Bangkok downtown gallery

I’d like to take a break from narrative and display a collection of my personal favourites from the last week spent in downtown.

17th Feb

From 17 Feb 2010

From 17 Feb 2010

18th Feb

From 18 Feb 2010

From 18 Feb 2010

From 18 Feb 2010

From 18 Feb 2010

From 18 Feb 2010

20th Feb

From 20 Feb 2010

From 20 Feb 2010

From 20 Feb 2010

From 20 Feb 2010

From 20 Feb 2010

From 20 Feb 2010

21st Feb

Lapped courses are a chore

Shopping is reserved for the opposite gender. I’m supposed to be travelling and visiting cultural hotspots around the world, not spending time in shopping malls replacing stolen goods. This is positively excruciating and I feel dizzy at the thought of doing anymore, whilst I’m sat typing this; in a coffee shop, on my laptop, using wireless to upload photos, people watching. Ugh, I’ve become a mixture of Type IIIa and I! And I feel contaminated, effeminate almost. I need to wrestle a Lion in order to restore some semblance of masculinity. Needs must, annoyingly, and with few clothes and inadequate luggage I’m over a barrel, biting a bullet without the luxury of shopping online.

It’s not all bad though, as I’ve the opportunity to attempt a run around Bangkok. It truly is a joy to be back here and even the Tuk Tuk broken-records make me smile. Finding Lumphini Park, it’s half past six in the morning and still not early enough to enjoy a cool jog. Perhaps the sheer quantity of exhaust units pushing out extracted hot air from the air-conditioners contribute to the ambient humidity of Bangkok, as looking around I see few runners. The majority are taking Tai Chi classes or simply walking. Come on, up the ante, get those legs moving!

Thus far, I’ve spent the previous three days in the Siam complex, Center World and Pantip Plaza. All of which rival, or arguably trump anything that London has to offer, whilst maintaining street food-pricing across the majority of restaurants and cafés. Siam is a Mecca for the affluent Thai; who strut in transparent stilettos, pierce your glance with colour-changing contact lenses and don skirts short enough to cause every farang – whether single or not – to turn, stare and pant in their general direction. It’s the stuff of jealous girlfriend’s nightmares; lock up your bunny, for it may be in risk of a boiling. Centre World is more akin to the Bentalls centre, featuring a vast array of branded shops and eateries, where school kids mingle at lunch time enjoying their favourite Japanese sushi, as it passes by on conveyer belt. And finally, Pantip Plaza holds a perpetual Expo of tech geekery, that would make your average 1337 |\|00|3 pulsate and squirm uncontrollably in excitement. Bring some tissues or a sock, it could get messy.

Looking down I notice distance markers at 100 metre intervals, and cross-checking with my watch, they tally up nicely. It’s a 2.543 kilometre lap and though I feel drained of any inclination to move, let alone physically exert myself any further, it takes all the will I can muster to go around again. I despise lapped courses; seeing the markers of the second lap makes you pine for the finish line and concentrate less on the task at hand. I’m a determined little sod though, and I’ll stick it out, or drop trying. Finishing, I realise that I’ve only just broken through the 5K marker. Unacceptable, must do better; I’ll be coming back to retry for a three or four lap monotony.

Having completed my shopping chores, so it is that I have a further recommendation; save yourself the back and shoulder pain and bring a wheeled suitcase. Backpacks really are an affectation; there’s no need to have a 50, 70 or 90 litre monstrosity buckled to your frame, so tightly, that your excesses spill over each strap. Unless of course you plan on hiking with it – you won’t be walking very far to the accommodation and most roads are happy to receive your luggage wheels. Brilliant, I’ve stumbled on a sport shop – and they have running apparel – this is my Mecca.

What to do if you lose your UK Passport in Laos

Or have it stolen in Vang Vieng, as is often the case. This post is purely for those unlucky enough to be caught in this situation and assumes that your plan of action is to recover a UK Passport whilst still abroad, in Bangkok. The following list is a pre-requisite, so Nota Bene:

• Passport Number
• 6 passport sized photos (available from any photo shop for 30K)
• A pen
• 4-5 days in Vientiene
• 250,000 kip for fees and transport
• 100,000 kip per night in Vientiene (average price)
• 7,000 Baht for new Passport
• Photocopy of your passport ID page (ideally)
• Photocopy of your Lao Visa (ideally)
• Lao Visa Number (ideally)
• The patience of Saint Patience, of the order Patience, who has studied Patience at The School of Patience. In Patienceville.

I state “ideally” as this will greatly speed up the process, however, my experience was worst case and that is what I shall detail. Also note that a lot of Kip can be saved if you are happy to walk ten kilometres or so each day. Store your scans in Google Docs so you can easily access them.

In the event of either theft or loss, report to the Laos Tourist Police immediately. They are closed Sundays, but open at 8am until 5pm each day. These gents may be uniformed, but use pen and paper, so don’t expect anything fancy. If you are able, take pictures of your robbed area for insurance purposes and alert the hotel manager regardless of the hour. Do not under any circumstances wait or dither – the manager is paid to be on-call.

When attended by the Police, fill in your “story” (as they call it), giving date, name, passport number, hotel name and email address. The latter is useful for other victims that may flick through the book – so that they may contact you, especially if it was the same hotel – to compare notes. After completing, an officer will confirm details and fill in the first of many forms with you, which is then stamped and signed by the commissioner. Expect a charge of 20,000 Kip for the privilege and guard the paper with your life.

Get a bus or plane to Vientiene and avoid the local bus if you can. From the bus station, expect to pay 30-40,000 Kip for a tuk tuk ride in to the centre of town. It’s around 3-4K if you can walk it. Secure accommodation and try to sleep.
First thing next morning, head to the Australian Embassy (there isn’t UK representation). Most hotels have a map, or simply follow the river heading SE. After around 3K, you’ll pass the Singapore Embassy; shortly after a bus garage is the Australian on the same road (Route Thadeau). Enter and sign in, expect to give up your camera but ensure you receive a token so as to collect it after.
On entering, turn right and approach the desk, you’ll be asked to fill in a PC8 form and provide your Police Report. If you’re lucky, they’ll get you a letter asking for Laos consular assistance within half an hour, otherwise it’ll be a two hour wait.

With this letter and your police report, head to the Lao Immigration Department. This is located just off Avenue Lane Xang, on Boulevard Khounbouloum and is easy to miss. Look for the small building next to the large bank with uniformed people going in and out. It closes for lunch between 12-1, so find a coffee shop and relax if you need to wait. Upstairs and enter room 18, knock and open the door. Fill in another form with their assistance. Most likely you will be asked to return the following day, and on collecting your Loss Record, pay 20,000 Kip for the paper.

Now head to the Consular Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which is North past the Patouxay Monument (a small Arc du Triumph), and fork right on Rue 23 Singha. Again this building is easy to miss and is very underwhelming. If you turn up at lunch, it’s the one with many people mingling outside; otherwise you’re best off asking someone. You should now have three bits of paper to present – police report, Australian embassy request and Loss report. Again you may be asked to return the following day to collect paper number four.

First thing in the morning return and collect your fourth piece of paper – a temporary passport. This will be used for Visa application and transport in to Thailand. Head to the Thai Embassy (the new one on Rue Bourichan, not the old one on most maps), between 9:30-12:00 and ignore the touts outside. Take a ticket number straight away (this is important – retain it along with your other documents), then collect a Visa application form. Complete it in as much detail as possible, take photocopies upstairs of all your paper, stick two photos to the top right of the form with the provided glue and wait for your number to be called. Provide your Loss Report and Temporary Passport, along with your ticket number which will be stamped. Another day to wait, so after sleeping return in the morning.

Visa collection is handled from 1-3pm, so get there early and wait for the guard to open up. After passing through the gate, enter the building to the left from its right side, or queue and wait to collect. You will need your stamped ticket number in order to receive your Temporary Passport, with Thailand Visa secured to the reverse.

I suggest you visit the British Embassy Website and download the corresponding forms that you need. Find a photo shop if you do not have two passport-sized photos and pay the fee. I recommend completing these forms en route to Bangkok, but ensure you use a pen that does not bleed and write legibly in capitals using black ink.
Once you have secured transit by train, bus or ‘plane to Bangkok, ensure that you present your Loss Report and Temporary Visa when asked at the Laos exit and Thailand entry checkpoints. There will be a delay as they photocopy and make notes for their records, but it should be a smooth process without incident. In Bangkok, find the UK Embassy on Wireless Road, which isn’t too far from the Siam complex.

I’d suggest SkyTrain to Siam and walk from there. On entry you will need to give up most electronic items, so as in Laos, ensure you sign in and receive a token.
Present your two forms, Loss and Application, pay the extortionate fee of 7000 Baht for a 32-page passport, collect the receipt and wait 10 working days for a replacement. Finally, go hit Cheap Charley’s and get drunk.

A poor forgery

The Americans should have left well alone, as should the French for that matter. And visitors that describe it as “laid back” are simply blind to what is in front of them – this is no “Thailand as it was ten years ago”. If I thought that the Thai men were hopeless, nothing could have ever prepared me for Laos – this defies the Oxford English Dictionary as well as any Thesaurus; there is no word to describe their utter unashamed uselessness. Yes, that’s a triple alliteration and I use it for maximum effect.

Being victim of a crime, my sister was surprised by my attitude toward it – she considered it blazé. It had happened, however, and no amount of toy throwing or foot stamping would bring my belongings back. I’d already prepared for the eventuality and also for being added to the list of statistics. More importantly, however, was my retention of my beloved camera, which would have almost certainly caused fluid to gush from my eyes.

I miss my Pad Thais, so I’m glad to be going back to Bangkok’s British Embassy for a passport replacement. I still don’t yet miss Britain, though hearing a British accent on the Bangkok Embassy’s AutoAttendant was strangely relieving. Good food really does keep one’s spirits high; a little like being in the Army – you need to keep your troops well fed, or they simply won’t fight. Here, I pay two to three times the price of anything in Thailand. And it’s all bad – rubbish in fact. The old Communist regime still holds true here, making Cartels for all pricing; there is no such thing as a cheap Laap, they’re all 20,000. They’re also all bland and tasteless – don’t waste your money on the dish, regardless of how much Lonely Planet suggests it. Hotels follow the same practice and bracket their pricing in to five groups; cheap (>50K), budget (>100K), mid-range (>200K), expensive (<400K), and “VIP” (>1M). Bartering isn’t fun here, it’s ruthless and hence being male, I’m arguably better than my sister. Even the tuk tuks charge twice as much per kilometre, and that’s with some serious negotiation.

Laos has been sucker punched squarely in the nose by tourism. Dazed and confused, the falang have been given carté blanche to spread across it and blot the landscape, much like the resulting bruise. It’s no wonder then, that tourism has wrecked the face of the country, much in the same way the US did, when they decided to drop more ordinance than in the entirety of WWII. The mafia here owns and runs everything; from the tuk tuks, to the prepubescent girls that are sold on to Thailand and forced in to the sex trade.

Presently, it’s a country of sullen faces, whose hatred of falang runs deep and long. The pale, white skin reminds them both of their French dictators and their American blanket bombers. Perhaps that’s why the men, women and even children demonstrate laziness orders of magnitude worse than anything I’ve seen before; because they have given up. Stop and ask a local for directions and you’ll see. Like persistence of vision, there’s a delay as they process what you’re asking. Thais will get the gist in an instant and simply point, smiling.
People make no effort here, for anything in fact. It’s like everyone is electricity; taking the shortest path possible and always the one of least resistance. Get near them and they might arc; shocking you with their rudeness.
It’s AC though, so it will repel rather than attract – just walk away. The Thais work hard and learn their trade well – even the most basic street food vendor chopping fruit demonstrates more skill than anyone has done here. Laotians simply can’t be bothered. And it’s a crying shame as it is all wasted potential.

You will, however, find all the things here that Thailand has to offer: Street food, Massage parlours, Restaurants and Bars. Though in all cases I’m reminded of the British Pub; charge as much as possible, giving as little in return as you’re able, using the cheapest produce available. JD Wetherspoons needs to open branches here – for there are no 7-Eleven or Boots franchises to fall back on. It’s all going to give you food poisoning, expensively. Twenty minutes of foot massage for 30K – I can get an hour in Bangkok for half that price. 52K for a burger, without chips – that’s approaching GBK prices in London. 15K for a tasteless meat-free Pad Thai – I’ll get one freshly prepared and stacked for a third of the price, in Khaosan Road. 18K for an hour of internet access, at ISDN speed – I’ll get it faster and for free even in a hostel in Thailand, thanks. Where does all this money go, with an average salary of $50 per month, and who can afford the Nissan Skylines and “pimped” sports cars that I see frequently – it must all go in protection money to the mafia.

From 13 Feb 2010

From 13 Feb 2010

Visiting Vang Vieng, there are signs everywhere pleading foreigners to write to the Laos consulate in order to express feelings toward the drinking, scantily clad, noisy Type IIs that have annihilated this once peaceful area. It’s the only province without a curfew and every local I’ve spoken to considers it a blot on the landscape. It’s a disgrace then that nothing has been done by the government, and equally understandable that falang are constantly targeted by thieves.

From 07 Feb 2010

And so it is that I will be voyaging back to Bangkok shortly, where the people are friendly and the food and accommodation is equitable, smiling faces are available on tap and the excursions are more interesting. What unbelievable contrast these two countries have; this is the black to Thailand’s white. I’m terribly sorry Laos; in all respects and try as you might, you will never be as wondrous a place as Thailand and always, a poor forgery.

Laos Pitiable Docile Retards

I swear I ordered a drink, but it’s been twenty minutes now and I’ve only just been given a table mat, on which knife and fork will presumably reside in due course. “Excuse me, I ordered a Coffee?”, I ask the passing waiter and after a lengthy pause and vacant expression, “Oh”, he replies and wanders off; slowly, dragging his feet. There are two things you’ll need in order to survive the Laos rollercoaster ride, which never achieves more than exactly 0.0G and has a straight, flat path travelling at the pace of a Tortoise. One that’s recently eaten an entire crop of Cannabis plants.

The first is an incredible sense of humour. Ignore the first four stages and jump straight to acceptance; there’s no point doing what the couple to my left just did. They hit stage two first and in anger, complained about the half hour wait for food. This is Laos, that’s how they roll here; it’s like the whole population is stoners, using the strongest skunk, and losing all mental ability to remember the simplest of things. Look Mister Waiter, you took the order and wrote it down; is it really that difficult to remember two items, seriously? Ah fair enough, the place is packed full and you’re understaffed. Only that it’s not and there are more staff than customers. More heads are better – not here they ‘aint.

Secondly you need patience. Shift and F7 on that word just to elaborate some more: Endurance, tolerance, persistence, fortitude and serenity. There, that’ll do it. Or go find somewhere selling some hash shakes and make a habit of it – either is fine. Wonderful, my waiter has returned – still no drink, but this time he’s brought a napkin; the guy’s a complete bloody genius.

As is my usual form, I shall digress briefly. A few days back, I made the mistake of asking a local for directions; one which I won’t make again in a hurry. Showing my map and pointing in an overstated way to the floor, I then pointed to the map and circled, followed by shrugging my shoulders. He looked at me blankly for what seemed like a minute, and then took attention to the map. Slowly drawing his pointing finger, he trawled it over the map randomly, every now and then muttering a questioning “Ahh” or “Ooh”. Reading the odd place name aloud, he continued still, whilst I repeated my original query – this time I elaborated by pointing at a building and then to something similar on the map as a point of reference. Stuck in the movie Groundhog Day, this process was repeated four times, before I gave up, said thank you and left. After a dozen steps I turned around, and observed the man still stood, stuck in the repeating timeline. Indeed, this is typical behaviour – I jest not.

Sat contemplating I’m wondering whether it’s the education system (or apparent lack of), a job shortage, or maybe just something in the water; Rohipnal perhaps. I’m definitely feeling stupid for having had my bag nicked, and lethargic having to fit in with the local’s timing. Ah, he’s back, this time with my Fish and Chips (I’m sticking with basics till I’m over the food poisoning.) Excellent; I’m starving. There’s a problem though, I’ve no knife and fork. “Ah”, he says and meanders off again; go Einstein, go, you can do it. Monosyllabic Type IIs must love this place – they won’t even need to learn the language; grunting suffices.

I’ll use my hands; I’m too hungry to wait for cutlery. This is clearly not a “falang sized” portion though; in fact it reminds me of MaccyDs. I am sat looking at a handful of Fries that taste like they’re manufactured from sawdust and cardboard, and five fish “nuggets” that I genuinely think may be Goldfish fillets. Either way I now finally have my drink too. All for the bargain price of sixty-five grand; that’s a fiver. I only wish I’d converted back in Thailand; if I was Buddhist, I’d be accumulating some serious Karma points to trade in for prizes.

Everything is for sale

If patience is a virtue, then ensure you are such endowed before visiting Laos. I’m not a man of virtues, however, and my patience has been stretched malleably beyond its elastic limit. My hired tuk tuk that I bullied in to halving his original price, having filled his tank, is now proceeding in the opposing direction to my destination. “Ten minutes, ten minutes”, he says as something must have been lost in translation; bartering, I suggested thirty five and he reverted with thirty.

From 11 Feb 2010

The engine idles faster than expected as his lazy foot is no doubt resting on the gas pedal, whilst we wait outside a primary school. Boarding, the previous local lady passenger returns and is accompanied by her daughter, of perhaps 5 or 6 years old. Brown hair, green eyes and curly locks suggest contamination from a falang influence. There is a sex trade here also, however, unlike Thailand it has been driven underground and is hence far more ominous – young girls of pre-pubescence are on sale, which is as horrific as it is tragic.

From 11 Feb 2010

The driver has let me off, opposite a mock Arc du Triumph, altered for Laotian tastes. Thanking politely I realise shortly after he departs that I am in fact, a mile from my destination. And with that, my patience has snapped; disintegrating in to a dust of pointless efforts that have now forced me to treat everything and everyone with the utmost caution and distrust. It’s not all bad though – I feel like I’m home, in London.

I’m early to the Consular Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and it’s a 20 minute wait until the doors open for 1pm trade. Stood at counter 12, I observe a man behind the counter idly chatting on his phone, whilst I gradually grow more infuriated and red with flushing cheeks. This is day number two of my process for obtaining a temporary Passport and entrance Visa back to Thailand. Ten minutes pass and I am attended – only to find that I actually require counter 14.

From 11 Feb 2010

Approached by a student of 21 whilst I wait, desperately trying to bottle and cork my growing irritation, I am harassed. His interests beyond study of Chemistry extend only to either sale of his female Lao friend, or himself. He will “make me happy” should I pay for him to travel with me. Where’s the bucket – quick fetch one – I can feel my stomach preparing for spontaneous projectile vomiting at the mere thought. Any more of this and I may turn green, develop enormous muscles, rip through my clothes and go on a serious rampage.

He does, however, serve of some use and confirms with one of the attendants that my booth will open in ten minutes. As two o’clock rolls around, I’m again marred by their remarkable uselessness.

“You like sex with Laos girl?”

“Erm. Not really?”, I reply with a questioning glance and eyebrows poised in confusion. I wish I could squish this bug between my palms; his buzzing in my ear is just as annoying as the Vampitos.

“You like Laos women? Think they are beautiful?”

“I guess. What are you suggesting?”

“Maybe I fix you with my friend.”

“Yeah, OK, whatever.”

“You sex with Thai girl?”

“No, I’m not paying for it.”

“Oh”, he says as his smile vanishes in an instant, and is instead replaced with a long face, lengthening as my eyes widen, glaring intently at the 4’5” pimp.

Is everything for sale here, along with everyone – I hear stories of mothers selling their own daughters for $22 willingly. This student, having spotted a falang, must have envisaged making a quick buck by conversing with me. It ends abruptly – and I’m glad for it – the attendant has finally arrived.

You know my methods, Watson

I’d like to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I have ever written. The simple facts are these: At 7:18pm having strolled outside my Bungalow in order to capture some night time exposures, my sister had also left her own habitation in order to question my plans for the evening. In responding, I glanced at my watch and noticing the time, responded that around ‘half an hour’ would suffice in order to complete my work. Strolling around the area with my camera mounted on tripod and its rear display shining brightly in the dark of night, three of the kitchen ladies noticed me and reported to one of the attendants. Finding and speaking with me, he asked what I was doing and I replied accordingly. Shortly after 8 o’clock, I knocked on my sister’s Bungalow and we departed to find suitable dwellings for a meal. Returning exactly two hours later, having agreed to relieve the burdens of our bags in order to continue the merriment, I was shocked to see the bolt on the rear door of my Bungalow forced open, though it is difficult to say whether it was pulled or pushed.

From 07 Feb 2010

My bag has two points of ingress, both with a zip-locking facility and containing 3-digit padlocks. In hindsight, I do recall questioning the position of both the zips and the bag itself several times, returning after the cleaning ladies had finished their morning rounds, though at the time did not think much of the matter. In any case, on locating one of these zips on the floor and noticing the black lacquer scraped away on either side; it seems clear that a cutting tool was used for removal. Having relieved some items whilst searching the bag, and carefully placing them on top of the fridge – which is inside a cupboard – it is clear that the thieves had enough time to contemplate their crime and also knowledge of the Bungalow interior. This suggests a lookout on post, most likely the security guard covering the gate. Leaving several condoms and other useless trinkets that I had collected along my way in Laos, it is obvious that the perpetrator was not a heartless one – considering my sex life whilst stealing my belongings.

From 08 Feb 2010

Examining the barbed fencing to the rear the following morning, and finding gaps underneath large enough for slender children to fit through, leads me to the inference that this was the point of egress; taking flight across the large field to the West and over the nearby stream so as to cover any tracks.

Having thoroughly questioned all of the English speaking staff over the course of the evening and furthermore the following morning, I shall endeavour to draw conclusion from their statements and the evidence as it was presented to me. The enemy’s lines are drawn with the cleaning ladies; either taking small denominations of notes from unsuspecting wallets or tipping off third parties, and taking an inevitable cut of the loot. I infer this from a second theft, in the same morning as mine of a wallet, occurring within a thirty minute window of the owner departing for breakfast, and noticing a cleaning lady glance hesitantly at her. Having tried twice to remove my combination locks subtly and seeing my camera in the evening, it was decided that more drastic action was necessary. Furthermore on hearing of my intention to leave the following morning, the security guard monitoring the entrance gate, being part of the plot, suggested the same evening to act.

From 07 Feb 2010

It is likely, though impossible to tell without more clear and definable facts, that one or more of the remaining Bungalow staff were fellow conspirators, however, the owners having recently replaced the staff in its entirety, would have been most unlucky to have recruited a second complement of thieves. Indeed, the longest serving member of staff was reserved when this refresh occurred, and mentioned that the cleaning ladies were responsible previously. He was further puzzled as to why the Manager – a local – refused to question them. There is clear reasoning for this, however, being first in line for sacrifice and wishing to retain employment.

Presently, I am waiting for transit to Vientiene, where my police report will assist the Australian embassy in issuing an emergency Passport. This will likely be a lengthy process and involve all manner of bureaucracy until return to Bangkok, where a full UK Passport can be sent via post to the Embassy. Do not under any circumstances stay in Cocoon Bungalows, Vang Vieng.

From 08 Feb 2010

Traveller Stereotypes – Type IVs

Sometimes coming in packs – presumably for protection – there’s a dangerous number of these travellers. With some old enough to be silver surfing with the Fantastic Four, and others young and handsome enough to be a surprise filler in this category; sex-tourists are everywhere.

From 16 Jan 2010

The former do their best to maintain the cliché of generation gaps between hunter and prey – whilst the latter have the social skills of a Rhinoceros and are generally dot Net developer types, trawling the latest Microsoft blogs. It could, however, be argued that hunter and prey are in some cases reversed. A middle aged man I recently met in a bar (originally from Leeds, leaving at 18 and working in all corners), suggests that “everyone’s a winner” and that “no one gets hurt”. Perhaps this is true, but it’s strange that the authorities pass a sentence of one year’s imprisonment for mere Cannabis possession, yet condone such blatant prostitution.

Having completely given up on finding themselves a wife in their native country (or simply been far too fugly to attract a mate), the older gentry sit opposite their purchases enjoying dinner; in complete silence. It’s a slow meal when eating dead-pan. The submissiveness of the women suits these blank-firers perfectly: The older men have their sale items walk behind them, whilst younger men are gifted by holding hands.

Perhaps the most intriguing factor is how the walking dead IVs manage to copulate with their acquisitions – the gut protruding too far to facilitate anything other than a sideways letter “T” fixture, and the gold chain and medallion a potential wounding instrument. Viagra was probably commissioned by a committee of these tourists in an attempt to recapture some essence of youth; it is their Holy Grail. I’d prefer them to choose poorly and drink from the golden cup of Christ, thereby ageing instantly and saving these poor girls from a fate far worse¹. If you are lucky, you may spot the occasional Type II who, having saved enough money from his call-centre job (or perhaps won a few quid on the bookies), is able to enjoy an expedition with a different Type for an evening. The girls will tend to ensure that they are well fed and have enjoyed enough beverages for the evening, however, which arguably makes the experience more familiar and akin to dating for the Type IV youth (without direct payment of course.)

You could be forgiven for thinking that all of these women are prostitutes, but there are some silver linings to compliment the silver surfing obese walking corpses – in order to purchase property you are required to have a Thai partner.

¹ Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade

From 16 Jan 2010

"Bloody f***ing Hell, dude!"

Oh dear, I seem to have located Phuket, Laos style. The local population here is reserved, respectable and more sensitive than the invading falang. Overflowing with Type IIs, I’ll be held up in Vang Vieng for a few days. Perhaps Qantas is having a special on flights from its native territory; it’s a shame as I am now starting to detest these loud, crass and obtuse Australians. I need a flame thrower.
As I’m stuck here for a few days, I may as well make the best of it. Tubing? Forget it; if I have to endure anymore whooping, topless bleached-blonde morons I think I’ll spontaneously combust. In one of their faces. Much like these herding simpleton animals, the Type IIs all congregate here.

From 06 Feb 2010

Today we rented motorbikes – as has been the precedence set in Thailand. Or at
least they were supposed to be, as instead I’m presented with a 4-speed manual Chinese thing that looks like it was made from a Kinder Egg or two. I’m happy being ripped off though as the Bungalow manager here ensured there was no deposit or Passport donation necessary; granting peace of mind. Twenty thousand for a map – disgraceful – but I’m over a barrel without the luxuries of 3G and WiFi to assist my GPS.

From 06 Feb 2010

Scouring the map, I’ve found a mini-loop. Much like “The Loop”, this route follows dirt trails with the occasional bamboo bridge, mud puddle and toll road. Wait just a moment – I’m outside of town in the middle of nowhere and there’s a lady sat asking for ten thousand each, simply to drop her piece of string and let us pass. Fair play to her, the falang Type IIs deserve it. Shame the locals can’t tell the difference.

From 06 Feb 2010

From 06 Feb 2010

That’s my sister, in a serious rage. She’s angry that there’s no clutch and that her bike barely functions – the throttle is sticky, gear changes require stamping on the shifter, the speedo and odo are static and the seat is broken. That’s the least of her worries; she’s now got a flat. Only recently, we passed a sign stating “Bike fixing”, and walking back we are led in to a man’s house as he is carrying his baby.

From 06 Feb 2010

In my mind I’ve already decided to offer some money for his decency. Fetching his tools and daughter to help, we’ve soon removed the tyre and are plunging the inner tube in water in search of bubbles. In no time it’s mended and the bike is again road-worthy. With purse in hand, my sister offers a gesture of payment and yet the man doesn’t flinch; suggesting he helped out of pure generosity. A few quid to us is nothing, and parting I hope to experience more of this; perhaps I may warm to this place after all.

From 06 Feb 2010

A date with Monk

I’m a little disillusioned. Where was the ancient Chinese secret, the hidden meaning of life or the key to peace and tranquillity. Nowhere to be found – though instead I found a revelation.

From 05 Feb 2010

It’s far too early for this, and watching the local Monks come get their packed lunches for the day, I’m chain-yawning. As a kid I used to hate Church – why should I be dragged to this awful, boring brainwashing session against my will? I’d rather be back in Geography. And I despised Geog. In Church I’d always do my best to try and subtly wreck the proceedings, whilst stifling my cramp-inducing laughter. Yeah, that’s right Teacher; stick me somewhere you have no right to and just watch me rebel.

From 02 Feb 2010

Similarly, that’s exactly what these kids do. Yesterday, a novice (baby Monk), instigated conversation with me: “Good morning. Where are you from?” he asks and a little taken back; “London, England” I reply. After half an hour of conversing, I’m asked to come back later in the evening, so he can practice his English further. He’s off to Maths now with Science later in the afternoon. I wonder if that’s in the north or south building of the Quad. Sat patiently waiting for Khum Xin (phonetically), to finish his singing – reminding me distinctly of Assembly – I can see some of the novices play fighting and others giggling to each other. Maybe it’s because that last note was actually an F-Sharp and his mate hit it flat, or perhaps someone just let rip. Either way I’ve discovered the secret – the Temples are all Public Schools.

From 01 Feb 2010

They’re state – or perhaps faith – funded. Where’s the tuck shop, I fancy some Nik Naks. Selfishly, they don’t have one, but what they do get is free food, bed, board and the finest education on offer. That’s real neat Cleetus, ain’t it cute.

Well, not really. The locals all participate in the “alm”; where at 6am each morning, free food is given to the novices and the odd rare and genuine oak-aged Monk. It’s all women participating though – I guess the men are all far too busy working. And here for a male, that tends to mean sleeping. It’s developed more in to a tourist attraction now, as locals ply their trade trying to sell off-food to falang, so they can “get a feel” and join in. It’s a shame really as the kids become ill as a result. Just shows that it’s all about the cheddar here, too.

From 05 Feb 2010

I’m joined by two of Khum Xin’s friends, who have an excellent command of English. Six years of French at school and I still couldn’t pronounce Croissant any other way but phonetically (Kroy-sunt). That may have been the teenager in me though admittedly. We discuss such meaning of life as; ladyboys, my ex girlfriends, taste in music (he loves hip-hop and especially Jay-Z, having downloaded his latest album on iTunes), whether falang or Asian women are more beautiful and how, in two years he will complete exams and attend University. Dating then reopens its doors and a large grin, accompanied by flushed cheeks, clearly displays his burning desire. Sacrificing hair, dress code and teenage male urges means that Mr. Thumb and his four wives will no doubt be frequently visited.

But back to my revelation – this is single-sex boarding school and these children in their strange exotic uniforms remind me of Etonians. The difference being that here, I don’t want to poke all of them in the eyes and watch as they stagger blindly in to the Thames. Indeed, these Grammar Schools also suffer from the same issues as their Western counterparts.

From 02 Feb 2010

Crossing the troll bridge and answering with four grand, the bamboo wobbles and creaks underneath me. The other side is NW and heads to the Airport. “Where you going?” says a man to my right as I pass a house opposite a Wat. Around six feet tall with thick black hair to his shoulders, slicked back by days of unwashed grease and a heavy Bavarian accent to match his build, he stands greeting me; thrusting a Dark BeerLao in my hand. Andreas has been here for four years “getting stuck” – as he puts it – repairing and reselling motorbikes. Later joined by an Australian friend of his, we while away the evening drinking and talking of travel; for they’ve both covered the entire globe.

I’m told the Temple opposite has a head Monk; that’d be head of year for us falang. His vices include too much Lao Lao and smoking. So much so that he needed an operation to remove a cancerous intestine, which was funded by local gamblers (if you don’t understand the reference, please find my 45 metres of gold-plated cynicism post). Nice, reminds me of my Physics teacher from College.

I am convinced that the plaque in front of the Temple here should instead read: “Si Bun Heuang Preparatory and Grammar School.” And with that I think I’m quite done browsing Temples – much like looking at the following word, it itself induces yawning. At least there’s still some immense scenery to both soak up and photograph. Although I’m sure if I really tried, I could probably concoct some cynicism around that too.

From 02 Feb 2010

I’m in to double figures

When it comes, I for one will welcome Judgement Day and our new masters; for so long as humans create technology, it will always be imperfect and inherently unreliable. Until the birth of AI and the enslavement of mankind under new robot overlords, tech will never function dependably. Hurry up Cyberdyne; what are your Project Managers playing at?

From 01 Feb 2010

My first run was 8K, though shortly after my watch decided to greatly infuriate its flesh-ridden master by rebelling and “factory resetting” itself – losing the recording. Forced to repeat, this time I listened to my sister and waited until sunset. I detest that women are consistently right; it’s not their accuracy, more the smug look on their faces when hearing so. And I’m a man and never want to be proven wrong; ever. That’s the natural order of things, damn it!


http://connect.garmin.com/activity/23842921

I greatly enjoyed these 10Ks; a real buzz – the kind I’ve been missing since Bushy or Richmond Park, along the Thames toe path or heading off in to the wilderness of Weybridge at night (though sadly nothing compares to Salzburg yet.) And in writing this I’m still feeling the natural high; I can only guess it’s like Opium, just free, legal and healthy.

Starting out and looking up, I can see the sun gracefully retiring behind the hills as it changes shades from yellow, through orange and eventually to red, before allowing the veil of night to cover Laos. It’s strange how quickly this happens; I’m used to a good hour or so of twilight, but after giving us its full force all day – it’s like the sun ducks off quickly for a rest.

Turning the first corner, I’m heading towards a neighbouring town. I pass locals who all speak volumes with their facial expressions; “What are you doing, you crazy falang?” People here don’t smile quite as easily as the Thais, and in general I feel less welcomed, but still fairly comfortable. Ending up inadvertently racing two lads and a girl on bicycles and overtaking; the boys speak to each other and laugh. They’re lazy here, so much so that even at my paltry 11kph jogging pace, I overtake a dozen bikes along my route. They’ll even dismount for a 20% gradient. It’s a wonder that the population are so lethargic and yet so emaciated – although it’s an easy puzzle to solve; they eat far less. This is Laos Don’t Rush after all.

From 01 Feb 2010

I’m told the general population tends to consume flavoured rice, with the occasional vegetable and rare occurrence of meat, should they be lucky enough. Over seven hundred calories means I’ll be wanting plenty of everything khap jai (thank you), and for 17,000 kip it’s expensive street food for such a poor country. I can deduce three things from the general prices in Luang Prabang: Firstly that this is the richest province, secondly the prices are exaggerated due to majority falang ownership of businesses and thirdly, that Laos must import a great deal.

It’s obvious why most people speak of Laos so fondly though – there does remain one product that is cheap. Booze – especially BeerLao – is just the same price as water. That’s some good drinkin’. Last night I was told me of the chemically-enhanced nature of its production. I think I’ll stick with Gin and Tonic from now on.

From 30 Jan 2010

I’ll ask the audience please, Chris

I’ve just paid fourty five grand for breakfast. It’s questionable value, but the French baguettes in Luang Prabang’s restaurants are indeed delicious. I find it a little strange shelling out this much for sustenance though – I thought I was in one of the poorest countries in the world? Ah, I am. It’s just that this particular area is TouristTrap Prabang and the frequent middle-upper class visitors must have caused tremendous price hikes. How awfully inconsiderate of them, by jove.

I collected and sent home the coins of Thailand, but here there are none. It’s all paper; the smallest denomination being 1000 kip. That’s roughly a thirteenth of a pound. Quick! Hit start-run-calc and work it out. It doesn’t register for me though, as I just answered all fifteen questions correctly and am a millionaire.

From 31 Jan 2010

That’s 1.25 million kip (or around ninety quid). My wallet is now bulging and barely able to hold all the notes, which total a centimetre thick. No wonder they prefer US Dollars here. The cash registers here automatically add three zeroes to every price – but if everything is a multiple of one thousand, why not just drop the zeroes?

It reminds me of studying WWII in History at school; pictures of people with wheelbarrows full of paper stood queuing for groceries. A few days of purchases here and you’ll have enough paper to make something MacGuyver would be proud of.

There’s a definitive French influence here; they drive on the right, signs are hybrid English-French, Baguettes, Crepes and Croissants can be found everywhere. Even the building design is similar. Enough rhetoric, I’m off to wander around.

From 31 Jan 2010

Climbing Mount Phou Si, I find a decommissioned turret atop its peak. And if you’re wondering how to pronounce that, let me digress briefly. Half way up the 300 odd steps, I pay ten grand for a ticket. Whilst crouching taking a picture, the girl from a group of three Type IIIas asks the attendant “What is it?” Replying phonetically, the ticket clerk says “Poo See Mountain”, she laughs replying; “What?!”, and the little boy in me giggles as I laugh too.

From 31 Jan 2010

It’s Phou Si world here. There’s the Phou Si Temple (yes, really), Phou Si cafe, Phou Si hotel, Phou Si Guest House. A few K down the road and you’ll find Phou Si Market; buy one get one free? We’ve got Phou Si of all kinds, sorts, shapes and sizes. Presently, I’m drinking “Pure Drinking water Phou Si”. I trust reverse osmosis and ozonation was used.

From 31 Jan 2010

Climbing down the north face of the mountain (which is more of a tall hill), there’s an Australian woman talking to a Monk. I’m keen to give this a go; some pearls of wisdom may be bestowed perhaps. Reaching the bottom, through winding small streets populated with humble dwellings, is a sign stating that only women with hair worn in a bun may cross.

From 31 Jan 2010

As the sun dips and evening chimes in, one of the many Wats is alive with its Monks singing. It’s a strangely relaxing and calming sound; like watching a tropical fish tank, lowering your pulse and blood pressure as it mesmerises you. I was certainly charmed by their daily dedication, if not the ability of teenagers to sit still for longer than a second (this, being an 8 second exposure.)

From 31 Jan 2010