Thang Nguyen 555

Being on the Southernest tip of Vietnam, with map in hand, and Monte Cristo on the other, I imagine myself holding a local map, seeking a promised treasurse and all the justice delayed, hence denied.

Dumas truly is a Master Storyteller. I read this in translation, but it still held me captive: story about a young sea captain, wrongly accused on his engagement day. In captivity, he underwent a transformation and with divine help, emerged unscathed from purgatory.

The Count of course conducts himself in manners expected and unexpected. But he exacts the right toll for each circumstance; sometimes even more.

Enemies: watch out. Your day will come. The forces of nature always work in mysterious ways. But I admire and admit that there is such a thing as beauty in this world, despite all associated ugliness e.g. man against man, nature against man, and man against nature.

We battle ourselves too (inner battle). We self-sabotage, and become our own impediment to self-improvement. When was the last time you get up before dawn to go for a run.

Or we trick ourselves into believing that sugar, butter and white bread are good for us.

The Japanese somehow trail world’s average life expectancy, but always with a decade more (mid-80’s).

It says something about their national character: discipline.

Their preference for foods is only an outward expression of their inner make-ups.

GDP of course follows suit when the whole nation lasts longer than others, than enemies.

Back to our Count. He tries to mend his broken heart by steeling his will. Not always working (he hid his face in the dark so as not to show his tears).

Imagine yourself in his shoes.

Imagine having your justice delayed, hence denied.

Imagine trying to undo years of neglect, abandonment, and anger turned inward and resolve.

I don’t know how one can live like that, having that much to spend (in this case, for penance and atonement).

Monte Christo, Phu Quoc Island (where I write this) and some French young men I chatted on the boat on the way here. Everything seems to be working out: I am on this day walk the sand I have always dreamed of doing.

Justice is served, at least for me, with or without the treasure. To the people on this island, the beach is just sun, sand and isolation from mainland. (ironically, they used to put up prisoners on this island, besides Con Dao to the East). For me, it’s an accumulation of years of wishy washy: I will be there some day. That day is today, no more delay. For a moment, I believe there is divine intervention. And I promise on this day, righting a wrong: man against nature.