Business first today. We dropped a couple of films off to C + A, we reckoned that that, together with the money we hoped to make with our liquor permits, would mean we wouldn’t have to change any more money. And, in fact, tho’ I anticipated difficulties – I always do – that was how things worked out. We sold our licence to a different man, one we met while I was buying myself a jacket. The cold has been getting to me something fierce, + hearing C + A say that they had good cheap jackets here in the 2nd hand clothing shops, I kept my eyes open. And bought one on impulse, the way I like to buy – a fairly heavy corduroy jacket with mock sheepskin lining. And then topped it off with a pair of woollen gloves off a kid in the street. With the scarf that Val’s knitting me, + coming along very quickly, I should be well set.
We returned to the hotel for a belated + all too welcome breakfast, after which I got busy with the Forth Bridge painting job (ie never-ending) of patching my trousers. We dragged ourselves out eventually to buy the few last things we could afford for the journey, then went round to see Terence. He seems to be making progress with arrangements for going over the Afghan border – it could happen any day now. We all went to the pictures together, to see “Lone Wolf McQuade”, a sort of modern Western kung fu adventure. We were a bit worried about possibly having to fight for a seat in the pit, but they have a special box at the back, scarcely more expensive, + almost civilised. The film was utterly dreadful, a Clint Eastwood take-off without the CE style, but in places it was so bad as to be hilarious, + all in all provided adequate entertainment. One can certainly see where the Pakistanis obtain their role models for Western women – Barbara Carrera, all panting longing, + the other actress, playing the hero’s daughter, quivering with fear + anxiety. David Carradine, the baddie, seems to have been living the good life recently, + has put on a lot of weight since his “Kung Fu” days. We were glad we went, + could hardly have expected anything different, but it’ll be a relief to get home + catch up on some good films… I almost said movies.
Regular trips to the cinema have been a consistent part of our travels, frequently as much for the cultural experience as for the films themselves, and this was the case here. As it was, in real time, just a couple of weeks ago; it is not something I have grown out of. Our final day in Quetta, and by no means a bad way to spend it.
Every movie that I saw exported from the US was junk, in my opinion. In a movie I saw in Baghdad on Christmas Day, 1972, an American president (Van Johnson) goes to Texas to inform the Texans that the Civil War is over, only to be assassinated as he rides through Dallas in his horse-drawn carriage. The entire theater (almost all men) began whispering to each other “Kennedy?” and seemed to think that that’s what Texas looked like in 1972. I also saw a spaghetti western in Libya, probably with Clint Eastwood although I didn’t know who he was at the time, spoken in Italian, dubbed in English, with Arabic subtitles. Only one other woman besides myself at that movie. The best place for movies was Beirut, where I saw a Woody Allen film–I think it was Shoot the Piano Player, but that may not be the exact title. We export trash to the rest of the world, and they treasure it.