15th July 2006 – 16:56 – School (written on 10th July)
What happened to Zidane? He must have been so angry and frustrated! Otherwise, behaving like that in a world cup final is not acceptable for a player who is experienced and well-respected by almost all fans around the world. I think his head will not be forgotten for both heading the ball towards the fingertips of Buffon and head butting Materazzi’s chest. I watched the match in this morning at 7 am. Vietnamese channels broadcast replays every morning. It was as exciting as watching a live match since I was not aware of the result. Last night, I had a two bottles of beer and that was enough to knock me down to bed. I can remember the time I was laying on the bed and thinking about setting the alarm clock of my mobile phone for 1 am. Then, everything disappeared and it was morning.
Right now, we are in Mui Ne, east coast of Vietnam. This place is one of the many coastal towns on the shore of South China Sea. We arrived here yesterday at 1 pm after a 4 hour long bus journey. We had two drivers and they were totally different in terms of using honk to express themselves. First one was an arrogant guy with never-ending troubles. He constantly honked to almost everything on the road. It was a total nightmare… The second driver was a neat gentleman. He honked for once or twice within more than 1 hour and I had some chance to close my eyes and grab some thoughts until I can retain something from them. Actually, I read for almost all the journey –despite the honks- and I am determined to finish this book before getting back home.
The bungalow we are staying is very near to sea. It might be only 10 meter away from the sea. It is a quiet place. There are a few foreigners and one Vietnamese couple in other rooms and everyone seems very quiet as if they prefer the voice of the sea to the other human-made music. Last night, I sat in front of the sea and watched the waves in the dark. The only music in the night was the voice of the sea, the only motion was the motion of waves, the only odor in the air was the memoirs of the sea, which itself can be considered as a big unconscious. In the morning, sea was very near to our room –might be only a few meters-, in the afternoon it goes back and leaves all the wreckege behind, on the beach. It is a big dream, a big source of all dreams. Nights bring the small things back to our conscious and days we forget them again. It works in the same way for the sea. It spits out all the rubbish in the night and swallow them again in the day time. It is a recycling journey, going nowhere.
Although it looks so tempting, I could not swim because of large waves. Whenever I try to get away from the shore, a fear inside me rises and keeps me near to the beach. This fear shows itself as big waves or a strong wind. I am having panic whenever my feet lose the contact with the ground. I am happy with the presence of earth under my feet.
Mc Ewan’s novel is getting more complicated as I am very near to complete reading it. The writer has a deep understanding of human nature and this alone is enough to entertain me. However, there was an appendix at the end of the novel which confused and frustrated me. From a good novel, we only expect a good fiction. If all the characters are real and even the plot is taken from some kind of psychological case, then how could we appreciate the imagination power of the writer? It is all gone! I can understand that a writer finds his/her topics from newspapers, scientific journals, daily life experiences but life itself should not be a novel. I am saying this not because life is less entertaining than the novel, quite the opposite! Life is always more amazing than any kind of fiction but this does not solve the problem. A good novel must be an imitation of reality, not reality itself. Mc Ewan –if appendix is real- took the main character from a case study. What happened in the novel actually can be read in this short case study. The main character was an erotomania and he was obsessed with a male who is highly appreciated in his community. The obsessed guy finds signs of love in his potential love object’s each behavior and persuades himself as being loved by him. All these things are exactly same in the scientific article and in the novel. Then, I would like to ask where the fiction is? The only way I can forgive the writer is if somebody tells me that the appendix at the end of the novel itself is part of the novel, a fiction in itself. Then, it will make more sense. Otherwise, I am so sorry for this beautiful novel. It just shows us the writer’s inability to create a fictious world and characters.
We took the bus back home at 1 pm. This bus was more comfortable than the one, which brought us. I slept for a while and at the break place, I bought some fruits. When I took the bag of rambutans, I ask the seller one extra bag so I can put the seeds and peels inside this second bag. I was eating outside and looking at how Vietnamese people throwing everything in their hands to the street very easily. Even the girls with beautiful clothes were behaving the same. They were eating the fruits and throwing the seeds and the peels at the middle of the road. When I dropped one seed to ground, I leaned down and took it back to my second bag. I thought, this could be a good example for them but it did not work at all. They continued doing the same thing. There were foreigners around and they were laughing at the scene. I went back to bus and slept more for the rest of the journey. We arrived at HCMC in the evening, around 6 pm due to the traffic in the city.
What happened to Zidane? He must have been so angry and frustrated! Otherwise, behaving like that in a world cup final is not acceptable for a player who is experienced and well-respected by almost all fans around the world. I think his head will not be forgotten for both heading the ball towards the fingertips of Buffon and head butting Materazzi’s chest. I watched the match in this morning at 7 am. Vietnamese channels broadcast replays every morning. It was as exciting as watching a live match since I was not aware of the result. Last night, I had a two bottles of beer and that was enough to knock me down to bed. I can remember the time I was laying on the bed and thinking about setting the alarm clock of my mobile phone for 1 am. Then, everything disappeared and it was morning.
Right now, we are in Mui Ne, east coast of Vietnam. This place is one of the many coastal towns on the shore of South China Sea. We arrived here yesterday at 1 pm after a 4 hour long bus journey. We had two drivers and they were totally different in terms of using honk to express themselves. First one was an arrogant guy with never-ending troubles. He constantly honked to almost everything on the road. It was a total nightmare… The second driver was a neat gentleman. He honked for once or twice within more than 1 hour and I had some chance to close my eyes and grab some thoughts until I can retain something from them. Actually, I read for almost all the journey –despite the honks- and I am determined to finish this book before getting back home.
The bungalow we are staying is very near to sea. It might be only 10 meter away from the sea. It is a quiet place. There are a few foreigners and one Vietnamese couple in other rooms and everyone seems very quiet as if they prefer the voice of the sea to the other human-made music. Last night, I sat in front of the sea and watched the waves in the dark. The only music in the night was the voice of the sea, the only motion was the motion of waves, the only odor in the air was the memoirs of the sea, which itself can be considered as a big unconscious. In the morning, sea was very near to our room –might be only a few meters-, in the afternoon it goes back and leaves all the wreckege behind, on the beach. It is a big dream, a big source of all dreams. Nights bring the small things back to our conscious and days we forget them again. It works in the same way for the sea. It spits out all the rubbish in the night and swallow them again in the day time. It is a recycling journey, going nowhere.
Although it looks so tempting, I could not swim because of large waves. Whenever I try to get away from the shore, a fear inside me rises and keeps me near to the beach. This fear shows itself as big waves or a strong wind. I am having panic whenever my feet lose the contact with the ground. I am happy with the presence of earth under my feet.
Mc Ewan’s novel is getting more complicated as I am very near to complete reading it. The writer has a deep understanding of human nature and this alone is enough to entertain me. However, there was an appendix at the end of the novel which confused and frustrated me. From a good novel, we only expect a good fiction. If all the characters are real and even the plot is taken from some kind of psychological case, then how could we appreciate the imagination power of the writer? It is all gone! I can understand that a writer finds his/her topics from newspapers, scientific journals, daily life experiences but life itself should not be a novel. I am saying this not because life is less entertaining than the novel, quite the opposite! Life is always more amazing than any kind of fiction but this does not solve the problem. A good novel must be an imitation of reality, not reality itself. Mc Ewan –if appendix is real- took the main character from a case study. What happened in the novel actually can be read in this short case study. The main character was an erotomania and he was obsessed with a male who is highly appreciated in his community. The obsessed guy finds signs of love in his potential love object’s each behavior and persuades himself as being loved by him. All these things are exactly same in the scientific article and in the novel. Then, I would like to ask where the fiction is? The only way I can forgive the writer is if somebody tells me that the appendix at the end of the novel itself is part of the novel, a fiction in itself. Then, it will make more sense. Otherwise, I am so sorry for this beautiful novel. It just shows us the writer’s inability to create a fictious world and characters.
We took the bus back home at 1 pm. This bus was more comfortable than the one, which brought us. I slept for a while and at the break place, I bought some fruits. When I took the bag of rambutans, I ask the seller one extra bag so I can put the seeds and peels inside this second bag. I was eating outside and looking at how Vietnamese people throwing everything in their hands to the street very easily. Even the girls with beautiful clothes were behaving the same. They were eating the fruits and throwing the seeds and the peels at the middle of the road. When I dropped one seed to ground, I leaned down and took it back to my second bag. I thought, this could be a good example for them but it did not work at all. They continued doing the same thing. There were foreigners around and they were laughing at the scene. I went back to bus and slept more for the rest of the journey. We arrived at HCMC in the evening, around 6 pm due to the traffic in the city.
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