The truth is out there
But I don’t want to find out
I don’t want to know
I dare not seek and ask
I just want to stay
As naive as I can be
But bits by bits
The picture is getting clearer
And clearer
No no no
I don’t want to know
Please save me
From encountering the dreadful moment of truth
Let me be the fugitive
From TRUTH
This month I have only managed to finish this book. It’s a story about 5 expats who went to Budapest to look for their dreams right after the fall of Communism. They were a lost generation, struggled in their respective ways to justify their existence in this foreign land. The different cultures, lifestyles, thinkings and ideologies all challenged their beliefs and values. They harboured a vague expectation that their counterparts in Prague had better lives. As the story progressed, each of the five foreigners became less and less attractive, and the satiric edge to Phillips’s portrayal sharpened into something close to anger: at their solipsism, their savage cynicism, their detachment from their surroundings and from one another. For all their pretensions to something grander and more picturesque, they were nothing but tourists — not just in Hungary but in their own lives and in the world at large. In the end all left Budapest - 2 disappeared, 1 killed, 1 escaped to Romania hoping for another start, and 1 departed for the dreamland, after he had completely lost everything in the Magyar capital.
It took me much longer than expected to finish this book. It was an ambitious piece, trying to cover the clash of different ideologies, cultures and thinking of a generation. It was witty, but for me it was a bit too much. The lenthy descriptive sentences of abstract feelings and thinkings required a very high level of concentration which I could not afford all the time. Many times I had to re-read the paragraphs and in between I almost gave it up. On the whole it was a good read, not just because I learnt a lot about Budapest and Hungary, but also shared the feelings of lost and naivety of being an expat.
Germany is awash in a sea of black, red and gold these days. Small banners flutter from cars, others are draped from windows. Some fans even carry a flag. Germans rarely wave national flags, an act which is regarded as overtly nationalistic, which they take pain to avoid. There are much more flags waving now than in 1989. This resurgence of patriotism is welcome by most Germans, though it causes some angst among the older generation and political critics. There are heated debates on this topic: whether this should be encouraged, whether this patriotic sentiment would last, its impact on the younger generation, how other countries are seeing this… For a nation with such an unfortunate history even flag-waving is a complicated issue.
Despite all these discussion I love the scene of seeing German flags flying around on the streets. And I am happy to be here in Germany, to witness and feel the change of the country. I think this is a positive thing and there’s no reason why the new generation should not be proud about their country.
Apart from the German flags other country flags are also flying around the corners of Germany these days. Jerseys have become national costumes. Fans or non-fans jammed the fan mile and fested day and night. Yeah, it’s carnival time here.
To most Germans (to a certain extent me as well), one of the most “outrageous” things about World Cup is that America’s Budweiser (known as Anheuser-Busch here in Europe) is the official beer sponsor of the game. How could Germany, the home of some of the world’s best beers, allow an American brand to take over the party?? And according to Germany’s 500-year-old beer purity law, the American Bud is hardly beer as it is brewed partly from rice. The Americans are smart enough to do some PR by allowing Bitburger to get into the stadiums, but you hardly find it anywhere.
To Europeans, the only Budweiser is brewed in the Czech town of Ceske Budejovice (formerly known as Budweis) — and has been since the 13th century. The Czechs first began selling beer under the name “Budweiser” in 1895, almosts 20 years after Anheuser introduced its tipple of that name. But in Europe, beers are often traditionally named after the town in which they were brewed. With hundreds more years of brewing tradition, Ceske Budejovice has long felt it had the upper hand. And legal battles over which beer can be called Budweiser on the old continent have always ended in the Czech’s favour.
But during the match between Czech and America Czech fans were forced to drink Anheuser… A tasting test among fans of both sides reflected a one-sided favour for the real thing. So the Czechs have beaten the Americans - both in beer and on the soccer battlefield.
16 June 2006 Frankfurt to Paris
Rushed to the bus station after returning from Budapest. The bus was filled with excited Paraguay fans even though their national team had been kicked out in the first round of World Cup. Then there came a guy with no distinct nationality who sat next to me, putting the overhead light on to read a dictionary-size book. Lights and noise were my greatest enemies in sleep, and so I stayed awake, putting on my ipod, half listening, half gazing out of the window counting the number of cars speeding next to the bus.
I was on the way to meet J, who was having her training in London and Paris this month. I had wanted to go to London more but our schedule didn’t dovetail. It’s always good to see friends when being abroad and I was a bit excited. Then I thought of H, who was having her graduation ceremony and wedding on two consecutive days that weekend. It was awesome to me, achieving two major milestones in life at the same time. But then I felt a bit sad as I failed to keep my promise of being there with her on either one of these important occassions of her life. I rarely make promises and I truly wanted to attend these events, to share her joy and happiness. However, there was nothing I could do but to wish her all the very best from the bottom of my heart.
18 June 2006 Paris to Frankfurt
The return bus was again filled with travellers - Germans, French, other World Cup fans. On the way the bus stopped at one of the resting points so the driver could take a break. I got off the bus, had no idea where I was, and sat on the side of the highway. The weather was hot and the heat made me felt feverish and dizzy the whole day. The blowing wind cooled down my body and my mind and I felt much better. It was quite an unique and intriguing experience, sitting next to the highway in an unknown city in the middle of the night with a group of strangers. We were all lost, we didn’t know where we were, and nobody cared to ask. The whole group was united, sharing a relaxing and lethargic moment together, out from the confinement of the bus seats, looking ahead to the road that was leading to our destination, no matter that was home or the starting point of a new adventure.
My friend commented that I am living a decadent life, after learning what I have done over the weekend. I actually think this is quite an accurate description, although the word “decadent” sometimes carries a negative connotation (esp the Chinese meaning).
A little research on the Decadent generation (see farticle by Sabrina Laurent on the Boheme Magazine) shows that it “refers to a group of writers from the second half of the 19th century who initiated the Symbolist movement in literature and the arts. This group was loosely tied but shared a similar spirit and philosophy that combined pessimism, elitism, idealism and dandyism. The decadent spirit was marked by pessimism and mysticism, and the development of elitist groups often lead by a generation of dandies. The Decadents, whether writers and painters (the boundary was often erased), all made Art a religion, with the birth of the famous theory “Art for Art’s Sake.” An Idealistic spirit, Decadence rejected and fought against the Naturalism of Emile Zola and Gustave Courbet, and the philosophical concept of Positivism.”
The Decadent generation had been inspired by my favourite philosophers Shopenhauer and Nietzche. Perhaps I have been influenced by them subconsciously and so no wonder I also have this decadent spirit.
I prefer to be a decadent, not hedonist.
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