27/05/2026
My rating: 4.4/5⭐
To be honest, I have no idea who Zakaria Ali is, prior to reading this book, but I am always partial when it comes to books that are written in diary, journal or epistolary format.
So a big thanks to Kedai Hitam Putih for the book.
As the title suggested, this book was a diary of Zakaria from December 1973 to February 1977 where he jotted down his experiences in Spain with the locals and the authorities (which were often bad), and of the paintings, murals, historical sites, monuments and of his experiences conquering Mount Popo.
There were some parts that made me laugh, like when he lost one of his spiked shoes going up the mountain for the first time. Or when the gringos disturbed his meditation in the Cabana's building. His off-handed writings were really fun and entertaining to read.
Since I'm not an artsy person, I found myself googling paintings by Orozco, Rivera, Velasco, and a few others that were mentioned. His remarks about how their arts were used to fuel propaganda left quite an impression.
And then, there was this quiet loneliness that seeped through. He usually associated his loneliness with the landscapes. I think he was homesick.
If there is one thing that I could ask him about, it is whether or not his VW Kombi is still around.
Again, thank you for the copy!
