วันพุธที่ 29 สิงหาคม พ.ศ. 2550
Thailand Story2
I like that International menagerie , the ever on the move Aussie , the solid off duty Germans, those oh so cool but seemingly truly out of place Russians, the stereotypical English couple looking for something to moan about or showing that usual timid, I guess reserve, ‘yes well we’ll send aunt Muad an e-mail with that picture of you falling off the elephant ladder Geoffrey, should bring ideas and a laugh to the women’s institute creative writing group she attends on Wednesday’s, she’d have come you know, deep vein thrombosis scares put her orff’. I’d like to think I am being stereotypical, but the irony, (a very English trait) is I’m not! And I am more than happy to extract the Michael out my own countryman more than any other, probably because we can take a joke easier than most. Amongst all of this surreal activity we call tourism the work a’day Thais are going about their business, (god what do they think of all these weird foreigners? I can really feel their tangible bewilderment). The Thais are the smartly dressed prim and proper office workers, ultra clean cut and impeccable Naval officers and crisp fatigued and proud Thai yeomanry on their way to their billets and involved classes and exercises in the possible actions on the Thai/Burma border. School children, either warily alone with their determined stare towards the next pier, or in groups with what is their right to neither care nor worry about a problematic world are in happy giggling fits amongst themselves in the coolness of the air that is the beauty of being near the river. It is a colourful and highly entertaining spectacle, for the taciturn observer seeing and hearing a wealth of momentary insights into the machinations of all that surround him. So at last the boat arrives we all make a nifty leap aboard and seconds later we cast off and away we go. I stand, dutifully avoiding the monks allocated railing space. I find it wise here in this country to display deference on occasion that deference matters. We are made aware of our conductor’s presence as she shakes that little tinny cylindrical ticket holder for fares, hands move quickly to pockets and grope towards baht coinage, there is something quite menacing about that conductors little tinny ticket dispenser akin to that of the rattle snake and I have a sneaking feeling that us foreigners are going to get rattled at the most, however I cannot but admire the deft and wickedly nimble handling of that device in her determined pursuit in the collection of fares. Its crowded onboard it’s still a fairly busy time of day, a little after nine in the morning and it is high season. Again I look out at the banks of the river. Again I am contrasting the old and the new, between the well kept and the high modern super hotels and smart little restaurants, along the way however there are many tatty and long forgotten piers, their foundations slowly but surely being swallowed down into the river, some lying at awkward angles, rotting away, those of wood will truly rot and wither and those of concrete block will crumble and eventually fall. There are families here and their living in no more than what are little shacks, they wash and clean, little chubby children play in happy abandon of the world that surrounds and passes them. The temples, a church here and there loom serenely amongst the office blocks. Close to the river bank are old wood buildings some seem very derelict, but here and there you see movements about them, I figure, obviously, they are the homes to a host of quite poor inhabitants of this city, etching out a living somehow. Despite their poverty I can see within them that these are proud people, their washing flutters and they are fresh in both their bodies and outlook, there’s a stoic grace to these perhaps less than fortunate folk. They still manage to smile and the children wave, there’s a toot of the ships horn, may well be our skipper knows these people well. As with the habit of people who ply the rivers the skippers, crew and linesman exchange daily chatter in quick spurts to other passing boats of various descriptions, yes these people know their river and they know their comrades and more as like their extended families well and feel naturally the need to be close whenever opportunity arises while about their work. The story of the river boat journey will continue in my next ‘Thailand Story’, Travel log.
Thailand Story
Senses of foreboding and finding old bygones.
(A trip up the River )
‘Tuk Tuks’
In a city where you feel overwhelmed by the pollution created by the incessant traffic, dusty and grimy buses, whining ‘tuk tuks’ and lanes and lanes of cars which seem to be hissing at you in such a sinister way, the BTS sky train at the off peak time comes as a civilised change for the freelancing traveller with time on his or her hands to do some exploring.
Clean, air conditioned, modern and a welcome 20th century mark of progress. For the developing metropolis of Bangkok the BTS Skytrain is a godsend, so popular that at rush hour it really has become a sensible, but as with all public transport systems that work, a crowded option. Sadly however to many Thais on pitiful incomes daily use of the skytrain still remains a luxury, for them the motorcycle taxis, tuk tuks, the 5 baht ‘bone shaker’ mini buses, (converted pickup trucks) and of course the mainstream big buses still remain trusty stalwarts of cheap travel across the numerous districts of the city. That city they call, ‘The Big Mango’, ‘Khrung Thep’….that’s the shortened version, much shorter.
Today however I am heading for a far northern district of ‘The Big Mango’. For that I shall need a different form of transport, the true travellers mode, that king of transport systems, the ‘Express River Boat’. How much I like boats, maybe because I’m English, but maybe perhaps we all, unless you have a fear of water, somehow have a romantic feeling for the riverboat, wherever you may be, I will happily and openly admit to it.
There’s something about public transport systems, even if you use them everyday, you see the world from different angles, views and vistas that you do not see normally from a car, or have time to see, the same applies for that matter to views seen from an aeroplane, even when low flying. On the public transport at worst you see the world bearing it’s backside to you, with what often appears a very real and indignant manner, or so it would seem. Here and there views across some place you think you know, but have never really seen before, it’s an eye opener, glimpse a slum and you also can glimpse a paradise.
One of my most ingrained feelings of this city, this ‘City of Angels’, yes that’s another name for it too, is what had happened to it in these last 30 maybe 40 years? Answers lie in whatever happened to all those great cities and towns in the last 30 or 40 years across the world, from small town England to a city such as Bangkok, yes every place has some story to tell, in the case of this oriental ‘City of Angels’, many stories.
It’s progress which changes a place, no more so, than here in ‘Khrung Thep’. I’ve extolled the virtue of a modern transport system, however there is no wrong in that, it’s those combustion engine menaces down below which get to me, it’s the gridlock. As a child and I fancy like many of us, I dreamt of futuristic cities in tune with their past, but which had clean and wonderful monorails and undergrounds, silent, swift and incredibly efficient, ah alas twas only but a dream. Our love affair for those cosy air conditioned four wheeled dirt boxes still drives most of us, particularly the all power to wheels 4x4 ones, usually driven by women taking the kids the school on what are decent roads for gods sake, or the man with an undersized appendage! Oh well whatever helps the ego I guess.
I have slightly digressed, so back to the journey and my reflections. I feel as I ride to the pier for the river boat, how the old Bangkok must have looked, there are signs and traces of what must have been very handsome houses and small estates where there must have been the most beautiful tropical gardens. Today the remnants are the here and there flora atop of small apartment blocks, where I see a lone little tree, a palm and a few other plants of vivid green.
Picture 2,
View down river from Saphan Taksin.
Those once little tropical oases have now been replaced by the shabby miserable grey and pale brown material we use so much of; concrete. Down roads I do see the remains of broken gardens reduced to wastelands and decay, in addition to what look to me like once grand houses, perhaps influenced from neighbouring colonial styles outside of Thailand. I feel strongly something happened far too quickly here, that progress in its worst guise took this city to pieces, but I could probably see the same in Hong Kong, Singapore or Manila. After all I see the same in my own home town. I suppose all of us, if we have a heart and sensitivity to our environments, feel in these towns and cities that progress did not get it right. I will throughout my accounts refer back to my constant feelings of how it really must have been here and a very strong feeling that those old enough to remember empathise with this view that I have, because even though I do not personally know physically how it was, I do feel that the ghosts of time do speak. There is always something, particularly out here in South East Asia, be it Thailand, Malaya, Borneo, The Philippines, Cambodia and Vietnam where those ghosts feel so very, very real, no matter how much the cosmetics of modernity may try cover or hide them.
Despite all of this there are the new towering commercial centres and glittering shopping complexes, a veritable feast for those with cash or more likely credit cards to shop and shop to their hearts content. In fairness some of the buildings in the centre have quite a good feel to them. I remind myself that Bangkok is an international commercial centre and the proof is only too real. Looking over and away from the small apartments and housing blocks below as I travel along in the sky train, they can be seen the central towering citadels of commerce thrusting up triumphantly across the skyline.
Yes modern Bangkok, aspiring and yearning for recognition in the brave new world of hope and despair in South East Asia.
Arrive end of line at ‘Saphan Taksin’ down the steps, and walk towards the pier. The arms of those powerful columns supporting the skytrain’s artery to the right hand side of you bringing the new to the old. A small walk down and the pier’s tickets kiosk is before you. The express boats and those ornamental hotel tourist taxi boats are plying their way to and thro’ across the ‘Chao Praya’ river. Fast modern long shaft propeller goods boats and transports speed with a brisk rate of knots in the middle distance, and tugs labour themselves tirelessly with their barges in tow.
It’s high season and it’s busy, gathering to catch the next boat are the tourists from across the globe. They marvel and speculate on their forthcoming trip. Happy Americans have their digicams and natter away relentlessly in a myriad of states accents, a Brooklyn here and southern drawl there, the sedate deep south and quick fire from way up north, languid African Americans in small family parties and curious white American transport enthusiasts. It’s tourism and it’s the world over. I find as I earwig in that generally these guys and dolls are planning their next trip before mortality catches up with them, ‘my…Tom, it sure is something, but I aint’t so keen on the food, reckon we’ll try that European tour next fall, hey would you just look at them dead fish down there’. I find it curiously fascinating and entertaining, don’t you just love it.
(A trip up the River )
‘Tuk Tuks’
In a city where you feel overwhelmed by the pollution created by the incessant traffic, dusty and grimy buses, whining ‘tuk tuks’ and lanes and lanes of cars which seem to be hissing at you in such a sinister way, the BTS sky train at the off peak time comes as a civilised change for the freelancing traveller with time on his or her hands to do some exploring.
Clean, air conditioned, modern and a welcome 20th century mark of progress. For the developing metropolis of Bangkok the BTS Skytrain is a godsend, so popular that at rush hour it really has become a sensible, but as with all public transport systems that work, a crowded option. Sadly however to many Thais on pitiful incomes daily use of the skytrain still remains a luxury, for them the motorcycle taxis, tuk tuks, the 5 baht ‘bone shaker’ mini buses, (converted pickup trucks) and of course the mainstream big buses still remain trusty stalwarts of cheap travel across the numerous districts of the city. That city they call, ‘The Big Mango’, ‘Khrung Thep’….that’s the shortened version, much shorter.
Today however I am heading for a far northern district of ‘The Big Mango’. For that I shall need a different form of transport, the true travellers mode, that king of transport systems, the ‘Express River Boat’. How much I like boats, maybe because I’m English, but maybe perhaps we all, unless you have a fear of water, somehow have a romantic feeling for the riverboat, wherever you may be, I will happily and openly admit to it.
There’s something about public transport systems, even if you use them everyday, you see the world from different angles, views and vistas that you do not see normally from a car, or have time to see, the same applies for that matter to views seen from an aeroplane, even when low flying. On the public transport at worst you see the world bearing it’s backside to you, with what often appears a very real and indignant manner, or so it would seem. Here and there views across some place you think you know, but have never really seen before, it’s an eye opener, glimpse a slum and you also can glimpse a paradise.
One of my most ingrained feelings of this city, this ‘City of Angels’, yes that’s another name for it too, is what had happened to it in these last 30 maybe 40 years? Answers lie in whatever happened to all those great cities and towns in the last 30 or 40 years across the world, from small town England to a city such as Bangkok, yes every place has some story to tell, in the case of this oriental ‘City of Angels’, many stories.
It’s progress which changes a place, no more so, than here in ‘Khrung Thep’. I’ve extolled the virtue of a modern transport system, however there is no wrong in that, it’s those combustion engine menaces down below which get to me, it’s the gridlock. As a child and I fancy like many of us, I dreamt of futuristic cities in tune with their past, but which had clean and wonderful monorails and undergrounds, silent, swift and incredibly efficient, ah alas twas only but a dream. Our love affair for those cosy air conditioned four wheeled dirt boxes still drives most of us, particularly the all power to wheels 4x4 ones, usually driven by women taking the kids the school on what are decent roads for gods sake, or the man with an undersized appendage! Oh well whatever helps the ego I guess.
I have slightly digressed, so back to the journey and my reflections. I feel as I ride to the pier for the river boat, how the old Bangkok must have looked, there are signs and traces of what must have been very handsome houses and small estates where there must have been the most beautiful tropical gardens. Today the remnants are the here and there flora atop of small apartment blocks, where I see a lone little tree, a palm and a few other plants of vivid green.
Picture 2,
View down river from Saphan Taksin.
Those once little tropical oases have now been replaced by the shabby miserable grey and pale brown material we use so much of; concrete. Down roads I do see the remains of broken gardens reduced to wastelands and decay, in addition to what look to me like once grand houses, perhaps influenced from neighbouring colonial styles outside of Thailand. I feel strongly something happened far too quickly here, that progress in its worst guise took this city to pieces, but I could probably see the same in Hong Kong, Singapore or Manila. After all I see the same in my own home town. I suppose all of us, if we have a heart and sensitivity to our environments, feel in these towns and cities that progress did not get it right. I will throughout my accounts refer back to my constant feelings of how it really must have been here and a very strong feeling that those old enough to remember empathise with this view that I have, because even though I do not personally know physically how it was, I do feel that the ghosts of time do speak. There is always something, particularly out here in South East Asia, be it Thailand, Malaya, Borneo, The Philippines, Cambodia and Vietnam where those ghosts feel so very, very real, no matter how much the cosmetics of modernity may try cover or hide them.
Despite all of this there are the new towering commercial centres and glittering shopping complexes, a veritable feast for those with cash or more likely credit cards to shop and shop to their hearts content. In fairness some of the buildings in the centre have quite a good feel to them. I remind myself that Bangkok is an international commercial centre and the proof is only too real. Looking over and away from the small apartments and housing blocks below as I travel along in the sky train, they can be seen the central towering citadels of commerce thrusting up triumphantly across the skyline.
Yes modern Bangkok, aspiring and yearning for recognition in the brave new world of hope and despair in South East Asia.
Arrive end of line at ‘Saphan Taksin’ down the steps, and walk towards the pier. The arms of those powerful columns supporting the skytrain’s artery to the right hand side of you bringing the new to the old. A small walk down and the pier’s tickets kiosk is before you. The express boats and those ornamental hotel tourist taxi boats are plying their way to and thro’ across the ‘Chao Praya’ river. Fast modern long shaft propeller goods boats and transports speed with a brisk rate of knots in the middle distance, and tugs labour themselves tirelessly with their barges in tow.
It’s high season and it’s busy, gathering to catch the next boat are the tourists from across the globe. They marvel and speculate on their forthcoming trip. Happy Americans have their digicams and natter away relentlessly in a myriad of states accents, a Brooklyn here and southern drawl there, the sedate deep south and quick fire from way up north, languid African Americans in small family parties and curious white American transport enthusiasts. It’s tourism and it’s the world over. I find as I earwig in that generally these guys and dolls are planning their next trip before mortality catches up with them, ‘my…Tom, it sure is something, but I aint’t so keen on the food, reckon we’ll try that European tour next fall, hey would you just look at them dead fish down there’. I find it curiously fascinating and entertaining, don’t you just love it.
สมัครสมาชิก:
บทความ (Atom)
