The restaurant was a 100-year plus old wooden theatre building. To get to the tables you had to pass through two stores, one jewelry and the other an old store 7-11 that looked like it had been around decades before the first 7-11 ever existed. As we sat down to the round table filled with food, I realized there was an old silent movie playing in the background. It had to have been an early Hong Kong film – Chinese characters for reaching, mostly Chinese actors and actresses, and odd music – not quite Asian and definitely not western.
As we began to eat, the conversation drifted all over the place. At some point someone asked, “Do you know what kind of movie is playing?”
With no answer from anyone, including the person asking the question who obviously knew, the scenes that followed were as far from our conversation as anything could be. If I did not have a clear line of sight, I doubt that I would have accepted the answers that I could see as true.
“A ghost movie with rape, seduction, revenge, and murder?”
“Yep, that about sums it up.”
“This is a tourist village in the mountains, right?”
“Yes.”
“We are in a public restaurant and there were no warnings on the door, right?”
“Yes.”
As much as I tried to reconcile the reality of great food, interesting conversation, and a bizarre silent movie, I never did. I could not find a perspective that fit the pieces. It was as if someone had described the scene metaphorically; “They bring in meals – casseroles of ashes! I draw drink from a barrel of my tears,” (Psalm 102.9) only this time I was in it.
I am still thinking about lunch. As strange as it was, I enjoyed the food, especially the unusual salad. Even more, the friends and conversation were funny, interesting, and energizing. The setting memorable. I am still at a loss to describe the whole experience, movie included. Sometimes life does not make complete sense. Even when you think it should, it doesn’t.
