Tracked down by my own handwriting
An unregistered book comes back to me after five years
by CGrauGarrigaMarch 30, 2005
Last week I received a parcel from a school friend and fellow BookCrosser who had recently been travelling around Scotland. I saw her note first. It read, "Found this at a backpacker’s and I believe it’s yours. It’s definitely your handwriting and weren’t
you in Aceh in 2000? You might want to register it with BookCrossing so you can keep track of its travels from now on.”
It was a copy of Burmese Days by George Orwell, a book I had certainly read and enjoyed. I opened it and on the first page I was shocked to see something I had indeed written myself. “I bought this when travelling around Burma. After reading it I’m amazed at how little that country seems to have changed since George Orwell wrote this book in 1934. He was a genius writer and Burma is a wonderful country, despite the sad situation it is in at present. I hope whoever reads it next will enjoy it as much as I did and will want to visit Burma. Kuala Dho - Aceh, June 2000”.
Then I remembered.
It was April and it was hot, 41ºC in the shade, low season in Bagan, Burma (or Myanmar). I had spent all day visiting the magnificent ruins and temples and was feeling sorry for the young souvenir sellers because there were no tourists apart from me. I couldn’t think of what to buy until I saw the book. George Orwell is one of my favourite authors and I hadn’t read this one. And then I realized it was the 23rd of April, Saint George’s Day and also the day of the book and the rose. Traditionally, in Catalonia – one of the 17 autonomic regions that comprise Spain and where I originally come from – on this day boys buy girls a rose and girls buy boys a book. Nowadays boys buy roses not only for their girlfriends but also for their mothers, sisters, girlfriends, co-workers or anyone they want to show affection to. And books are bought by everyone, although a girl should never forget to give one to her significant other, even if he doesn’t like reading. I didn’t have anyone special to give the book to, but I would keep it for myself for the time being.
Three months later I found myself in Kuala Dho, in the northern region of Aceh, Sumatra. I was staying at Hassan’s bungalows, on the beach, and again there were no foreigners here, this time due to the war. Hassan said he had last had a guest two months before. I had a lovely time with Hassan and his family, although there was not much to do apart from playing chess, watching the rain and reading Burmese Days. When I finished it, I decided to write what I had thought of it on the front page and leave it at Hassan’s place. Surely another foreigner who wasn’t afraid of the war in Aceh would show up in another two months.
Of course I had never expected to hear anything from whoever might find and read the book next, but below my comment I can now read “I read this while in Asia. I don’t like Orwell’s racism, though. Goa, India, August 2002”. Another entry says: “It’s dark and beautiful. I enjoyed reading this while travelling. Claire, London, 2004”. I wonder who took the book from Kuala Dho to Goa, how many more people have had it and how many other cities and countries it has travelled to before coming back to me in Western Australia... Well, I will register it, release it, and thanks to BookCrossing, from now on I will know. Even for a book, it’s a small world, isn’t it?
It was a copy of Burmese Days by George Orwell, a book I had certainly read and enjoyed. I opened it and on the first page I was shocked to see something I had indeed written myself. “I bought this when travelling around Burma. After reading it I’m amazed at how little that country seems to have changed since George Orwell wrote this book in 1934. He was a genius writer and Burma is a wonderful country, despite the sad situation it is in at present. I hope whoever reads it next will enjoy it as much as I did and will want to visit Burma. Kuala Dho - Aceh, June 2000”.
Then I remembered.
It was April and it was hot, 41ºC in the shade, low season in Bagan, Burma (or Myanmar). I had spent all day visiting the magnificent ruins and temples and was feeling sorry for the young souvenir sellers because there were no tourists apart from me. I couldn’t think of what to buy until I saw the book. George Orwell is one of my favourite authors and I hadn’t read this one. And then I realized it was the 23rd of April, Saint George’s Day and also the day of the book and the rose. Traditionally, in Catalonia – one of the 17 autonomic regions that comprise Spain and where I originally come from – on this day boys buy girls a rose and girls buy boys a book. Nowadays boys buy roses not only for their girlfriends but also for their mothers, sisters, girlfriends, co-workers or anyone they want to show affection to. And books are bought by everyone, although a girl should never forget to give one to her significant other, even if he doesn’t like reading. I didn’t have anyone special to give the book to, but I would keep it for myself for the time being.
Three months later I found myself in Kuala Dho, in the northern region of Aceh, Sumatra. I was staying at Hassan’s bungalows, on the beach, and again there were no foreigners here, this time due to the war. Hassan said he had last had a guest two months before. I had a lovely time with Hassan and his family, although there was not much to do apart from playing chess, watching the rain and reading Burmese Days. When I finished it, I decided to write what I had thought of it on the front page and leave it at Hassan’s place. Surely another foreigner who wasn’t afraid of the war in Aceh would show up in another two months.
Of course I had never expected to hear anything from whoever might find and read the book next, but below my comment I can now read “I read this while in Asia. I don’t like Orwell’s racism, though. Goa, India, August 2002”. Another entry says: “It’s dark and beautiful. I enjoyed reading this while travelling. Claire, London, 2004”. I wonder who took the book from Kuala Dho to Goa, how many more people have had it and how many other cities and countries it has travelled to before coming back to me in Western Australia... Well, I will register it, release it, and thanks to BookCrossing, from now on I will know. Even for a book, it’s a small world, isn’t it?
