Long heard of this famous book, I just finished it few hours ago. It makes me want to head to the sea right now and fish like the old man did. It is my first book from Hemingway and he didn't disappoint me. The words seem carefully chosen for the narration, simple but powerful and makes you want to read them out loud. I think it would make an awesome audiobook. Reading the story out with a deep voice and with the power of the story, of the narration, might even makes you think you are Morgan Freeman. For anyone new to Hemingway, there is an extract from the movie "Midnight in Pairs" which can show how his way of writing is. It captures the essence of his writing beautifully.
What I like the most in the book is how he wrote about the giant marlin. I really didn't expect the fight between the old man and the marlin to be long. It is not a physical fight but rather mental. Both endured the agony for two days and two nights before one prevailed as the winner. To the old man, the marlin was both his enemy and his friend. The fish appeared almost as if his own reflection in a mirror, his alter ego.
I also like the way he describes the sea, and the following is the quote I like the most from the book.
But the old man always thought of her as feminine and as something that gave or withheld great favours, and if she did wild or wicked things it was because she could not help them. The moon affects her as it does a woman, he thought.
I always thought the sea is woman too.
So in the end, it is an underdog story and I think everyone loves underdog. This book would make you believe in the strength within yourself to stand against the odds, like David defeated the goliath and the heroic old man against the elements. I am looking forward for another book from Hemingway.
Sometimes great listener needs to be listened. I am not sure whether how good a listener am I, but I was really troubled for a period of time. I was having trouble finding someone to talk about my problems to. I thought all those troublesome thoughts would sink in after some time, and I should be fine very soon as I thought time is a good healer. But it turned out to be the opposite. The emotional pain wasn't washed away, but accumulating.
As I was keeping my problems to myself, I had cocooned myself away from everyone. I was loosing touch with people and worried about others' judgement on me so much that I was almost fearful to meet people. And worries became depression and depression induced more worries, forming a blackhole sucking me into the abyss. All these were accumulating and accumulating, more and more. Until a point that consulting a psychologist became the obvious way to go.
I still remember vividly my very first session with my psychologist. Before that, all I knew about psychologist was from movies and I had never met a psychologist. Silly me but I was expecting a leather couch, lacquered furniture and an old guy with a note pad to write nonsense on. Facing the unclear and knowing the fact that I had to face a stranger one on one for an hour was just so terrifying for me.When I was heading towards the doctor's room, I sensed an unfamiliar fear as I had paced into an uncharted territory.
To my surprise, it was nothing like I thought. It was a simple room, a desk with two chairs at the opposite sides and that was all. There was nothing but a desktop on the desk. It really seems like the clinic was on budget cut. But who can blame them for not having a leather couch. It is a clinic for students, so most of the treatments are given free. My doctor was an old guy and at least I got that right.
I don't remember how the conversation was and how it started and but the first session turned out quite alright. He was really kind and friendly, it really did me good to be able to pour out whatever was inside my head and my heart to someone. Admitting that you are sick mentally and emotionally and go for help is to put down your ego. The first session I threw away my manly ego and cried like a baby. Of course I can't see myself crying but I am sure it was ugly. My eyes were swelling like a goldfish in the end and I was so reluctant to walk out of the room to face the public again in this state, that I asked for permission to stay for awhile to let the emotion to cool down. It really was embarrassing.
I went back for the second time, the third time, and so on. But the more I went back, I got less and less satisfaction from talking to him, and the more I felt that he was just doing his job and he had no reason to care about whatever I told him. Plus, most of the time during the session, I felt the obligation to carry the conversation. The pressure was just too much for me because already, I don't usually talk much. Often I ran out of things to say and there came the awkward silence. It came more and more often, an unspeakable horror just made me want to run away immediately.
If I had something to talk about, often there was not enough time. Every session was around 45 mins. Almost every single time, when I thought of something, it was already the end of the session and the next patient was already waiting outside. Chit-chatting is supposed to be spontaneous, but talking to my doctor was so forced and unnatural. Whatever I said doesn't mean that my doctor was a terrible doctor. In fact, he was really kind like I said before. Just that it is strange to carry out a conversation in such manner. It is almost like being told : you have 45 mins to talk aaaaaand start now!
Now that I am better, I stop seeing him. Above all, it was quite an experience. I mean, how often people would seek for a psychologist and the answer is not often at all. It is a way to consider against depression but I don't think it is for everybody. Some go for writing to get rid of stress, some go for karaoke, and Buddha went for meditation under a Bodhi tree. For me, I found my own way. I swim, bike and run.
I guess it is time to renew my to-do list. I do realize I had accomplished plenty of stuffs from my previous list. And at the same time some of the things in previous list are not in my interest anymore. So this list contains stuffs from the previous one which have not been accomplished, and also plenty other new stuffs. Some of them may sound implausible, but that is not the point of making this list. It is supposed to be what I want to do. Once the idea pops out, just write it down into the list, regardless the rational thinking and the way to get it done. So I spent a few hours and wrote down these 25 ideas.
- participate in UTMB and finish
- finish Ironman Kona
- climb Everest and reach the summit
- own an Enfield and able to repair it
- learn ballet
- earn my first million US dollar before 30 years old
- crossing the Sahara
- do a wingsuit base jumping
- learn how to fly an airplane
- learn Arabic
- visit the Vostok station
- visit the wreckage of Titanic in a submarine
- around the world on bicycle
- take part in a F1 team
- write a book and publish it
- interview Stephen Hawking
- do a Paris-Roubaix
- cycle up Mont Ventoux and visit the monument of Tom Simpson
- cycling in Amsterdam with John Green
- challenge Kobe Bryant on 1v1
- challenge Michael Phelps 100m freestyle
- have a tea with Liang Wen Dao
- work as Alaska king crab fisherman for a season
- sail around the world
- travel horseback in Mongolia
Wow! I finally finish the giant! It took me more than two months, but I finish! The reason I say so is that this book is huge. Word count is estimated to be at least 500 000. The appearance of the book doesn't seem that imposing but it is certainly compact as hell.
The first emotion that came through my mind after finishing the book is a sense of victor. As if running through the finish line of marathon, even though I didn't finish with a good timing and tired and all but satisfying.
If you need a quick summary of the book, the name of the book gives you very much the whole idea. Atlas, a Titan in Greek mythology, choosing the losing side during the war between the Titans and the Olympians and thus condemned to carry the burden of the sky on his shoulder forever. So how if Atlas doesn't want to obey anymore? How if he rebels against the punishment and runs away? Will the sky fall? This book gives us the answer : yes, the sky will fall hard, fall hard upon everyone of us.
Of course the title is just a metaphor. The story takes place in United States. The setting doesn't feel like any period of human history. After some research, 'timeless' is perfect to describe it. "The pattern of industrial organisation appears to be that of the late 1800s; the mood seems to be close to that of the depression era 1930s; both the social customs and the level of technolgy remind one of the 1950s." to quote Wikipedia.
Like what Ayn Rand herself had said, this is THE masterpiece of hers. Reading this after the Fountainhead, I can't help myslef but to compare this book to Fountainhead. Personally I prefer Atlas Shrugged. First of all, both of them focus on Objectivism. Even though Objectivism appeared more than half a decade ago, it is still a very new idea to many people and to me too. In Atlas Shrugged, the idea of Objectivism is more well explained, thus makes more sense to me. I would say to those would like to try out on her books, Fountainhead could be skipped and start off with Atlas Shrugged straight away.
Ayn Rand is really good in writing speeches. It is very true when you read her books. Let's take this book as example. There is a 70 pages speech from John Galt explaining Objectivism but only a few pages of action scenes. I don't remember I have read a speech of 70 pages long before in my life. It is said in the book that the speech took John Galt 3 hours to convey. Long speeches is really common in her book. It is also true in the Fountainhead where Howard Roark gave his epic speech near the ending of the book to defend his point of view.
What I enjoy the most in this book is the suspense of all the missing people, mostly people who have great impact on the economy like tycoons and industrialists, they all went missing one by one and leaving absolutely no trace and their properties and assets were destroyed all together. So Dagny the heroin of this book had to search for clues and search for them. She also found this power generator, or at least I should say she found the ruin of it. It is supposed to be the greatest invention of all time that can generate power with unprecedented efficiency. Since it was destroyed too, so she wanted to reassemble it and at the same time find the inventor.
The most intriguing thing is not the missing people though. It is the question : Who is John Galt? He doesn't appear in person until the last third of the book. But his name appears here and there throughout the book, and rumours about him from many people. The phrase "Who is John Galt!" even became an expression that means many things but a question.
If I can choose to be one of the characters of the book, it would certainly be Ragnar Danneskjold. He is a brilliant student majoring in philosophy and becomes a pirate later on. To quote himself, Ragnar says in the book that he is like the Robin Hood, but Robin Hood steals from the rich and gives to the poor, he does the opposite. Don't get me wrong when I say I admire a guy who steals from the poor and gives to the rich. Everything needs a context and it makes more sense when he said so in the book. I can't say I agree with his philosophy but how cool is that to be a philosophic pirate.
In the end, I would say I enjoy this book, but it really feels too long and too elaborate to me. Perhaps all the elaborations are needed to make the story a whole, since the story is about an entire society and not just focus on a single character. One thing is for sure : this book is not to be taken lightly. It is a serious book and demands a certain level of insight to be able to understand the motive behind. So I don't think it is a book for everybody.
I had never thought that running at night could be that satisfying.
Winter is approaching and so does the cold. The problem with training during cold weather is : it takes time to warm up properly. It is difficult to cool down when the weather is hot, but when it is cold, it is the other way around. But once your body is warmed up to the optimal point, you will be flying through all the coming kilometers. At this point, the cold of the surrounding becomes good to your body. It keeps your body from overheating, something which I have to pay attention to during summer.
As the daylight is shortened drastically, training during night time becomes inevitable. While I do all my cycling session indoor nowadays, I still jog outdoor since I don't have a treadmill or subscription or membership of any gym. Believe it or not, I have never jogged during night time before. But after first try, it turned out alright and I actually prefer during night time now.
I always jog along the Isère river : there is a cycling path along both sides of the river. Compare to summer, the number of joggers is reduced sharply, probably not many people like to run under the cold condition. And at night, there is hardly any people at all. I like the feeling of being out there, in the dark, in the cold, training alone, while other people are staying indoor and having their warm dinner. It gives me goosebumps almost by simply thinking so : I am the only one still training at this very moment of the day. It gives a very unique experience. It makes me feel fulfilling and almost, heroic.
Most of the time, my training route would pass by a 1 km path with no lamp post, no streetlight at all, with one side is the river and the other is a cemetery. It is flat and exposed. Not a single tree is there, nothing to block the sky above. It is just me, the earth, and the sky. Running through there alone and at night, I feel like I own the night and the sky. But at the same time, the long stretch of the sky also reminds me of how tiny and how vulnerable I am to the nature and it feels like the other way around : the nature owns me. While I continue to run and try to catch my breathe, this particular thought is literally breathtaking. It is the most sacred moment throughout my run.
Sometimes when the sky is clear and the moon is out, I would simply switch off my headlight and let the moonlight guide me. The moonlight would cast a shadow of me on the path and suddenly I am no longer running alone. Suddenly I got a running partner and this one is perfectly synchronized with my pace. Sometimes he runs in front of me, sometimes following closely behind me. But I always prefer running after him, chasing after him, because in this way, he can motivates me more.
If God exists in our world, this is probably how it feels like to get in touch with Him.
I am sure now : I am not able to shout when facing death.
On the 26th October, my friend Yogesh and I decided to do bungee jump off the bridge of Ponsonnas. Well actually it was his idea and I just tagged along. Ponsonnas is not very far from where I stay. To get there from Grenoble without a car is a bit tricky though. We had to take our bikes, then travel by bus to La Mure with our bikes inside the lower compartment of the bus. After that, from La Mure, we had to cycle around 5km to the bridge, our final destination. But after reaching La Mure, we still have plenty of time before the jump. So we took a decent lunch at La Mure.
Cycling!
The way from La Mure to the bridge is all the way downhill. It is always fun to cycle downhill but at the same time, it was not what I had expected. I thought it was uphill so that when coming back time, we could just chill and enjoy the downhill slope. I really worried about the way back because we needed to hurry back to the bus stop from the bridge in order to catch the last bus back to Grenoble. Our jump is at 16h00 and it was said that the jump plus the climbing back up the bridge was going to take 30mins. Plus a margin of another 15mins, and the bus was at 17h28 exactly, so we had to make it within 45mins.
On the way to the bridge.
We arrived really early. In fact, 2 hours earlier than we supposed to be. Standing on the arch bridge behind the bar of protection, the height of the bridge did look imposing and scary at first sight. But the longer you stand up there, the longer you look at the river down the valley, the fear of the height wore off significantly. I felt safe and start to enjoy the surrounding view. There really was nothing much. The scenery was nice and all but it was not long before we got bored. So we watched other people jump and laughed at their reaction. Yes, we laughed at other people!
Everybody checking out the drop before the jump.
Bridge of Ponsonnas
The valley seen from the bridge, and Drac river down there.
"Hahaha, somebody just fell off!"
15h30, we were given a DVD with our names and weight and standing in the waiting line for the jump. The DVD was for recording our jump. Then a worker there weighed each of us and put on harnesses on us, one sit harness and another one around the both ankles which the main rope would be attached to. Then just waiting. For now, I still thought it would be an easy task - just a simple leap forward.
Yogesh jumped first. His jump was a bit weird. After the instructor said OK to go, he just leaned forward and lost from sight in a long silence. His jump was technically not even a jump. From my point of view, his legs were just weakened and the gravity did its work. Everybody up the bridge was also silent, probably expecting him to shout, or burst out laughing or whatever, expecting some sign of him still alive. But nothing from him and the long silence was a bit worrying.
The instructor looked down the valley, showed no expression. Then I knew he was OK and reached the bottom safely. Now my turn. Rope attached, safety equipment checked and rechecked, and I was ready to go. Surprisingly, I managed to stand on the ledge and still relax, even managed to look forward and look down. But when I thought I was ready to go, my body seemed subconsciously holding myself back. Now only I realized that it was not easy at all. To jump, you needs to fight against your survival instinct. "Laughing at other people just now?! Now the joke is on me!" I thought. I waited and waited, but in the end I took a deep breathe and leaped.
I am still struggling to find the right words to describe the sensation of the jump. It was really really really scary. Everything passed in merely a few seconds, but the few seconds had been hard burned in my memory. It is nothing like roller coaster ride or drop tower because this is THE real free fall!
As I leaped out of the ledge, my body accelerated. Everything around me seemed magnified. Trees and rocks growing in size fast and the river was approaching me even faster. My mind was a total blank, emptied by absolute fear. Every muscle in my body was tensed up, I could not scream. My arms were tensed up too and aligned towards the ever-magnifying river in front of me, almost as if trying to push against the inevitable. I really felt like I could almost touch the river before the rope pulled me back again. At the lowest point of the drop, the river seemed really near even though there was still probably a few dozen meters from the ground. All these happened in just a few seconds. Throughout this period of time, I knew I was going to be safe but still the fear, the adrenalin rush was just too much.
The red landing spot.
Then the rope did its work. Only now I was able to clear my throat and burst out laughing, not sure what was I laughing at. What I felt afterwards was just dizziness. The rope bounced me around, I was spinning and swinging, the feeling was not great at all. After a few bounces, slowly I came to stop and the instructor up at the bridge slowly lowered me down to the river bed. There was another worker down there guiding me to land onto a mattress. Undoing both harnesses and he wrote me a certificate certifying the jump. Yogesh was already waiting for me not far away, to go back up together. Getting up from the mattress, my legs felt like jello for a brief moment, unable to walk properly. I went to Yogesh and rested for a while. I really needed to recuperate, to catch my breathe, and to feel my legs again because my nerve was still unsettled.
Back to the reception, the receptionist showed us our jumps. Looking back at your own reaction was very funny. Yogesh bought the DVD but not me because it was slightly over-priced in my opinion. Then we rushed back as fast as we could back to La Mure. The bus departed earlier than schedule, luckily we still managed to arrive in time for that bus.
The certificate.
The sensation of the jump was so intense that it actually haunted both of us for quite awhile. That night, that few seconds of free falling was still vivid in our mind, even recalling the experience could make my whole body jerk backward. Until now at this moment, that sensation is still fresh in my mind, as if I just made the jump yesterday. If ever I would do another bungee jump, I doubt that I am able to cope and feel differently.
Now that bungee jump is done and I wonder what kind of courage is needed to jump off a building, to commit suicide. Those who did it probably had long died of intense horror of the sheer acceleration before they even hit the ground.
Every single shop is closed. The streets are as empty as they can ever be. The city is dead as it is motionless and awkwardly silent. The only thing reminds me of life is the scent of the chrysanthemum floating in the autumn cold morning. While I am boiling water for my coffee, the sudden realization hits me : today is Toussaint, a day to remember the dead one.
If I recall correctly, this is what happened when the news struck me. It was six in the morning in Malpensa airport. The sun was already out. The brightness of the sun suggested summer heat with great intensity. But the air was cold inside the airport as the air conditioner was on full blast. I was putting on my jacket as I was having my coffee, while waiting for the arrival of my family. The night before was a good night sleep for me despite sleeping in the airport. The day started fresh and promising.
My family arrived very soon after the exact arrival time of their flight, so much sooner than I had expected. There is no single current communication technology, not Skype, not telephone, not Voip, can replace the joy of seeing the people you love in person, hug them, talk to them. And this was the exact emotion we all experienced when my family and I were finally reunited. But through the eyes of my parents, I could slightly sense that they felt differently : joy but at the same time something more...
"Your grandpa just passed away", said my mother. I knew it was a bad news and I should be sad, face to face with his death. I waited for awhile. I guess I was waiting for my eyes to swell up, waiting for some sort of tears. While at the mean time, my eyes were avoiding everybody, looking into the void, and everybody else seemed to be waiting for my response. I felt a strange kind of pressure, the one same as an actor on stage while the audience were expecting him to perfect the performance. But nothing hit me. Absolutely nothing! For a brief moment, I didn't know what to feel except ashamed of myself for not feeling sorrow.
Probably of the generation gap, or of the lack of time my grandpa and I had spent together. Whatever the reason of my lack of emotion after hearing the news, the first thing I had in mind : it hit my dad hard, and so to my grandma, my aunties and uncles. I worried about them. I knew that they had to stay strong, for now that our family had just lost its most important pillar.
The funny thing is, my dad was giving me a lot of motivation to comfort me, while it should be the other way. I should be the one comforting to him. But I guess it is a duty of a dad, and also the ego of a man for not showing what men assume to be a weakness : showing his emotions in front of another man. I was certain that he was sad deep down. But in between me and my dad, we only talk deep emotional stuff when alcohol is involved. I got to know what he really felt afterwards through my mom, as he only expresses his feelings to her. I guess it is a curse of men, as we are not socially acceptable to express our emotion all the time and so we are trained not to show it. Men are socially handicap, as we are unable to express ourselves easily.
The person I worry the most is probably my grandma. She just lost her the other half, can you imagine that?! Later, my sister told me that my granddad left my grandma some sort of last words in a book which she had long forgotten. How sweet was he! I cannot imagine her go through all these hardship. Luckily, both my aunties are always staying very near to her. In case she needs somebody to be there with her suddenly, there will be somebody.
Death is so final, so forever. It is like saying goodbye and knowing we will never see each other again. Forever is so cruel, so far beyond our grasp. "I am not afraid of death but I resent it," and this is exactly how I feel about death : I hate it, I hate it when people die, and I hate to die. I hate the fact that the brightest in our family is gone, forever.
Whenever I thought I read enough books, thought that I have known enough, my granddad always came up with something that I had not known before. Until today this moment, I still have no idea how much he knows. If he is a mathematical symbol, he would be the infinity. He is one of the people I look up to, besides my dad, Einstein, Tesla, Buddha, and so many more. It might be useless now because I should have said all this to him when he was around. I don't know how my dad views my granddad but I think at one point of our life, father is a superhero to all us. In fact, both of them are heroes to me. If I am Frodo Baggins, my dad will be Aragorn and my granddad will be Gandalf. But this time, Gandalf is gone and he won't be back as Gandalf the White.
Banksy said : "They say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time." So my granddad might be physically gone forever, but I am sure that this passage would not be the last time my granddad being mentioned.
潘志高 is my granddad.
The latest photo I had with my grandparents, edited by my sister
E-gaming should be considered a sport too. But for those people who don't play Dota like me, to start watching Dota matches is going to be very difficult. First of all, you would not understand neither a thing nor the fun to watch all those characters running around killing each other. If you really want to fully understand Dota, the best way is of course by playing it. But playing Dota is going to take time and to master it, it is going to take even longer. That makes watching Dota matches a better option to understand Dota. So here is a basic guide for those who are interested in watching Dota but know nothing about it and don't want to invest time in mastering the playing skill either.
Basic knowledge
Just like learning anything, the basics are essential. Dota means Defense Of The Ancients. Each game there are two 5-members teams fighting against each other, trying to break opponent's base while protecting your own. In each base, there is a huge building called the Ancient. To win the game, one must destroy opponent's Ancient, and hence the name of the game. More details on the principles of the game can be found on Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defense_of_the_Ancients). But for the mechanics and how the game works, and also the details on each hero and item, it is preferable to go on some specific website like http://www.playdota.com/. It is the most detailed website on Dota. But for those who don't want to read, there are some very good Youtube channels with tonnes of tutorials and guides. These are the two channels I started off.
A good commentator can make the most boring game the best watching experience you will ever have. For this one, I would totally recommend Tobiwan. I really like his style of casting a game. He talks very excitedly and sometimes too excited that you might even think he is really crazy. But the right dose of craziness might just be what the audience really wants, and he has the correct of amount of that in my opinion. He normally casts games on livestream on http://www.joindota.com/en/live/jdred, on the stream named jD Red. All the games on the livestream can be also found on Youtube later on as replays (http://www.youtube.com/user/joinDOTA). What makes his broadcast even better is a duo. My personal most preferable commentating duo would be Tobiwan plus Capitalist. Whenever they broadcast together, I will certainly watch the game, regardless the teams playing.
Tobiwan in the middle with Capitalist and his girlfriend
(photo copyright to joindota.com)
Start off with the TI series
The International (TI), is the most important annual event in Dota Calendar and also the most competitive and the most interesting to watch. It is basically the FIFA World Cup of Dota. So what is better than start off your watching experience by TI. Started in 2011, and this year is only the third edition. But every year, the event is growing and gaining international recognition. Normally it would be held during the summer, mostly around August and September. There is also a Youtube channel dedicated for TI too.
(http://www.youtube.com/user/dota2)
Watch the best of the best : the legendary rivalry between Na'vi and Alliance
And just like any sport, it needs a legendary rivalry. For basketball is Lakers and Celtics ; for tennis is Nadal and Federer ; for Ironman is Mark Allen and Dave Scott. For Dota 2, I think it must be the rivalry between Na'vi and Alliance. This Sunday night, I just watched the Starseries VII final between these two teams. And Na'vi took their revenge from the lost of TI3 to Alliance, and won the final.
Personally, I prefer Na'vi because I have known all the members of the team since very long time. The team has a long history back and three of five members of the team stay with the team since Na'vi was created. They are Dendi, Puppey, and Xboct. I started following their matches since very long ago. I chose to follow them probably because Na'vi is in fact the victor of the first International of Dota 2 by Valve. While on the other hand, Alliance is a relatively new team. From what I remember, I started seeing them on major competitions since only the beginning of this year. But they played very well and rose to fame very fast. They won many games and they even had a clutch win in this year International (TI3) against Na'vi in a 5 games series, back and forth final. That final is probably the best ever match-up that I have ever seen so far.
Watch games between western teams
Unlike many Chinese or any Asian Dota teams, the western teams are always tend to be more aggressive with their play style. More aggressiveness means more fun to watch for the audience. So if you want to extend your watching experience, it is probably a good idea to stick to western teams. More aggressive means more actions and more happenings to watch during the games. Besides Na'vi and Alliance, there are western teams like Team Empire, Fnatic, Evil Genuises, and alot more. Eastern teams are catching up with the aggressive play style like the team Orange from Malaysia, but most of them still prefer a rather passive style, especially the Chinese teams.
So in the end, I must say that the best way to improve watching experience is to eventually play a few games of Dota so that you can understand the subtlety of the game, and realize how difficult to master the game. Hence you can understand how good the skills of the professionals and their team work is.
For me, I started watching Dota matches because of my little brother. Regarding the hype of Dota gaming in Malaysia, no wonder my brother is into it. It really got me interested by watching my brother playing. I really wanted to understand why the hype but at the same time, I don't want to learn to play it because I know it is going to take time. So, I started to watch some matches and slowly picked up the knowledge here and there. It is good in a way that I understand Dota because it can bring my brother and I closer. Dota is basically the second most talked subject between us after basketball and NBA.
Surprisingly, this is just the second edition of this event. How come there was nobody thought of this kind of race before while Fort de la Bastille is just sitting there, high up at the skyline of Grenoble. It is a 7km run, starting at the riverside of Isère at around 200m above sea level, and the finish point is the top of the Mont Rachais at 1000m above sea level. So there is a net 800m elevation of climb. For anyone who stays in Penang, Penang hill is just around 750m above sea level and Bukit Mertajam is merely 550m above sea level.
On the day of the race, the weather was terrible. Rain drizzling all day long, and it was cold. I was reluctant at first to go out, but I forced myself anyway. There was not many contestants for this race, around 200 contestants and around 50 people didn't show up, probably due to the bad weather condition. That is understandable because of the rain, the trail was muddy and slippery, thus very dangerous.
After getting my number and the magnetic tracker, I got changed and get ready, warming up. Seeing other people participating this event in groups of friends and families while I was just alone, made me just kinda sad. I had invited other Malaysians in Grenoble to take part in it together, but no one would join me. I can understand too why, because it is harder for them to participate in sportive events because all this kind of events needs a medical certificate from a doctor. So if they ever want to participate, they would need to consult a doctor and do this certificate. I had mine since this April, and it is mentioned I am able to participate in competitive triathlon in my certificate, so I can practically participate in all kinds of sportive events.
A quick briefing and the rain became heavy again. It didn't take long before we, participants, all got wet, before even starting the race. I had climbed up to Mont Rachais before, I knew it was going to hard. My target was to reach summit within one hour. I wore no watch, so my plan was to climb and climb, as hard as I could. Checking myself to see whether I was ready, and at the same time checking out other participants. Judging by physical appearance, I was in the middle. Many were very fitter than me, many not as fit as I was. Appearance can be deceiving as I am always told, but at least thinking so made me feel good in my own shell and feel ready. I thought at least I would not be the last to arrive.
The race started at exactly 10am. I had been to many sportive events by now, so I knew the adrenaline rush during the starting moment was always intense. I knew by now I had to suppress the rush, kept my own pace, and started off easy, but not falling too far behind at the same time. So it was exactly what I did, running with small steps but with faster pace than running on flat surface.
The race can be broken into three stages : riverside -> Fort de la Bastille, Fort de la Bastille -> Mont Jalla and Mont Jalla -> summit of Mont Rachais. I was only able to keep my pace up to Fort de la Bastille. Just before the ascent to Mont Jalla, I already slowed down and walked, just as most of other participants. I would consider this stage to be the hardest stage of all because the trail is narrow and steep, plus the rain, it was very slippery that day. It is so narrow that taking over is very difficult. And since it is very steep, trees are unable to take root, so this part of the trail is very exposed. I thought it should be a spectacular view on the trail from far away, while a hundred people climbing to Mont Jalla in line.
approaching the foot of Mont Jalla
(photo credit to Sylvain Prévot)
After Mont Jalla, the trail became flatter and rocky, but not that rocky that one cannot run on it. It seemed like everybody was back to running again and so was I. Actually reaching Mont Jalla meant reaching only the half way point. The trail that followed was sheltered under the trees, all the way to the summit. So along the way, there was only a few chances to have a clear view on the town of Grenoble. These chances were precious, because the view was breathtaking. The trail during these precious moments was just beside a very steep drop. By now Grenoble was so far down below, by looking at the road in front of me and then quickly looked at the building far down below, it almost made me dizzy. Probably because of exhaustion, my eyes didn't seem to be able to adapt fast enough to see the trail and then those buildings clearly. The switch in between was probably blurred for merely a second, but it felt longer than it should be and my legs were very light, almost as if I was going to fell off the hill. But nothing too serious was happened to me, at least not until I reached the finish line.
I reached the summit with the time 1 hour and 6 minutes. But there was no resting yet, because I had to climb down to the Bastille before I could get some food and drinks. And this was the time I suffered the most. It happened to me before, during the last few kilometers of the triathlon in Aix les Bains. I was hungry like hell, and no more reserve to be burned in my body. Probably low in blood sugar, my dizziness accentuated. The only thought in my head : I need food!!! I tried to get down as fast as I could, walking clumsily. Trying to run a little but I was afraid that the dizziness would kick in and I would loss balance and fall. Plus the rain and the cold weather, I was really in hell.
At last, I asked for help. I asked for food from another participant who was going downhill too. He carried with him a back pack and he gave me a chocolate bar. It was funny to think about, that I was almost like a beggar, begging for food. But seriously that chocolate bar was my life saver. I swear that it was the most delicious chocolate bar I have ever eaten. After a moment of digestion and recuperation, I was alive again, running this time, all the way back to Bastille, and ate like a barbarian.
Over all, the race was fun and it gave me an insight into the sport of trail running. If comparing this course to the famous UTMB (Ultra Trail of Mont Blanc), this is really nothing. To complete the UTMB, one must run 160km with 9000m of ascent in just 48 hours. UTMB is basically the synonym of insanity to me. Here is a video summary of this year UTMB.
(http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x14ynob_utmb-2013-by-eurosport-english_sport?start=1)
One important lesson to be learnt after this race and also triathlon Aix les Bains : my body is a V12 engine, burning fuel fast and violent, especially during cold weather. I should really bring some food along when the race takes longer than an hour to complete. It should be a good investment to start looking for some energy gels and bars, including them in my training sessions.
My friend Kian Joo, came from Prague to visit meet in Grenoble two weeks ago. When I first received his message about his visit, I actually didn't know what to plan for the weekend. I mean there is practically nothing much to visit in Grenoble besides Bastille and Vizille, and skiing, but winter is not here yet. Grenoble isn't a touristic town strictly speaking. So I was a little worried, worried that he would be bored and nothing much I could offer, feeling guilty for being a bad host.
But to my surprise, Kian Joo actually wanted to do some sportive stuffs. Two days of his stay, he wanted to do a hiking on a day and cycling uphill on another. Surprise because normally when people visit a town, they don't normally want to this kind of stuffs. His suggestion suits me well indeed. And so I planned a hike on to Bastille and further up to Mont Jalla, and then cycling up to Revel.
Bringing people up to Bastille is not new to me. Instead, it is almost like a yearly ritual to hike up the Bastille, the senior Grenoblois bringing those who just move to Grenoble, to visit Bastille. But bringing other people along with me to cycle uphill, cycle out of Grenoble to the country side, is totally the first time for me. Never before had ever people wanted to follow me cycle that far, especially doing a climb on bicycle.
I don't consider the cycling trip we did together very tough. It was a 35km ride, with 600m elevation and the climb is around 7 - 8% . It was tough enough for the first-timer, but achievable. We came back and he straight went to sleep after a quick bath. I knew it would be very tiring for him. And that evening, we watched some documentaries of Tour de France and Lance Armstrong. I think I was explaining alot of cycling stuffs to him very passionately and he was listening most of the time, studiously.
Kian Joo and our bikes, and Grenoble far behind at the background
Me at the first 5km mark, with Isère beside me
I got to admit that I feel really happy when someone finally understand how tough those competitions I did in the last few months. When people say to me : "Wow! You actually finished a triathlon?! Wow, you cycled up a 25% slope to Bastille?!", I don't feel like they really know how tough those events are. Those people had never swam in an open water, never cycled over 10km, never cycled uphill before, how could possibly they understand the difficulties that lie behind.
But this time is different with Kian Joo. He once told me that I am crazy man, after the 35km cycling trip and he added that doing the Tour de France would be insane. I can be sure for this time that his words are sincere because he went through what I had been through. He tasted the bitterness of the hard work that lies behind whatever I did. It is a strange to put it this way but during the cycling trip, seeing him suffering was my greatest pleasure. The more exhausted he was, the more my pride grew. At the same time, there were almost tears in my heart, because all those pain during the training I felt for the last few months, all those determination and perseverance, all was felt by Kian Joo. It was a sense of empathy, and I was the one being empathized.
"That's the thing about pain, it demands to be felt."
John Green, The Fault In Our Stars
And then on my birthday, Kian Joo posted my Facebook wall, "happy birthday bro... you are my inspiration... thinking of getting a bike..." This is the best birthday gift I have ever received in years. A great gift doesn't have to be expensive financially. Simple, honest words can be of the greatest value. My happiness isn't because of the fact that he remembered my birthday or whatever. But the fact that I actually inspire him to work out and to buy a bike?! That is just insane to think about. I really appreciate his birthday wish. His words just send me to cloud nine.
A song, a familiar song. So familiar that I am able to sing along. A song I knew since I was very young, but didn't know the meaning of the song until I was 21. Now I understand why there are so many songs about love between man and woman. I once thought love songs were so annoying, so cheesy, I even slightly hated them at one point.
In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father once told me the exact sentence in this song - there's a danger in loving somebody too much. At that moment, I understood what he meant and why he said so. "But if you never open your heart to someone and put in all your best into the relationship, how can one be able to truly understand the essence of the mystical realm of love", I told myself.
Now at least I know how painful is the emotional pain, and it is way more painful and unpleasant than physical pain. Putting all you have in one bet is very dangerous indeed, but life is characterized by fluctuation, the greater the up and down, the clearer may be the definition of life. I must say taking risk is not always necessary in many circumstances, but I never regret that bet even though I lost. Perhaps when you start to focus less on the lost, you will realize how much you actually had already gained.
If ever I have children, and if one day they ask me whether they should make the bet, I will certainly tell them to bet in all. If they are hurt in the end, I will provide a safe harbour for them, just my parents did for me.
When we think of the word "Asians", we often think of Chineses or Koreans or Japaneses or east Asia in general. But Asia is a huge continent, a vast land that spread over thousands and thousands of kilometers. And Kares Le Roy created this project, the 56000km project across Asia, bringing to us the isolated, the forgotten of Asia through photos and videos, as to say, "All these are part of Asia too."
I want to point out one thing which is, Kares Le Roy is French. I find it interesting because it seems to me that French loves to travel, especially backpacking. I even think I somehow picked up this travel habit by simply staying in France. Not saying that French gave me the idea of backpacking, but they certainly taught me how to backpack.
Back to Kares' works. It is worth mentioning because I think his works are very well done. I say this because watching his videos makes me want to go to wherever he had been to, like now! I always want to travel like Marco Polo or Sven Hedin. Their works really inspired me. And now this guy, Kares Le Roy. One day I am going to do something like what they did.
Just like I mentioned before, Asia is really vast. For example, after travelling to China and India, I just realized that so many people have never seen the sea, the ocean and the horizon before. I found myself in many peculiar occasions explaining to them, how the sea and the horizon look like. I had to explain in ways I had never thought of before, in adjectives I had never used before, in emotions I had never felt before. Something so obvious and so familiar to me, isn't that obvious and that familiar after all.
The link to the videos of the 56000km project by Kares Le Roy :
11h20,I was waiting for my turn. I was going to start at 11h33 exactly. It was a time trial, a race against time. The final destination could be seen from the starting point, high up on top of the hill. One had to raise his head up so high to see it. The finishing point was merely a restaurant named Chez Le Pèr'Gras, but it almost looked like a temple, a sacred place and I was merely a humble pilgrim, waiting my turn to get a closer look at the shrine. I was nervous. But I knew nothing can be done at this moment, it was too late, too late even to give up.
I knew this race from Ville de Grenoble facebook page. This event was posted on this page, and my friend tagged me in the comment section. No provocative intention from him, but my ego had put up a challenge to myself. I was like : Hell yeah! You wanna challenge me, com'on! Challenge accepted! I thought 2km ride with 320m elevation should be a piece of cake. I had climbed many hills before, this one should be the same. So I registered without any hesitation, two days before the race.
There were 111 contestants in total. Only a few who looked like noob and I was one of them. Everyone was dressed up professionally. Most of them belonged to cycling clubs, easily identified by the cycling suits they wore. I wore only a proper cycling pants and a singlet top, feeling under-dress, but couldn't had done otherwise either because I didn't have a full suit. From their outfits and their tanned skins and their expensive bikes, I suddenly realized that it was going to be a serious business.
11h30, I was already lining up at the starting line. Three more contestants in front of me. Pedals clipped in, heart rate checked, everything checked, but I thought : Am I ready? An unknown road ahead, a monster waiting for me to defeat. The funny thing was, it was going to be the first time I climbed this hill, yet it is so near from where I stay. A voice burst through the walkie-talkie of the referee, contestant number 52 had abandoned the race midway and number 26 was no show. "Is it that hard?" I was thinking, while looking up at the destination and then looked back down at my bike.
"30 seconds left.", referee said. "This is it, point of no return. You either do it or die trying.", I told myself. "Never climb up this hill before and I am going to climb it now in this race?! And no proper training beforehand?! I am probably crazy already.", I thought. Then the referee said, "And 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO!"
The starting first hundred meters were fine, easy slope. After a pleasant downhill, here came the real starting point of the race, started off with 18% slope all the way to the first hairpin, the longest part of the route. When I reached this point, my head shrugged, scared of the sheer steepness. "This is really a monster!", I thought. Changed to the largest gear possible of the rear wheel, and climbed.
Perspired, my singlet was wet already. I could barely breath, and it was not even the first hairpin yet. Pain accumulating, from my legs and rapidly to my butt and my back. I had never felt such physical pain before. But I knew I couldn't stop, at least not on the slope. Because otherwise, I would roll backwards and lose control, the last option nobody wanted.
The first hairpin. I had to stopped, to catch my breathe, watching number 27 and 25 passed by me. The starting of the second slope was only 10%, absolutely a saving grace. Got onto my bike again, taking the second slope. Soon, the second hairpin reached, but I had to stopped again, not because of tiredness but the slope ahead of me, the third slope. 25% marked on the surface of the paved road, the slope was horrifying. Anyone new to the slope would have his spirit broken down by it. Pain at my back, and now psychologically shocked. Spectators at the second hairpin were really helpful though, giving motivation and all, really helping me to overcome this psychological barrier. I am not sure how long I took to recuperate, but it certainly felt like forever. Many thoughts flew through my head, even wanted to surrender at one point. More and more contestants passing by now.
"Just try to reach!", I told myself. The slope was so steep that I couldn't clip into pedals by myself. Kind spectators helped me, balancing my bike while I clipped in. And then my head down, my eyes closed and pedaled, not even dare to look ahead. I felt like my body and my bike together was a thousand tonnes dead weight, and my spirit was the only one who dragging them up the hill. "Pedal and don't think.", I whispered to myself and so I pedaled.
Third hairpin, I stopped again. But this time with a sense of achievement by conquering the 25%. Now the finishing line was just literally around the corner. Not long before I realized I had already up my bike again and pedaling. I could almost taste the cold breeze on top of the hill, but I knew I could not push too hard yet. So I zig-zagged, cutting down the steepness. At this point, the slope was still around 18%, but it didn't matter anymore. Again I closed my eyes, head down and kept pushing. The fourth hairpin just flew by and the fifth was already in front of me.
Arriving at the fourth hairpin
More spectators at this point, especially at the sixth, the final hairpin. I couldn't feel my legs anymore, but they kept on moving, perhaps by instinct or even by habit as I had forced them to perform one and one task only : pedaling. A final burst of energy, a final shoutout to myself, I was surprised that I still got some gear inside me for picking up the pace a bit.
Finally there was the finish line. The DJ shouted out my name as I passed through the line. I heard applause, but it wasn't for me but for those strong climbers coming from behind me. It didn't matter, because I reached and finished what I had started. Steping down from the bike, my legs shaking. I could barely stand at this point. But the view was breathtaking and the breeze was soothing as I had imagined. It wasn't the first time I was up there, and the view wasn't new to me. But this time was different. Something great was done and I felt completeness and contentment.
A girl came to me, took out my number plat from my bike and gave me a cup of water. Holding the cup, I realized not just my legs but my whole body was shaking of tiredness. "I need to sit down, or even lie down.", I thought. And so I parked my bike and sat of a ledge, relaxing, feeling wonderful.
Final push!
After that, there was a lunch, included in the registration fee. They provided very good food and there were all kind of festivities up there, even two bands to spice up the ambiance. I had a good proper lunch. Sitting down together with other cyclists, we were chit-chatting and all. When I said that this was the first time I climbed up this hill, they were astonished. Their astonishment was no surprise to me but it did give me a boost of pride within myself, and proud to be sitting among the professionals. They all then shared their first climb of this hill and also other hard climbs. I was listening humbly most of time.
The results were out, and no surprise I ranked last with exactly 30 mins 2 seconds. No chance of qualifying the second round, and being so tired, I just wanted to go home and take a nap after the lunch. But before that, I called my parents to share my happiness with them at the top of the hill. Then I packed up my stuffs, took my bike and headed downhill.
A sense of achievement was what I wanted, and I found it yesterday. It would be such a cliche if I say "I will come back to conquer this monster again next year" here. Yes, I probably would. But now I don't think I would climb that hill again, at least not for a short period of time. The truth is, that hill, that 25% slope really broke me down mentally. Today I feel better physically now but I am still recuperating mentally from the shock.
I still couldn't get enough of The Fountainhead. I did some researches and I found a movie adaptation. So I watched it! Well, it cut out some scenes from the first 500 pages of the book, and most importantly Stoddard Temple. But the rest of the book was used faithfully. I guess the screenwriter or the producer or whoever came out with the idea of cutting short the story had the same feeling as me, believing that cutting those scenes would have no huge impact on the story.
But wrong! I read the book first, and without those cut scenes, it became unbearable to me. The story seems to fall apart to me. I guess that is why people always say book is better than movie. A two-hour movie just is just unable to convey the whole story perfectly as it should be. Hitting the book first renders the movie unenjoyable. This is the curse of readers.
I also feel like they didn't show how tough Howard had to go through when he couldn't get a single commission and went for works in the quarry. They didn't show how desperate the situation he was facing. But of course, desperation is not something Howard would feel as he embodies the objectivism so perfectly, as Man is an end to himself and himself only, not the means to the ends of others.
The movie is just too much Dominique and Howard and Gail, too little Ellsworth and his gang, and Peter and Katie. I would really like to see how Katie would look like and also the actress who would have portrayed her. I don't why but I have a strong affinity to her. If a reason is to be made now, I guess I would say, she is like a lotus to me. Born in the mud, but not stained by the mud. To me, whatever Howard and Ellsworth or whoever were fighting, they were fighting in the mud, stained.
There is one thing I love about movie though. Gail committed suicide in the end of the movie, but nothing is mentioned in the book. At the end of the movie, after Gail gave all the instructions for Wynand building to Howard, he said the epic line to Howard : "Build it as a monument to that spirit which is yours ... and could have been mine." As Howard walked out his office, he pulled out a pistol from his drawer and BANG!
I think this is a proper ending to Gail. He got his final wish done, although he would never be able to see Wynand building to be erected. He put out a good fight against the current and lost everything, his Banner and the woman he loved, Dominique, eventhough one can argue that he never got Dominique's love since the beginning and so it is not counted as love, as love is something mutual. But guess what, his tombstone, Wynand building will stand in the middle of New York city as the highest skyscraper. Gail fought almost as strong as Howard and to the end. If not, Gail fought stronger in my opinion. In fact, I even think Gail is more heroic than Howard.
After almost 2 and a half months, I finally finished the book. Phew, it was such a huge book, hard to swallow. The idea is too new to me that I still need time to soak it in. A seven hundreds pages book, I feel the first 500 pages are really slow-paced. Luckily, the final 200 pages pick up the pace. I used almost 2 months just to finish the first 500 and merely a week for the last 200.
The reason for this is that Howard Roark, the protagonist of this book, seemed like a stubborn bastard at first glance. He went against current, against almost everybody in the book, and didn't explain himself to us why. Actually he barely spoke up his mind, only actions. No normal human emotions, at first he showed no guilt, no pride, no happiness, and chose the hard way to start his architect career. We readers are supposed to root for the protagonist. But he was almost like a robot, he seemed alien to us.
The antagonist was also unclear at the beginning. It is supposed to be Ellsworth Toohey, a columnist and an architectural critic. But at first sight, Ellsworth seemed to be right all the time. His evilness is fully shown only in the last hundred pages, especially when he confessed to Peter Keating, a university colleague of Howard and also an architect, about his motive and his aim.
If the slow build-up in the first 500 pages is necessary, then it is worth the wait because the third act, the final blow is epic. The whole story is like Rocky fighting a strong opponent. The opponent keeps throwing punches at Rocky, one after another, and Rocky fights back at the end. This is what I feel during the third act. The Howard Roark part is the gold of this book. This is also the part where Howard finally speaks up his ideal. I am not gonna spoil the story here, but there is an epic speech from Howard himself from page 677 to 685, basically the explanation of the philosophy of objectivism.
Then I realized why it is a book of ideas. There is as if no characters in this book. The characters are merely the representatives of the ideals. This is a book about clash of ideals, objectivism against collectivism and altruism, the creators versus the parasitic society, and objectivism triumphs (spoiler : Howard wins at the end). The whole book certainly reminds me of the prologue of Tolerance by Hendrik Willem van Loon, except this time the pioneer wasn't prosecuted. It really makes me think about the society nowadays especially the internet. The internet is the perfect example to show the power of the mob. It is a stage where the mob bullies the minority, whoever is different.
One thing I don't quite understand is the romance in between Dominique and Howard. It is unconventional. It is weird and starts off weirder. Their romance started by a rape! WTH?! I read the scene and my jaw dropped, couldn't believe what I had just read. What Dominique does in the book is also unreasonable to me. The only explanation I can make of is that their relationship is like sadist and masochist, torturing each other for fun. I tell myself, may be one day I will understand. But now, I don't get it.
At the end, I would like to see Katie more though. Peter Keating, the go-with-flow guy, got nothing left for him at the end. I just want to see Peter and Katie getting together again. I understand this is what Peter deserves, but at least make him and Katie get back together again. Peter has not much talent. He is simply not fitted in this clash of titans. Nothing much said about Peter at the end. I really hope he can at least live a simple life with Katie.
Now that I have finished the book, I am really doubtful of the idea of altruism and being unselfish. Is it fundamentally evil or is it not?
I just watched the movie Elysium. It is not bad at all. The story is good. It has romance, actions, and an important message behind it. A movie setting in a futuristic dystopia, it does make me think of the becoming problem of overpopulation and pollution when I walked out of the theater.
Those weapons used in the movie are so violent and bad ass, so bad ass that they kinda overshine the suit Matt Damon wears. Before the movie, I was expecting some very good actions scenes after he wore the suit, to really show the significant improvement to his physical strength, like may be can jump ten meters high and run super fast with the suit. But there is nothing much about this aspect in the movie. I guess the suit just improve a little his strength and let him able to move again like a normal human. However, the final throwdown in between the good guy and the bad guy really got me. I can say that I could almost feel the punches and the pain during this final scene.
At the end, the protagonist as whom Matt Damon plays, had proved his worth to go to Elysium. Not the phony Elysium in this movie, but the true Elysium in Greek mythology, as Elysium is reserved for the heroic, the righteous.
I want to also point out a funny thing I found in the movie. Those privileged who live in Elysium speak French while the world below, the poor speak Spanish. This is almost a stereotype, as if French is reserved for high-class phony society, and Spanish is for the poor.
