The sun is high and warm. The car windows are coming down and the shorts are begging to come out to play. It’s time to think about vacation.
My only obstacle is cash. Face it: vacations are expensive. Whether you fly or drive, or even cruise, you must have a substantial stash of dough to go.
That’s another thing that I love about movies—world travel from the comfort of your own home or local theatre.
I’ve seen the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and Notre Dame Cathedral inParis. I’ve been to the Moulin Rouge and the Louvre.
In Italy, I’ve visited the Trevi Roman fountains, the Venetian canals, the Coliseum, and the leaning tower of Pisa.
I saw the great Pyramids and the Sphinx at Giza. I’ve seen the Egyptian temples of Ramses and Abu Sembel. I’ve floated down the Nile on a luxury cruise and ridden camels through the Sahara.
In Australia, I’ve snorkeled around the Great Barrier Reef, hiked Ayres Rock, and gone walkabout in the Outback. I’ve enjoyed the man-made marvels of the Sydney Opera House framed by the Harbour Bridge. I’ve been whale watching off the coast of Perth.
I’ve climbed the steps of Indian temples and lain on the beaches of Thailand. I witnessed the Equinox at the pyramid at Chichen Itza. I’ve experienced Shangri La and Utopia.
I’ve enjoyed all of these wonders and seen places my grandparents never imagined through the magic of movies. Of course, that doesn’t mean that I’m satisfied with never traveling the globe. I long to visit far off destinations. The movies I see often help me to refine my “list.”
My point is that while I save up for that once-in-a-lifetime European tour, I can enjoy the rolling green hills of Irelandin films like Leap Year (2010) and The Quiet Man (1952). As my “Aussie Break” jar fills up with spare change, I can organize my packing while watching Crocodile Dundee (1986), Australia (2008), and Mad Max (1979).
Though the hotels and cars that I might rent on my real-life travels might not be as glamorous or luxurious as those in film, the trade off is that I probably won’t be attacked by post-apocalyptic savages. I hope.
Yes, it’s true that Cary Grant won’t be strolling at my side down the Seine river walk in Paris, but I also won’t be chased through the colonnade by Walter Matthau, like in Charade (1963).
My trips might not be as adventurous as in the movies, but they’re almost never as dangerous, either. I’ve never been kidnapped by centuries-old mummies or attacked by werewolves on foggy moors. The worst thing I’ve ever really had to deal with is a nasty sunburn on my nose. Maybe next time…
That’s a wrap for this Toast to Cinema. Thanks for reading.
