Marco Polo (revisiting an old friend)

Dear Diary,

In a dusty old second hand book shop on Mill Road in Cambridge, one little ruby among the many glistening gems of wisdom, shone brightly enough for me to buy it. I am not a medievalist, but the translator's name caught my eye (Ronald E. Latham). Since then, here in the backwaters of this once great nation, I spied another copy, a different translation, which, although very readable, pales in comparison to Ron Latham's translation. (Many sections are lacking in William Marsden's translation - which is perfectly understandable given the disparate nature of the Italian, French and Latin manuscripts).

I delved a little into Franceso Pipino's Latin translation (1302) today, but for the most part I have been reading trans. Latham (the Penguin copy), simply because it is portable. I enter an exotic world in the far east, filled with spices, wild animals, even a mention of unicorns (!!). There are 'dragons' (crocodiles), armies of elephants, strange customs, bizarre marriage (and extra-marital) customs, curious peoples, and all kinds of ghosts, magicians, miracles and wonders. I read about ancient China, mulberries fed to silk worms, the first paper money, the earliest block-printing, spirits, conjurors, Christians and Saracens, pagans and (what may have been) Buddhists. I read about the jungle, the Great Wall, huge cities, fleets of ships, astrologers, predictions coming true, the cruelty of war, the cunning of the Great Khan, the joy and suffering of many peoples in the Far East. Everywhere from India to China, through Mesopotamia is discussed. There is magic, wonder and all kinds of things, the half of which was not even included in Marco Polo's account.

Then I look up, through the raindrops falling on my book outside the gloom of the fast food joint. (My five minute break spent reading in the rain). There, is the brush, the bin, the washing up. There is the brutish boss, "You want a slap?". There is slavery (dressed up as something else). This, is reality, not rhetoric, political spin or media propaganda, of 'life' in Britain 2022. Whether you studied history, classics, chemistry, law, oil rig engineering, business administration at university: this is what you do here, in Dark Age Britain (unskilled labour for minimum wage). There is no opportunity here, no future, no hope. Much as one attempts to maintain a positive mental attitude, the gunk from the pans, the stench of the trash, the explitives and animal noises made by my 'learned superiors' beating each other up, or most often: being beaten up by Bligh, this is the grim reality of 'life' in Dark Age (2022) Britain. Be very wary if any British academic approaches you to offer you a 'job'. It is certain that there is a catch (usually, no pension, sometimes - as in my case - expecting people to work for nothing, that is, if you're "lucky" enough to get a volunteer position).