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 ...

Off Piste and Occasionally vice versa...

Sometimes, in order to continue the flaneurial process, one has to jump through a few hoops put there for the entertainment of administrators from various lands. So it is today that I find myself in the delightful 'Coffee Happy & More' in the backs streets of Ratchprana 3 in Bangkok. The coffee shop is much to my liking and the owners friendly and helpful. I am having a quick Americano and metaphorically girding my loins before setting off for the challenges of the Chinese consulate. It has the reputation of being a somewhat difficult process so I have tried to cover every eventuality that may arise but … I still find myself somewhat less than confident of success today. Reading several accounts from the internet, others have come along similarly well prepared and failed.

I am only a day out of Kanchanaburi, but already I find myself missing the place. Somehow, apart from my initial enthusiasm a few years back, I have never really enjoyed Bangkok. In the constant heat the noise and the traffic become very wearing after a time and, apart from a few of the main roads, it is no place for a quiet and thoughtful saunter as befits the role of a flaneur. One of the things that one very quickly notices about Thais is that they don't really have very much use for their legs, apparently being there solely for the purpose of keeping the torso upright when need be which, in itself, is not very often; the preference being for sitting or, if at all possible, being completely supine.

For the indigenous population it seems, even the shortest of journeys warrants the use of some kind of mechanized transport, the ubiquitous scooter being the mode of choice. One will often see the girls in the local bars, when in need of some supplies from a Seven Eleven or a Tesco Lotus, will invariably take their motorbikes, even when said store is but 50 metres distant. The pavement, or what the Americans call the side-walk, is there for the purposes of parking these bikes or for the purveyance of various 'street foods' and not, perish the thought, for actually walking along.

I was very tempted to use an old joke at this point along the lines of 'what do you call a pedestrian in Thailand?', the answer being 'a farang (a foreigner)', but I thought I had better resist the temptation …

The pavements here, perhaps because of their lack of use, are invariably either not fit for purpose or so obstructed as to be unusable. This means that those who would choose to saunter around town often have to do so with the ongoing risk of being scooped up by a pre-occupied scooter rider, often engaged in either texting or attempting to hold their child in one arm while tryiing to control the bike with the other, or flattened by a mini-bus driver who has perhaps chewed a few too many betel nuts (they sometimes do this in an attempt to keep themselves awake in order to attempt to complete an overly rushed schedule).

For all this though, I must say that I have a preference for the driving here in comparison to China. In Thailand it is lazy, a little carefree or maybe even careless but there is a kind of consideration, a generosity to the attitude of the drivers and the riders that you just don't see in China. In that land one is often struck by the meanness and ruthlessness of those on the roads, one might even say callousness, whereas in Thailand, for all their laissez-faire attitude, one rarely feels the same sense of threat.

To some extent, this reflects the differences between the two cultures, the first is very focussed on whatever it is that they want whereas the second is, in general, far more generous and far less selfish. This is, of course, a sweeping generalisation but going from one to the other one is immediately struck by the differences in cultural attitudes.

Having said that, I will still opt for the slowest means available to get back to Kanchanaburi tomorrow. This will either be the slow coach (quite literally) from the Southern Bus Terminal or maybe even the train. Mini-buses are available and are a cheap and cheerful alternative, but I sometimes wonder if the sheer stress of riding in those things will takes years off of one's life, so any time gained is strictly illusory.

Part of the role of the flaneur is to move slowly and, in this case, travel slowly. It seems to be that there is almost an inverse ratio between the speed that one travels and how much one can allow oneself to enjoy the travelling. Speed is fine, in context. I very much enjoy being wafted across continents at slightly less than the speed of sound in huge metal tubes; it is a very practical solution to the problem of long distance travel. Once I have actually reached the desired destination though, my preference is very much for the more sedate and gentle means of moving one's body from place to place.

The world is an increasingly fast-paced place in which to live. Our means of communication go on forever getting faster and faster and it is very easy, and all too common, to become convinced of the necessity for rushing everywhere. Part of the role of a flaneur is to show that there is another way and that many of the best things in life are a whole lot more fun when they are taken slowly. Such an attitude though, does take a little attention, it takes a little patience, but the rewards far outweigh the costs.

Back in the coffee shop, the young man who served me my Americano is just performing what must be his daily rites. Their is a small shrine next to where I am sitting and two more at front and back of the shop. I am the only customer in here at present and I have to admit that it is quite lovely to see the sincerity with which he carries out his devotions. This is not the first time I have seen this and, I have to admit, each time I come across it I find it really rather touching.


There is much cynicism about Thailand and the Thais at the moment, which is not overly surprising given the political problems and the degree of corruption here, but there is also at times something very charming and really rather beautiful about the culture and the people here. I think that is just one of the reasons, despite my fears of the ongoing unrest and political turmoil, that has me coming back to this land on a regular basis. In my experience, there is nowhere else quite like it.

Finally, together with a friend I was taking the time to ponder an appropriate theme song for the blog and an ancient number from Guy Lombardo came to mind. A good candidate...

Slowcoach on a slow coach...

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

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

Welcome back to Blighty!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reckless but not wreck less...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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