Post 388: Travelling West to the East .. Posted 30th October 2013

I swear, the flight from San Francisco to Bangkok takes at least a year. EVA Air do their best, but I honestly didn’t buy the ticket because EVA have the largest economy seats. No, I certainly didn’t. I chose EVA Air because they were the cheapest, no other reason. Thankfully when it comes to air travel, ‘cheap’ doesn’t mean ‘unsafe’, but it can mean ‘uncomfortable’. Looking on the bright side, even at half the price, EVA Air is still twice as accommodating as United or American. Travelling West to get to the East, I fly for 18 hours and arrive 36 hours after take-off. Crossing the International Date-Line, well, that really screws-up the body-clock. Compared to many airports, aiprots where Terminal really does feel like Terminal, arriving at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport is an absolute joy. Walking from the Arrival Gate to Immigration you’ll pass four ‘Smoking Rooms’, important for some but not for others, and all of the Duty Free Shops before joining the queue for Arrivals.

Several aircraft have arrived at the same time, but the line of people keeps moving. With my Arrivals Card completed, I find myself standing in front of the smiling Immigration Officer. That’s right, he’s smiling. Looking into the mushroom camera, he snaps my likeness and flicks diligently through my almost full passport. Back to front, front to back. I like what he’s doing, it shows that he cares. He could take the easy option and stamp an empty page, but what’s easy for him would be unhelpful for me. It’s almost as if he’s read Pirsig’s Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and he’s applying Quality to his task. Finally he finds what he’s looking for. He looks at me and raises a questioning eyebrow? I nod and smile my thanks. Carefully, he places the rubber stamp on a page that has just enough space for an Entry and Exit stamp. He presses down and hands back my documents - ‘Welcome to Thailand Mr Thomas’.

At Baggage Carrousel 20, my tote bag is right in front of me, no waiting required. Green Lane, nothing to declare and nobody cares to check. A hundred Taxi-Touts, smiling and shouting, easily ignored. Down to Level 1, where the Meter Taxis are waiting: ‘Wat Lak Si, Highway Kap’, I talk like a native. A forty minute journey, a little conversation and $8 exchanged, I arrive at my apartment. Nothing seems to have changed. Have I really been away for six months?

http://www.justgiving.com/geoffgthomas

Post 387: Summer in Boonville ... Posted October 11th 2013

After 150 days in Boonville it’s time to start moving on. In many ways it’s been a very productive summer, but in other ways, not so much. The first months of summer were spent navigating my way through the minefield of publishing, a journey that reminded me of trying to leave Russia with the Triumph Tiger. Lots of false hope, a good many 'maybe’s' and lots of dead-ends, but eventually things did get accomplished. With the help of Lemon Fresh Design and The Ted Simon Foundation, towards the end of August the first book in the Poor Circulation trilogy was finally published: Ashes to Boonville. I can’t tell you how excited I felt when I collected that first case of books from the post office, Well, I could tell you but you probably wouldn’t believe me. You’d probably think that I was being childish, over reacting, and you might be right. But, it really was an exciting day.

I donated a number of books to Loretta at the local bookstore, Laughing Dog Books. I like bookstores, especially those that are small and quirky, and Laughing Dog Books is certainly that. A few days later I looked in the window and almost fell on my arse with shock. Ashes to Boonville was on display, nestled between books by JK Rowling and Will Self. Me, sitting between two amazingly famous writers? I was certainly flattered. Loretta told me that the book was ’selling well’, though in Boonville terms, I’m not entirely sure what that means. Actually, I’m not even sure if I want it to be ‘selling well’ , at least not in a bookstore, even in a bookstore as nice as Loretta’s. I know I’m being selfish, but sales in bookstores might be good for a writer's ego, but they’re fatal for the bank balance. Of course, I didn’t write the book to make money, I’m not that stupid, but I’d at least hoped to cover my costs. Anyway, I hope that the local’s here aren’t too disappointed when they read Ashes to Boonville, because it isn’t really about Boonville, it’s just about the overland journey to get here. Perhaps they’ll prefer the 2nd book, Homeward Bound, because that is about Boonville? Well, at least the first three chapters are.  

I’m not sure if I’m getting old, or if I’m just getting lazy. Everyday I’ve been writing, sometimes way into the early hours of the morning, but you couldn’t really call that ‘work’. I’ve written a few articles for UK magazines and most of the chapters for the 2nd book, but that’s probably not a lot to show for my 150 days of opportunity. If I had a normal job then I'd probably be a lot more productive, and I'd appreciate my writing time more, but I don't, so the hours, days and weeks just seem to blend into one another. I’m not sure what I’ve achieved, or where the time’s gone, but Autumn’s already here and the lazy day’s of summer have simply vanished into an ocean of idleness. Sure, earlier in the summer I was a little help to the family here in Boonville, helping with the house-build and caring for their growing herd of livestock, but it really wasn’t a great deal. The truth is, they’re working on an ever tightening budget and when materials aren’t available, it’s difficult to build anything. But you know what, that doesn’t seem to phase them. It would totally freak me out, because I really don’t handle responsibility well, but they just seem to smile and get on with it. This summer they’ve managed to build the decks on the upper levels of the house, and some internal plastering and wiring, but there’s still an awful lot more to be done. Their home will get finished, finished in a Boonville way, but I'm not sure if anybody would be brave or foolish enough to suggest an actual completion date.         

I’m probably telling you things that you honestly don’t need to know, but I’m telling you anyway. You see, I’m becoming very forgetful and if I don’t write these things down, then I just seem to lose them. I can remember the shirt that I wore for my first day at Corporation Road Junior School, and even how many buttons it had and why I hated it so much, but I’d struggle to tell you what I ate for dinner last night. I used to keep a diary, religiously updating it every evening, but I don’t do that now. I really don’t like paper anymore. It’s not about how paper looks or feels, it’s more about how much it weighs and how much space it takes up in my luggage. Luggage is baggage and I’m bored with it. I should blame my growing forgetfulness on old age, but I don’t. I’m blaming gluten, because it’s an easier target to aim at. In SE Asia I don’t really eat gluten, I only drink it in beer. But since I arrived here in America, everything I've eaten has been wrapped in either pastry or bread, and usually washed down with beer. Gluten overload, not old age, that’s the culprit. I’ve been gluten-free for three weeks now, and I actually feel better for it. I've discovered the Boont Berry Farm Market & Deli here in downtown Boonville, and it's great for gluten free food. It's actually great for a lot of things, even if it's just chatting with the amazingly eccentric members of staff, but I particularly enjoy the organic gluten free meals that they serve. That’s probably something else that you didn’t need to know, but I’ve told you anyway.            

I’ve bought my air-ticket out of here. EVA Airlines, San Francisco to Bangkok via Taipei. I had to buy the ticket at a travel agent, on account of not having a credit card, but I really don’t like travel agents. In England, travel agents are quite large and glossy, but here in America they’re a little bit different. Cold stark offices with a computer screen that they never let you see and a lot of out-of-date brochures for places that you’re never likely to visit. They don’t give me confidence and I’m always worried that they’ll somehow rip me-off. It’s silly really, but it’s just the way I am. Anyway, I found such a travel agent in Ukiah, and the ticket was almost $150 less than I would have paid if I’d bought the same ticket on-line. That made me happy, so I gave the young travel agent a copy of my book. I doubt that she’ll read it, she didn’t strike me as the reading type, but I gave it to her and it seemed to make her smile. I’ll arrive in Bangkok for the last week in October, and I’ll have to knuckle down to some serious work. I need to write more articles and do something about promoting book sales in England. I might be gluten-free, but a man’s still got to eat.  

Post 386: Thai Households Underwater

In November of 2011, the district of Lak Si on the northern edge of Bangkok was strategically flooded. That year, Lak Si was just one of many areas that sank beneath the putrid sewage mixed flood waters but for me it was the most important, because it’s the place that I call ‘home’. In 2013 it seems highly possible that the flooding will happen again, but in this post I’m actually referring to a very different kind of ‘underwater’.

Back in 2008, while travelling through Thailand on a scooter, I witnessed a fundamental economic change, a change that impressed and worried me in equal measures. Following the Asian Economic Crisis of 1997, Thailand had experienced a high and consistent level of economic growth and the evidence of that sustained development was clearly visible. The good people of Thailand were living the material dream and new scooters, motor cars and apartments were everywhere. In Ashes to Boonville I commented that the dreams of parents had apparently become the expectations of their children, but just as had happened in the West, the availability of easy credit for low income families would be a slippery slope to ruin. The previously frugal lifestyle of the Thai’s had dramatically changed, taxi-bike riders earning THB 15,000 per month ($500) were riding brand new Honda’s, living in THB 1,000,000 apartments and every home had a brand new Japanese car or pick-up truck in its driveway, often both.

Recently released figures show that in 2012, the registration of new vehicles in Thailand had rocketed by 81%. Of course, some of those vehicles were replacements for those lost in the floods, but most of them were actually purchased by virgin owners under a government backed scheme. That scheme was the Thai version of ‘Cash for Clunkers’, but without the ‘Clunkers’, where the government offered a THB 100,000 ($3,000) incentive to first-time purchasers. The result was a huge increase in the sales of new vehicles and the fallout from that huge increase is already visible.

To buy a new vehicle in Thailand, you’ll pay slightly more than you would in the USA and slightly less than you would in the UK or Europe, but the average income for a Thai is substantially lower than in the West. After removing the top 5% of high-income-households, the average income for a Thai worker is approximately $7,000 per annum. For many of these first-time vehicle buyers, the delayed monthly payments are kicking-in and the households are sinking beneath the flood of easy credit. Repossessions are rocketing, residential car parks are emptying and the used car lots are overflowing with nearly new merchandise. 

I'm not sure what the final outcome will be, but I am sure that whatever it is, it won't be pretty... mai pen rai kap    

Post 385: New Plans

The summer has vanished and I'm already counting down my final days here in Northern California. It's almost time to start heading west, which means that I'm returning to the East, Bangkok to be precise. I'd hoped to attend the Horizons Unlimited travellers gathering down in Cambria, but sadly that's not going to happen this year. My US Visa will expire just a few days before the event and if I don't leave America on time, there might not be a 'next time'.  

This summer has been busier than usual, so busy that it almost feels like 'work'. By day I've been navigating the confusing maze of publishing Ashes to Boonville and writing the second installment of Poor Circulation by night. Thankfully, Lemon Fresh Design and the Ted Simon Foundation have held my hand through the publishing journey and North Coast Breweries have assisted with the writing, so hopefully the results will be positive.

I'll return to Lak Si on the outer reaches Bangkok for the last week of October, where I'll be reunited with my scooter, the Tiger Retro 110. I shouldn't have to contend with the floods of previous years and hope to begin riding shortly after landing. Laos, Myanmar and Cambodia are on the agenda for this Winter, but my plans have a nasty habit of changing, so I'll keep you posted.

Southeast Asia here I come ... Arm doors and cross-check for landing.        

Post 384: "Poor Circulation I - Ashes to Boonville" has arrived ....

This morning, August 22nd 2013, a package was delivered to the Mercantile here in downtown Boonville CA. A hefty box, a box full of books, my books. After five years, 'Poor Circulation I - Ashes to Boonville' has finally arrived. The book is now available in 'Print' format from Amazon, Laughing Dog Books in Boonville and Village Books in Ukiah. If you do happen to buy a copy, then please feel free to send me your thoughts or to leave a review on Amazon. 

Many thanks for following this endless journey, and apologies for the long delay in publishing.

Ride safe and Smile

Geoff  

Post 383: 'Poor Circulation I - 'Ashes to Boonville'

Five minutes in the Planning and five years in the making, 'Ashes to Boonville' is at last on its way to the printers. 'Homeward Bound' and 'The Accidental Pilgrim' will hopefully follow in a much more timely manner ... but that's not a promise ... Thanks to all who have helped to make this possible.

Post 382: Boonville Bound: California USA

The last few months have vanished, gone in the blink of an eye and it’s time to move on.  The monsoon rains of Thailand I certainly won’t miss, but the people and the place I will, especially Nongnoo. The book; ‘Poor Circulation Ashes to Boonville’ is now finished and should be available in the UK within the next couple of weeks. I’ve got to thank so many people for making it possible, all of whom get a mention in the Book, but a special ‘Thank You’ goes to my sister-in-law Torrey for having the ability to polish the detritus that I called a manuscript.

I’ll be flying to California at the end of April and spending a few months with the family in Boonville. It’ll be good to be back there, hanging out with friends and hopefully lending a helping hand with the final stages of the house build and with the animals around the farm. My nephew and niece Sam and Willow are growing up quickly, and after six months away it’ll be amazing to see how much they’ve grown. I’ve bought them clothes and shoes that I’m taking with me, but I’m useless at shopping for myself never mind others, especially buying clothes for kids who always seem to be taller and broader than you remember, so I hope they’ll forgive my taste in fashion and sense of size. I'm also missing my daughter Hannah who I haven't seen for far too long. She'll be leaving college and starting university at the end of the summer and I want to be back in England around that time. Birth to University in the blink of an eye! If I ever needed one, it's a reminder of how old I really am and a motivator to get the things done that I need to get done while there's still enough time and mobility to do them.  

In Boonville I’ll be writing/finishing/polishing the second book; ‘Poor Circulation Homeward Bound’ and hope to have it finished and available before Christmas 2013. Writing and rewriting the first book so many times has taught me some valuable lessons, one of which should be never to promise a delivery date, but hopefully the peace and quiet of Boonville will help me to concentrate and get this one out on time.

Thanks for following, and internet permitting, I'll be back here soon.     

Post 381: Laos, Vang Vieng

My original intention was to ride up to Luang Prabang, about another 250km to the north. But, I’d originally planned to be riding a motorcycle with slightly longer legs than the Suzuki Smash. The bike’s casings tell me that it’s blessed with an engine capacity of 110cc, but from the feel and sound of the motor, it seems to have a 100cc piston slapping around in its oversized bore - a piano playing in a great cathedral. Luang Prabang will have to wait, but the charms of Vang Vieng are drawing me in.

The hills surrounding Vang Vieng are not really mountains; they’re what my old geography teacher always referred to as ‘hummocks’. Tall fingers of rock with rounded peaks covered in vegetation and marbled with natural cave formations. At the undisclosed entrance to one of these caves, I find a local entrepreneur who wants to be my best friend and guide. At each of the caves, the price is always the same, 10,000 kip ($1), but it’s a price worth paying. Without the local guide you’ll struggle to find the hidden entrances and if you haven’t brought your own flashlight and large ball of string, then you’ll likely get lost inside, or fall down a chasm and die.

Inside one of the cave complexes at Pheung Kam, the air is strangely cold as chilling currents flow from somewhere far below ground. Stalactites hang from the high and not so high ceilings, and stalagmites rise from the ground to meet them. The tunnels are narrow, the floors are well trodden and unannounced gullies threaten to swallow the incautious tourist. And then, around a corner, ducking to avoid another collision between forehead and rock, sits a substantial image of Buddha. Too large to have come in through the entrance, it must have been constructed where it sits. It’s old but not ancient and according to my guide, it dates back to the 1970's when these caves were used by ‘People’ to shelter from the almost continuous US bombing raids. I’ve no idea if that’s true, but being here now feels quite claustrophobic and I can’t imagine what it must have felt like in a time of war with bombs raining down on the mountain above. Actually, I don’t think Laos and the USA were ever technically ‘At War’, which seems surprising, because in the 1970's America dropped more ordnance on Laos than the total amount of ordnance dropped on the entire world during World War II .... mai pen rai kap. 

Back on the roads around Vang Vieng, sandy tracks that cross dry river beds and shallow flowing streams, the majority of the people in and between the small hamlets are young. School kids ride from school to the river on their bicycles while younger kids hang out of their clothes and around their grandparents on the bamboo porches of lopsided homes. Apart from those people working in hotels and restaurants, the people here are either old or young, there's nobody in the middle. The parents of the kids, I suspect, are away making money in the city while the older folks take care of the family.  I’d earlier joked about feeling like the poorest kid in town, but that had been back in Vientiane. Here things are different, very different, worryingly different. The shirt on my back makes me feel rich and I suspect that tonight I’ll be eating far better than many of the people that I’ve seen around here today. I don’t feel guilty for being here, I just feel ‘aware’ of my surroundings. Laos is clearly experiencing a period of rapid economic change and in Vientiane that new wealth is visible, often rudely so, but it’s an economic surge that appears to be bypassing these rural communities to the north. 

The town of Vang Vieng is now a community dedicated to the service of tourism, but thankfully, not in a trashy kind of way. In Laos there are no McDonalds, Starbucks or KFC’s, and aside from fuel stations and convenience stores, most small businesses seem to be independently operated. I like that, it gives a degree of uncertainty and character to a place and makes everything feel just a little more genuine. 

Outside of the small towns, agriculture is the main activity and it reminds me very much of Thailand back in the 1980’s. It’s a manual economy that runs with the seasons and still employs more buffalo power than diesel. It’s nice to see that some things haven’t changed, but that’s very easy for me to say. I’m not the one who’s bent double in a field beneath the burning sun thinning-out the rice crops.

Post 380: Laos, Vientiane to Vang Vieng

Memo to Self: ‘Keep Right Stupid’. Yes, here in Laos they like to drive on the right side of the road. Riding on the right isn’t a challenge, it’s forgetting to ride on the right that seems to create the problems. Hopefully I’ll remember and not become another painted outline on the road.

Vientiane is a great city, but leaving it is easy, Highway 13 North. The roads are busy, busier than I can ever remember. Congestion, lots of cars, many of them shiny and new. Billboards to the side of the road explain why. ‘Cars 4 Cash’ - ‘Cash 4 Cars’ – ‘No Deposit + Easy Payments’. The world of Easy Credit has arrived here in Laos and I’m suddenly feeling like the poorest kid in town. Laos is starting to mirror Thailand, but with longer skirts and slightly shorter smiles. Even the rural farmers are the same. Each and every one of them is a pyromanic with a penchant for setting fire to anything that’ll burn. I twist the throttle wide open and try to outrun the choking smoke, but all I seem to get is a lot more noise. It’s another 150Km to Vang Vieng, but fortunately I’ve got a 30 Day Visa .... No need to hurry.

The density of buildings reduces and the road imperfections increase, but the Suzuki Smash just seems to fart along like a vegetarian grandmother. Random detours down sandy tracks and across bridgeless streams add interest to a maximum speed of 80Kph and away from the tarmac, the Suzuki starts making me smile and reminding me that I’m free. All is good in the world. 

Vang Vieng is an interesting town with a local populous of older grandparents and younger kids, and a tourist population of twenty-something Europeans who appear to be strangers to grooming. I feel like the oldest Farang in town riding the slowest scooter in Laos, and it's probably true. Vang Vieng reminds me of Goa thirty years ago, but without the beach and the blow. It’s a good place to kick-back with cheap rooms, stunning views and a relaxed approach to everything. Beyond the town, rough tracks lead to swimming areas, deep caves and tall mountains. With a total disregard for Health & Safety, Kids jump from high bridges into not so deep rivers below and European travellers swing from high rock faces on unreasonably skinny ropes. But, nobody dies and everybody seems to smile.     

At the side of every track, I find constant reminders that life in Laos hasn’t always been quite so carefree. Shell casings litter the area, hopefully dormant or defused, but there are no guarantees. During the Vietnam War, the US dropped 280,000,000 bombs onto Laos, that’s 47 bombs for every man, woman and child in the country, and according to the Mine Action Group, at least 20% of them failed to explode and many remain deadly to this day.

Post 379: Accidentally Into Laos

Entering Thailand from Cambodia at the small border town of Ban Laem, is normally an administrative breeze. However, experience tells me that even the easiest of border crossings can be unpredictable:

Official: ‘Your Thai visa expired on March 11^th, today is March 12^th and your visa is invalid’. 

Me: ‘Please look at my passport, my Thai visa expires tomorrow, March 13^th, my visa is still valid’.

Official: ‘The computer says 11^th March. Sorry, entry is denied’

It was like a game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, but for a traveller with very little money, it was slightly more serious. Unfortunately in this particular version of the game, it seemed that ‘Computer’ trumped ‘Passport-Stamp’ every time. I was clearly on an administrative hiding-to-nothing and decided to cut my losses. After much discussion, they finally compromised and allowed me to enter Thailand for just 14 Days. It wasn’t the 60 Days that I’d expected, but it was certainly better than the alternative: ‘Entry Denied’.

It’s always surprising that a task’s appetite for time can ebb and flow according to the amount of time that’s available to complete it. So, after just 12 Days in Bangkok, my tasks were finished and it was time get out of Thailand. At Bangkok’s Mo Chit bus station, I boarded the overnight VIP Coach to Nong Khai and 12 hours later, I crossed the ‘Friendship Bridge’ into Laos.

Welcome to Laos, or to use its fuller name, the Laos People’s Democratic Republic. Any nation that feels the need to include the words ‘People’ and ‘Democratic’ in its name, always makes me slightly suspicious. Such inclusions often reflect a gentle misinterpretation of the facts, like a chocolate bar described as being ‘Fun Size’ or a tent that ‘Sleeps 4’.  But, when applied to Nations, such misrepresentations are probably slightly more serious. North Korea is officially called The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. I rest my case. 

Democratically speaking, the 6,500,000 citizens of Laos are represented by 132 elected members of the National Assembly.  Every five years, National Assembly members are elected via a national ballot, a ballot that seems to include everything but choice. It appears that all electable officials are members of the only legally recognised political party in Laos, The Lao People’s Revolutionary Party. Thus, I suspect that the words ‘People’ and ‘Democratic’ in Laos’ name are as silent as the letter ‘S’ in Laos.

So here I am, an Englishman governed by Cameron and Clegg, a man living in a world shaped by Bush and Blair, and I’m questioning the true level of democracy here in SE Asia. Shame on me. 

Moving on, in order to travel in Laos, I’ve secured a rental scooter from a Vietnamese food vendor here in downtown Vientiane Capital. It’s a little red Suzuki Smash with a big chrome exhaust pipe and four evenly spaced gears, all of them down. What else can I say? Well, what I should say is that before leaving Thailand I’d pre-booked a rental bike, a 250cc Honda Baja, but when I’d arrived to collect the motorcycle from Jules Classics they’d denied all knowledge of my reservation. I’d shown them the booking request and their subsequent confirmation, but the man from Jules Classics had simply said ‘No’.

Having collected the unfortunately named Suzuki Smash, before leaving Vientiane I stopped to visit a chirpy gentleman who sells handmade wristbands on the pavement outside of Jules Classics. Yesterday I’d left Jules Classics feeling slightly pissed-off with the world, but this man had put everything into perspective. As a youth, he’d lost the use of his lower legs in a landmine incident but had smiled, got over it and got on with it, making the most of what he could do and ignoring what he couldn’t. I chat with him for a few minutes before selecting ten of his beautifully crafted wristbands and handing him a sum of money equal to the cost differential between renting the Honda and Suzuki. It felt good to make someone’s day, but I also introduced him to the wonders of Marmite and that was quite a different story .... a different story for another time.