Too many letters...

"Truth is ever to to be found in simplicity, and not in the multiplicity and confusion of things."

Isaac Newton

After having wondered a couple of miles upstream towards the Bridge over the River Kwai (as made famouse in the David Lean film of the same name), today I find myself enjoying the cool and pleasant environs of Miss Coffee, an establishment that according to the owner has been open only for a grand total of four days. Oft times, I take a pic of the coffee shops I frequent and use them as a heading. This time the roles have been reversed. Being one of her early customers, the charming lass who runs the place took a pic of yours truly for inclusion on her website. There is something of a fondness in many Eastern cultures of making an art form of the practice of enjoying liquid libations. Such pleasant distractions seem enough to stir the loins of many a bon viveur of the oriental variety. Much time and energy is devoted to lifting the experience out of the mundane and into the extraordinary. This attitude goes back a long way. Such ancient cultures as Japan and China spent much time perfecting the art of enjoying a beverage with many writers devoting whole volumes to the preparation, presentation and consumption of such refreshments.
The past few days here have seen both an increase in, and a change in the type of heat. The local weather is now soggily sticky and stifling, which tends to suck the energy from the body unless one is extremely careful to expend one’s physical resources economically. What this does mean though, is a great excuse to spend even more time in air-conditioned cafes indulging in online flaneurial activities. Observing the World and the changes its societies and cultures are going through is the very essence of the role of a flaneur. Hopefully at least, one can apply a relatively detached and objective attitude, indeed, this is the very essence of flaneurism (hmm...I think I just invented another ‘ism’, just what the World needs right now...).
One of the changes that has, for the most part at least, been a relatively positive development in recent years has been the general acceptance, at least in most of the first World, of people’s various tastes in sexual expression. The LGB (Lesbian, Gay and Bisexual) movement was much needed to address a long standing intolerance, usually based on scripture from outdated religious movements, regarding people’s sexual preferences. The reasoning seemed to be that if some wandering semitic tribe or other didn’t approve of such things a few millenia back then we should endeavour to reinforce such antedeluvian prejudices for the rest of time. Many lives were seriously affected by such attitudes, especially when they were transcribed into law. Perhaps the most influential man of the 20th century, Alan Turing (the mathematician and codebroker whose seminal work lead to the development of computers, smart phones and all the other digital paraphenalia that affects each of our lives so fundamentally today), preferred men as sexual partners . For having this relatively common trait he was offered, by the British justice system of the time, the choice of prison time or chemical castration. He chose the latter, but it seems that the changes his body went through and the concurrent depression lead to his taking his own life.

The LGB community made a valid point and their contribution to the debate led to great changes to the legal standing of such folk throughout America, Europe and the Antipodes. Unfortunately, those demanding inclusivity then started to add ever more letters to original, perfectly clear, three. It has been interesting to watch this process which seems to have gone from the short and pithy original to the frankly absurd current state of affairs. To give a couple of examples, one version now reads LGBTQIAGNC, which apparently stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, queer, intersex, asexual and gender-non-conforming. Another, even catchier version gives us LGBTIQCAPGNGFNBA. In case you haven’t guessed already, this stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, queer, curious, asexual, pansexual, gender-non-conforming, gender-fluid, non-binary, and androgynous... obviously.
(At times, it seems to me that to make sense of such acronyms one would need the memory of an elephant and the code breaking skills of Alan Turing himself!)
Where did it all go wrong? I would suggest that occurred from the moment the letter T was appended to the the LGB. Many of those within the community understand that this was a decidedly odd step to take. Up to that point the issue being addressed was that of sexual preferences. With the addition of the T though, a medical condition (body dysmorphia - or the belief that your body is other than it is) was included as if it is somehow part of the continuum.

In all but a tiny number of cases, all human beings have either XY or XX chromosomes. These are to be found in every cell of one’s body and define, at the most basic biological level, whether one is male or female. It is not a choice. It is not something that you can change on a daily basis. It is not a matter of societal roles, or some other such nonsense. It simply is. In the case of the male for example, no amount of estrogen or genital mutilation will change the basic fact that he is still a male. No matter what chemicals he takes, no matter what he chooses to wear, or what his stated preference - to use the pithy vernacular of my youth - a bloke in a dress is still a bloke in a dress.
For some reason, pointing out this all too obvious truth outrages some people, particularly those who have been exposed to the completely bogus academic field of ‘gender studies’. Groups representing these poor souls (Transgender people have a suicide rate at around 40% - an horrifically high number that has changed not a whit despite our more ‘enlightened’ times) have successfully pushed through legislation in several states in America and nationwide in Canada that forces people to use ‘preferred pronouns’. What this basically means is that a person can now be prosecuted for calling a man a man. These folk often accuse people who point out the absurdity of this situation of being ‘transphobic’. I would counter that those who insist on such spurious notions are, in point of fact, realityphobic.
By nature, and by practice, I am a libertarian. My belief is that as long as the activity doesn’t impinge on the choices of others, then people should be free to behave however they like. If a man wants to wear a dress, stockings and high heels it is of no concern to me. He can even pretend that he is a female in his own mind, that is again essentially his own affair. Where I would draw a line however, is in the insistence that I recognise his pretense as if it were reality. I may choose to use his preferred pronoun out of good manners, or even respect, but that is my choice, not his. To pass laws that tell me that I must say something that is quite contrary to the reality I perceive seems a very strange route for the legal system to go down.
A couple of hours have passed in these musings, and with it the worst of the days humidity. It is now time once more to sally forth in the direction of the slowly setting sun. It seems I am likely to leave this part of the World in the next few days, Northward bound for Guangzhou in China. That part of the World has its own charms (along with its own annoyances!), but I will miss the town of Kanchanaburi and several of the people I have got to know better whilst I have been here. Tis an oddly enigmatic little place, the whole town only having a population of around 30,000. The part I frequent is probably only a mere couple of thousand but...it has a an enigmatic quality of its own that somehow draws me back again and again. With some reservations, I really quite enjoy Thailand, but Kanchanaburi I actually love. Not completely sure why, but probably something to do with the unpretentious but charming nature of the place and the variety of characters that it draws to its generous bosom. Many, like me, come back year after year.
Long may it continue.

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...

Development

Taking due care not to breathe too deeply, I am currently enjoy the delights of the 85C Bakery Cafe in Chang An. The cafe is modern and a little soulless, built to cater for the aspirations of many Chinese  twenty somethings and their desire to be as much like Americans as possible. The coffee itself is imitation Starbucks and, if I am honest, really not too bad. There is little here though to distinguish the place from any number of other coffee outlets which one finds almost anywhere around the globe these days. One of the pleasant things about Thailand, apart from Bangkok, was the rather delightful variety of establishments where one could partake of liquid libations. The same cannot be said of modern China, where all such hostelries seem to be much of a muchness; pleasant enough, but essentially dull and lacking in anything other than the wished for corporate identity.

After nearly managing to miss a plane at Bangkok's Don Meung airport, I find myself back in the day to day turmoil that is life in 21st century China. As readers of my blog will know, I prefer the charms of leisurely travel with huge amounts of space built into the schedule to enable time to be taken for whatever diversions that one takes a fancy to en route. On this occasion however, due to social commitments, I was unable to leave Kanchanaburi until one in the afternoon to take a flight at seven. As ever, when one fails to build in enough slack, anything going wrong will put stress on the schedule, and therefore stress on the traveller. In this case it was the entirely predictable mayhem that is Bangkok's traffic. If one can avoid the busiest periods in Bangkok, traffic will generally flow at a reasonable rate, but … if arriving between half three and half seven, then traffic can slow to a rate barely above walking pace.

'Development' as it is known, was going on apace throughout the northern part of Bangkok, thus adding another level to the difficulties. This generally took the form of improved road schemes, the building of yet more dull glass and concrete monstrosities to clutter an already overcrowded skyline, and extensions to the rail transport system in the city. In theory, the economy here is only just growing, but by the look of certain parts of Bangkok, some people are doing very well indeed.

All this seemed a far cry from my adventures of only two days before. A friend took to their head the notion that kayaking on the River Kwai might be fun, despite the ambient temperature being around 38C. After some persuading, I finally acquiesced. I envisioned being hot, sweaty, overworked and under rewarded for my efforts; nothing could have been further from the truth.

We were taken by van to a point several miles upstream where, in the shadow of a Buddhist temple, we were assisted, by a very helpful group of children, to launch onto the gently flowing waters of the Kwai. After a short lecture on how to control the direction of the vessel, the two of us set out from the shore. Much to my surprise, I seemed to take to it like the proverbial duck to water and was pleasantly amazed at just how little effort was needed. After a couple of minutes of orientating ourselves to the situation, we set off downstream letting, for the most part, the current do the majority of the work.

Down at the level of the river, the temperature seemed surprisingly pleasant. We had taken care to bring along around three litres of water for the trip, and one could easily cool off by dipping a hat into the cool, clean waters and placing it, still dripping wet, back on one's head. The scenery was gorgeous, an endless variety of trees and plants lining the shores with tall, impressive, forest-clad mountains as a backdrop. A huge variety of wildlife was also on view, the bird-life in particular being both stunning in its variety and so colourful in the range of plumage. Cormorants and herons were plentiful, along with a variety of waders strutting the muddy banks on their elongated legs, every  now and again plunging their long beaks down into the shallows in search of tasty titbits.

At one stage, we saw a couple of water monitors. Ostensibly harmless, they are still a little intimidating, being all of two metres long and having the appearance of small crocodiles. These slid into the waters about twenty metres from our kayak and we experienced a nervous moment or two, half expecting them to come bumping into our less-than-completely-stable vessel.

Thailand, despite its crazy politics and archaic systems of governance, can be a wonderful place to spend an extended break. If one escapes the mad busy-ness of the cities then one is often rewarded with beautiful vistas, gentle people and the constant presence of amazing wildlife, both fauna and flora. The sheer abundance of this is hard to take in at times, and almost movingly beautiful at others. As far as the kayak trip went though, the River was lovely indeed until we passed under the famous railway bridge (built by prisoners in World War Two). At that stage, as we re-entered 'civilisation' the presence of humans was all too obvious by the amount of detritus that had been dumped in the river, particularly the ubiquitous plastic bottles, and the need to counteract the wake produced by high speed launches ferrying tourists from the bridge to the main town.

It is rumoured that the Thais and the Chinese have agreed to a high speed train connection that will pass through Kanchanaburi at some stage in the not too distant future. This, it is believed, will lead to more 'development'. What this basically means is more hotels, more factories, more people, more rubbish in the river, more species disappearing, more damage to what it is that is beautiful about Kanchanaburi and its environs.

The beauty of the Kwai above Kanchanaburi was but a memory by the time I reached Shenzhen in Southern China. Everywhere I looked beyond the new airport were new buildings, new roads, new everything. China seems to be fast disappearing under concrete. From Hong Kong to Guangzhou, a distance of some sixty miles, it is hard to tell where one city ends and a new one begins. This area is home to some 115,000,000 people. At climate talks, the Chinese often claim concessions, saying that their country is still 'underdeveloped'. If this is underdeveloped, I would hate to see what overdeveloped looks like …

The Chinese, like so many other countries around our planet, measure their success in terms of economic growth. What this growth has created in reality is a country where the air is nearly unbreathable, the water undrinkable and the food bordering on inedible (pesticides, dubious production methods, genetic modification, all unbridled and unchecked) and cancer rates sky-rocketing. If this is the fruit of economic growth, then one has to question the underlying assumption that such growth is necessarily a good thing.

Indeed, it seems that many thinkers in the past have done so. One often hears it said that we need economic growth to raise the standards of living of the less well-off. Oddly though, there is plenty of evidence that in many countries where growth has occurred in recent times, it has actually led to a worsening of economic inequality, not an improvement (the UK, the US and China all being obvious examples). In many economies what is needed is at least the intention of addressing the inequality of wealth distribution, rather than endlessly trying to grow economies to the further enrichment of the super rich, with all the subsequent damage to the society and the environment.

Back in the 85C Bakery Cafe, a couple of hours have passed and the place is now crowded with smokers, much to the detriment of the air within. Often smoking is banned in such places but, as ever in China, such rules are rarely enforced. In many ways, one can understand the fatalism of the Chinese smoker. Perhaps they rationalise that the air is so bad anyway that one might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I find myself looking back to the joys of the kayaking on the Kwai and the feeling of fresh air in the lungs. Sadly, it may be some weeks before I get to experience the latter once more ...

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...

What the tortoise taught us...

This evening finds a very relaxed nomadic flaneur sitting on the balcony of the Sugar Cane guest house overlooking the River Kwai in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. The structure is somewhat disconcertingly simple but seems to be solid enough. Various gaps in the floorboards, up to about four inches, allow an uninterrupted view down to the river below. The floorboards themselves seem to be simply nailed into place. The superstructure is of bamboo bound together with a hemp rope of some sort. It all holds together somehow though I am not completely certain how.

The view to the South is quite breathtakingly romantic. In the foreground are large rafts onto which ramshackle rooms have been built, cheap accommodation for the itinerant backpackers. Beyond that the river flows Southwards on its journey down to the Gulf of Thailand. On the banks are pagoda style temples and, beyond them, a range of forest-clad mountains. Every now and again the sound of a fish leaping to catch a low flying insect breaks the stillness. If you are lucky, you may occasionally see a water monitor slithering down the banks before disappearing beneath the waves. If you are unlucky, you may have a much closer encounter with one. They are extreme carnivores who will eat just about anything that crosses their path.

The pace of life is slow here. Sometimes, in the mid day heat, so slow that it almost comes to a stop. Even on the main road leading up to the River Kwai Bridge midday brings a time of quietness, many of the traders will take a very long lunch break, some you will even see resting in hammocks slung in the shade of a palm tree or a convenient lean-to. The Thais, at least away from the madness of Bangkok, seem to have mastered the art of enjoying their lives slowly.

This attitude fits in well with the role of a nomadic flaneur. The original flaneurs were to be found 19th century Paris. They were often to be seen frequenting the shops and arcades that were, in those days, newly-built. Often, the more extreme followers of this lifestyle could be observed very slowly perusing the displayed fineries of these covered arcades whilst walking a tortoise on a lead. Even for your correspondent this may be taking things a tad too far!

As a companion for those given to the slow but seductive pleasures of flaneury, tortoises would seem to have been a very appropriate choice. They are the very epitome of economising effort. They don't speed, they never rush, yet they seem to live very long and very contentedly and, somehow or other, to get the things done that they need to get done. Interestingly, tortoises have a very long life-expectancy; it is not uncommon for them to live over five score years.

Aesop, that great writer of metaphorical tales, was not unaware of the paradox here. Perhaps his most famous fable is that of the hare and the tortoise. The hare, for all his rushing, for all the urgency of his speed, ends up losing the race to the slow and steady tortoise. I remember hearing this story as a child and being quite dismissive of its message. Strange how, the older one becomes the more the story appeals. One increasingly values the qualities of consistency and persistency, unfashionable though they be may, and realises how effective they are in the long term.

Increasingly in our modern world the call is for speed, for the dramatic, for instantaneous gratification. Interestingly, even when that gratification is achieved it is invariably short-lived and less than satisfying. The young in particular find themselves bombarded with imagery and information, advertising and date. So much so that it creates a certain impatience, a certain need for speed in all things. Over recent years this has led to steadily decreasing attention spans and problems such as ADD and ADHD.

Several years ago, in anyone guise, I co-wrote a paper on the challenges for teachers coping with pupils afflicted with these conditions. My fellow author had suffered from ADHD throughout her teenage years and still displayed some of these tendencies on occasions. As I remember, she started with an intense burst of enthusiasm but as the weeks rolled by found it increasingly difficult to maintain the effort. The paper was completed eventually but not without a certain amount of gentle cajoling to keep my well-meaning but sometimes errant colleague on track.

Our modern world has become ever more obsessed with speed, with the need to get things done quickly, with schedules and timetables. Taking the time for lunch is only apparently for wimps (in these matters I consider myself very much a wimp!), hot-desking is all the rage and all seem obsessed with ways to 'save time'. Oddly, there seems to be some kind of paradox at work here: the more time we seemingly save, the more rushed we seem to become.

Fortunately, there are people who think differently, though they are still in a very small minority. Carl Honore is one such person suggesting that there may indeed be another way. In his best-selling book 'In Praise of Slowness' he examines some of the normally unchallenged assumptions of the modern world and its headlong rush to... who knows where? It is something of a reaction against the notion that faster is always better. He is not alone in adopting these attitudes although, for the present, it seems that the cacophonous roar of modern life is drowning out the soft but persistent voice telling us that there is another way. Much like the hare and the tortoise though, it may turn out that the soft but persistent voice wins through in the end, despite all appearances to the contrary.

Back in the Sugar Cane I thoughtfully sip at my watermelon shake; strange how when one takes the time to savour the flavour one realises just how delicious such things are. I have a friend who finishes all meals in seconds flat. I often wonder if it actually matters what is put in front of him. For my part, I prefer both eating and drinking slowly, taking the time to enjoy the flavours and textures that each dish offers.

I listen to the calls of the birds singing to each other in the palms and the tamarinds. I have no idea which bird is which but that does not detract in the slightest from the pleasantness of simply sitting back and enjoying the ambient music they produce. By now a couple a few hours have passed, strange how absorbing this process can be. The light is soft at this time of the evening, bathing everything in a warm orange glow. It is hard for me to imagine a place more beautiful than this so, if you will forgive me, I think the time has come to finish my musings for this week and go back to the simple and slow pleasures that life beside the River Kwai has to offer.  

Working ourselves to death...

Saturday morning in Kanchanaburi catching up on the news from the UK on the BBC. Seems that yet another storm has shed yet more rain on an already saturated Britain. I find myself feeling almost guilty as I look up through the eaves of the Jolly Frog to the relentlessly blue sky beyond. This is the place that started the backpacking boom in this part of Thailand. It is looking a little dilapidated now and probably needs a facelift but... there is something comforting and really rather pleasant in its state of easy going neglect. The main eating area consists of a vast roof supported on tree trunks, the sides completely open which tends to lend a freshness to the place which is aided and abetted by several huge fans hanging from the ceiling. Plants have run wild over time and now hang down in curtains of creepers that create natural partitions between parts of the restaurant (that seems too grand a word for this place – maybe 'cafe' would be more accurate).

This has become my favourite place to write during my month in Kanchanaburi. I order the requisite coffee for the princely sum of 20 baht and usually a watermelon smoothie and some roles (no butter, as I am presently experimenting with veganism) to supply the much needed refreshment that this process requires. The whole lot totals some 65 baht (roughly £1.20), not at all bad. I remember some years ago, in my early flaneurial days, having a coffee in St. Marks Square in Venice – the coffee alone was somewhere in excess of £5. I have to admit though, the setting was wonderful!

Life is indeed very relaxing in this part of the world. There is an easy going ambience that pervades so much of life here. The people are friendly and generous, the culture interesting and the flora and fauna fascinating. It certainly feels very different after China with its feverish chasing after economic success. I am told that Japan, in many ways, is even worse. Despite the success of the economy in China it seems that people are required to chase ever harder just to keep up. Rather than bringing increasing leisure and other benefits to the society, the vast majority find themselves required to work longer and longer hours while the benefits are reaped by a smaller and smaller section at the very top of the economic pyramid. This same process seems to have been experienced in many economies around the world. As a certain politician recently put it: "They used to say 'a rising tide lifts all boats'. Now the rising tide just seems to lift yachts."

This increasing insecurity for the general populace has been experienced particularly keenly in Japan with its deep acceptance of the work ethic and the fundamentally hierarchical structure of its society. After the sixties and seventies boom Japan found itself entering a prolonged period of economic stagnation which has only ended in very recent times. Job security became increasingly tenuous. People were required to work longer and longer hours, the extra time often being unpaid as the employees more or less felt obliged to work in such a way to keep their jobs. This eventually led to what started out as a typically Japanese reaction; the phenomenon of 'Karoshi'. The Japanese word 'Karoshi' can be simply translated as 'death due to overwork' although this does not tell the whole story. There is an element of suicide in this phenomenon, of deliberately working to the point of precipitating one's own demise.

This attitude to work is perhaps unique to the Japanese mentality although there have in recent times been examples in the West. Increasingly employers seem to have the same expectations as Japanese companies. The notion that your whole life should be based around your employment is implicit in these assumptions. Increasing economic insecurity, despite the recent turn around in Western economies, has led to the expectation that people will indeed work longer and longer hours simply through the fear of losing their jobs.

A very close friend of mine had a job that required her to work thirty hours a week in a school in East London. Even though her hours were 8 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon, with one hour's unpaid lunch, she often found herself working until half past three or even four. Some years ago her employer decreased her hours to 25 per week but, oddly, she still found herself working from 8 in the morning until well after 3 in the afternoon. A year or two later the hours were further decreased to 20 per week. Hmm, I think it is unnecessary for me to repeat here as you'll have worked out how this 'reduction' actually functioned. Now she works 18 hours a week. She often starts before 8 in the morning now and often finds herself there until after five at night, five days a week. Mathematics have never been my strong point but I am pretty sure that works out to something substantially in excess of 18 hours a week.

I see my friend when I am back in the UK. She is a decent, honest person with a sensitive and intelligent nature. Every time I see her she looks a little more tired, a little more strained. Occasionally I will talk to her about this process. She understands what is happening but feels obliged to go along with it. So many these days feel themselves trapped in such situations. It may not quite be Karoshi but it is not far from it. We often hear businessmen and politicians, particularly those of the right, arguing for 'more flexible work practices'. Another fine sounding euphemism! What is actually desired by such folk is the power to demand more and more for less and less, often relying on job insecurity as a way of squeezing blood out of a stone.

It seems to be rarely pointed out but there is something fundamentally unsound in all of this, something fundamentally wrong. The shortcomings of the Japanese 'work until you drop' philosophy were amply demonstrated during WW2. Recently I visited the 'Death Railway' near the small town I am staying in, Kanchanaburi. The railway was built using allied Prisoners of War and Asian workers (Romusha) from occupied territories. Those unfortunate to find themselves working on this project were subject to the most awful privations and, frankly, quite inhuman treatment by the Japanese. They were ill-fed, brutalised and overworked. Very shortly the men would weaken and fall ill because of the demands placed upon them. As this continued their productivity dropped. Working when you are tired, in pain and underfed is pretty commonly accepted not to be the ideal I think. The Japanese response? They worked people harder, fed them less, imposed longer hours, etc. To the mentality of the Japanese captors this made sense. The result? The project fell further and further behind schedule as the decreasing workforce found itself under greater and greater pressure. Maybe there is a lesson here?

Visiting the site of these atrocities one is struck with just how peaceful it is now. Indeed, one may even say that the views from Hellfire Pass are beautiful – a huge valley through which the Kwai Noi river flows beneath the shade of lush forests and the most delicately exquisite flora that one could wish to see. All is quiet now and it is hard to imagine the kind of scenes that once gave the pass its name.

 Back in The Jolly Frog the cafe has become busier now and the day a little warmer. Ex-pats read newspapers with two day old articles about the terrible weather in the UK. Others, like myself, sit here tapping away at our laptops, communicating with a distant world so different from where we find ourselves. I slowly sip at my banana shake (one has to be aware of the need for constant hydration in 30+ degrees C) thinking about the implications of this piece. The unhappy world of job insecurity and virtual karoshi seem like they are from another and very bizarre reality. There has to be a better way... 

Hot Curries and Cool Mint Teas in Thailand...

As I write these notes I find myself enjoying the pleasures of consuming yet another of On's vegan delights at her restaurant in downtown Kanchanaburi. Actually, restaurant may be too strong a word as the whole establishment could be fitted into my former front room, in the days when I owned a front room, back in not-so-sunny Loughton. This particular eatery was one of the reasons for returning to Kanchanaburi on my current sojourn to Thailand. When I originally discovered the place nearly a year ago now I could scarce believe the variety of dining pleasures that awaited the would-be vegan (or the price for that matter - all dishes cost the same, just under one English pound!). The menu was varied and exciting containing all manner of culinary delights. I find myself visiting the place often now. Not only is the food great but the place also has a way of attracting all sorts of slightly off-beat characters – just the sort of thing that your correspondent, in his role as a nomadic flaneur, tends to cherish.
http://onsthaiissan.com/

Thailand, with its deep and rich Buddhist culture, has developed a cuisine singularly suited to the vegan palette. It has, of course, been much adapted over the years due to the influence originally of American troops, who used the place as their default R & R resort of choice during the Vietnam conflict, and that of modern day tourists. Mostly the dishes have been modified by dropping various lumps of dead flesh into them in order to satiate the demands of the aforementioned carnivores.

In some ways this can be viewed of something of a shame as the original, unadulterated recipes reflect more accurately the underlying culture of this country. Despite currently being embroiled in much political unrest due to the nefarious activities of various corrupt and unpleasant politicians, and the tensions that arise because of these shenanigans, it remains a very pleasant place to be.

Dwelling on this whilst gingerly (no pun intended...) attempting to consume a fairly hot red curry in Ons, I wondered how much influence the practice of sending young men to spend a goodly amount of time in Buddhist monasteries had on the national character. This is something of a rite of passage in Thailand and, in much the same way that national service affected the culture in the UK or conscription for the aforementioned Vietnam war affected attitudes in the USA, these young men return to influence their villages and towns fundamentally changed by their experiences. Happily, the changes inculcated in them are not of the violent and martial variety of the previously mentioned examples. On the contrary, exposure to such training help instil a tolerance and a patience in Thai culture that, despite its very worldly ambience on the surface, lends an underlying friendliness and kindness that renders it, for the most part, a very relaxing place to be.

Coming from China in the last few months, the contrast is both immediate and dramatic. There is a pushiness, a competitiveness about China that makes day-to-day living there far more stressful that it need be. Despite the economic success of recent years, China is not a pleasant place to be. The noise is constant, the jostling, the struggling for space as hordes of people push harder and harder just to 'get on'. Nowhere is this more obvious than on the roads. In my travels I have come across all manner of driving from the sedate to the crazy but nowhere have I been struck by the sheer rudeness of the driving as in China. There is a ruthlessness, a callousness, a selfishness indeed, to the driving there that I have not experienced anywhere else on the planet. Thailand has its problems with traffic, particularly in Bangkok, but in comparison to China these people are the very epitome of consideration. There is a gentleness, a consideration, that is a joy to behold.

Back in On's, I find myself deep in conversation with an English couple who sold their properties a couple of years back and bought themselves a Volkswagen T5 van in which they spend the summers touring around the UK and Europe. During the winters the van remains parked up in a brother's drive whilst they gallivant off to various sunnier climes around the globe. It seems that more and more people are reaching the same conclusion. The default lifestyle in the West, buying a property and owning lots of stuff, is beginning to be seen for the trap that, for so many people, it is: the property and the goods end up owning the owner.

Finishing my curry, I sip from the cooling and absolutely delicious mint smoothie that I often choose to accompany the spicier dishes. My main decision seems to be whether to conclude this piece in the air-conditioned pleasantness of On's or to take a stroll down to the equally pleasant environs of The Jolly Frog overlooking the River Kwai. The UK and its general dreariness seem a world away...

Undemocratic democrats and the perils of being a flaneur in Thailand.

On this gorgeous morning your correspondent finds himself sitting in a rather comfortable armchair on the upper deck of a two storey raft moored on the River Kwai. The raft itself is the property of the Noble House Hotel, an establishment whose hospitality I have enjoyed the pleasure of during the past week. The main grounds of the hotel are located on the river bank in the town of Kanchanaburi, Thailand. The place itself is eminently peaceful. My reveries are only briefly interrupted by the groaning of the raft as she settles ever more comfortably down upon the water and the amorous calls of a variety of tropical birds who seem, unlike myself, undismayed by the ever-present heat. Tropical fruit bearing plants grow abundantly on the small islet in front of me: mangoes, bananas, coconuts and more. The odd lizards scurries across the decking. In some ways it almost seems too pleasant, as if one is on a film set rather than reality, so perfect is the setting.

All this peace somewhat belies the political conflict going on in this land at the time of writing. Although Kanchanaburi seems completely serene, apart from the odd drunken reveller or Chinese person letting off fire crackers to celebrate the imminent arrival of the Year of the Horse, it is not so in the capital, Bangkok, nor in many other areas of the South. Thai politics, it seems, are horrendously complicated. The enmities between the rival factions are deep and bitter. The main parties are locked in a death-match to gain control of the governance of this country. As ever with politicians, they promise all kinds of reforms and changes if only you will vote for them. Also, as ever, the reality usually degrades into one form of corruption or another once they actually achieve the sought after power. This patterns seems ubiquitous the world over although in the West we are often better at hiding, or even institutionalising, our corruption. We sometimes speak of advisers from industry on trade missions when what is really meant is arms dealers (suitably suited and booted of course, but arms dealers nevertheless) or lobbyists in parliament whose soul raison d'etre is to influence government in favour of whatever corporation they represent.

Here in Thailand the main parties have wonderfully idealistic sounding names such as the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship or the People's Democratic Reform Committee.

The latter has been the main instigator behind the problems in the capital of late. There is an election due to take place on February 2nd. Unfortunately for the PDRC it is an election they are very likely to lose. Therefore, rather than campaigning harder to convince people of their relative merit, the party has decided that what the country needs is an interim government that is to be appointed rather than elected before any further elections are to take place. Naturally such a government would have a large number of representatives from the PDRC. How's that for democratic reform!? The democratic reform they seem to have in mind gets rid of democracy itself!

Unfortunately, in human affairs, and particularly those involving politics and politicians, these oxymoronic paradoxes are all too common place. The eminently wise George Orwell ably pointed this out in his political opus '1984'. In that book the Ministry of Truth was responsible for propaganda, the Ministry of Love oversaw the imprisonment and torture of those deemed threatening to the system, and the Ministry of Peace was primarily engaged in prosecuting wars. Old George knew a thing or two about how these things work. Years later, another George, who unfortunately didn't seem to know very much about anything at all, was still cunning enough to use similarly misleading euphemisms when describing the activities of his government (you will understand that I use the word 'government' in its loosest sense when referring to the regime of George W. Bush).

Perhaps, amongst the many examples of double-speak that spring to mind when talking of the doings of GWB, the most obvious examples would be the employment of such terms as 'enhanced interrogation techniques' (read – torturing people), 'extraordinary rendition' (read - moving people to places where they could be tortured) and 'protective custody' (read – imprisoning people without charge or trial). Such semantic machinations would be merely amusing if it were not for their dark intent.

Meanwhile, back in Thailand the election is fast approaching and the PCDR is preparing for the big day by promising not to disenfranchise people or block them from expressing their democratic right to cast a vote. They say their intention is merely to protest and make their point at the polling stations throughout Bangkok and the South. What this actually means in practice is that they intend, if at all possible, to disenfranchise people and block their democratic right to cast a vote.

Tis ever strange how such promises on the lips of politicos so often mean the exact opposite of the words spoken. One thinks of a certain Nick Clegg and his promise not to raise tuition fees in the UK or George's dad, George Bush Snr, who once famously stated: “Read my lips, no new taxes” and then promptly created some once elected.

Some things never change it would appear – the dissimulation of politicians seems to be as unlimited as their desire for us to trust them, despite the long and inglorious history that would indicate that, for the most part, it would be wiser not to .

Back on the raft floating gently on the Kwai all remains the very essence of serenity. The amorously inclined birds know little of such political shenanigans and care even less. I sip my coffee and wonder at the gullibility of people to forever believe in such characters. They come, they fool a few people for a time, they go again only to be replaced by the next generation.

Sitting here in the morning sun it is hard not to be impressed by the sheer beauty of this country. As I look over to my left the river bank is ablaze with colour as the bougainvillea cascades down towards the water. Here and there orchids hang gracefully down, so exquisite, seemingly so delicate. It all feels so calm,  so serene right now. I only hope that this peace remains in the days and weeks following the upcoming elections. Your nomadic flaneur has no wish to become a war correspondent.

 Only time will tell.