I really like the new James Bond film. I think what Daniel Craig has done with the role is excellent. I prefer the back-to-basics approach over the movies that relied on gadgets and digital effects. It’s more Jason Bourne and, for me, that can only be a good thing. This, however, isn’t a review, as I am certain you can find plenty of decent ones if you Google.
I saw Casino Royale last Saturday. On the way home, I mentioned – in passing – that I had always wanted to be a secret agent. I have always assumed that every kid wanted to be a secret agent at some point. Isn’t this a perfectly normal thing to say? PY, however, couldn’t stop laughing. It was the kind of amusement that was induced as soon as he set eyes on me. His mouth would curl up, and his shoulders would start that laughter quiver; he had to look away. I was a little dumbstruck. I take it for granted that I don’t look like a spy, but isn’t that what being undercover is all about?
Sadly, however, I have to agree that I am not very spy-like. For starters, I am not sure I could, Bourne-like, blow a house up with a toaster and a rolled-up newspaper. I couldn’t leap building cranes with anything approaching a Bond-like skill. The final proof that I couldn’t cut the MI6 mustard is that I’m useless in foreign restaurants.
You may have gathered from Monday’s post that I am in Finland. I am on business, but I am not with any colleagues. Sometimes I must eat on my own in a foreign city. I paced Helsinki the other night looking for a restaurant. I had forgotten my book, which, as any solo traveller will tell you, is the key to eating alone in restaurants. Have a good book and hide behind it. You eat more slowly that way and can hide from the locals’ stares as they wonder why you have no friends and must resort to dining alone.
Had I been a Bond/Bourne spy, I would have walked into the finest dining room in the city, ordered a drink in fluent Finnish, had the maître d’ find me a decent table and struck up an interesting conversation before they put the olive on the stick. Whereas I sulked in a corner and tried to not to lose my scarf.
You hear that travel broadens the mind (it’s like an exercise for the brain, apparently), but I don’t agree. I am sure a certain type of travel expands horizons, but my kind only serves to expand the waistline (dining alone, you comfort-eat for a party of five). I’ve done the airport-taxi-hotel-office-taxi-airport run enough times to make almost every European city appear identical. This week’s arrival in Finland reinforced the feeling that I want to be here on holiday but not on business; I want to see something new.
The day was damp and cold when we landed, and it was already getting dark at 3.30pm. I had hoped for snow, but there wasn’t any, so I got taken straight to my hotel. We passed the outdoor ice-hockey game, which, I guess, must be everywhere in winter. I wanted to watch, but I had no idea how to get to it. I worked in my hotel room. I didn’t sleep on the first night (I never sleep well on the first night in a hotel). I went to meetings. I drank too much coffee (do secret agents rely on caffeine too?).
It is a perfectly normal business trip. Sure, I hear you. Go out, mix with the locals, live a little. That, though, is a little too Bond-like for me. I guess Bond would have had a hidden revolver to get himself out of any local difficulties. I wouldn’t have made it through the airport with one, and so I comfort myself that I don’t look good in black and, truthfully, Judi Dench scares me a little.
