooray!
Showing posts with label hawai'i. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hawai'i. Show all posts
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Hot Child In The City
Hot Child in the City.
That would be me. Except I'm not running wild or looking pretty. I may be smelling a bit funky, but that is always something that is difficult to determine objectively about oneself.
Anyway, about a week ago it was horribly humid and hatefully hot. I had the fan blowing full blast on me and I would still get up in the early morning (around 2 or 3 a.m.) and have to jump in the shower to make the sticky sweat go away and feel clean enough to go back to sleep. Several days last week I broke down and turned on the air conditioner in my living room and slept on the couch. I really need to start saving money to purchase an air conditioner for my bedroom.
Perhaps I should start a collection. Donations would be much appreciated. I should definitely hit up my co-workers and family first. My spiel would include how I will be less grouchy and more perky if I can get a great night's sleep. I will be even more of a joy to be around (if that is humanly possible) and more productive (definitely possible). I will also have to get approval of our apartment management board. I live in a building that has nothing sticking out of it. No lanais. No air conditioners. Nada. If I want an air conditioner in my room, I will have to purchase a special one that does not stick out of the wall and sends the water condensation somewhere it won't cause any damage. So, you can see it is not as easy as traipsing down to CostCo and picking up an air conditioner. I gotta get a special one specially installed. *sigh*
In the meantime, I have given up trying to use my air conditioner sparingly. I am all into comfort. Me, me, me. How easily I have given up my "green" principles in favor of relief in the form of cool air. I tell myself it is worth $40+ extra a month in electricity bills to have an uninterrupted night's sleep.
One would think that I would not have such an aversion to heat and humidity having grown up in Hawai'i. Yes, we generally have tradewinds that keep it cooler, but still, it's not the Arctic Circle here, either. That's why I love San Francisco. Even though the air may be "wet" at least it's a cool wet and not a steamy wet like it is here. You can always put more clothes on if you are cold. In fact, there are a lot of cute winter outfits. When you're hot, there is only so much you can take off and still be allowed to roam around in public. Even if you choose to remain at home, you can take off everything and still be hot. I'm just trying to make a point, not gross everyone out. In that spirit, I will move on...
So the weather has eased up a bit and it is not so horrifically hot and humid. I feel less grouchy. My temper is more easily leashed. I do not feel as aggravated or irritable. I bet there is a correlation between heat and acts of violence. I certainly feel more peaceful when cool and dry. Literally.
That would be me. Except I'm not running wild or looking pretty. I may be smelling a bit funky, but that is always something that is difficult to determine objectively about oneself.
Anyway, about a week ago it was horribly humid and hatefully hot. I had the fan blowing full blast on me and I would still get up in the early morning (around 2 or 3 a.m.) and have to jump in the shower to make the sticky sweat go away and feel clean enough to go back to sleep. Several days last week I broke down and turned on the air conditioner in my living room and slept on the couch. I really need to start saving money to purchase an air conditioner for my bedroom.
Perhaps I should start a collection. Donations would be much appreciated. I should definitely hit up my co-workers and family first. My spiel would include how I will be less grouchy and more perky if I can get a great night's sleep. I will be even more of a joy to be around (if that is humanly possible) and more productive (definitely possible). I will also have to get approval of our apartment management board. I live in a building that has nothing sticking out of it. No lanais. No air conditioners. Nada. If I want an air conditioner in my room, I will have to purchase a special one that does not stick out of the wall and sends the water condensation somewhere it won't cause any damage. So, you can see it is not as easy as traipsing down to CostCo and picking up an air conditioner. I gotta get a special one specially installed. *sigh*
In the meantime, I have given up trying to use my air conditioner sparingly. I am all into comfort. Me, me, me. How easily I have given up my "green" principles in favor of relief in the form of cool air. I tell myself it is worth $40+ extra a month in electricity bills to have an uninterrupted night's sleep.
One would think that I would not have such an aversion to heat and humidity having grown up in Hawai'i. Yes, we generally have tradewinds that keep it cooler, but still, it's not the Arctic Circle here, either. That's why I love San Francisco. Even though the air may be "wet" at least it's a cool wet and not a steamy wet like it is here. You can always put more clothes on if you are cold. In fact, there are a lot of cute winter outfits. When you're hot, there is only so much you can take off and still be allowed to roam around in public. Even if you choose to remain at home, you can take off everything and still be hot. I'm just trying to make a point, not gross everyone out. In that spirit, I will move on...
So the weather has eased up a bit and it is not so horrifically hot and humid. I feel less grouchy. My temper is more easily leashed. I do not feel as aggravated or irritable. I bet there is a correlation between heat and acts of violence. I certainly feel more peaceful when cool and dry. Literally.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Day of (Almost In)Action
Who knew it would be so difficult to find an opportunity to do some good?
Saturday, September 27, 2008 was the national Day of Action. It is a day to highlight community service and volunteerism as change agents in our nation (legislatively as well as on the community level). A friend mentioned that his church helps paint over graffiti in the Kalihi area. I thought this would be a great project for a few friends – get together in the morning and paint over graffiti.
Well, we arrive somewhat bright-eyed and quasi bushy-tailed, ready to paint our little hearts out. But what do we find? Actually it is what we did not find that was the problem. No graffiti! It would have taken longer to open the paint than to cover the small patch of graffiti. Now please, do not get me wrong. It is wonderful that there was very little graffiti there. It’s just that now we had to think of something else to do.
As we stood around and forced our brains to find another idea, it was suggested that we go deep into Kalihi Valley (Kokua Kalihi Valley) where they plant and care for native species. We drove up there and I must say, I had an attack of the girly-girl attitude and winced at the ankle-deep mud and plethora of thirsty mosquitoes that were immediately attracted to me. My friend looked at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I wrinkled my nose and answered, “I think they have enough people to help here. Let’s do something else.”
But what would that something else be?
Then, two other friends unexpectedly join us and we prove that four brains are better than one as we finally decide to pick up rubbish at a nearby park. We drive there only to find a bustling Farmer’s Market, no parking and a clean park. At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit thwarted and my earlier enthusiasm begins to flag after facing no graffiti, mud, mosquitoes and a clean park. My friend half-jokingly suggests we shop at the Farmer’s market to support our local growers. I think that’s a great idea, but we determinedly trudge on (as well as one can “determinedly trudge” while in a car) to find another park that may need our services.
We drive to Lanakila Park . . . and there is a softball game being played. I am about to cry to the Heavens when my friend says there is a park above the softball field and a school. The four of us grab our industrial-sized trash bags and set off in search of unsightly garbage. At first there is very little garbage, which gives us an opportunity to talk and catch up with one another. Then, as we get to the elementary school, there is a fence. The stopper and catcher of all blowing garbage. At last, some real work to be done!
As we fill our trash bags, I tell myself that I should have brought some gloves (because rubbish can be icky) and I definitely should have tied my hair back, as it kept blowing in my face, impeding my ability to spot more garbage as well as holes in the ground I tried to avoid stepping in. I begin to notice how the gentle warmth of the sun has slowly become a laser beam of intense heat as my brow literally sweats. I am a bit ashamed to realize that I would not have survived a generation ago in the plantation fields, as the repetitive bending to pick up rubbish causes some twinges in my back. I am a weak, soft product of the couch potato generation. Yet, my compatriots seem fine and I realize that it is just me who is having difficulty.
We cross the street to the Lanakila Health Center where free TB tests and other services are provided by the Department of Health. The parking lot and surrounding area is a cornucopia of garbage. Our trash bags runneth over. Well, not quite. But they did get quite heavy.
There is immediate satisfaction in picking up rubbish. An area that looked disheveled, messy and neglected is suddenly “clean” and free of debris. Just looking at the expanse of grass or parking lot clear of garbage lets you know that you accomplished something.
In addition, a nice woman walking by thanked us for picking up rubbish in her neighborhood. She said that sometimes the area looks terrible and that she appreciated our efforts. I looked up, wiped the sweat falling into my eyes, and smiled at her in thanks. We did not do this for acknowledgement, but it was nice just the same.
So, was it really so difficult to find something good to do? Not really. If we actively look for opportunities, they will “suddenly appear.” If we pay attention to the needs around us…the needs of our environment, the needs of our family and friends, the needs of our neighbors…there are so many opportunities for us to serve. In small ways and large ways and in-between ways. We just need to open our eyes and see with our hearts. I realize I am channeling a little Dr. Seuss here, but who better to illustrate that child-like wonder and experience those warm, fuzzy feelings?
Day of Action. I like that. Not only realizing that there is a need and that we may have the resources to address (at least a part) of that need, but taking the next step. Action. To recognize a need is insufficient in itself. It’s a first step, and first steps are important. But we need to go beyond that. To act. In love, in humility and wholeheartedly. I have a modest proposal: how about a Life of Action? How truly transforming and wonderful that would be!
“Of course, this means I would have to start with me,” she thought warily and not without some apprehension. *Sigh* “I guess my couch potato days are numbered.”
Saturday, September 27, 2008 was the national Day of Action. It is a day to highlight community service and volunteerism as change agents in our nation (legislatively as well as on the community level). A friend mentioned that his church helps paint over graffiti in the Kalihi area. I thought this would be a great project for a few friends – get together in the morning and paint over graffiti.
Well, we arrive somewhat bright-eyed and quasi bushy-tailed, ready to paint our little hearts out. But what do we find? Actually it is what we did not find that was the problem. No graffiti! It would have taken longer to open the paint than to cover the small patch of graffiti. Now please, do not get me wrong. It is wonderful that there was very little graffiti there. It’s just that now we had to think of something else to do.
As we stood around and forced our brains to find another idea, it was suggested that we go deep into Kalihi Valley (Kokua Kalihi Valley) where they plant and care for native species. We drove up there and I must say, I had an attack of the girly-girl attitude and winced at the ankle-deep mud and plethora of thirsty mosquitoes that were immediately attracted to me. My friend looked at me, one eyebrow raised in silent question. I wrinkled my nose and answered, “I think they have enough people to help here. Let’s do something else.”
But what would that something else be?
Then, two other friends unexpectedly join us and we prove that four brains are better than one as we finally decide to pick up rubbish at a nearby park. We drive there only to find a bustling Farmer’s Market, no parking and a clean park. At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit thwarted and my earlier enthusiasm begins to flag after facing no graffiti, mud, mosquitoes and a clean park. My friend half-jokingly suggests we shop at the Farmer’s market to support our local growers. I think that’s a great idea, but we determinedly trudge on (as well as one can “determinedly trudge” while in a car) to find another park that may need our services.
We drive to Lanakila Park . . . and there is a softball game being played. I am about to cry to the Heavens when my friend says there is a park above the softball field and a school. The four of us grab our industrial-sized trash bags and set off in search of unsightly garbage. At first there is very little garbage, which gives us an opportunity to talk and catch up with one another. Then, as we get to the elementary school, there is a fence. The stopper and catcher of all blowing garbage. At last, some real work to be done!
As we fill our trash bags, I tell myself that I should have brought some gloves (because rubbish can be icky) and I definitely should have tied my hair back, as it kept blowing in my face, impeding my ability to spot more garbage as well as holes in the ground I tried to avoid stepping in. I begin to notice how the gentle warmth of the sun has slowly become a laser beam of intense heat as my brow literally sweats. I am a bit ashamed to realize that I would not have survived a generation ago in the plantation fields, as the repetitive bending to pick up rubbish causes some twinges in my back. I am a weak, soft product of the couch potato generation. Yet, my compatriots seem fine and I realize that it is just me who is having difficulty.
We cross the street to the Lanakila Health Center where free TB tests and other services are provided by the Department of Health. The parking lot and surrounding area is a cornucopia of garbage. Our trash bags runneth over. Well, not quite. But they did get quite heavy.
There is immediate satisfaction in picking up rubbish. An area that looked disheveled, messy and neglected is suddenly “clean” and free of debris. Just looking at the expanse of grass or parking lot clear of garbage lets you know that you accomplished something.
In addition, a nice woman walking by thanked us for picking up rubbish in her neighborhood. She said that sometimes the area looks terrible and that she appreciated our efforts. I looked up, wiped the sweat falling into my eyes, and smiled at her in thanks. We did not do this for acknowledgement, but it was nice just the same.
So, was it really so difficult to find something good to do? Not really. If we actively look for opportunities, they will “suddenly appear.” If we pay attention to the needs around us…the needs of our environment, the needs of our family and friends, the needs of our neighbors…there are so many opportunities for us to serve. In small ways and large ways and in-between ways. We just need to open our eyes and see with our hearts. I realize I am channeling a little Dr. Seuss here, but who better to illustrate that child-like wonder and experience those warm, fuzzy feelings?
Day of Action. I like that. Not only realizing that there is a need and that we may have the resources to address (at least a part) of that need, but taking the next step. Action. To recognize a need is insufficient in itself. It’s a first step, and first steps are important. But we need to go beyond that. To act. In love, in humility and wholeheartedly. I have a modest proposal: how about a Life of Action? How truly transforming and wonderful that would be!
“Of course, this means I would have to start with me,” she thought warily and not without some apprehension. *Sigh* “I guess my couch potato days are numbered.”
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Plantation Nostalgia
Today I took my mom and my aunt to Hawaii's Plantation Village in Waipahu. There is a 20-minute video about some of the basics about sugar plantation life in Hawai'i and there is a small, but packed museum. A volunteer takes you through the museum as well as the "Village." It is not a typical Village, which would generally only have been made up of one ethnic group (i.e., only Japanese or only Korean, etc.), but a sampling of each type of house that could be found between 1900 and the late 1930s. They also show the Portuguese outdoor oven to make bread, a Japanese tofu-ya to make tofu, the Plantation Store and even a little replica of a Saimin Stand.
It was a long tour (about 2 hours). Our guide was a really nice man, but he was kind of slow talking and so the tempo of the tour tended to drag. It was really interesting, though. I did not realize that most of the Korean immigrants came to escape religious persecution; they wanted to practice Christianity. The Japanese came to make their fortune and planned (originally) to return back to Japan. The Portuguese on the other hand, came with their families planning to settle and raise the next generation in Hawai'i. The Japanese bachelors here were apparently a rowdy bunch that would drink and fight a lot. In order to "control" them, the Plantation owners got them to bring women over...in the form of picture brides. The Chinese were the first to come over (about 16 years before the next group, the Japanese). Again, mostly men came, so they started marrying the Hawaiian women. No wonder the Hawaiian and Chinese combination is so prevalent.
It was nice spending time with my mom and my aunt. It was also a little sad, too. They're getting old. Slowing down. In fact, another aunt was supposed to come out with us today, but she decided not to because she was not feeling up to it. My mom said that aunt (who is older than them) would not have lasted during that 2-hour walking tour anyway. My mom is still really mobile and active, but my aunt is losing her sight and has a more difficult time getting around.
I love tagging along with my mom and my aunties. I enjoy hearing their stories, hearing them laugh...and of course, they would always pay for everything. Heh. It was an endless source of amusement for me when my mom and aunties would go out. Those little asian ladies would have ninja-fast reflexes any time a bill would come. They're all talking, then the waiter would bring the bill to the table. Woosh! Hands would just start flying, seeing who could pick up the bill first. After establishing physical prowess, the "winner" would have to withstand the psychological and verbal assault that would immediately ensue.
"It's my turn! You paid last time."
"No, I didn't. It is my turn now, remember?"
"No, no, no! We always go through this. It is my turn, because..."
Only the strong would survive.
Now, they are a little slower physically, but they make up for it in craftiness. I noticed the planning occurred even before the day of our outing. My mom gave me money before we got to the Plantation Village to pay for our entrance fees, feeling my youth gave me an advantage to whip out my wallet and pay before my aunt would know what was going on. It worked. But somehow during the tour, my aunt convinced my mom she was going to pay for lunch, and it was all decided before we even chose at which restaurant we would dine. Older means craftier and working more through diplomatic channels.
Sigh. To my mom and aunty: Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys again. It was a wonderful way to spend my vacation day. I hope there are many more days we can spend together and I can listen to you tell stories, laugh and scold each other.
It was a long tour (about 2 hours). Our guide was a really nice man, but he was kind of slow talking and so the tempo of the tour tended to drag. It was really interesting, though. I did not realize that most of the Korean immigrants came to escape religious persecution; they wanted to practice Christianity. The Japanese came to make their fortune and planned (originally) to return back to Japan. The Portuguese on the other hand, came with their families planning to settle and raise the next generation in Hawai'i. The Japanese bachelors here were apparently a rowdy bunch that would drink and fight a lot. In order to "control" them, the Plantation owners got them to bring women over...in the form of picture brides. The Chinese were the first to come over (about 16 years before the next group, the Japanese). Again, mostly men came, so they started marrying the Hawaiian women. No wonder the Hawaiian and Chinese combination is so prevalent.
It was nice spending time with my mom and my aunt. It was also a little sad, too. They're getting old. Slowing down. In fact, another aunt was supposed to come out with us today, but she decided not to because she was not feeling up to it. My mom said that aunt (who is older than them) would not have lasted during that 2-hour walking tour anyway. My mom is still really mobile and active, but my aunt is losing her sight and has a more difficult time getting around.
I love tagging along with my mom and my aunties. I enjoy hearing their stories, hearing them laugh...and of course, they would always pay for everything. Heh. It was an endless source of amusement for me when my mom and aunties would go out. Those little asian ladies would have ninja-fast reflexes any time a bill would come. They're all talking, then the waiter would bring the bill to the table. Woosh! Hands would just start flying, seeing who could pick up the bill first. After establishing physical prowess, the "winner" would have to withstand the psychological and verbal assault that would immediately ensue.
"It's my turn! You paid last time."
"No, I didn't. It is my turn now, remember?"
"No, no, no! We always go through this. It is my turn, because..."
Only the strong would survive.
Now, they are a little slower physically, but they make up for it in craftiness. I noticed the planning occurred even before the day of our outing. My mom gave me money before we got to the Plantation Village to pay for our entrance fees, feeling my youth gave me an advantage to whip out my wallet and pay before my aunt would know what was going on. It worked. But somehow during the tour, my aunt convinced my mom she was going to pay for lunch, and it was all decided before we even chose at which restaurant we would dine. Older means craftier and working more through diplomatic channels.
Sigh. To my mom and aunty: Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys again. It was a wonderful way to spend my vacation day. I hope there are many more days we can spend together and I can listen to you tell stories, laugh and scold each other.
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