Watch the IMDB Top 100 Movies (Bucket List #29)

Glasgow, Scotland, UK • July 2013 • Length of Read: 7 Minutes

I never really watched that many films growing up, especially those which could be referred to as ‘classics’. The occasional family trip to the cinema was made during times of bad weather, of course, which in Glasgow is more often than not, but I never really received an education in cinematic history past a few shoddy remakes and those films released by Disney and Pixar. As a result of this, I felt that I was missing out on a host of pop culture references and the punchlines to a number of stories and jokes. Therefore, at the age of sixteen and as an introverted pubescent recluse, I made it my aim to watch the hundred best movies of all time, regardless of genre, release date, or language.

Three years later, after a lot of nights binge watching my laptop screen and an incredible amount of illegal online streaming, I managed to complete the Internet Movie Database’s (IMDB) list of the top 100 critically rated movies. Now, I’m not going to give you a play-by-play synopsis of each bloody film, a lot of which I would describe as plain vanilla, but I will give you an insight as to what I thought of a select few. Remember, however, the list of films I watched is just a selective as my opinion on them, so don’t go crying to mummy that your favourite didn’t make the cut. I should also state here that, for the purposes of this bucket list item, documentaries were not included.

Okay, so let’s start with my five least favourite films on the list, each of which I really struggled to even get to the end of. Some didn’t stand the test of time, some were downright bizarre, and all, in my unprofessional opinion, were more shitty than the unsanitary long drop toilet of a poorly irrigated African village.

Film

1. Seven Samurai (1954)
   
   
   
    
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
    
3. Sunset Boulevard (1950)
    
4. Paths of Glory (1957)
   
   
    
5. Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

crobs abroad review

1. Black-and-white film in Japanese. Guy spent half-an-hour eating rice, a farm burned down, then there was a lot of horseback riding. Perhaps a predecessor to Brokeback Mountain?
2. Jim Carrey being surprisingly unfunny in a number of fantasy worlds whilst chasing a far-too-young and far-too-pretty girl.
3. Some movie actress gets depressed about retiring, kicks up a fuss, and people die.  
4. Bunch of guys stuck in a trench during WWI get bored, just like me watching it, then an evil general has to be a dick in order to save his own back. 
5. Plain vanilla gangster movie that felt longer than the entire Lord of The Rings trilogy. 

In contrast, here are the  five films which I was completely blown away with. Not my favourite five, but those which I expected absolutely nothing of and ended up bringing tears of laughter and sadness to my eyes.

Film

1. Untouchable (2011)
   
   
    
2. La Vita e Bella (1997)
   
   
   
    
3. Spirited Away (2001)
   
   
    
4. Leon (1994)
   
    
5. The Prestige (2006)

crobs abroad review

1. French dude from the ghetto unwillingly gets a job as the carer for a quadriplegic rich dude and the pair have serious banter and adventures.
2. Roberto Benigni writes, directs, and acts in the most emotionally-charged Holocaust movie of all-time, making a game out of his Jewish family's death camp imprisonment to protect his son.
3. A sublime Japanese anime about a young girl inadvertently wandering into an enchanted world full of sprites, beasts, and spirits, and trying to escape. Magical.
4. A ten year old Natalie Portman finds herself befriending a hitman who loves to drink milk.
5. Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman are rival magicians who employ cunning techniques, and go to life-threatening lengths, to top one another. A classic  Christopher Nolan mind-fuckery.

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References:

http://www.imdb.com/chart/top

30-Day Meditation Challenge (Bucket List #22)

Glasgow, Scotland, UK • March 2014 • Length of Read: 2 Minutes

Challenge: Meditate for ten minutes per day for thirty days in a row.

Like most people when they initially hear about meditation, I was under the assumption that it was all a bunch of airy-fairy, Buddhist, new-age, free-thinking nonsense. How can sitting cross-legged in silence help you find enlightenment?

I then read a book by Jon Kabat-Zinn called Wherever You Go, There You Are, however, and my perspective completely changed. A medical professional, the author laid out how meditation can be practical in everyday life to help reduce stress, worry, and anxiety; a few negative traits that I quietly held onto for quite a while. I began to understand that slowing down and reflecting on things was greatly beneficial not only to my health but also my understanding of the world as well. Therefore, I decided to set myself a challenge of meditating for an entire month straight and downloaded the much-acclaimed Headspace and Calm applications onto my phone for assistance.

At the beginning, it was not simple. The minutes passed like hours and I honestly thought at some points that the timer on my watch must have frozen. Slowly and surely, however, I got into a good morning routine of meditating on my thoughts for ten minutes before work and very quickly noticed a change in my attitude towards certain things. I would never say that I was one to cry over spilt milk, but I have been known to get worked up over situations that really turn out to be nothing. Now, as Mark Twain said, “I’ve had lots of worries in my life, most of which have never happened.”

I can’t say that I still meditate on a daily basis, although I would like to get back into this routine at some point, but having completed this challenge I have a newfound understanding of myself and a more tranquil aura and attitude towards things. And if that’s not a great takeaway from the completion of a bucket list item, then I don’t know what is.

Meet A Namesake (Bucket List #96)

Glasgow, Scotland, UK • November 2015 • Length of Read: 3 Minutes

One of my all-time favourite stand-up shows is comedian Dave Gorman’s ‘Are You Dave Gorman?’ which originated as a result of a drunken bet he made with his then flatmate, the writer and television presenter, Danny Wallace.

Whilst in the pub one night, Gorman claimed that he shared the name ‘Dave Gorman’ with the assistant manager of East Fife Football Club, and boasted that, despite never having met a namesake, there must be loads of people called Dave Gorman kicking about. Danny Wallace disagreed, however, and the pair got so carried away by this throwaway comment that a few hours later they found themselves drunkenly boarding a train from London all the way to Scotland in an attempt to meet this bloke. Successfully doing so, and getting a photo with him, Gorman was so smug about the whole situation that Wallace then bet his friend that he couldn’t find a Dave Gorman for each card in a deck of playing cards (including the jokers). This led to the pair travelling all around the UK, and internationally, to try and locate said number, all whilst trying to keep within a distance travelled of 300-500 mpdg (miles per Dave Gorman). If you haven’t seen it, or read the book, then do yourself a favour and check it out as it’s absolutely hilarious. And at the same time, it also peaked my interest in wishing to meet a namesake.

Without really having to search, my opportunity arose in the winter of 2015 when an e-mail came into my work inbox. Working as an accountant at the time, I’d been assigned to perform a weekend stocktake at a company in Glasgow that constructed cranes, and noticed with amusement that my client contact went by the name of ‘Christopher Roberts’. Messaging him to get some necessary details regarding the work, we had a bit of a laugh over e-mail about our shared name, and I waited in anticipation for the rest of the week in a hope to tick off bucket list number 96. In truth, I was even a little bit nervous when walking across the car park to the reception of his offices that following Saturday morning.

“I’m here to see Christopher Roberts, please,” I said to the beaming girl behind the desk.

“Certainly, Sir,” she responded. “And can I ask your name?”

“Christopher Roberts.”

“No, I understood who you wish to see,” she replied politely, albeit slightly confused. “I just need to let Christopher know who you are.”

“We coincidentally have the same name,” I smiled as the door to her left opened and a burly man walked out.

“Christopher Roberts?” he said, reaching out to shake my hand.

“Likewise,” I said, giving it a firm shake “It’s my first time meeting a namesake.”

“Same for me,” smiled Christopher Roberts.

“I just have one question to ask you before we get down to business,” I said, curiously.

“Fire away.”

“Do you get referred to as Crobs?”

“Never,” he replied with a deadpan face.

“Thank goodness,” I breathed in a sigh of relief. “Because that nickname is reserved for me and me only.”

Bologna - A Little Slice of Heaven

Bologna, Italy • July 2017 • Length of Read: 9 Minutes

Catching my breath, I gazed in wonder over the bronze and rust coloured city that stretched out before my eyes; the bright, mid-morning, sun illuminating the terracotta rooftops of the buildings below as the sidewalk-arching porticoes cast shadows out over the cobbled streets, providing welcome shade for the throngs of tourists and locals who were presumably perusing the myriad high-fashion shops; exploring the boutique cafes; or simply enjoying some al fresco dining whilst taking in the melting pot of architecture and culture that can be found on every corner in Bologna.

Along with the lovely Polish guy who I’d met at the tourist information centre in Piazza Maggiore, this northern Italian city’s main square, we’d just climbed 498 steps up the spiral staircase of the medieval Torre Degli Asinelli, and were taking in the panoramic vista we’d been rewarded from the top. The taller of the Two Towers, which together act as the symbol of Bologna, it has been standing strong for over 1,000 years, surviving the aerial bombings of both world wars as well as numerous lightning strikes. This tower’s shorter sister leans adjacent to it at a precarious 4-degree slant, even more squint than the 3.6-degree tilt of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and together they are among only twenty towers that remain standing in a city that used to boast more than one-hundred such constructions. With no suitable ground or space on which to build a castle, stone towers were constructed in Bologna by the region’s wealthy families, the height of the structures said to have correlated to the extent of their power. When these families had disagreements that led to bloody feuds, however, the towers would be demolished as a sign of defeat.

Back on terra firma, my calves burning from the descent, I took a stroll down the primary shopping street of Via dell’Independenza before cutting off towards the University. Founded in 1088, the University of Bologna is the oldest in the world, and unbeknownst to me upon pulling into the main train station the previous evening, I’d timed my visit for the exact week that the students’ graduation ceremonies and coinciding festivities were taking place. Entering the walled city-centre, passing a number of beautiful monuments and sculptures from the medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque artistic eras, I was astounded to be confronted with hundreds of young people laughing and drinking in the packed streets as if it were a carnival parade. Crossing a small graffiti-covered square towards the fantastic Dopa Hostel, my recommended accommodation, I’d had to duck in between a pair of students playing drunken badminton wearing Mario and Luigi costumes; a more stereotypical Italian sight one would struggle to find.

The summer temperature was peaking in the mid-thirties and with not a lick of breeze in the air for comfort I found myself taking refuge in one of the quirky little lunchtime restaurants that ran up the street from this square back towards the Two Towers. One of the beautiful things about Bologna is how compact the city centre is. Due to the walled boundaries, there is little room for expansion, so every place of interest is just a short walk apart. At no point do you feel like the place is too crowded or crushed, however. Having checked in to my hostel, I’d befriended a group of pretty Brazilian girls and a separate group of cool Austrian guys. Together, we’d all bought some beers and wine from the local liquor store and spent the evening sat in a small circle at the edge of this square; talking nonsense, trading stories, and taking in the joyously absurd student traditions. As midnight hit, we’d then sidled into a nearby pizzeria for a bite to eat, and where the chef working the large stone stove took quite a shining to the South American quartet. When I then joked to him in broken Italian that they were all ‘la mia ragazza’ he bowed to me like I was a Roman God. Either that, or he was bent double with laughter at the possibility of such a pale, skinny, ginger man being able to get away with such elegant, foreign, girls. Alas, chi non bate non scopa.

Ordering a salad and coffee for lunch, I took the seat in the restaurant with the best view of the street and gazed out at the tranquil goings on around me. Mediterranean life is chilled out in a way that would be described as lazy back home in the UK. Having spent a fair amount of time this past year with a gorgeous Italian, however, I’ve come to the realisation that clock-watching, agenda-planning, and list-making is just a great way of running yourself into a stress-induced mess. She made me realise that, I myself, needed to become more laid back and less regimented, and just being present in the atmosphere of Bologna was helping me with this. One specific observation I made whilst watching the locals go about their daily activities, was the large number of people reading books. There wasn’t a smartphone in sight. Instead, those dining alone or waiting on companions were digging into famous literature or exam notes. It only seemed fitting of an environment which oozed such class and simplicity. I’ve become a big fan of the Mediterranean life.

The waiter, a young guy called Cosimo, came over with my food and we got chatting about travel. At this point, I was seven months into a backpacking world tour that had taken me through Oceania, South East Asia, and Central Europe, and he was fascinated to learn more about my journey. Whilst eating, he quizzed me on specific places I’d been, working holiday visas, and the general grind of living life on the road. When it came to paying my bill, we exchanged numbers and I happily agreed to give him any further advice he might require in relation to his dream of moving to Australia. I left the restaurant not only captivated by the architecture and atmosphere of this city but with people as well.

Returning to the hostel to drop off some things, I found the bunk below me to be occupied by a charming American dude who had just got off the phone with a prospective new college roommate for the forthcoming fall semester. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” I said, having caught the tail end of his call, “but I couldn’t help overhearing you asking the guy on the other end of the line about his sexual escapades.”

“I’ve learnt to just be blunt about these things upfront,” he laughed shaking my hand and introducing himself. “Last year I had the unfortunate situation of living with a gay guy that was in a number of polygamous relationships and at times our flat more resembled a brothel than student accommodation.”

‘That’s hilarious,” I laughed, picturing this very normal looking dude trying to eat his breakfast in peace whilst flamboyant visitors took over the kitchen. “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I’m actually heading out right now for a date with an English girl I met online to the open-aired cinema that’s been put up at the back of Piazza Maggiore,” he said, putting on his shoes. “They are playing all English language films this week and tonight is going to be a showing of Woody Allen’s Annie Hall.”

“Good film,” I nodded. “Hope it goes well. It’s a beautiful setting for a date.”

“Fingers crossed,” he smiled, checking his hair in the mirror before leaving the room.

After writing a short article in the hostel’s common area and then taking a quick nap, I headed out as the sun set for a late dinner. There was only one dish on my mind: spaghetti bolognese, but there was no shortage of awesome eateries to go to. Wandering around the back streets, bustling osterias spilt out into the open-air, with wheels of parmesan, dangling meats, and hearty pasta dishes drawing in my nostrils with their fresh smells. I took a table at one called Osteria dell’orsa, the bear, and ordered a jug of white wine alongside the dish named after the city it originated. Tucking into it a short while later, the sun came streaking through an archway at the end of the street and gave the surrounding area an angelic feeling. ‘That’s heaven’ I thought to myself. ‘Everything about Bologna is heaven. Further on up the road, I want to establish a hostel here; to dine to my heart’s content; to drink the best coffee during the day and the best wine by night; to learn the language of the beautiful locals; to never return home.’

Get A Hole-In-One (Bucket List #124)

Whitecraigs Golf Club, Glasgow, UK • March 2006 • Length of Read: 2 Minutes

It had turned into a sunny, albeit crisp, spring afternoon as my playing partner, Brass, and I holed out on the par-5 15th at Whitecraigs Golf Club and made our way leisurely up to the raised 16th tee box. From one of the highest points on the golf course, this short par-3 offers a lovely picturesque vista of the surrounding area; with a multitude of colours radiating from the blooming plants and bushes that guard the small, nestled, green. We were fifteen-years-old and had snuck away early from our school’s sports class so that we could squeeze in a quick round before dinner. At that point in our lives, all we did was eat, sleep, and breath golf.

With the flag located about two-thirds of the way up the green, and slightly to the right-hand-side, I estimated that it was playing about 140 yards. Throwing down my scuffed ball, I selected the seven-iron from my bag and took a few practice swings. “It’s an easy hole… as long as you hit the green,” our fellow junior club teammate, Doaky, used to say sarcastically. We all knew that it was a great scoring opportunity, but that it could equally also turn into a round wrecker. There was little room for error and a wayward shot could easily result in an unplayable or even lost, ball. Visualising my shot, I addressed the ball and took a deep breath.

Swinging down slightly off-plane, I made a rather poor connection with the ball off the toe of my club and it fired off towards the right in a big, swooping, and definitely unintentional, draw. “Get left,” I shouted, leaning my body in the same direction in a desperate hope that the ball would somehow grow ears and obey my command. Move left it did, and flirting with the rear of the two bunkers that lined the right-hand side of the green, it landed on the grassy lip and bounced left onto the putting surface about fifteen feet from the hole. “Keep going,” I said under my breath as it took the slope and continued to roll towards the target. Roll it did. Before I knew it, the ball had come to a presumed rest right against the flagstick. “Drop,” I yelled.

One, two, three, seconds passed and then the ball suddenly disappeared from view. “I don’t believe it,” laughed Brass.

“I don’t think anyone else would either if you weren’t here to witness it,” I beamed, flinging my hands up in the air in delight.

“What an absolute fluke,” chucked my playing partner.

“What absolute skill,” I retorted, making my way down the path towards the green. "Hole-in-one. Check that off the bucket list."