Finding the Words...

"The limits of my language are the limits of my world.❞
‒Ludwig Wittgenstein

This morning I find myself working happily in the small bar at the rear of the Tara Guesthouse. It is slightly more expensive than the cafe on the main road, but is has a much quieter ambiance, more conducive to activities such as this. There is a small pool, barely wide enough to execute a single stroke, but quite pleasant on a hot day. Today though, it is overcast and remarkably cool for Thailand, the mercury barely managing to reach 28 celsius. Such days though are to be appreciated here in normally sunny Siam, much like Goldilocks’ ideal: not too hot, not too cold.
I have spent most of the morning since a juggling session at 6.30 a.m. struggling to improve my nascient Mandarin. I have made efforts, infrequent and intermittent it’s true, but efforts, to acquire this most challenging of languages for about four years now. Some urgency has been added to the task as it now seems likely that I will be back in the Centre Land (Zhong guo, so called apparently because the Chinese perceived their country as being the centre of the World) by the end of November.
Why is it that language acquisition is so difficult beyond one’s teenage years? I am not the brightest in the World, but I am not the thickest either (though, at times, I have my doubts...), but acquiring another language at this stage of life does seem to be an immensely difficult undertaking.
I have posed this question to several of my fellow travellers whilst here in Kanchanaburi, but without receiving a satisfactory response up to now. Some of them speak a second language, several are even polyglots, but none seem to have acquired much fluency in another language later in life. I did meet an American in One More Bar who seemed to speak adequate Thai after living in the country for seven years. His understanding though was limited to the spoken word, as became obvious when he tried to translate the writing on a cigarette packet. Even with the obvious context, a gory picture of impending damage if one should actually enjoy the product therein, he still found it difficult. I was impressed both by his obvious intelligence and his willingness to risk embarassment whilst seeking to improve his skills, but a little discouraged by his inability to understand the fairly simple text.
I recently spent some time in France (see blog) and was pleasantly surprised with just how much French I knew. I had told my travelling companion before we left that essentially I had no French, but when faced with the reality of seeking out some pain killers in a pharmacy it became clear that I knew far more unconsciously than I had given myself credit for. Thus emboldened (this happened on the first day of the trip) I had a lot of fun inflicting my enthusiast, if somewhat dubious, language skills on the local population. Apart from the odd ‘zut alors’, they seemed mostly encouraging!
The thing is though, somewhat depressingly, my French comes from my long lost childhood, from a time when language learning actually seemed to somehow stick. The famous psychologist and all round renaissance man, Noam Chomsky, once opined that all children are born with a Langauge Acquisition Device (LAD) embedded into their neurology. I have personally witnessed many examples when children of mixed nationalities or those who find themselves growing up in a different country to their parents homeland quickly and easily pick up the local language. Unfortunately, Chomsky also was of the opinion that this device atrophies somewhere in the latter teen years, thus making it progressively more difficult to learn another tongue as we get older.

Noam Chomsky

On the positive side, there has been a veritable explosion on the internet in recent years, particularly perhaps on Youtube, of people advocating ‘hacking’ a language. They use techniques such as focussing their attention on frequency tables (lists of the most commonly used words), flashcards, basic grammar hacks that quickly reveal how each language’s grammatical assumptions work and several other such ‘quick fix’ ideas. Sometimes though, I wonder if it is not the simple willingness to make mistakes, the sheer thick-skinnedness, of these individuals that allows them to make progress. Indeed, perhaps this is what we lose as we get older and mature from teens into young adults. As children, we are often unafraid of making a mistake, occasionally even making a fool of ourselves, but the older we get the more we tend to dread such embarassing situations. As our personalities ossify with the passing years perhaps it is that very process that makes further learning more and more difficult?
These language ‘hackers’, from Benny Lewis (the Irish Polyglot) to Tim Ferriss, tend to have one thing in common; a willingness to take a risk and to be unafraid of making mistakes, even advocating such situations as a way of learning. They are a brave and somewhat extrovert bunch, but perhaps their methods are not applicable to everyone.

After starting this week’s blog I found myself in a situation when I was forced to employ German with some fellow travellers who share the same verandah in the Smiley Frog. Again, much to my surprise, the German I had learnt as a 30 year old in pursuit of a certain young lady in the fair city of Stuttgart came readily to mind. It was by no means fluent, but I found I could understand 95% of the conversation and could contribute myself to the extent where I was readily understood. Interestingly, to learn the language I had used a very esoteric method known, at least at that time, as accelerated learning. Large parts of the sessions consisted in lying back, eyes closed, listening to baroque music from the 18th century and gradually, very gradually being fed German whislt you were in this relaxed state. Amazingly, despite the rather disconcerting conscious feeling that you were not learning at all, the stuff seemed to stick.

Perhaps this is the answer to my own conundrum. It is clear that many of our most fluid and fluent skills are completely unconscious. Indeed, when the conscious mind tries to interfere with them it is often to the detriment of performance. If you try to consciously think, for example, of how you actually perform the act of walking and then try to control it with that part of the mind, you will invariably find that it becomes much, much more difficult. The skillful execution of a golf swing, the playing of an instrument, the construction of a long and complex sentence in conversation, all these are generally done completely unconsciously and very much best left so.
With these heady thoughts in mind, I think it is time to finish imbibing this beer and consign this week’s effort to the World Wide Web. The venue has moved on to the Triple B Bar on the main drag, musicians crank out “I still haven’t find what I am looking for” which, in the circumstances, maybe quite appropriate. But maybe, just maybe, I have my first clue!

Juggling commitments....

“If there is to be any peace it will come through being, not having.”
Henry Miller

It is late on a balmy Friday evening, something of a relief after the mercury touched 41C mid-afternoon; a slight breeze stirs the air pleasantly. I find myself sitting in the open air Tara Guest House restaurant enjoying a large and very refreshing Chang (Thai beer) and a plate of what are described on the menu as 'Pineapple Flitters'. These come with either honey or chocolate, or even both if one is feeling particularly indulgent. My lifestyle here is generally quite healthy but this, I have to admit, forms something of an exception.
I did actually stay here for a few days on arrival, opting for the very reasonable 'superior' suite at a relatively expensive £12 a night. Normally, by this stage, I have settled into some kind of long term accommodation, usually involving a cold shower and a lack of air conditioning, but this time I have been in somewhat indulgent mood and so the pleasures of fresh sheets, fresh towels and a small but cooling swimming pool have proven too much to resist.
Although such temptations sometimes get the better of one, I still find myself frequenting the much-loved but distinctly down market 'Jolly Frog' on a regular basis. The accommodation may not be the best in town and the service internationally renowned for being terrible, but they do have the most wonderful garden and a peripatetic clientèle of wonderfully eccentric characters, some of whom seem to have become regular visitors over the years.
The garden is also a wonderful place to take some exercise; the air is fresh, the flowers beautiful and the fact that the river Kwai runs so close by all lend a unique ambience to the place that has charmed many a weary wanderer (including your footloose flaneur). When I arrived last week, I immediately headed for the place to practice a little qigong and indulge my current fascination for swinging nunchucks. I have little interest in using such weaponry for any aggressive purpose, but love learning the wonderfully flowing and co-ordinated movements that are necessary if one is to perform with any degree of gusto.
On the first day in the garden, whilst practising a few of the more advanced moves, I met a German guy by the name of Alex and a young French lad called Ansulyman, both of whom were practising juggling in the same garden. A mutual exchange of views on the subject of skill acquisition followed, and so it was that, for the last four or five days at least, an informal school dedicated to such performance arts sprung up quite spontaneously amidst the palms, tamarinds and bougainvillea of the Jolly Frog.

Others guests and various itinerants have happened by over the last week and found themselves drawn into the process. At any given time one can find oneself learning various forms of juggling, particularly with balls and skittles, nunchucks, qigong, tai chi or other, equally exotic forms of martial and performance arts.

The atmosphere is very informal, relaxed and supportive; all in all, very conducive to learning such skills without any sense of pressure and, basically, just for the sheer, unadulterated pleasure of it. For my part, I have focussed so far mostly on picking up juggling and am now, after a few days of trying, able to manipulate three balls at once without injuring the spectators or dropping them too frequently. One young man has progressed from neophyte to attempting five balls in a mere four days, although it has to be admitted that it can be a somewhat hazardous undertaking to stand anywhere in close proximity when he attempts to do so. 

 
When learning new skills is a pleasure, almost an indulgence, such activities become very pleasant indeed. I sometimes think back to the pedagogic horror which formed my own education, to the woefully inadequate methodologies employed, to the stress laid upon discipline imposed from the outside (whilst discipline is clearly necessary, that imposed from within is often far more powerful, and far more effective), to the simplistic 'chalk and talk' methodologies, and many other unpleasant and ineffective conventions, and realise that, for me at least, conventional education was merely something that I had to survive rather than having any real value in terms of knowledge or skills acquisition.
Since those far off days and the daily frustrations and humiliations one suffered in the process of poorly acquiring skills that were often completely useless from that moment forward (working out tangents has not come up even once in the intervening years, and as for the learning of the (mis)doings of various Kings and Queens of England… such knowledge only turned me into a lifelong and convinced republican). Since those happily far-off days I have invariably found myself enjoying learning a range of new subjects and competencies in so many areas. All of these seem to have been acquired relatively easily, just as long as I was given at least a modicum of encouragement and support to do so. Looking around the 'school' in the Jolly Frog this morning, the thought struck me that such learning is so normal, so natural, so enjoyable for all of us, if only the right ambience is created.
Back in the Tara they are closing up for the night and I find myself faced with a pleasant ten minute walk back to my hotel on the river front. Kanchanaburi is even quieter this year; so quiet in fact that one wonders how long the almost deserted bars can survive. On the other hand, those of us who are more open to the less inebriated, daytime pleasures of the place are enjoying the current state of affairs immensely. And so, as this late but still

very steamy hour, I must bid thee a fond farewell and prepare this rather over-exercised body for a night of hopefully recuperative slumber.
Night night….

Too far to walk...

 

"We begin here then, in the very quick of the nightmare, in the crucible where all values are reduced to slag."

Henry Miller - The Air Conditioned Nightmare

This evening I find myself enjoying the slightly salubrious yet subtly seductive comforts of the 'Jolly Frog'. This particular guesthouse, perhaps more than any other, was responsible for putting Kanchanaburi on the map as a backpacker's destination. That was many, many years ago now, and of more recent times it has become something of an emblem of Kanchanaburi, despite an ongoing process of delightfully delapidating degradation that has rendered its décor somewhat dated by modern standards . To say the rooms are basic is to understate the reality. This is not the place to come if one requires high levels of opulence in order to enjoy a break. On the other hand, its throwback decadence to its glory days of the seventies has an almost timeless appeal to a huge variety of travellers. The clientèle this evening are an odd mixture of the geriatric remains of a peripatetic generation and a cosmopolitan group of footloose and fancy free youngsters trying to reinvigorate the bygone days of backpacking yore.
In short, the Jolly Frog has a rather pleasant way of attracting the outlandish and the eccentric. Its garden is perhaps its most notable feature, sitting as it does aside the River Kwai. Unlike the rest of the establishment, it is always looked after with great care and, perhaps, even love. As I tap out these notes on a hot and steamy Wednesday evening I cannot help but overhear the delightfully bizarre conversations of the youngsters sharing a beer or two and swinging to and fro in the hammocks in the centre of the garden. From the accents I am guessing we have several Spaniards, a Frenchman or two, a young American with a predilection for swearing every time he wishes to emphasize a point and several girls, perhaps one American, one French and one English. They, much like myself, are enjoying the late night delights of a bottle or two of 'Archa', a cheap but cheerful Thai beer that sells for the very reasonable 49 baht in the local convenience store, and the soporific atmosphere of a warm night relaxing beside the river.
Actually, I have to admit to being pleased to be back here this evening after a very unpleasant sojourn into Bangkok over the past couple of days. In my years of travelling I have visited many, many cities from Moscow (very dull) to New York (very noisy), Barcelona to Venice (both fascinating), Cairo to Izmir, and many others far too numerous to mention, but I cannot think of any city over decades of travelling that is quite as unremittingly unpleasant as Bangkok. It is a dirty, dingy, dilapidated dystopian disaster of a city that has few, if any, redeeming features.
I spent last night in a hotel 2.5 kms from Don Mueang Airport, chosen for its proximity. In practice, it took nearly an hour and a half to find said hotel (the Pool House Guest Residence). My first resort was to attempt to hire a taxi, but trying to communicate with the drivers of these vehicles proved to be almost impossible. None of them seemed to recognise the name of the hotel, even though I had it written in both English and Thai. None of them seemed to have the foggiest idea of how to read a map, the very concept seeming to throw them into a state of confusion. None of them seemed to want to go on the metre, even though the law requires them to do so, preferring attempts to arrange a hugely inflated price beforehand instead. 

 
After several efforts that merely resulted in increased frustration, I resolved to walk to the hotel. This was probably a mistake as it took vastly longer than expected owing to the lack of anywhere to actually walk. What pavements there were were invariably broken up to the point of unsuitability, the rest of the journey being a case of either walking through a seemingly endless building site or against the stream of a apparently never ending cascade of recklessly driven motor vehicles.
Eventually, I found a 7-11 store that I knew to be in the vicinity of the guest house. I asked the girl behind the counter if she knew the hotel. She did, but she assured me that it was far too far to even consider walking. Instead, she suggested I take a motor bike. Tired, sweaty and a little fed up (a rare emotion for me), I took what I perceived as a rather desperate option and clambered aboard a Honda 90.
The rider rode thirty metres to the West, twenty five metres to the North, followed by one hundred metres to the east and…. we were there. As an expression of the idea of 'too far too walk' it seemed to be lacking something vital that, in the West at least, we tend to call 'distance'. 

 
To be fair, the Thai conception of 'too far to walk' is very different to the British or American. To those of us in the West, the expression would indicate several miles of challenging perambulation, whereas here in Thailand 'too far to walk' means anything above 40 yards or so. An old joke sprang to mind: question“What do you call a person walking in Thailand?”, answer “A tourist!”.
(Actually, I was tempted to use another, very much similar, line earlier, It was along the lines of 'what do you call someone hopelessly lost in Bangkok', the answer being, obviously, 'a taxi driver').
It is hard to conceive of a form of words that will convey just how hopelessly unpleasant Bangkok is. It consists of street upon street, road upon road, of sheer, adulterated ugliness. Even the centre of town, the area around the Royal Palaces, are notable for just how tacky the use of excessive gold leaf can appear. It comes across as a depressing display of unjustified opulence in a land where most of the population are struggling even to put a meal on the table.

Such tasteless decoration accounts for only a small area though, the vast majority of Bangkok being an endless chaos of cars and cables, broken pavements and unrepaired holes, officious policemen and self-righteous military men. From East to West South to North, inside and outside, over a vast distance, there is barely anything that one could recommend to someone about this truly atrocious city.

Luckily (I survived!), I now find myself back in the far pleasanter environs of Kanchanaburi where, if all goes well, I intend to spend the next couple of weeks reading, writing and learning to juggle. The last being the result of meeting Alex, a professional German juggler who was happy to pass on the basics to me in return for a few lessons of twirling nunchucks (I am no master, but sufficiently competent now to start a complete neophyte on the path towards a level of competence).
The hot season has arrived, with rumours of temperatures in excess of 40C on the way in the coming week. This seems a good enough excuse to me to curtail the more physical aspects of flaneurial activity and to concentrate instead on the process of writing, both this blog and a book I have been planning for a year or so now. The prospect of afternoons spent in air conditioned cafés slowly imbibing Americanos and fruit smoothies whilst tapping away on my netbook seems pleasant indeed in this heat...

Thai Lessons...

This week's blog comes from the pleasant confines of the Korn Cafe in Chang An. It is located in a small commercial area adjacent to the rather august town square. Unusually for China, the area has been designed as a pedestrians only precinct, which makes strolling in its environs so much pleasanter than usual. The whole area is somewhat italianate in style, even going so far as to include a three story campanile at its heart.  The lack of traffic almost draws a sigh from me, so pleasant it is to be free at last from that ever-present intrusion. In such conditions, one feels free to focus on the task of composing this week's offering. As ever, when writing these blogs, I find myself to have a wide range of possibilities to choose from, each with its own merits. In the end though, I have concluded that a little reflection on some of the lessons learnt in Thailand would not come amiss.

These tips are intended to be helpful to the would-be traveller. The idea is to allow the enjoyment of some of the pleasanter aspects whilst avoiding some of the more 'catch-all' pitfalls that seem to ensnare so many there. Thailand is a very beautiful country, which the discerning traveller can enjoy on many levels; it is also extremely dangerous, both on a personal safety level and, particularly at the time of writing, on the political level. So, without further ado, here are my own personal top ten tips for enjoying the time you spend in Thailand. Bear in mind, as you read these tips, that they are the work of a middle-aged Westerner who has a penchant for enjoying his pleasures slowly; they may not, indeed defintitely will not, apply to everyone.

1.     Beware of hiring motorbikes! My own personal experience lasted about twelve hours before my orientation was changed from the vertical to the horizontal by a van driver who had apparently never quite got his head around the concepts of lanes. My experience was by no means unique; hundreds, maybe even thousands, of tourists are injured or even killed each year on the roads of Thailand. Much like myself, many came with years of experience of motorbikes and think they should be able to handle themselves relatively easily in this new situation. Thailand is not Europe though, it is not the US either. Totally different rules apply here or, to be more exact, no rules apply here. There is much to recommend the carefree approach to life that many Thais have, it makes them a joyful and happy people, but perhaps it does not serve them that well on the road, where it comes across as irresponsibility, immaturity and an almost total lack of imagination as to the consequences of their actions.

2.     If you wish to stay on the outside of Thailand's infamous prisons, then don't say anything about the King, his extended family, or even the concept of monarchy itself. You may feel that monarchy is wonderful or you may consider it the ridiculous remnants of a particularly poor form of government but, in Thailand, keep your views to yourself.  In the legal system in Thailand, there is a particularly 'diffficult' piece of legislation that comes under the apparently benign heading of section 112. This relates to the 'lese majeste' laws. 'Lese majeste' applies to anyone who "defames, insults or threatens the king, the queen, the heir-apparent or the regent", and can be punished with up to 15 years in prison. Many rational observers of the situation may view this as quite obscenely excesssive, but be warned, it is the law in Thailand and ignoring that fact could land you in a very 'challenging' situations indeed!

3.     If you plan to stay in the country for anything longer than a couple of weeks, do yourself a favour and at least make some attempt at learning a little of the language. No one will expect you to know that much, the Thais themselves realise that it is not an easy language for Westerners to master based as it is on the use of tones (much like mandarin), but ... making the effort will garner you much respect from the locals. The very basic of basics in Thailand is the phrase 'Sawadee Kah' (if you are a female, 'Sawadee Khrap' if you are a male). You will be greeted by this phrase, sometimes accompanied by a prayer like hand-gesture knowing as 'wai-ing', everywhere you go. It is polite to respond in like fashion. This greeting works for 'hello', 'good morning', 'good day' or even 'good night'. If you can manage nothing else, at least use this phrase!

4.     This one is kinda obvious, but perhaps worth re-stating as it is such a basic truth about Thailand: it is hot! Not hot as in a 'phew, what a scorcher' type day in the UK. Such a day would be considered very mild here. Not hot as in a pleasant Pensylvania afternoon where the mercury pushes pleasantly past the mid 20's C., but hot as in really, really hot. When I left a week ago now, the temperature was around 41C. (106 F.). This basically means that it is best to confine physical activity to the two ends of the day and to avoid any such exertion between the hours of 1330 and 1630. My own favourite way of coping, as befits a flaneur, was to duck into an air conditioned cafe and either read (usually the excellent Bangkok Post or novels by Henry Miller, my personal favourite 'du jour'), write, follow your nose on the internet or, as many Thais do (when they decide not to simply 'kip' it out), indulge in a little socialising. Make sure you drink enough. Tis not enough to sip occasionally – you need to think in terms of three to four litres of liquid per day. Failure to do so can result in such things as heat stroke. I personally experienced this in Chiang Mai a while back and I would not recommend the experience!

5.     Get yourself out into the countryside. Many visitors to Thailand go to Bangkok or Patthaya and believe they have see the country. Both these places have their attractions, but are more suited to certain classes of tourists than others. There is so much natural beauty in Thailand as to make the experience quite mind-boggling at times. The fauna and flora are a wonder to behold; the place quite literally teems with life. In recent months, the Thai military government, it their seemingly infinite wisdom, have decided to put the prices up in the National Parks. For Thais, they increased the charges a tiny amount, meaning that the entrance fee for natives is now around 40 baht (£0.80). For tourists, it went up a very large amount to the literally princely sum of 400 baht (£8.00). This, apparently, was a popular move with some Thais, but is hardly likely to help the already severely flagging tourist industry. Luckily, there is far, far more natural beauty in Thailand than is confined by the National Parks.

6.     The last point allows a rather neat seque into the next: the inherent racism within Thai culture. This comes as something of a shock to those who expect a Buddhist based culture of tolerance and acceptance. To be fair, Thais are generally pretty tolerant and accepting, and certainly friendly by nature, but the casual racism with which they regard outsiders can become a tad annoying at times. To be even fairer, it is far from unknown for other groups of people to harbor similar delusions of their own grandeur and believe they are in some way special, chosen or somehow better than others, but the Thais are more open about it than most. This is a somewhat controversial issue, indeed many will deny that it exists at all, often using some pretty impressively convoluted logic to demonstrate how attitudes towards farangs are not racist. My opinion, for what it is worth, is that such people are in some sort of denial. There is a belief for many Thais (by no means all), unfounded and unsupported by any fact, that anyone not Thai is not as intelligent, are culturally less developed, and are of lesser ability and value. The value of Thai superiority is drummed into the kids from an early age, and if they have never left the country, they will encounter few views amongst their peer group to contradict this somewhat odd notion.

7.     On a somewhat less controversial note, one has to say that Thai food is simply superb. I cannot vouch for the whole range as I am vegetarian and therefore refrain from the many meat and fish dishes on offer. Even given that restriction, the choice is still amazingly large, invariably tasty and very uniquely Thai. My personal favourite was Rad Naa, a dish of mixed vegetables in a bean gravy, served in a high-sided bowl with some very thick noodles. Away from Bangkok, in the smaller towns, the food tends to be very fresh and often locally sourcecd. The drinks are also a pleasure, particularly the many forms of fruit shakes, although care needs to be taken with these because of the Thai's habit of sweetening everything, usually with some form of a syrup or just straight sugar. On the more natural side of things, coconuts are a boon. The juice is great for rehydrating; many believe it to be as good as over-the-counter phramaceuticals such as rehydrat. You also get the pleasure of spooning out the white flesh afterwards. Fruit is also both varied, fresh and amazingly cheap.

8.     Speaking of fruits (as in 'oranges are not the only … '), I think I should say a few words about kaetoys. Many a guy has gone into a bar in Thailand and, not quite believing their luck, found himself 'pulling' a stunning looking 'girl', only to discover on subsequent inspection that what he has pulled is not a girl at all, but comes complete with the extra plumbing more commonly associated with being a guy. My only advice in such circumstances, would be to extract yourself (no pun intended … ) as seemingly and as politely as possible. Of course, there are some who feel that such a situation is not a problem at all. If this is what rocks your particular boat, then I personally have no problem with that. A good friend of mine, oddly with an often expressed horror of homosexuality, feels that spending his nights in Thailand with ladyboys does not qualify for that epithet. I would respectfully beg to differ but … each to his own!

Yes, they are all ladyboys. One cannot blame some guys for getting a tad confused at times!

9.     For my ninth tip, I think I will go back to the problems of travelling in Thailand. Covering long distances by rail can be an onerous chore, mainly due to the slowness of the trains. Because of this factor, and because of the relative expense of flying, many choose to utilise the long-distance buses. They certainly look and feel luxurious, usually being double-decked and having such creature comforts as wi-fi, TV and deeply reclining chairs. The problem I have with this mode of transport is twofold. Firstly, the construction: as one blogger noted, these things seem to be 'made of discarded yoghurt cartons and held together by paper clips'. One sees them being worked on in grubby workshops, guys with acetylene torches welding skinny struts together that look as if one could easily bend them with minimal force and using just one hand, if so desired.  Secondly, the drivers: these are sometimes completely knackered before they even start, having worked unreasonably long hours.They can also be beetle-juice fuelled maniacs, often with little or no experience, but who do have a somewhat inconsiderate habit of disappearing once they have wrapped the bus around a tree or plunged it over a ravine. It seems that almost every week one reads of yet another multi-fatality accident involving these things. If at all possible, it is better to steer clear...

10.    The final tip that I have room for addresses the problem of accommodation. Hotel prices are cheap in Thailand. If you are paying anything more than £25 a night away from Bangkok, then you should be living in some kind of air-conditioned palace. Reasonably luxurious rooms can be had for far, far less. If you wish to stay in any one place for an extended length of time, say a month or more, then think about renting a flat or house. This was my personal choice and I ended up in a flat with a single bedroom, lounge, bathroom and verandah, complete with TV and wifi thrown in, for the princely sum of £60. A German friend found a very decent and much more modern flat, complete with air conditioning and access to a garden, for £50. Houses in Kanachanaburi started from around £100 a month and a two bedroom place with access to a pool could be had for £135. Not at all bad methinks, such an amount would not even cover the council tax back in the UK.

Having come to the end of my ten tips, I have the feeling that there is so much more that I have left out. Such things as haggling, arranging your own trips, local buses, spiritual retreats and best value buys all deserve a mention, but space and time are at a premium, so I had better wrap-up this weeks missive at this point.

My newly found watering-hole is still quiet and pleasant, even though the time has moved on to five in the evening now. As cafes go in China, I have to say that this is definitely one of the better offerings. The pleasantness of the ambient music (nice and quiet!), the availability of magazines and books, the sumptuous nature of the sofa-like chairs, all go to make an excellent impression. Last week, I was feeling somewhat cynical as to the standard and the interest of cafes on offer in China, or at least in this part of that enormous land. This week, much to my surprise, I have come across several really rather plesant offerings which shall be explored and reported upon over the next few blogs. A pleasant prospect for a foot-weary flaneur!

Heaven Help Us...

The mercury is rising at an alarming rate here in Kanchanaburi in recent weeks. We are reaching that time of year when the hours between one and five are best spent in some place that has air-conditioning as part and parcel of the fixtures and fittings. Thus it is that this week I found myself in the Century cafe at the down-town end of the tourist strip in Kanchanaburi. It is a fairly minimalist affair, simply a glass box with walls on two sides. Furniture is very square, wooden and extremely simple in design. The one nod to comfort is the two-seater settee on which I have ensconced myself.

The presentation of the fayre is rather impressive though. The coffee is served in an elaborate styled yet plain white porcelain cup that swirls elegantly in a clockwise cone, the cup itself supported on a square, wave-form saucer. It is perhaps a little too much of an example of form over function but one has to admit that the presentation is pleasantly pleasing on the eye. Due to the excessive heat of recent weeks, I have taken to enjoying a large smoothie each and every time I indulge in an Americano. The strawberry smoothie I am indulging in today at the Century is one of the best I have tasted in this town. The tendency is to over-sweeten them, but this one seems simpler and a tad more wholesome than most on sale in Kanchanaburi.

Above the counter are a couple of golden figurines, seated in traditional meditation poses. Such Buddhas and similar statuettes are common features of the cafes and restaurants in this country. Almost every minibus, taxi and bus will also have something similar. Given the way Thais normally drive, any divine influence to ensure a safer journey is welcome indeed. They lose massive amounts of people each year to road accidents but, given what is considered 'normal' behaviour on the roads here, the only wonder is that it is so few.

Buddhism here is very much the religion of the people and the Sangha (Buddhist Community) is much respected here. Monks are also given a great deal of deference as a matter of course. Buddhism of itself is a very profound, and in some ways a very beautiful and logical expression of human spirituality. As ever in such situations though, once human beings become involved and start to structure a formal 'religion', the day to day reality becomes further and further removed from the ideas that inspired it. One of the original traditions that one sees re-enacted every day is the collecting of alms by the monks. The saffron clad monks come around every morning, begging bowls in hand, and people give food and other refreshments. It seems though, that of late what is considered reasonable for the monks to collect to sustain them in their roles in life has become more and more liberally interpreted. A friend reported recently sitting next to a Buddhist monk on a station and finding that amongst the sustenance carried in his bag was a bottle of whiskey. Apparently the monk smiled a somewhat sheepish grin when he noticed that the farang sitting next to him was aware of the presence of the whiskey. Who knows, perhaps it was there for spiritual support …

For many years, Buddhism in Thailand was considered the apotheosis of the religion by many, and spiritual seekers from all over the world would come especially for such things as meditation courses, retreats or to spend time in one of the forest monasteries. These days, following a series of scandals and Western visitors observing the reality of Buddhism in Thailand as it is practised day to day, the image of the peaceful and profound religion has become somewhat tarnished.

Presently in Thailand, Theravadan Buddhism is ensnared in any number of scandals and seems to have been taken over, to some extent at least, by some very unethical characters. Some of the 'Buddhists' at the top of the clerical heirarchy seem to live lives that are a long way removed from the material denunciation advocated by the Buddha himself. One recent film that caused something of a stir featured two monks taking a flight in a private jet, the pair still wore the traditional saffron robes but completed the ensemble by sporting Ray Baan sunglasses, and a Louis Vuiton bag had been casually cast aside on a nearby seat.

One monk was recently caught with 120,000 methampthetamine pills whilst another actually managed to get himself dismissed from his temple, a fairly rare feat given the indulgence of the ruling council for such misdeeds, for investing US$1.2 million on the stock market.

Perhaps the biggest controversy of late concerns Wat Dhammakaya, the huge Buddhist temple located just to the North of Bangkok. This particular establishment is run by a Phra Dhammachayo who, according to a recent article in the Bangkok post, loved to look good, used body lotions and cosmetics and was fond of facial massages administered three times a day. A woman was allocated to change his sheets each day. He gets up any time he likes as seems to not feel any obligation to collect alms as is normal for a Buddhist monk. He also has a creative bent, being fond of sculpture and, in particularly, of the female form. Apparently he had, as a youth, some admiration for a variety of powerful historical characters, his particular favourite at the time being one Adolf Hitler ...

This is all very well for the profile of an interesting, if somewhat flawed, character. It hardly seems the profile that would be suitable for a Buddhist monk though or the leader of a particular brand of the religion ('brand' being the operative word it would seem).

During the early years of Dhammakaya, the organisation was beset with financial problems, in particular the disappearance of large amounts of money. Apparently, a fair amount of this money found its way into the personal accounts of Phra Dhammachayo. After an investigation, a substantial quantity of the money was returned to the Sangha, but the process took quite a considerable time. At the same time there were also controversies linked to the ownership of land. Again, these were, to some extent at least, subsequent resolved but again there was quite some delay in the process. Currently, there is an ongoing controversy concerning money laundering and the Dhammakaya organisation. There is an old saying: 'No smoke without fire', in the case of this organisation, there does seem to be an awful lot of smoke...

One of the more controversial aspects of this form of Buddhism is the process of giving donations in order to obtain 'merit'. Having such merit is supposed to be beneficial at a future stage when you reach heaven; having sufficient merit guaranteeing the purchaser a favourable status in the afterlife. This is not unlike the processes used (mis-used?) by the Christian church in Europe for many centuries, and led to many similar problems involving corruption.

Anyone who has any knowledge whatsoever of Buddhism will understand that such teachings are so far removed from anything the Buddha taught as to be completely unrecognisable, or even antithetical to the basic precepts of Buddhist thought.
It seems that the same patterns must repeat themselves again and again, and in many forms. Each time men organise a 'religion' in order to structure spiritual experience the process invariably ends in some form of corruption. We see this again and again in Christianity, in Judaism, in Islam, in Hinduism and sadly in that simplest and most direct of all systems, Buddhism. I would humbly suggest that if one wishes to obtain insight from the great masters and leaders of these systems to simply go to the source, read what the originators themselves said and thought, and avoid the indirect interpretations presented by the various representatives of organised 'religion'.

Troubling thoughts on such a hot day. Fortunately the cafe remains a cool sanctuary, ideal for the purpose of such ruminations. The blog itself has taken a couple of hours now and I am of a mind to dwell on lighter matters. It is still far too hot to think of wandering down the street to The Jolly Frog for a little evening qi-gong exercise, so instead I order another fruit-shake and indulge myself in reading a little Henry Miller (The Tropic of Capricorn – highly recommended!). Oddly, there seems more direct, and even spiritual, insights to be had in this much-banned book than in many a prognostication out of the mouths of priests, monks, mullahs and rabbis.

The Fat of the Land

On this incredibly bright and cloudless day I find myself seeking some relief from the relentless white heat of the sun in the air-conditioned sanctuary of the Hua Hong cafe in the old, down-town part of Kanchanaburi. The cafe in itself is somewhat unique with its separate rooms, partitioned off from each other, its black-lacquered wood and its enchantingly old-world feel. Architecturally, it is something of a leftover from the 1930's when this part of town had a thriving Chinese community. These days, the area is largely run down, the paint fading, the buildings crumbling, but it still retains enough of its charms to be redolent of former glories.

It is around half three in the afternoon, so the schools are emptying and a steady stream of young Thais are making good their daily escape from the tyranny of a nearby educational establishment, resplendent in their white and blue uniforms. I watch them filing past whilst I alternately sip either a hot americano or an ice-cold strawberry shake. I wonder why, all around the globe, it seems that kids are condemned to wear European style schools uniforms; what is wrong with the local style I wonder, in this heat it might be far more pragmatic.

Amongst the kids, to quite an alarming extent, I cannot help but observe that there are a large number of the big-boned, the heroically proportioned, the plump, the Rubenesque or what used to be known, in the less PC days of yore, as the fat. They waddle down the road blocking the already far too narrow pavements, sweating and grunting their way through the hot afternoon sun.

In typical Thai fashion, many prefer to avoid the waddling and instead plump themselves onto a groaning scooter, their bodies seemingly settling down over either side of the too narrow saddle as the suspension groans under the weight. Tis often the case that one espies many of the younger, not so gravitationally-challenged Thais on scooters sharing the experience, travelling two, three or even, on occasion, four to a bike. This is not the case with the more full-bodied, amply proportioned kids … just one of these specimens is quite enough for any bike to bear.

There is an interesting phenomena that occurs when one revisits a country several times over a period of years. Much as when one visits a young family every few months, one becomes aware of the changes in the children, how quickly they change and grow, perhaps even more conscious than the parents themselves. Much the same sort of thing occurs when one revisits a country, one notices changes that those who live in the country may not.

Revisiting China, for example, it was noticeable how the traffic is just a little better behaved (still terrible, mind you, but better ...), the expectorating reduced, the air a little more breathable. Revisiting Thailand for the third consecutive year, it is clear that some things are changing, and changing quite rapidly. Riders are mostly wearing crash hats now, whereas this was a relative rarity on previous visits, Bangkok is booming, even if against a background of economic struggle, and the kids are getting fatter and fatter.

There is a perception, fairly commonly held by many in Asian countries, that people from the West are bigger and stronger. They generally put this down to the diet of Western countries and, in particular, to the consumption of meat. For many cultures, China and India in particular, corpulence is even looked upon as a sign of success, a sign of the overweight person having the ability and the means to be able to afford to consume large amounts of food.

The consumption of meat, in particular such things as burgers and fried chicken, has gathered pace to an alarming extent in recent years across the region. Now, in China, it is actually quite difficult to find restaurants that cater adequately for a non-meat diet. There is even a look of incredulity when it is explained that someone does not actually want to eat meat. My friend and guide in China often had to explain my lack of meat eating in terms of my being a monk and thereby having 'special' dietary requirements (I quite liked the bit about being a 'monk', few things could be further from the truth ...).

The Chinese themselves now have many of the same old problems associated with the consumption of meat that the West has suffered for some time. Rates of high blood pressure, stroke and heart attack are all increasing rapidly. Cancer rates, already high because of the toxic affects of polluted air and water and the large proportion of smokers, are now also growing in those types of cancers related to diet. On top of this, the Chinese military have also suffered some less generalised (no pun intended...) problems: it seems that many of the new recruits to the Peoples Liberation Army are now not only much less fit than they once were, but struggle even to fit into the standard issue tanks. This has meant a huge (again, no pun intended...) expense to redesign and refit their armoured weaponry.

In Thailand, the problem is exaggerated somewhat by the less than active lifestyle. To be fair, often the country is simply too hot to exert oneself on a continuous basis and one has to pace oneself throughout the long, hot day. Living daily in such an environment, the Thai's have become highly-skilled exponents of such pacing. During my flaneurial meanderings, I see many examples of the application of their expertise as they snooze happily by the roadside in home-made hammocks, slung beneath improvised lean-tos, contentedly dozing for hour after hour.

This is all very well, and even maybe a necessary adaptation to the conditions, but when you add this lack of movement to a diet high in sweet foods (sugar or syrup seems to be added to almost everything that is not savoury here), burgers and fried chicken, then you have a recipe (I have got to stop doing this...) for disaster. Even during the three years that I have been coming to this land, there has been a noticeable increase in the numbers of rotund, of the well-built, of the generously configured. Those of more ample proportion may not be in the majority yet, but they are weighing in (sigh...) and changing the balance considerably. The big-boned, the buxom and the cuddly are becoming the norm, especially amongst the children. This is not a healthy development either for Thailand or, more importantly, for themselves.


Back in the Hua Hong cafe, I look around at several other Thais enjoying their coffee. Most of them are in their late twenties, several are older. The females are slim and slight and appear to be quite healthy, the gents a little corpulent, but still relatively reasonably proportioned. The contrast with many of the younger generation could scarcely be greater. 

Oh well, at least the coffee is good, the air conditioning pleasantly cooling and the cafe itself rather wonderful. In fact, I would have to say this is one of the loveliest I have ever had the good fortune to visit. Kanchanaburi is fortunate in having a wide selection of interesting cafes but, having sampled many such establishments by now, I would have to say that this is one of the most beautiful and an ideal place for those of a flaneurial mindset to sit and ponder on a hot afternoon in Thailand.