Slowcoach on a slow coach...

This week, after an six thousand mile journey, your nomadic flaneur finds himself in a small offshore island off the coast of Europe that, as far as he can tell from consulting various periodicals, seems to be obsessed with minor celebrities (at least if one is to judge from the headlines in many of the newspapers). It actually feels quite odd to go from the quality reporting of the Bangkok Post to the pun-plagued drivel offered up by The Sun or the outraged indignation that The Daily Mail serves up as news. It seems that high-quality, English news reporting is alive and well – in Thailand!

Previously, during my sojourn in SE Asia, I had read about the effects of pollution in China on the North Atlantic weather system, erudite discussions as to whether globalisation has actually benefited the world's economies and in depth analysis of the crisis in the Crimea. Imbibing coffee at a Costas in a suburb on the outskirts of London known as Buckhurst Hill, I find myself perusing The Sun which seems more concerned with a crooner known as '1D Louis' going to a snooker tournament, , the sartorial obsessions of a geriatric transvestite and the photogenic delights of Mel, 21, from Kent which, it has to be admitted, are quite pleasant. None of this though could one accurately describe as 'news'.

Welcome back to Blighty!

One cannot fail to notice how cold it is here. Friends have assured me that the weather has actually picked up of late, but going from an admittedly oppressive 41C in Kanchanaburi to a subjectively chilly 15C in NW Essex has come as something of a shock. I even resorted to some artificial warmth on offer at the Loughton Leisure Centre but still found that it seemed to take a remarkably long time for my body to feel comfortable even in the gloomy confines of the small, cell-like room that passes for a sauna there.

I look back from this time and place to the last few days in Thailand with some degree of fondness. On the Sunday my task was to get from Kanchanaburi to the Thong Ta Resort Hotel close to Bangkok's main airport, Savarnabhumi. The journey should normally consume about four hours or so. Indeed, if you are prepared to take the risk, you can take a minibus direct to the airport in less than three. I chose to give myself, as befits a person given to flaneurial activities, ten hours.

Giving oneself this degree of time has a strange and pleasantly interesting effect on one's psychological state whilst engaged in such a journey. A week before I had escorted a very close and dear friend to Bangkok's second airport, Don Meuang. We had given ourselves a couple of extra hours for the journey 'just in case', but still found ourselves rushing at the end and having to say an all too quick 'goodbye'. For my part, I was determined to avoid such a stressful end to what had been a very pleasant, and remarkably relaxed, sojourn to Thailand.

The first thing to consider was which mode of transport to take. After experiencing the various life-threatening options on offer in this part of SE Asia I decided to be guided by an article I read by an ex-pat on the types of buses on offer. The so-called 'luxury' buses, particularly those of the double-decker variety, are mostly made in Thailand or China. As the writer put it, the majority of the superstructure seems to consists of 'paper-clips and yoghurt cartons'. Flimsy would be too strong a word to describe the nebulous nature of these designs. They have the tendency to collapse into much smaller particles if and, all too often, when involved in any kind of incident.

The ubiquitous mini-buses are also not a great option. They may not be so poorly constructed as the double-deckers but still leave plenty of room for improvement. Passengers and luggage are stuffed into every available space so one is more or less guaranteed an uncomfortable journey. Added to this the fact that most of the drivers tend to be somewhat less than careful (read: complete maniacs), then this mode of transport also becomes less than attractive. Merely uncomfortable I can take, terrifying I would rather avoid.

Finally, I settled on the regular bus to Bangkok's Southern Bus Terminal (Sai Tai Taling Chan). The bus utilised for this service tends to be an old European Volvo or maybe an ancient Scania. Whilst they may be very long in the tooth, they do tend to be very solidly built. The age of such buses can be an advantage in itself as the driver often finds himself confined to speeds of somewhat less than 50 mph. Normally, one would think of such slowness as a disadvantage but in Thailand, such a lack of pace is often experienced as a blessed relief.

The joy of such a loose time-table gives one the time to enjoy each and every part of the journey and take pleasantly elongated breaks in between the various phases. As in many other areas, our speed obsessed times tend to dissipate so many of the pleasures in life that often depend on the ability to take one's time and allow oneself to 'savour the flavour' of whatever experience is on offer. In travel, as in many other areas, the joys of slowness, of taking your time, become more and more apparent when you actually allow yourself to experience life in this way. For many, such a change of attitude will almost bring on a feeling of guilt at first, as if the compulsion to rush around at ever greater speeds is almost a moral imperative. We are told we must not 'waste time', as if time itself were something you could save up. Once one begins to open up to the joys of slowness though, the realisation begins to dawn that life and its pleasures are often far better experienced when you give yourself sufficient time to do just that.

On arrival at Kanchanaburi bus station, I treated myself to a blueberry smoothie, parked myself on a nearby bench, and spent a few minutes just observing the huge variety of humanity passing through whilst I awaited the departure of the 10.30 bus. Saffron robed and shaven-headed Buddhist monks, often texting away on mobile phones, European back-packers seemingly oblivious to the ideals of minimalism, carting huge and heavy rucksacks (oddly, there seemed to be an inverse ratio between the size of the person and the weight of the luggage – huge, blond-headed Swedish guys carrying next to nothing, whilst tiny lasses from France and Spain laboured under humongously weighty packs that a Nepalese sherpa would have considered challenging), Thais wondering around with blood-shot eyes who, all too often, turned out to be drivers... so much to see in in such a place when one takes the time.

The bus did indeed turn out to be pleasantly slow and generally seemed to move in a somewhat crablike, side-to-side, motion every time the driver applied the throttle. This meant that he had to proceed at an even slower pace than normal for this age of bus, a fact that I found myself appreciating greatly.

Eventually, some three hours later, we arrived at the Southern Bus Terminal. This is located on the edge of Bangkok and offers one a variety of ways of getting into the centre of town. For an hour or so I forsook all such options as I headed for the row of cheap and cheerful restaurants inside the terminal and treated myself to some rather tasty noodles and a cup of coffee for the princely sum of 60 baht (about $1.50). This was followed by a slow wander around the market next to the ticket hall where all manner of goods could be purchased (or, in my case, forsaken) for very reasonable prices. Normally, the temptations of such fare have little effect on me unless I have a specific need. On this occasion, I have to admit, I came close to being seduced by the offer of Android tablets, complete with front and rear cameras, for less than $50.

And so, by and by, my journey continued. Each section of my five stage journey offering the opportunity to enjoy a break here, a walk there, the odd snack or even a full meal. When one gives oneself such a leisurely schedule, the situation changes from an onerous task to an interesting indulgence.

Indeed, this attitude of taking all the time needed to enjoy the numerous and multifarious distractions of Thailand (or whatever part of the world one happens to find oneself) adds much to the pleasure of such journeying. I remember, in my distant youth, meeting an American whose head was swathed in bandages. I asked him what had happened. He replied that after 'doing' Paris the day before, he had flown down to Zermatt in Switzerland so he could 'do' the Matterhorn. Whilst rushing up a mountain path to get the doing done, he had slipped and fallen down a steep escarpment. He was most concerned when I spoke to him that his injuries may not allow him to 'do' Vienna the next day!

That was many, many moons ago now, but the impression made by that short conversation with a frenetic American in the Swiss countryside has stayed with me ever since. In the intervening years the pace of life has, for many at least, become even faster as we chase we know not what. Modern society seems to have become much like a former associate of mine of whom it was said: “She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows she wants it now!”

The role of the flaneur is to hold up a mirror to such attitudes, to demonstrate than such desperate chasing is not compulsory, or even healthy, and to show that there is another way. In an age of fast-food, fast-links and fast seemingly everything, there is a need to show that 'fast' needn't be the only game in town. If something is worth doing then it is worth doing slowly...

Will any one bid two chickens?

Today my flaneurial activities find me safely ensconced in the delightfully cool environs of the Sittisang coffee house in the centre of the Chinese section of old town Kanchanaburi. It is only a few minutes past midday but already the temperature outside has climbed to the giddying heights of 35 degrees centigrade and going up. Over time, I have become acclimatised to these levels but there comes a stage as the mercury climbs above the mid 30s that one needs, if at all possible, simply to escape the heat. Fortunately, Kanchanaburi is blessed with numerous cafes many of which are air-conditioned. The tourist area down near the Kwai has many such establishments but occasionally, in the flaneurial spirit, I like to take a slow stroll downtown to areas where one scarcely sees another 'farang'.

It is curious how often in such circumstances one will come across police officers. To be fair, it is as hot for them as for the rest of us. It is a little surprising though, to me at least, to be able to spend a couple of hours composing the latest blog continuously in the company of these same gentlemen from the local constabulary. When in Thailand, and for that matter in many other Eastern countries, a certain adjustment of one's concept of the police officer and their role in society is often required. Here in Thailand it is as much an entrepreneurial activity as a public duty.

I was discussing these aspects with a Canadian ex-pat the other day. He related a situation where a friend of his, a Thai, had died in a motor cycle accident (not an uncommon occurrence here, unfortunately). The police, having gathered all the available evidence, taken all the necessary measurements and interviewed the appropriate witnesses then brought the relevant parties together and essentially asked them to make their bids. It seems that the attribution of guilt or innocence is not so much dependent on the details of the incident but on the depth of the pockets of the protagonists or, as in this case, their relatives.

Such corruption, whilst appearing to be surprising to the Western eye, is a way of life in Thailand. So normal is it in fact that the average Thai would find it curious that such events could be seen as in any way strange by a Western observer.

To be fair, this is not only the case in Thailand. For some years in the UK I assisted a young Chinese woman in her efforts to gain asylum. In her particular case the details were quite favourable to her cause but at almost every turn there was the assumption on her part of 'who do we need to pay off now?' At times, I had to restrain her from making such inappropriate offers to officials for fear of inadvertently prejudicing her case. The notion of making progress in these areas without the need to bribe anyone was completely foreign to her and difficult to understand, so normal was it to conduct affairs of this sort in such a way in the land that she originated from.

Here in Thailand corruption could almost be thought of as the basic structure that holds the society together. A complex interaction of relationships based on favours given and received. I recently read of a survey in the redoubtable Bangkok Post which asked 352 companies if they would endeavour to turn their backs on corrupt business practices. All but 9 said that they would not and, indeed, could not. Without indulging in such practices, they reasoned, how could normal business exist at all? One suspects that the 9 who thought otherwise may not have actually believed that but had merely struck what they thought to be the appropriate pose.

From the top of society to the bottom bribery, back-handers and nepotism are the norm. I read an interesting piece online recently. It told the story of the NACC (the National Anti-Corruption Commission) being called to conduct an enquiry into the conduct of some members of the government. In order to facilitate this process they were given a substantial conference room in a plush hotel in Bangkok. When the members of the anti-corruption commission discovered that the room allocated to them was overly large for their purposes they arranged for a section of it to be partitioned off and therein set up a gambling club. Over the weeks that the commission sat pontificating on weighty issues the not inconsiderable proceeds of this establishment were shared between those running the club and the commission. Such a solution would seem creative to many a Thai mind and the irony of an anti-corruption committee behaving in such a way would likely tend to escape them. One has to, however, give due respect to the committee's expertise in the field of corruption...

During a recent election in the North of the country, observers discovered that large amounts of votes had been purchased in return for livestock. Apparently the going rate was one chicken one vote. It makes a change from one man one vote, I suppose, but rather misses the point of a democratic system. When questioned about such foul/fowl practice many of those bribed in this way could see nothing wrong, viewing it as merely a transaction between a buyer and a seller. The only way that the observers could get any kind of understanding from the voters involved was by asking them if, in their opinion, their integrity was only worth one chicken. At this stage some of the voters seemed to feel slightly uneasy (chickens are generally not highly respected in Thailand) but for many it was merely a market situation and the concept of voter integrity did not really enter into their heads.

Interestingly, when questioned about other matters, these very same voters were extremely vocal in their complaints against corrupt officials and government representatives but seemed completely unable to make the connection to their own corrupt behaviour. It seems they considered themselves the victims but never the perpetrators. Corruption is a mind set here, a way of being.

As one can imagine, all this makes national politics something of a nightmare in Thailand. One corrupt regime follows another, each one seemingly even more rapacious than the last. Every now and then the army steps in to bring some resolution to the chaos but pretty soon the whole merry-go-round starts again. The current incumbent, a member of the Shinawatra family, is likely to be deposed following next weeks Songkran festival (the NACC is investigating a case which is likely to go against her). As far as I can ascertain the chief feeling against this family is that they have occupied the government long enough and it is time for someone else to take their place. It is not so much that they are corrupt, or at least not any more corrupt than those in opposition, it is just felt that they have had their nose in the trough for quite long enough and it is time for someone else to take a turn.

That someone else may end up being the formidable Suthep Thaugsuban, this despite having a murder charge hanging over his head for the last decade and allegations that his own previous administration were deeply mired in corrupt practices of their own. The voluble Suthep (he has been talking every evening for weeks in a park in Bangkok in his bid to oust the current government) is the leader of the People's Democratic Reform Committee. As noted in a previous blog, the particular element of democracy that this party wishes to reform is voting. The electorate, in their view, keeps voting for the wrong people (ie., not them), so the process is obviously in need of reform so that votes cannot actually decide the outcome and stop them holding power. An interesting way of looking at the democratic process...

Interestingly, when asked whether it would be a good idea to get outside (U.N.) observers in to monitor elections and make sure they were fair, Suthep, without the slightest awareness of the irony of his statement, said: 'I don't respect farangs.' Now, apart from the blatant racism of this statement ('farang' is basically a derogatory term for foreigners, particularly of the Western variety), its implication that the Thai electoral process needs no help from the outside seems to fly in the face of all the evidence to the contrary. What is required by Suthep and the PDRC is not so much as a fair election as one in which they are likely to win power.

Fortunately, this country runs despite its government, not because of it. The government has effectively been paralysed for several months now, not an unusual situation in Thailand, yet somehow life goes on in much the same way as ever: the businesses continue to pay the bribes, organised crime continues its presence in the administration of the country, the buses continue to be driven off viaducts on a regular basis (strangely, always as the result of brake failure according to the reports...seems oddly contagious here). Little happens about these issues because there is little public or political will to make it happen. This is Thailand and it is the way things have been done since ages past.

Despite the political impasse, people go about their normal business. The shops continue to sell their wares in the centre of Kanchanaburi. The proprietor at this café sits awaiting customers on this very hot afternoon, much as he always does. I continue to tap out my blog. Thailand remains one of the most beautiful countries I have ever visited. The fauna and flora are incredibly varied and abundant here and quite something to behold. The people themselves are friendly, charming and very easy going. The culture is also deep and fascinating. In many ways I would advise almost anyone to come and experience this remarkable land but forewarned is forearmed...

The problem is that if one ventures to spend some time in this land, one needs to understand that corruption is embedded in the very structure of life here. Given that, my best guess would be that they are about a century away from being about to run any sort of democracy actually worthy of the name here. It would not be a mere change of politics, that would be the easy part, but would require a fundamental change of culture. 

To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln's Gettysberg address, what we have here is corruption of the people, by the people, for the people. This is not likely to change any time soon. In the meantime, particularly in the upcoming months, there may be much turmoil. A good time for a nomadic flaneur to be leaving Thailand methinks...

Reckless but not wreck less...

Saturday 5th April 2014 finds Kanchanaburi recovering from the storm of the night before. I personally was on the way back from Bangkok when the storm struck. The normal two and a quarter hours for the journey stretched to nearly four hours as the rain lashed down and some of the most spectacular lightning I have ever seen lit up the paddy fields, temples and forests. As we drove along we hit streams of water flooding across the carriageway. In traditional Thai style, the driver made the usual allowance for the changing conditions... i.e., none at all. We were also slowed by the police trying to clear away the remains of an accident. A white saloon car had met head on with a small pick up truck coming in the opposite direction. Judging from the damage to the vehicles, they had probably met head on. The truck wasn't too bad but the drivers compartment of the car had been modified out of existence. I hope the driver survived but fear that is an unlikely outcome...

Arriving back in Kanchanaburi I found the town recovering from the effects of the storm. Many branches and even fallen trees littered the streets and there was still extensive flooding in some parts of town. On a happier note, the air was delightfully cool which came as something of a relief as recent daytime temperatures had often been in excess of 40C. The town itself in the area of the night market was eerily quiet and I found it something of a pleasure to stroll down the normally bustling streets in such a situation.

The Thais have a pragmatically fatalistic way of dealing with such situations and tend not to overly concern themselves about such troubles. They will merely pick themselves up, dust themselves down and start all over again. This is to be admired in many ways, such an attitude allows them to adjust relatively smoothly to coping with some fairly extreme weather and other tribulations. One could even say they can be enviably phlegmatic.

The flip side of this attitude though is an almost unbelievable recklessness that has to be experienced to be believed. I referred to this several weeks ago during my blogs from Chiang Mai. At the end of one of those I reported an accident which killed 15, mostly children, involving a long distance bus. In the few weeks since at least two more such accidents have occurred (probably more actually – I only get to hear about those involving multiple fatalities). In the first a bus plunged off the Khun Pha Muang Bridge and fell some 165 feet before hitting the ground below. 29 people came to a rather sticky end in this particular incident. The bus driver is believed to have fallen asleep. 

The second incident involved a double decker bus choosing to overtake cars whilst going down a very steep slope coming off a mountain in Tak province. The road is question is a known accident black spot (where isn't in Thailand!?). The steepness of the road is notorious but this section is also replete with S bends. None of this was apparently of much concern to the driver (he later claimed that his brakes had failed – given the nature of the road and the type of manoeuvres he was involved in it would appear hardly surprising that an 8 ton bus would be hard to stop in such circumstances). The bus smashed through a concrete barrier and tumbled over several times before coming to rest in a crumpled heap some 100 feet below. Another 30 died in this incident with 22 seriously injured casualties being taken to hospital.

Any one of these accidents happening in Europe would be considered as something of a disaster. Here in Thailand they are almost a weekly occurrence. In Europe there would be an inquiry and recommendations made to how to avoid such an accident in future. Here they just hose down the road and start again. In the words of Catherine Tate “they ain't bothered”.

Oddly, although driving standards are pretty low throughout SE Asia, Thailand has by far the worst record. Conditions aren't that radically different in Malaysia or Vietnam and yet their accident rates are far, far lower.

This recklessness isn't confined to the road but finds expression in many other aspects of life here. In a weeks time we will be starting the annual Songkran festival, or Thai New Year. For a country that already has its hair fairly low slung at the best of times they will be letting it down even more during this festival. The bars and the roads will be full of inebriated people who somehow seem to believe, much against the evidence, that misfortune will not befall them. In the week of Songkran last year 321 people died and 3040 were injured...and that is just the official figures. Reality is probably much higher.

The government's (and in Thailand one uses that term very loosely) role in all this seems to be to make the odd gesture but then carry on mcuh the same as ever. I recently read that, according to Thai government figures, only around 50% of motorcyclists wear crash helmets in this country. Having read this, and in the spirit of accurate reportage, I bought myself a coffee and sat beside the road in the tourist area of Kanchanaburi. As I slowly sipped my beverage I counted the number of compliant motorcyclists driving past. The first one hundred provided me with exactly three who actually wore a crash helmet. Now, my maths are not great but I believe that is not quite 50%, in fact, I am pretty certain that comes to a grand total of er...3%! To be fair that was just one sample on one day at one place but I think it makes the point. In Thailand the government are there to paper over the cracks, not to address the issue.

Whilst considering this week's article I came across a somewhat macabre but very typical story from the outskirts of Bangkok. Some workers found a World War 2 bomb in fields whilst digging and thought this was a chance to make a little extra money on the side. They manhandled(!) it into the back of a pick up truck and drove through the city where they deposited it a scrap merchant who paid them for their troubles. At this stage, a couple of the staff in the shop started to address the problem of what to do with such a large metalic object and decided that the best solution would be to attack it with an acetylene torch. Luckily for them, at that moment an elderly lady who had seen such things in her distant childhood warned them of the potential dangers and advised them to report it to the police. Unfortunately, with a literally breathtaking degree of recklessness, they chose to ignore her advice and continued to cut into the casing. The old lady ran...

About a minute later, as the old girl was warning her sister in a nearby house, the bomb exploded wiping out a considerable area of the local neighbourhood. The elderly lady and her sister fortunately survived, although their house was completely destroyed. The men doing the cutting died along with a couple of the workers who had found the bomb; they had decided to stick around and watch the process of the 'dismantling' of the explosive device. Altogether, seven people died and nineteen were injured.

This sort of thing is almost comic in its absurdity but entirely symptomatic of a type of craziness that seems to be uniquely Thai. In my time in the UK I recall people forever bemoaning the Health and Safety at Work Act, and with some justification. The fussiness of some of the measures taken bordered on the extreme but... when you experience a country that takes almost the polar opposite approach you begin to understand and appreciate the benefits of caution.

I recently took a stroll in Erawan National Park famous for the seven stages of its waterfall. It is indeed a beautiful sight as it cascades down the hill via a series of pools and streams. Some of the paths though are made up of bridges with planks missing, extremely slippery rocks over which water is running (often with twenty or thirty foot falls right beside), and stairways that one could only describe as rickety. None of it would be allowed to open in the UK. Here in Thailand it is not even considered a problem unless someone has an accident. There is no sense of foresight, so sense of anticipation, no concept of avoiding the problem before it happens...only the notion of clearing up the mess and starting over again once it does.

Erawan is spectacularly beautiful and quite an experience in and of itself. I would advise anyone with a love of natural beauty to go but...be cautious! There are many objective dangers and one needs to be aware that such things as the maintenance of paths, bridges and stairs have a very low priority here. One regularly sees tourists stumbling down off the mountain with all manner of cuts, sprains and bruises. At times, there is a tendency for much worse accidents to occur too.

 My time in this beautiful country is fast coming to an end and, if all goes to plan, I will be in the UK within a couple of weeks. There are many aspects to this land that are fascinating and beautiful and it truly does live up to its reputation as 'the land of smiles'. There are many aspects that I will miss greatly, particularly in regard to the sheer abundance of all things natural here. A few metres from here where I am typing these words flows the River Kwai. On its banks a person can spend many a happy hour simply observing nature in all her colourful profusion. Life teems here. Unfortunately, life is also cheap here in a way that is difficult for someone raised in Europe to comprehend. That is one aspect of this fascinating and enigmatic land that will not be missed by your nomadic flaneur...