Thailand. Explore a land of extremes.

This is a little travel article I wrote, again for the Northen Advocate, after a 2007 holiday in Thailand.

The published PDF can be seen here.

Thailand

Explore a land of extremes.

The taxi driver smiles into the rear view mirror, shakes his head and tuts ”busy, busy.” seemingly more interested in maintaining his commentary than he is on self preservation. I, on the other hand value my time here on earth and so must admit to being slightly concerned as we fly along the motorway at 170kmh. The air conditioning stopped working long ago, back in those carefree days when we were only doing 120. Now all that seems to be coming thought the vents is the hot smell of burning engine and impending doom. I turn to my girlfriend, we are both thinking the same thing; “this crazy man seems hell bent on finishing our holiday with a bang”. Worrying seems useless, as does having a quiet word with our chauffeur. 3 cars have just rocketed past us – this seems to be the norm then. I was sure that sign that just passed as a blur said 70 and isn’t that a sea of red lights ahead? Oh I see, in Thailand you accelerate towards the braking cars in front. Of course, it all makes sense now. When I was in India, I developed an attitude of not worrying unless the driver looked worried. That worked and I made it out alive, however over here the population in predominantly Buddhist – they’ve always got another life coming up if this one were to end. And they always smile. The theory doesn’t work. I, and likewise for most of the western population, have just the one life and to be honest I am enjoying it. If it were to end at the end of a 3 week holiday, on the way to the airport I would not be happy.

Rather than braking our driver swerves to the left, then to the right and somehow manages to weave his way through the slowing traffic at around 140 kmh, still tutting,” busy, busy”. I should shout, “ Yes I know it fucking busy mate, we’ve still got half an hour until we need to check in. Slow the fuck down!” Instead we both close our eyes, letting the past 3 weeks flash before us, replaying the events as if they were to be our last:

In Bangkok we had wandered, sweating and burning through the tumble drier that is Summer. Taking in the sights, the markets and the food we had wondered at the devoutness of the people. Active shrines in every shop and place of work, all offering some sticky rice and a bottle of Fanta to the Lord Buddha. Strange diet for a deity, I had thought. We were amazed at the co-existence of this most ancient of religions and our own most modern of worlds. Bangkok somehow manages to balance the two, manages to lay on equal amounts of Tom Kha Ghai and McDonalds, of Singha beer and Starbucks. It has the perfect western Ying for the Thai Yang, or maybe that should be vice versa. Whichever, it acts as a great buffer zone and it could be argued is in fact the real Thailand.

I had my first Thai Massage in Bangkok, a unique experience. I felt like Inspector Clouseau, waiting in fearful anticipation for his Asian Manservant and resident Karate happy thug, Cato, to pounce. Never quite sure which part of my anatomy was going to be wrenched from my body, tied into an impossible knot then somehow slotted back into roughly the correct spot. I say it was my first and it was also my last. I needed a massage afterwards more than I had when I went in.

Bangkok was hot, so we left. We joined the hordes who had all signed over the next 14 hours of their lives to a strange gang of drivers and guides who somehow manage to get large amounts of people from A to B. The process never goes quite how it has been described to you, “One bus to the boat then you get boat and arrive at 8am, no problem”. Sounds good, however what she actually meant to say was , “One bus, shit seats. You arrive middle of nowhere at 2 am, in the dark. You will be left with no explanation on a bench by the road with a crazy man wandering around shouting at you. Another bus will arrive, with a drunken driver. You will get on that and then wait for another 2 hours, slowly more people will arrive then you will drive 15 minutes to the ferry office, where you will wait until 10am or until the driver has sobered up. Then and only then will we take you to the ferry wharf where you will wait until 12pm to get on an old fishing boat that will take you to your destination, arriving around 4pm. OK?” The most amazing thing is that it’s done with the bare minimum of communication to us, the passengers. We just follow when told to and wait when told to. It’s strange but it works and it’s all done with a smile.

Our trip took us to Kho Tao, where the German Bakeries and dive shops have proliferated among the palms in such a short space of time, and where we swam among the electric neon throughout the coral reefs, finally cooling off and getting a shower in a tropical downpour. Via the safe hands and smiling faces of the people movers we made it down to Kho Phi Phi, made famous by the movies and infamous by a Tsunami, where the hordes of tourists fuel the juggernaut of development as it chews up this once beautiful island and spits out an ever expanding tourist ghetto. The beaches are strewn with debris and detritus, making going for dip more like a game of dodge the whisky bottle and the streets are full of masseuses who’s chant of, “Thai massage, OK?” reminds me of a certain Asian lady in the film Full Metal Jacket, and the foreigners are all surgically attached to their mobiles.

When I was travelling around Asia in 1992, I used to set aside one day every month or 2 to write postcards or letters. Occasionally I would try to call my parents via an almost wind up operation down a backstreet and would hear the faint voice of my mother wishing me well. I had to plan ahead to a certain extent and tell people to send mail to the Poste Restante a couple of months in advance. Upon arrival to the town, I would eagerly make my way to the GPO, clutching my passport, nervous with the anticipation, would anyone have written or have they all forsaken me? I would wait patiently while the clerk went to check for my mail then try to not look too disappointed when they returned empty handed, or too delighted when they handed me a letter from my mum, (I was trying to be a free, independent spirit you see, and showing any positive emotion towards your home was not allowed). Nowadays, however, the kids are all texting their mates back in London, emailing and Skyping from the beach with wireless broadband and if their parents don’t hear from them instantly then they worry. Where is the danger? Where is the ”Oh we haven’t heard from Johnny for 3 months now, I hope he’s still alive”? Where are the free, independent spirits? All this web of communications is a good thing and it does make life easier, but I cant help feeling that the kids nowadays are missing out on something liberating, something character building and soul defining. It’s a shame.

Anyway back to Thailand and once more on the road, back to the mainland. We checked out the beaches at Railay, where the weather stopped us going further a field, but the beaches on the peninsula are spectacular. And spent a happy morning waddling around a rubber plantation on the back of a pregnant elephant, looking for snakes and monkeys. The elephants and guides seem to live a quiet life amongst the jungle and it would appear that each party is happy with their lot. From here we braved the Thai road system and headed off on a scooter to the Tiger Cave temple, where the lack of tigers is more than compensated for by the sheer number of monkeys. It seemed like a good idea to climb to the top of the hill and 1297 steps later when we couldn’t possibly have sweated any more we were glad we had. The views go on forever and the huge golden Buddha sits there, smiling, enjoying them all day long. The climb down was slightly easier as by now the sun had moved from its Zenith to afford us a little shadow, if only we had waited an hour or so………….

Finally we signed our lives over one final time and joined the hordes heading back to Bangkok. At any one time throughout Thailand, in fact throughout South East Asia, there must be literally thousands of westerners all placing their safety and wellbeing in the hands of these smiling strangers. It is really quite a mind-boggling thing if you stop and think about it, which I’m sure most people don’t.

We managed to escape Bangkok for one final time and, this time under our own steam, using the public bus service, made a trip to Ayuthaya. We wandered among the ruins in the unbearable heat and I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps the ancient Siamese had been secretly pleased to have their wonderful capital city sacked by the Burmese and moved to its cooler, current locale. One day of baking on the plains was enough for us and we headed back to the steamy megalopolis and our roof top pool.

Thailand is an amazing country, the only South East Asian Kingdom to never be colonised and by the West, it retains a vast amount of its original, native charm. The devoutness and serenity of it’s people, even in the most modern, lurid, capitalistic of settings is remarkable and is no doubt one of the reasons it has become so popular as a destination. It is easy to travel around, as long as you leave your western pre conceptions of time behind, and seems completely geared to getting it’s little smiling hands on the tourist dollar. The communication network of our modern world makes life so much easier, even if it does take away some of that danger, and Thailand is no slouch when it comes to providing internet and mobile services, at least in the main centres and tourist spots. And even if the days of the 25 Baht beach shacks have long gone, a trip to Thailand will still struggle to make too big a dent in your wallet. And then there’s the food. Who doesn’t like Thai cuisine? All those flavours swirling about together as if in a delirious waltz, an unimaginable maelstrom of vibrancy, all underpinned with the ever-present sting of the Thai Chilli washed down with a cooling, refreshing Singha Beer.

It could perhaps be argued that Thai cooking is a perfect metaphor for the country and culture itself. The vibrancy of the flavours exactly matches the life and colour of the people, the variety of dishes mirroring the depth of contrast among different areas of the country and the spiciness hammering home the otherworldliness of a Thai experience. It is if course possible to eat nothing but Pizza and chips, but why would you want to cheat yourself of the spine tingling experience of your first Tom Yum soup.

Suddenly we are stirred from our reveries by a blast of cool air. It would seem that the air conditioning has come back on, that can only mean one thing. We have suddenly slowed to within the parameters or normal operations and seem to be approaching the airport at an alarming rate. “Busy, busy” our driver tuts again. “We here, airport, which flight?”. Anywhere will do, I tell him, anxious to get out of this bullet as soon as we can. He drops us at the departure terminal and after an exchange of money and a smile he is off, screeching away with all the other taxi drivers, off to find more westerners to scare the shit out of for money.

We are sorry to be leaving but relieved to be doing so alive.