TASHY TRAVELS
Every Sunday, I am going to upload a post about the different countries I have visited and/or lived in since 2002.
I can assure you of some interesting stories.
THAILAND - PART ONE
Thailand. I had heard a lot about the place and since my visit I have heard more. Everyone seems to love the place but I have to say I didn’t. I didn’t hate
it but if I could visit any ten countries in the world for free, Thailand would not be on my list. Read on and maybe my reasons will show through. I would still
recommend anyone to visit. It is a fascinating experience but just not my idea of paradise.
After my first visit to Australia in 2003, we returned to Poland and continued to work with the schools we had been in touch with before we left. They produced
some really good projects but, from my point of view, there was no way that we would ever gain enough support to run the venture out of Poland, as much as I
enjoyed being there. The financial situation within the country meant that sponsorship of anything educational was extremely unlikely. We organised a concert
with the idea of linking our work in Poland with future schools in Australia, made some pilot TV programmes and continued with publicity. We now had several
more schools in Australia who were interested in working with us. The major problem, with any contact, being the nearly 12 hour time difference.
In November 2003 we made the documentary, again to highlight what we were doing but I still wanted to return to the UK as our base but my partner said this
was not an option. My argument had lost some of its force when I received an email just before we left for Australia telling us that the UK National Committee
for UNESCO, with whom I had been talking, had been closed by Clare Short. We started talking to the Polish Committee but this was like rowing through treacle.
After being in Australia, I also realised that basing there would throw up two more problems. Firstly, their academic year ran from January to December,
so, if we started a section of our work at the start of their year, the majority of the rest of the world would be half way through theirs. Secondly, each
Australian state had its own curriculum, even down to the extent of calling History and Geography studies by different names. Obviously, any global educational
project has challenges with regards to fitting in with national curricula, but it is slightly harder, when the whole country has different ones.
Then we met a guy in Poznan who had his home in Melbourne. He came over to Poland in the northern hemisphere summer and then returned home for another
summer down under. He said, if we ever made it to Melbourne, he would happily put us up for a while. Meanwhile my girlfriend was getting her wanderlust again
and didn’t want to spend another winter in Poland. Her ideas to travel became more desperate and, I felt, we were losing sight of my original Discover Europe idea.
Shortly after my second Christmas in Poland, she told me she had been to see a travel agent in Poznan and he had asked to talk to me about our project.
It was possible that his company would sponsor a flight and some time in Thailand. She told me that, if I could get that sponsorship, she would pay for the
flight on to Australia and we could stay with the Polish guy and see what to do from there. As I may have said before, at that time, if you were English in
Poland you were treated a little like a god. The company, almost immediately I went to see them, agreed to fly us to Thailand, put us up for 3 days in a hotel
in Bangkok, take us on a trip to the north and then put us up in their Hotel in Hua Hin where, apparently, the King had his summer palace. In return, he wanted
a mention on our website and in any interviews we might do before we left. I had no problem with that.
However, after our stay in Hua Hin, we would be on our own. My girlfriend, a far more seasoned traveller than I, told me that it would be best for us to
buy any onward ticket, when in Thailand. We packed for an indefinite journey and flew off to Asia, not really knowing where we would go afterwards.
As soon as we arrived in Bangkok something happened which I am sure occurs many times to travellers. I expected something I didn’t see. Having got a little
bit more used to flying, I now looked out of plane windows; it is quite a height from up there. As we flew into Bangkok I thought I would see lots of jungle with
this big city in the middle of it. Well I didn’t. All I saw were flat fields in straight lines. There were houses and settlements dotted around and, what I
thought were hundreds of little fires with smoke rising into the sky. However, as we got lower, I found out these were vehicles, driving along a dust road and
the smoke was dust clouds thrown up by the trucks or cars wheels.
Talking of vehicles, another thing I noticed from the air, is that in Thailand they drive on the left-hand side, just like in England and Australia and
possibly some other countries. After my four weeks there, as you will see if you follow all this, I knew that they drove on the left, the right, the pavement,
anywhere to get from A to B. It still seems an incredibly stupid thing to have, some time in the dim and distant past, allowed some countries to drive on the
right and some on the left. Car manufacturers have to make two different cars, one with the steering wheel on the left and one with it on the right. Gordon Murray,
I believe, puts it in the middle but he always was a bit different. Still, with all the problems involved, I suppose it will be one of those strange things
which will never change.
Our hotel in Bangkok was amazing. It didn’t look tremendous from the outside but the building was really beautifully designed inside and had a hidden
area with a swimming pool, restaurant and massage area built in Thai
style from dark wood.
We didn’t stay too long, as we wanted to go out and have a look around. We walked along the street outside the hotel and the first impression I got was that
everyone seemed to be cooking outside. Almost every other stall in the street was for food. They cooked directly on the street, both sides of the street and
on every corner, on every inch of the pavement, someone was cooking and someone was eating or buying food. You had to be very careful when walking not to fall
on some hot frying pan. Though lots of Thais were eating outdoors, foreigners, or falangs as they call them in Thailand, seemed to avoid these places. The reason
could be that your choice was very limited and you were almost certain to be eating something, the origins of which you had no idea. There was an incredible
smell of mixed spices and dishes, fresh fruits, car smog and sewers.
It would appear that half the nation, or at least half the people who live in Bangkok, cook outside, probably for the other half, who all ride motor bikes.
Of course there are cars, taxis, buses, tuk tuks – a motorbike taxi which has a little bench for two placed in the back with a little canopy over it – and
songthaew – vans with two long benches in the back placed at right angles to the driver and opposite each other – but there were an awful lot of motorbikes.
It looked like everybody was motorized. Many people were wearing white masks over their faces seemingly to avoid breathing in directly all the smog and pollution.
We found a little place with an English menu, shared a meal of bean sprouts fried with shrimps and pasta and then bought some fruits in a supermarket.
We were helped by the owner who did his best to try to explain all the different kinds of fruit and then asked his staff to peel and cut it for us. We
came back to the hotel laden with fruits so my girlfriend could have her much-awaited fruit feast.
After that, we relaxed in our little piece of sponsored luxury.
Apart from the time in Australia the previous year, this trip to Asia was my first experience of travelling outside Europe. It would be hard to argue
that Australian culture, forget the weather, forget the vast open spaces, is that different from Europe. Thailand is. My girlfriend, who was a bit of a
Thaiphile, if such a word exists, had been there two or maybe three times, so she had some idea of where to go and what to see. I relied on her judgement
for my first Asian adventure.
The first things she wanted to show me were the floating markets, which she knew were somewhere around Bangkok, after all a river runs right through
it. The biggest market was, apparently, a 2-hour drive away but she was sure there were some smaller ones much closer. Off we set. Our hotel was next to
the river and we went down to the pier to find a river bus and see if any went near a market. However, this is tourism-land, and the only trips offered were
to the Temple of Dawn and Temple of Dusk or to the Sleeping Buddha. This we did not want so we went back into the hotel to ask for the way to the river bus and
they directed us back to the guy offering the tourist trips to the temples. Trying not to be a tourist in Thailand is not easy. At that time, and maybe now,
Thailand lives from tourism and many people work on commission. If you take one of these trips, they will also take you to other places with which they have deals.
This is, of course, not peculiar to Thailand.
Next, we went out into the streets and my girlfriend asked some guy, who was waiting for a bus, how to get to the river bus. She managed to explain where
we were heading and instead of continuing this faltering dialogue, he set off beckoning us to follow, and we got to the pier. We still didn’t know which bus
to take, and our new friend had vanished, but, as we looked lost, another guy came up to me and said ‘Can you help me’? In view of our predicament, this seemed
unlikely but, after a moment or two, I discovered, his version of English didn’t have the same word order as mine. He meant ‘can me help you’ and this he did by
taking us to a map and pointing out how many stops we needed on the river bus in order to find the market.
We waited on the pier and when the boat arrived, some guy jumped off, blowing a whistle as he did. Next he ran along the pier, looped a rope over a short
pole, waited till we all got on and then blew the whistle in a different way, unhooked the rope and jumped back on again. This happened every time we reached a
new stop. It was a bit like a Formula 1 pit stop; very coordinated, every one doing their job. The boat driver had to come up to the pier, overshoot it a bit,
slam the boat into reverse with loads of opposite lock and it slid back into the pier. This was when the guy jumped off and did his running. I think the first
bit of whistle was either to attract the attention of the people who were waiting, and may have gone to have something to eat, or, because he had no hands free
and kept the whistle in his mouth and as he leapt across the space between the boat and the pier, he frightened himself and let out this whistle.
Once the boat was hitched to the pier, the driver, it seemed, kept the thing on full reverse power. At the second whistle, which meant let’s go, he unwound
all the lock he had put on and floored the accelerator and off we went. Mr. Hamilton, you have it so easy. Imagine if he had to take a mechanic with him.
Actually, if anybody is old enough, they may remember that they did do that many years ago.
Once on board, we were herded to the front, where we took a seat and soon a little lady appeared shaking a tube with coins and selling tickets, It was 8 Baht
for 10 stops and we paid up and watched the river bank go by. This part of the river was a complete contrast. There were tall, hotel buildings and brand new
apartment blocks but, it appeared, that the wealthier Thai people had no set area to themselves. You would pass one very posh looking new house and right next
to it was a hotel mixed with little shed-type of houses.
When we got off the boat, nobody had any idea about a floating market or was able to speak English. Eventually a young Thai girl seemed to understand us
and she proceeded to walk us about 800 metres along a busy street, found us a ‘taxi’ told the driver what we wanted, arranged the fare and told us all was
sorted. At this stage, please de-visualise any thoughts you had about a taxi. This was songthaew mentioned earlier. In other words it was a mini-van
with seats in the back. When the driver had 14 people on board, he set off. Now, I know Asian people tend to be small and I’m certainly not tall, vertically
anyway, but it did seem a lot.
When you wanted to get out, you had to press a little bell on the roof and I was none too sure that the driver would remember us. But he did. Sadly, he
then told us how to get to the floating market; remember that was what we set out to see. He told us in Thai. He told us in Thai, while smiling, which I think
he believed helped. It didn’t.
Suddenly I had that ‘eureka’ moment and, coincidentally it was connected to water. I saw a bridge. Bridges go over things, maybe water. Floating markets
need to float on something, maybe water. It seemed a good link and sure enough we got to the bridge and there were a few people in small boats selling goods.
It wasn’t really that spectacular but, getting there had been fun.
We left the bridge and walked down some very narrow lanes with houses on either side. The houses were small and quite open. We passed some people sitting
by what looked like a sort of shop, somebody was obviously cooking again, and then we reached the river. We wandered up the street and found the water with the
few boats on the other side. Someone, again, showed us the way and we went through a corridor between houses, most of them open wide with people watching TV or
sleeping.
It was, for someone from a western culture, with glass in the windows and net curtains, a little bit uncomfortable. I felt like an intruder, a voyeur, and
walked far quicker than necessary, staring straight ahead. And straight ahead was the floating market. It all looked a bit like Steve Redgrave sitting in a punt
and surrounded by loads of fruit. But I had seen something of Thai culture. There was more to come on the journey home.
We left behind the boats and their occupants and walked back through the collection of dwellings, which made up this little community. As usual, or as was
becoming usual, there was still the open-air cooking everywhere and also a few little stalls. A quick look at the ages of the people and you sensed that the
extended family was alive and well and living in urban Thailand. Older people might be sitting around, the younger ones working and the youngest of all hidden
away, somewhere, and amusing themselves with anything they could find. It wasn’t the sort of environment of which health and safety would approve, but everyone
seemed happy. Laundry was drying on any convenient rope or peg and we passed by with only a smattering of glances from the occupiers.
We walked on and came across a temple. Religion, or faith, worries me. Not just because it is responsible for so many conflicts in our world, both now and
in the past, but because the places of worship always seem to be the most ornate, ostentatious and, thereby, expensive buildings in the area. I have no problem
with people having a belief, a prescribed code by which they run their lives. My problem is when that code must be inflicted on others or, worse still, when it
becomes organised believing. In the same way as I believe democracy cannot exist, it is an impossibility, I also think religion should be personal and not
collective. When I come to write about my time on some of the Pacific Islands, this feeling, and the reasons for it, may become even more apparent. Having said
all that, the temple was very beautiful and I am sure served a purpose for the people who worshipped there. I just hope that any money spent on it was not taken
from those who had a greater need for life’s necessities than a temple.
We then returned to the river and, by now, I could see that there were all kinds of boats, apart from the river buses. We were just standing there looking
and a river taxi hove into view. These taxis take fewer people but do not go on set routes. One was passing by, so we waved at him. He already had two passengers
on board but he came across to where we were standing. We asked how much to go back to our hotel. 1200 baht he said (the baht is Thailand’s currency and there
are about 50 to the pound at the moment, so that was $24). I pretty soon discovered why it is called the baht and pronounced a bit like Bart, as in Simpson.
Whatever you buy, whenever you use currency in Thailand, almost, you end up bartering or bargaining, hence the baht.
This idea is alien to me. If I want to buy something, please tell me the price you want and I will decide whether or not I will buy. If I want to sell
something, I will tell you the price I want and you can decide. All this bartering nonsense just wastes time. As you can tell I am not, nor will I ever be, a
salesmen. To me, life is simple. Take it or leave, you want it or you don’t. My girlfriend, however, a seasoned Thai tourist, not only appeared to enjoy it,
she was good at it. She said 1200 baht was too much. He said 800. She said 500. He said 500 to the main river and another 100 to our hotel. However, he said
this very quietly, as, apparently, the two people already on the boat were being charged 800 for the same journey. We agreed and we got on. I was surprised
that he didn’t ask for the money up front but he seemed happy just to agree. We then went on a 40 minute ride around the back canals of Venice, sorry Thailand,
but there is a similarity with Venice although in some places it is more like a very narrow Norfolk Broad. In both places homes are built right alongside the
water.
One of the interesting things is that, according to our driver, there are such different types of houses all next to each other. He pointed out one costing
about 25 million baht (work it out – OK, £500,000) and then the next one, wooden with a metal roof, was only 100,000 baht (and that’s £2,000). It was such a
mixture, although there were many smaller ones. We saw kids swimming and jumping into the canal and, quite often, we would come across a temple, not very big
but still very ornate. I wondered about the pollution in the river, until I saw an elderly man sitting at the end of a rickety wooden pier and brushing his
teeth using the river water. Well, a toothbrush obviously, but he kept dipping it in the water. Maybe his immune system had been built up over the years. Now,
don’t get me started on immune system again.
We got back to the hotel late afternoon, took a swim and then went out to look at the night-life. We took a tuk-tuk for a short ride. As I said a tuk-tuk
is basically a three-wheeled motorbike with a driver in front and a bench seat for two passengers, although maybe the Thais could fit six, in the back. There are
many of these in Thailand. We ended up in Patpong and maybe the less said about it the better. Suffice to say, it seemed very Thai and the words boy and lady
appeared, sometimes a little too graphically and visually, as we walked around.
Returning to immune systems, although you may not know why till tomorrow, we ate at a Sushi bar where they charge you £4 for an hour. During that time you
can eat as much as you like. So, for under £100 you could eat all day and night. Interesting thought, but it was mainly tourists eating there because, as we know,
the Thais are all cooking for each other on the streets.
After my first visit to Australia in 2003, we returned to Poland and continued to work with the schools we had been in touch with before we left. They produced
some really good projects but, from my point of view, there was no way that we would ever gain enough support to run the venture out of Poland, as much as I
enjoyed being there. The financial situation within the country meant that sponsorship of anything educational was extremely unlikely. We organised a concert
with the idea of linking our work in Poland with future schools in Australia, made some pilot TV programmes and continued with publicity. We now had several
more schools in Australia who were interested in working with us. The major problem, with any contact, being the nearly 12 hour time difference.
In November 2003 we made the documentary, again to highlight what we were doing but I still wanted to return to the UK as our base but my partner said this
was not an option. My argument had lost some of its force when I received an email just before we left for Australia telling us that the UK National Committee
for UNESCO, with whom I had been talking, had been closed by Clare Short. We started talking to the Polish Committee but this was like rowing through treacle.
After being in Australia, I also realised that basing there would throw up two more problems. Firstly, their academic year ran from January to December,
so, if we started a section of our work at the start of their year, the majority of the rest of the world would be half way through theirs. Secondly, each
Australian state had its own curriculum, even down to the extent of calling History and Geography studies by different names. Obviously, any global educational
project has challenges with regards to fitting in with national curricula, but it is slightly harder, when the whole country has different ones.
Then we met a guy in Poznan who had his home in Melbourne. He came over to Poland in the northern hemisphere summer and then returned home for another
summer down under. He said, if we ever made it to Melbourne, he would happily put us up for a while. Meanwhile my girlfriend was getting her wanderlust again
and didn’t want to spend another winter in Poland. Her ideas to travel became more desperate and, I felt, we were losing sight of my original Discover Europe idea.
Shortly after my second Christmas in Poland, she told me she had been to see a travel agent in Poznan and he had asked to talk to me about our project.
It was possible that his company would sponsor a flight and some time in Thailand. She told me that, if I could get that sponsorship, she would pay for the
flight on to Australia and we could stay with the Polish guy and see what to do from there. As I may have said before, at that time, if you were English in
Poland you were treated a little like a god. The company, almost immediately I went to see them, agreed to fly us to Thailand, put us up for 3 days in a hotel
in Bangkok, take us on a trip to the north and then put us up in their Hotel in Hua Hin where, apparently, the King had his summer palace. In return, he wanted
a mention on our website and in any interviews we might do before we left. I had no problem with that.
However, after our stay in Hua Hin, we would be on our own. My girlfriend, a far more seasoned traveller than I, told me that it would be best for us to
buy any onward ticket, when in Thailand. We packed for an indefinite journey and flew off to Asia, not really knowing where we would go afterwards.
As soon as we arrived in Bangkok something happened which I am sure occurs many times to travellers. I expected something I didn’t see. Having got a little
bit more used to flying, I now looked out of plane windows; it is quite a height from up there. As we flew into Bangkok I thought I would see lots of jungle with
this big city in the middle of it. Well I didn’t. All I saw were flat fields in straight lines. There were houses and settlements dotted around and, what I
thought were hundreds of little fires with smoke rising into the sky. However, as we got lower, I found out these were vehicles, driving along a dust road and
the smoke was dust clouds thrown up by the trucks or cars wheels.
Talking of vehicles, another thing I noticed from the air, is that in Thailand they drive on the left-hand side, just like in England and Australia and
possibly some other countries. After my four weeks there, as you will see if you follow all this, I knew that they drove on the left, the right, the pavement,
anywhere to get from A to B. It still seems an incredibly stupid thing to have, some time in the dim and distant past, allowed some countries to drive on the
right and some on the left. Car manufacturers have to make two different cars, one with the steering wheel on the left and one with it on the right. Gordon Murray,
I believe, puts it in the middle but he always was a bit different. Still, with all the problems involved, I suppose it will be one of those strange things
which will never change.
Our hotel in Bangkok was amazing. It didn’t look tremendous from the outside but the building was really beautifully designed inside and had a hidden
area with a swimming pool, restaurant and massage area built in Thai
style from dark wood.
We didn’t stay too long, as we wanted to go out and have a look around. We walked along the street outside the hotel and the first impression I got was that
everyone seemed to be cooking outside. Almost every other stall in the street was for food. They cooked directly on the street, both sides of the street and
on every corner, on every inch of the pavement, someone was cooking and someone was eating or buying food. You had to be very careful when walking not to fall
on some hot frying pan. Though lots of Thais were eating outdoors, foreigners, or falangs as they call them in Thailand, seemed to avoid these places. The reason
could be that your choice was very limited and you were almost certain to be eating something, the origins of which you had no idea. There was an incredible
smell of mixed spices and dishes, fresh fruits, car smog and sewers.
It would appear that half the nation, or at least half the people who live in Bangkok, cook outside, probably for the other half, who all ride motor bikes.
Of course there are cars, taxis, buses, tuk tuks – a motorbike taxi which has a little bench for two placed in the back with a little canopy over it – and
songthaew – vans with two long benches in the back placed at right angles to the driver and opposite each other – but there were an awful lot of motorbikes.
It looked like everybody was motorized. Many people were wearing white masks over their faces seemingly to avoid breathing in directly all the smog and pollution.
We found a little place with an English menu, shared a meal of bean sprouts fried with shrimps and pasta and then bought some fruits in a supermarket.
We were helped by the owner who did his best to try to explain all the different kinds of fruit and then asked his staff to peel and cut it for us. We
came back to the hotel laden with fruits so my girlfriend could have her much-awaited fruit feast.
After that, we relaxed in our little piece of sponsored luxury.
Apart from the time in Australia the previous year, this trip to Asia was my first experience of travelling outside Europe. It would be hard to argue
that Australian culture, forget the weather, forget the vast open spaces, is that different from Europe. Thailand is. My girlfriend, who was a bit of a
Thaiphile, if such a word exists, had been there two or maybe three times, so she had some idea of where to go and what to see. I relied on her judgement
for my first Asian adventure.
The first things she wanted to show me were the floating markets, which she knew were somewhere around Bangkok, after all a river runs right through
it. The biggest market was, apparently, a 2-hour drive away but she was sure there were some smaller ones much closer. Off we set. Our hotel was next to
the river and we went down to the pier to find a river bus and see if any went near a market. However, this is tourism-land, and the only trips offered were
to the Temple of Dawn and Temple of Dusk or to the Sleeping Buddha. This we did not want so we went back into the hotel to ask for the way to the river bus and
they directed us back to the guy offering the tourist trips to the temples. Trying not to be a tourist in Thailand is not easy. At that time, and maybe now,
Thailand lives from tourism and many people work on commission. If you take one of these trips, they will also take you to other places with which they have deals.
This is, of course, not peculiar to Thailand.
Next, we went out into the streets and my girlfriend asked some guy, who was waiting for a bus, how to get to the river bus. She managed to explain where
we were heading and instead of continuing this faltering dialogue, he set off beckoning us to follow, and we got to the pier. We still didn’t know which bus
to take, and our new friend had vanished, but, as we looked lost, another guy came up to me and said ‘Can you help me’? In view of our predicament, this seemed
unlikely but, after a moment or two, I discovered, his version of English didn’t have the same word order as mine. He meant ‘can me help you’ and this he did by
taking us to a map and pointing out how many stops we needed on the river bus in order to find the market.
We waited on the pier and when the boat arrived, some guy jumped off, blowing a whistle as he did. Next he ran along the pier, looped a rope over a short
pole, waited till we all got on and then blew the whistle in a different way, unhooked the rope and jumped back on again. This happened every time we reached a
new stop. It was a bit like a Formula 1 pit stop; very coordinated, every one doing their job. The boat driver had to come up to the pier, overshoot it a bit,
slam the boat into reverse with loads of opposite lock and it slid back into the pier. This was when the guy jumped off and did his running. I think the first
bit of whistle was either to attract the attention of the people who were waiting, and may have gone to have something to eat, or, because he had no hands free
and kept the whistle in his mouth and as he leapt across the space between the boat and the pier, he frightened himself and let out this whistle.
Once the boat was hitched to the pier, the driver, it seemed, kept the thing on full reverse power. At the second whistle, which meant let’s go, he unwound
all the lock he had put on and floored the accelerator and off we went. Mr. Hamilton, you have it so easy. Imagine if he had to take a mechanic with him.
Actually, if anybody is old enough, they may remember that they did do that many years ago.
Once on board, we were herded to the front, where we took a seat and soon a little lady appeared shaking a tube with coins and selling tickets, It was 8 Baht
for 10 stops and we paid up and watched the river bank go by. This part of the river was a complete contrast. There were tall, hotel buildings and brand new
apartment blocks but, it appeared, that the wealthier Thai people had no set area to themselves. You would pass one very posh looking new house and right next
to it was a hotel mixed with little shed-type of houses.
When we got off the boat, nobody had any idea about a floating market or was able to speak English. Eventually a young Thai girl seemed to understand us
and she proceeded to walk us about 800 metres along a busy street, found us a ‘taxi’ told the driver what we wanted, arranged the fare and told us all was
sorted. At this stage, please de-visualise any thoughts you had about a taxi. This was songthaew mentioned earlier. In other words it was a mini-van
with seats in the back. When the driver had 14 people on board, he set off. Now, I know Asian people tend to be small and I’m certainly not tall, vertically
anyway, but it did seem a lot.
When you wanted to get out, you had to press a little bell on the roof and I was none too sure that the driver would remember us. But he did. Sadly, he
then told us how to get to the floating market; remember that was what we set out to see. He told us in Thai. He told us in Thai, while smiling, which I think
he believed helped. It didn’t.
Suddenly I had that ‘eureka’ moment and, coincidentally it was connected to water. I saw a bridge. Bridges go over things, maybe water. Floating markets
need to float on something, maybe water. It seemed a good link and sure enough we got to the bridge and there were a few people in small boats selling goods.
It wasn’t really that spectacular but, getting there had been fun.
We left the bridge and walked down some very narrow lanes with houses on either side. The houses were small and quite open. We passed some people sitting
by what looked like a sort of shop, somebody was obviously cooking again, and then we reached the river. We wandered up the street and found the water with the
few boats on the other side. Someone, again, showed us the way and we went through a corridor between houses, most of them open wide with people watching TV or
sleeping.
It was, for someone from a western culture, with glass in the windows and net curtains, a little bit uncomfortable. I felt like an intruder, a voyeur, and
walked far quicker than necessary, staring straight ahead. And straight ahead was the floating market. It all looked a bit like Steve Redgrave sitting in a punt
and surrounded by loads of fruit. But I had seen something of Thai culture. There was more to come on the journey home.
We left behind the boats and their occupants and walked back through the collection of dwellings, which made up this little community. As usual, or as was
becoming usual, there was still the open-air cooking everywhere and also a few little stalls. A quick look at the ages of the people and you sensed that the
extended family was alive and well and living in urban Thailand. Older people might be sitting around, the younger ones working and the youngest of all hidden
away, somewhere, and amusing themselves with anything they could find. It wasn’t the sort of environment of which health and safety would approve, but everyone
seemed happy. Laundry was drying on any convenient rope or peg and we passed by with only a smattering of glances from the occupiers.
We walked on and came across a temple. Religion, or faith, worries me. Not just because it is responsible for so many conflicts in our world, both now and
in the past, but because the places of worship always seem to be the most ornate, ostentatious and, thereby, expensive buildings in the area. I have no problem
with people having a belief, a prescribed code by which they run their lives. My problem is when that code must be inflicted on others or, worse still, when it
becomes organised believing. In the same way as I believe democracy cannot exist, it is an impossibility, I also think religion should be personal and not
collective. When I come to write about my time on some of the Pacific Islands, this feeling, and the reasons for it, may become even more apparent. Having said
all that, the temple was very beautiful and I am sure served a purpose for the people who worshipped there. I just hope that any money spent on it was not taken
from those who had a greater need for life’s necessities than a temple.
We then returned to the river and, by now, I could see that there were all kinds of boats, apart from the river buses. We were just standing there looking
and a river taxi hove into view. These taxis take fewer people but do not go on set routes. One was passing by, so we waved at him. He already had two passengers
on board but he came across to where we were standing. We asked how much to go back to our hotel. 1200 baht he said (the baht is Thailand’s currency and there
are about 50 to the pound at the moment, so that was $24). I pretty soon discovered why it is called the baht and pronounced a bit like Bart, as in Simpson.
Whatever you buy, whenever you use currency in Thailand, almost, you end up bartering or bargaining, hence the baht.
This idea is alien to me. If I want to buy something, please tell me the price you want and I will decide whether or not I will buy. If I want to sell
something, I will tell you the price I want and you can decide. All this bartering nonsense just wastes time. As you can tell I am not, nor will I ever be, a
salesmen. To me, life is simple. Take it or leave, you want it or you don’t. My girlfriend, however, a seasoned Thai tourist, not only appeared to enjoy it,
she was good at it. She said 1200 baht was too much. He said 800. She said 500. He said 500 to the main river and another 100 to our hotel. However, he said
this very quietly, as, apparently, the two people already on the boat were being charged 800 for the same journey. We agreed and we got on. I was surprised
that he didn’t ask for the money up front but he seemed happy just to agree. We then went on a 40 minute ride around the back canals of Venice, sorry Thailand,
but there is a similarity with Venice although in some places it is more like a very narrow Norfolk Broad. In both places homes are built right alongside the
water.
One of the interesting things is that, according to our driver, there are such different types of houses all next to each other. He pointed out one costing
about 25 million baht (work it out – OK, £500,000) and then the next one, wooden with a metal roof, was only 100,000 baht (and that’s £2,000). It was such a
mixture, although there were many smaller ones. We saw kids swimming and jumping into the canal and, quite often, we would come across a temple, not very big
but still very ornate. I wondered about the pollution in the river, until I saw an elderly man sitting at the end of a rickety wooden pier and brushing his
teeth using the river water. Well, a toothbrush obviously, but he kept dipping it in the water. Maybe his immune system had been built up over the years. Now,
don’t get me started on immune system again.
We got back to the hotel late afternoon, took a swim and then went out to look at the night-life. We took a tuk-tuk for a short ride. As I said a tuk-tuk
is basically a three-wheeled motorbike with a driver in front and a bench seat for two passengers, although maybe the Thais could fit six, in the back. There are
many of these in Thailand. We ended up in Patpong and maybe the less said about it the better. Suffice to say, it seemed very Thai and the words boy and lady
appeared, sometimes a little too graphically and visually, as we walked around.
Returning to immune systems, although you may not know why till tomorrow, we ate at a Sushi bar where they charge you £4 for an hour. During that time you
can eat as much as you like. So, for under £100 you could eat all day and night. Interesting thought, but it was mainly tourists eating there because, as we know,
the Thais are all cooking for each other on the streets.
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