I swear that a theme of this blog will not be exhaustion (PINKY PROMISE), but for anyone who has ever traveled into, around, through, under, over, or anywhere near Washington D.C., I hope you can understand that a general feeling of malaise, and, well, extreme sleep deprivation, is seemingly lurking behind every well-lit, poorly signed, pedestrian-filled corner. Basically, by the end of the day of walking around, and driving around before that on a seemingly never-ending quest to park, I was just as tired as I was on my previous night in Leesburg. (Note to self: Drink more coffee. Investigate the local cocaine market.)
Anyways, after going to the infamous “Deep Throat” parking garage that helped unlock the Watergate scandal, hitting up the Georgetown staircase from The Exorcist and faking a fall (Selfie-style , no less! Gotta’ keep it fresh! Demons need to be relevant to our modern world, or they are worthless. Just ask the makers of Paranormal Activity.), and finally, grabbing a drink with my cousin, John, at The Tombs Bar, the basis for the bar in St. Elmo’s Fire, I finally got back in the car to head to my next couchsurfer. (Mind you, it was an EXPERTLY handled parking job, in a cul-de-sac not even a block from the bar. Suck it, $15 parking garage 20 blocks away!)
*Alexandra lived just a short 20 minute drive outside of D.C., in the Silver Springs, MD corner of the world. Maybe it’s just me (…and by that I mean, I know we’re all just a bunch of fakers, and that this really applies to a shit-ton of you out there. Don’t think I don’t see you.), but as much as I love the energy and vibes of a bustling city, I also never fail to get incredibly anxious and overwhelmed at the sight of the mob-like crowds. I have a real fear of getting lost in that faceless sea, never to re-emerge as the snowflake individual that I am. Silver Springs seemed to be on the shortlist of cities that I have come across to be nestled in between “nothing-going-on-for-miles-around” and “holy-fuck-i-think-i-just-caught-Aspergers.” It was an especially nice notch down the spectrum from the Capitol.
Despite running a half hour late, Alexandra was all smiles as I arrived. She was waiting outside of her place for me so we could walk across the street and grab a bite to eat. As she gave me the brief (but culturally inclusive!) list of options, ranging from the standard Chinese buffet, to a number of Ethiopian joints, we also quickly covered the normal basis of “getting-to-know-you” type questions.
It was like the most effortless first date I’ve ever been on. She told me about how she came to America from the Philippines, and how her work was finally going to help get her a more permanent green card than her current visa. We talked about CouchSurfing and how she’s only ever hosted, never surfed, but has met all sorts of characters through the network. An artist from Canada, a guy from France, a group of friends from some other place in Europe that I have already forgotten the name of. She seemed up for anything life could throw at her. I liked her already.
We decided on getting Vietnamese to-go, so we could more quickly get to the main course of the evening’s agenda: Letters to Juliet.
This 2010 film stars Amanda Seyfried as hopeless romantic, Sophie, who dreams of being a writer, though at the start of the film is a mere fact-checker for The New Yorker. No small feat. I would literally kill to work for The New Yorker. (If you work for The New Yorker, and by some grace of god see this, Please allow me the honor of offing you’re annoying neighbor in apartment 7B, and then being your coffee-bitch by day. I would love nothing more.) Regardless, Sophie is complacent at work, and is jetting off to Verona, Italy with her restaurateur fiancé, Victor (Gael Garcia Bernal), to have a “pre-wedding” honeymoon, because Victor’s new 5th Avenue restaurant will be mid-grand-opening after the wedding. Upon arriving to Italy however, Victor spends every waking hour dragging Sophie around to source different authentic ingredients for his soon-to-be mistress, his den of sin pasta and shit.
When tiny-waisted, big-eyed Sophie can not possibly shove another truffle or carb into her slender frame, (so, like, within a mere 24 hours), she tells Victor to go on ahead without her on this quest of his, and she will sight-see on her own. He is entirely too pleased with the notion, and utters “Win-win!” as he sprints off to the next tomato garden or whatever. That phrase, and his accompanying mad-dash away from her, become his signature for the rest of the movie.
Sophie, through her travels, arrives at the storied home of Juliet Capulet, where women the world over apparently come to cry and write letters to the mythic embodiment of pure love and devotion. Sophie is entranced by the crowds of ladies that gather every day. Young and old alike, both happy and sad, they ask “thee faire Juliet” upon her balcony for help in matters of love, and stick their notes and queries to the wall below her. Sophie spends the entire afternoon sitting and watching the women come and go, and as the sun begins to set, a new woman with a basket comes and collects all of the letters off of the wall, and carries them away. Endlessly the curious minx, Sophie follows and asks what the hell that broad thinks she’s doing with all those sentiments of love!? (She may have asked more nicely than that. It’s a blur. Semantics.) The woman who removed the letters is the leader of a group of 5 other women that write every single love-struck lady back with some sort of answer to their plight. Enthralled by the notion of that dedication, and desperate to find an interesting human-interest piece to write about in order to impress her editor back home, she joins the Secretaries of Juliet, and then her own quest begins.
SPOILERS: Sophie finds a letter that had been tucked behind a brick in the wall for 50 years, and therefore, was never given a response by the Secretaries. It was the story of a young girl, Claire, from England, torn about leaving her first love, Lorenzo, behind as she returned to her home country to finish school. Sophie told her to come back, after all this time, if she still loved Lorenzo, and to find him at all costs. Claire, now much older and played by Vanessa Redgrave, takes Sophie’s advice within a few days (DAMN that Italian mail is fast!), and Claire, Sophie, and Claire’s cynical nephew, Charlie (Christopher Egan), take off to find the long-lost love. FAST-FORWARD: They find him, Claire and Lorenzo live the rest of their lives (so…maybe the next 20-25 years?) in marital bliss, and Sophie figures out that Victor and her are no longer right for one another because they pay absolutely NO attention to one another, and have no interest in one another’s individual passions. Of course, Sophie and Charlie find a spark in each other that is unrivaled, expect by maybe Claire and Lorenzo, a veritable Romeo and Juliet of the modern age. Happily ever after. And scene.
This is not meant to knock the power of love, but, Letters is a pretty standard, run-of-the-mill chick flick if there ever was one. It’s not subtle, it’s sappy (it’s set in Italy for gods sake!), and it has the happy ending that we all crave and hope for in our own lives. These kinds of film exist for a reason. I offer up an analogy: Chick Flicks are to ladies hearts as Star Wars is to boys deeply insecure egos. We all want to get the girl/guy, achieve our own potential, and have an adventure in a bad-ass locale. (I guess that means Italy and outer-space are basically one and the same. Speak Vulcan next time you’re in Italy, they’ll totally get it. And yes, I know Vulcan is from Star Trek, not Star Wars, but according to J.J. Abrams…that doesn’t matter.)
Alexandra was all a-giggle from the start of the film to the very un-bitter end. Whereas some people watch their favorites films in utter silence, too captivated to interrupt it, Alexandra loved to emphasize her favorite romantic parts with a telling “awww…” or “he is so cute!” I enjoyed having those sentiments peppered throughout my own first viewing of the film.
After the film ended, she immediately looked to me and asked, smiling, “Did you like it?!” I’m a person with a heart, so of course, I blurted “I loved it!” What I loved even more was Alexandra’s explanation of why this, above all others, was her favorite movie.
Alexandra, as I said, came to America from the Philippines. Not as a child, but as a young adult. Oh yeah, she came with her husband and child. Did I forget to mention that before? That’s partially because when I connected with her through Couchsurfer, there was no mention of those two figures in her life. And there was no conceivable sign of them at her apartment. Alexandra, with the most beautiful and vulnerable honesty I have seen in a long time, told me, a complete stranger, that she knew before she even married her husband that they were not right for one another, and that she was not truly, madly, deeply in love with him. They had accidentally gotten pregnant, and then, just like all of 1950’s America before them, did the “respectable” thing and got married.
Alexandra spoke of her son, like most mothers, with unending love in her voice, showing that she regards him as one of her greatest achievement, and one of her great friends. Her son is 6 (that’s probably off…numbers do not stay in my brain for long.) and therefore, he’s still at that age where society hasn’t convinced him that it is uncool to be friends with your mom. (Fuck you, Society, Moms make the BEST best friend!) She told me how her now-ex-husband, and her son, had gone back to the Philippines, for economic reasons, but that she was saving to bring them back across the big pond soon.
She spoke of Sophie’s story, not through the lens of mushy-gushy fantasies of love, but of the female character’s endless courage. Sophie had the courage to help Claire in her septuagenarian quest, to pursue writing even in the face of being turned down by an ignorant editor, and most importantly, she had the courage to leave Victor and be true to her heart, regardless of the difficulty involved in leaving someone you car about behind.
If I had seen Letters on my own, or with anyone else really, I probably wouldn’t have been moved by it as much, if at all. Not that I don’t love a good romance, but my own personal romantic taste get’s all bent out of shape by traditional chivalry and shows of affection. That’s just me. Personally, I don’t want Italy and flowers and a walk in the vineyard. (I’ll disclose my own preferences later…this is not the time for that.) So, without the eyes of Alexandra, all I would have seen is the over-the-top ITALY of it all. Alexandra made me see that the story wasn’t about a couple, or a few couples, it was about a PERSON. A brave person. A person who took risks, gambled (as we all do in matters of life and love), and kept strong for herself and for those around her. Clearly, all traits which Alexandra aspires to, and things she very much, successfully, embodies.
Thank you from the bottom of my (now deeper) heart, Alexandra, for sharing your story, your home, your time, and your movie with me. I hope you stay strong while working towards bring your son back to the States, and I know that you will see him again soon. You are an amazingly fun, smart, and strong woman, and I wish you all the best in everything you do! Your son has a great mom. :)
*(Fittingly, for this article, the name of my host has been changed to preserve her privacy. In matters of love, sometimes it’s better to play things close to the chest.)
*speechless*
moxiepixierealgirl 