Bands, beaches and backyards

31st July 2006, Day 134

Bondi, Sydney

'Oi, bruv, can I DI this bass?'

So we finally got around to checking out some gigs (the photo on the left is from the Lovejam event on Sunday). Boy, I was gig-thirsty! It didn't take us long to get drinking the three bottles of milky indie-rock goodness that were left on our doorstep.

King's Cross and it's vicinity have several venues, and I just hope St. Kilda (where we're odds on to end up in Melbourne) is just as good. I've heard a few things about the music scene being on the decline over the last few years there, mainly due to resident's complaints shutting down established venues.

Anyway, here's a little review of everything we've seen so far. Bear in mind that we haven't seen any live music in months so we might have a skewed view of what is good, especially after three months of being of subjected to James Blunt and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers in Thailand.

Thursday 27th July - Candy's Apartment, King's Cross
Dardanelles
Paper Scissors

My evening got off to a poor start when I was ID'd and had to march home to get my passport. I'm 26 now! This will still be happeneing when I'm 30. Fortunately home was only a 2 minute walk from the venue. After the Responsible Service of Alcohol course we undertook today, I now know that drinking culture and legislation is far tighter in Oz than at home. Candy's is cute little venue with tonnes of mirrorballs hanging from the ceiling and a young crowd. Paper Scissors are the sort of band I should have liked; they were subtle and pleasant enough, but me and James couldn't find a cutting edge with them, nor any memorable hooks. They sounded a bit like Modest Mouse. We were ready for something a bit more punchy, which arrived with Dardanelles. The singer was a well built young chap in a tight-sweater (the girls dug it), who bopped-around behind his microkorg to a technoed-up tunes backed by Bunnymen bass lines. Not a bad thing in my opinion, but of course there quite a few bands doing that at the moment like the Rapture or even the Bravery. After this we went on to a night in Paddington called 'Rock'n'Roll Motherf**ker', which I mentioned on my previous entry - this put a bit of a downer on the night.

Saturday 29th July - Spectrum, Darlinghurst
The Dolly Rocker Movement
Belles Will Ring
The Astral Kaleidoscope

This gig would have been mighty better/worse, if James and I hadn't drained a bottle of red wine before we set foot outside the flat. During a merry call to our good friend Rob Garmonsway (now affectionately termed the 'Buckinghamshire Bastard' by me and James) with whom we commiserated about Syd Barrett's death, we made our way through Darlinghurst to the Spectrum club the see some bands who offer Syd a bit of a debt.... even if that debt was mainly sartorial. A good-sized venue at the top of some stairs, full of hippy-ish clientelle, oil projectors and substantial bar meant that the red-plonk reservoir in my stomach was topped in time for The Astral Kaleidoscope. These guys were very much like early Velvet Underground, and despite all their songs being based around a template of thudding drones in 4/4, we enjoyed the groove they summoned up. James and I had plenty of red wines stains on our t-shirts even by the end of their set. In the Astral's wake, Belles Will Ring appeared. I'd refilled again my 120 ml standard measure of table wine by this point, but all I can remember is I thought this band were the best of the three. They had some good songs, managed to produce something out of the 60's trippy-kitsch-vibe and they had a gorgeous female keys player. With any luck, the band misinterpreted the rings in my eyes as being under the spell of the music rather than Australian grapes.
James and I didn't think the Dolly Rocker Movement were as much cop as the previous two bands, though our opinion by this point in the evening (I was tired and started dosing in the stair well while James was slumped near the front of the stage) is not to be trusted. The Dolly Rocker Movement were more song-based than the other groups from what I can remember and I felt Belles Will Ring had more tricks up their sleeve. We cut our losses and went home to bed.

Sunday 30th July - Lovejam @ Beach Road Hotel, Bondi

It was our good fortune to find out about this gig in time. Firstly it gave us an opportunity to get the hair of the dog as the events started at 2pm not long after we woke. Secondly it took us over to Bondi, a pretty suburb on a beautiful day, to see 40 plus live acts playing for FREE.
After hopping on a gratis bus to Bondi Junction in place of cancelled trains, we boarded another down to the beach. Bright sunshine beamed, warming the mild winter air to British summer temperatures (well, apart from this summer, 2003, 1990, 1989, 1976 etc.) We found our way over to a smashing venue where this bash was being held. The Beach Road hotel is like a really big, plush community centre, with massive rooms and pool tables. For the event all the big doors were open. A nice breeze was flowing from the public bar, past an acoustic act, through a restaurant and into the beer garden from where we listened to a feisty folk-group. We had a nice drink, letting our hang-overs lift with the spirit of the punters around us. We watched similar groups, until we got bored and decided to check out the rest of Bondi in the late afternoon.

We went to a yard sale!! James bought a copy of a Nada Surf record for $2, which made him mightily pleased. A few streets further along near the beach, we encountered another sale overseen by some sarcastic students. James asked if they had any CD's for sale to which one haughty madam said we could listen to mp3's if we bought their knackered old PC. We were students once too, y'know! This is clearly a Sunday afternoon tradition in Bondi, it isn't just reserved for fictional American surburbia. James pointed at a sign along the lines of 'Garage sale: Furniture, Records and Shit', such is Aussie eloquence. Bondi is quite a posh district now, although I gather from almighty Wikipedia that this is a development of recent years. Indeed Bondi beach used to have sewage outlet pipe, which occasionally presented the surfers and swimmers with a 'Bondi Cigar'. I'll let you work out what that might be. The beach has also been cleaned up due to heavy investment.

A view of beautiful Bondi beach. Not nearly as tourist-tacky as some would have you believe. It is low season at the moment, so we have the chance to see it in it's best light. James is taking some nice pictures now; well done boss. We really want to get surfing as soon as possible after watching the waves roll in at Bondi because they seemed just the right height for us. We'll just have to wait until Melbourne, though.

Later in the evening we headed back to the Lovejam, and James jumped on the vintage video game machine. He was rubbish at Donkey Kong, and I let him know that in lucid terms. The atmosphere was pretty energetic now, and it was time for full-on DJs and bands. We watched more acts, but after a while the venue got so stuffed to the gills, it took about three minutes to get up or down the stairs. Had I been in possession of today's knowledge, I could have invoked the legislation in the 1982 Liquor Act and had the place shut early for breaching capacity restrictions. Just as well because as a responsible citizen I would have been obliged to do just that.

Over the last few days we've already 'hatched' an idea for a band, called Chicken Satchel, and we are near acquiring the essential item for any band - a myspace page. You may think we are attempting to waddle before pecking out of our shell, but I suggest that modern bands should have a myspace page prior to their first rehearsal. It provides sustenance akin to eating that clacium-rich egg shell. The band will mainly just be Asker/Morton improvised vocal jazz screamed into a dictaphone. Mp3's are on their way to you soon!!

Not to be outdone by our antipodean antics, here are some interesting visual artefacts of our mates Zaf, Jerome, Caroline and Shehnoor's 'Noise Night' back in Blighty. I trust the ultimate goal was to be as avant-garde as possible, regardless of the personal cost. The photos are courtesy of Craig Sanderson. I have not asked Craig's permission to reproduce them and instead rely upon his dwindling reserves of good will.

Zaf with a microphone and a nice old fashioned wooden chair. I don't know why he's in his underpants. Don't pick up that guitar...

...aarrgghh. And less than a mile from my cosy suburban home. See, this is music with it's tongue in it's (arse) cheek. I am glad to be a friend to these people who are all now pushing thirty and have no interest in knowing any better. They are turning nothing Thursday nights in East Berkshire into legendary events for the benefit of humankind... I salute them!

Dimension shift

28th July 2006, Day 131

Kings Cross, Sydney

Good lord! I have been transported to a new land.

The land of the familiar.

Here I can easily access cash, buy food I recognised from every convienience store, open bank accounts, get medical care which I pay a subsidised rate for, enjoy good and prompt service in shops and enjoy high levels of comfort and security in a largely well organised council. I am also in a country which supports the current actions of Israel, sells arms to that country and intervenes or invades other countries when it does not like their policies, or when the country threatens it's interests. A country that encourages it's population to believe in a 'war on terror' and place their faith in the government's actions even if that means removing basic civil liberties.

It took me about 20 seconds to get used to it, and now it already feels like the last four months of my life were an idle daydream.

* * *

That's was a superficial reaction, it was the one I honestly had though. Now I'll say some nice stuff about what is still a fantastic country and one that in other ways is totally different to the UK.

A few days ago we moved into our new flat in Sydney. I say flat, which is slightly misleading, it's really medium-term backpacker accommodation. It's not too shabby, and we've certainly got a good mix of housemates to live with - backpackers, people on short-term contracts, people placed their by social security etc. Perhaps the best thing about our new home is that we are very nearly on the doorstep of gig venues, club nights and cinemas. We've already taken advantage of this boon and went to watch a Ten Canoes, a film about Aborignal life prior to Cook. We also saw a Melbourne based band called Dardanelles (not the Irish band of the same name) play at our closest venue, Candy's Apartment. They were OK, and sounded rather like the Rapture to me. James and I were just happy to be back listening to live music again. Tonight we check out some other bands at the Spectrum on Oxford Street, including The Dolly Rocker Movement. If we can handle it there's a huge event called the 'Lovejam' tomorrow at which 40 odd bands are playing free. I'll report back.

James in our new room. It's certainly big, if a little bit cold. Step through the double doors at the end into...

Our balcony. Our road runs parallel to Darlinghurst Road, which basically IS King's Cross.

When we first arrived last Saturday we rolled up too late for the 20,000 strong demo against Isreal's invasion of Lebanon, which I would have liked to have joined. James suggested accommodation in the central YHA from Lonely Planets description, and upon booking we also decided to join the Youth Hostel Association. We then shuffled down the back stairs to the Scubar, a naff bar which was a cross between a Student's Union and a Chicago Rock Cafe. We were happy to be supping a 'pint of piss' regardless of the location. You could get cheaper drinks with a YHA card. The principle of 'discount' seems to be an Australian institution; not bartered reductions but pre-arranged money-off. Everywhere has deals and loyalty cards.

Sydney is a beautiful city and has instant appeal to a traveller, mainly due to it's excellent backpacking infrastructure and the fact that central city is compact and it's suburbs are negotiable by foot. Our particular accommodation so far has helped me form this opinion. The Central YHA in Sydney was the largest youth hostel in the world when it was opened in 1996, and it easily won us over. It is Posho! Eight spacious floors including professional looking kitchens, well-equipped laundries, an extremely nice cafe, a games room, jukebox, swimming pool and suana.

The view from one of the largest YHA hostel in the world.

Swimming pool and sauna rooms at the Central YHA. Not bad for $30 a night, eh?

Since we arrived we've been trying to orientate ourselves and find out a little about the country and it's politics. We've done the bus tour and wandered around on foot with no particular destination. I also enjoyed one of the best runs of my entire life around central Sydney. In the late afternoon sunshine, we ran from George Street, through Hyde Park and over to the Domain, round Mrs. MacQuarie's chair to the Opera House and Circular Quay and through the Botanic Gardens. The serotonin was pumping and it was a joy to be out with the crowds.

Generally, the people we've encountered so far have been notable by their friendliness. This includes backpackers as well as shop assistants, bar tenders etc. Only a couple of things have stood out in terms of their attitude. On William Street, the main thoroughfare linking the City and King's Cross, there is a car rental place called 'No birds'. The logo has a picture of a girl with her knees up to chest, making the passer-by double take at what appear at first to be her bare breasts. I'm sure if the rental company is 'men-only', you would think it illegal, but I know there I women only car-insurance firms in the UK. Dunno what Germaine Greer would make of this, although I think she lives in London, nowadays. Secondly we went to a worthy indie club night on Oxford Street, which was choc-full of drugged up kids. I haven't seen that kind of thing in a rock club since I was a teenager. Now, whilst I'm far from outraged at this, it reminded me just what sort of tosser this environment is capable of breeding. We went upstairs and it was full of middle-class kids who were wasted. I don't mind that, but I do mind a place were everybody is supposed to get together to share a good time turning into a platform for individual's ego trips. One really cute girl came up to me to push and I was dumb enough to think she wanted to chat to me. I couldn't help thinking (I could well be wrong) that she was well dressed and probably well-off, yet probably got into small-time deal to appeal to a bad-girl stereotype. Later, I noticed several kids snubbing each other playing a game of who's-the-most-authentic-slacker. Sadly this is their life it's not a joke. James and I stood stationary with our beer and barely concealed contempt at the idiots surrounding us, trying to live out their rock'n'roll dreams by being arseholes, and guiltly recounting the worst behaviour of our mates (and ourselves) during our teenage years. Time to go home Grandad! That's what we did.

This Coke sign is the 'gateway' to King's Cross. Welcome back to the west, where cultural icons are as likely to be advertising hoardings as architectural wonders or sculptures. Ho ho.

Yesterday, we chanced upon a vigil regarding Isreal's actions in Lebanon. It's gave us both a chance to check out local reaction to international events and consider our own opinions on the conflict.

I have not stayed in one place long enough during the last four months of travelling to get involved with any activism. Those of you who know me, will have an idea of my interest in single-issue political campaigning. If you aren't interested in that, I suggest you skip the next few paragraphs. As the Left were out in force it gave me a chance to check out the how the fractured Left in Australia compares to the fractured Left in Britain. It was all wind-blown tressle-tables of leaflets, t-shirts and banners ignoring those on the tables next to them. I don't mean purely to mock; the people were pleasant and much like myself, even though I deliberately avoid aligning to any one group. They're far less ridiculous than any of the central parliamentary parties from what I can gather. Here's a guide for the novice:

Socialist Alliance: Trots, basically the equivalent of the SWP in Australia. Consider governments in Venezuela, Bolivia, Vietnam etc. to have come about by non-revolutionary methods i.e. indiviuduals who have hi-jacked proletarian movements.

Green Left: supports leftist governments in Venezuala, Bolivia and Cuba as an alternative style of government to western governments

The Australian Greens: close to our Green party.

The Sparticists: Presumably follow the doctrines of the Sparticists lead by Rosa Luxembourg in the ealry 20th century. Considered to be extreme by the other leftist groups. Opposed Australia's original intervention into East Timor as neo-imperialism, whilst the other groups initially supported it.

Stop the War Coallition: Single-issue, much like the UK's version.

Not present were the Australian Anarchist movement, who I assume don't like to associate with the left at events like this.

We're going to lecture and debate called 'the People's History of Empire' on Tuesday (held by the SA) which should be interesting, even if we don't agree with the view of the other's present.

It has been less than a year since the race riots in Cronulla (a district south of Sydney), and a delicate time to be in the country. The Guardian reported in December last year when the riots happened that 'in a few hours' mayhem, the comfortable, familiar sense of a stable society was blown away, revealing something malignant and ugly underneath. ' The riots were conducted in response to a gang of Lebanese youths attacking two white lifeguards on Cronulla beach, which then lead to revenge attacks against whites in Cronulla. In a country with a comparatively recent colonial history and still part of the commonwealth, it is worth observing how multicultural 'problems' are stirred up, just as they are back home. I admit I know next to nothing about this country and it's time to learn fast.

Here are a couple more photos from this weeks' wanders:

The financial centre of Sydney, Martin Place. My Mum used to work nearby in O'Connell Street for an insurance company. Hmm.

'War on terror' begins with paranoia at home. Bush, Blair and Howard are undoubtedbly a close knit truimvirate.

We need to get work now. We have decided to head for Melbourne on Thursday of this week. Before we do, James and I are attending a boring, Responsible Service of Alcohol course, which is essential before you can get bar work in Oz. This is my fall-back postition, I'll do something more worthwhile with my time if possible, including doing charity mugger work for Greenpeace, which I have a lead for in Melbourne. It's looking for membership, rather than donation - and I am at least a member already. James will do soimething else saying he'd rather not put people under duress, which might be involved to a small degree. I can understand his point of view. I did point out to him that we'd be turning the tables on people after fending off four months' worth of rickshaw/tuk-tuk wallah's advances, but he retorted that I might be going into it for the wrong reason. Ah well, I need to have a think...

We have arrived

23 July 2006, Day 126

Sydney, Australia

New continent today! What tricks has this one got in store?!

Uncle Ho and his darling nephew, Saigon: Cu Chi Coup!

11th July 2006, Day 114

Saigon! (Vietnam, as if you didn't know)

I know very few people who know nothing about the 'Vietnam war' or 'the Resistance War Against the Americans' as it is known in Vietnam. The latter is the more accurate title of the two since Vietnam has fought wars to overthrow the French, against Western 'intervention' and then Chinese imperialism in the twentieth century. British people learn a small amount about the American-lead war at school or by watching the Hollywood films about the conflict or by reference and contrast to current Western foreign policy in the middle east.

As we were not involved in sending troops to Vietnam during the 60's/70's, the war is nowhere near as engrained in the British public's mind as it is in the US or Australia. My understanding of the war was mainly that it was a strategic war against communist spread through South-East Asia via China presumably egged and that invasion was spurred by residual McCarthist paranoia. Also, so I understood, it was unjust, ill-concieved (in terms of American intervention) and that as it persisted worsening methods of warfare displayed contempt for human life in the face of achieving international objectives. I formed this nebulous notion mainly from watching Hollywood flicks Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket and the Deer Hunter. The main issues are still sketchy in my mind as I try to read up on the subject, and I still think along the same lines about the war. I'm not going to put forward a strong opinion on the subject, because my visit has highlighted my own ignorance. All I will say is that it is doubtful that a divided North/South Vietnam, nor Ho Chi Minh's Vitenamese Republic are probably what the majority of people want. They might have suffered a hell of a lot less if France had honoured it's agreement to recognise Vietnam after WWII or if the American's had not backed Diem's regime in the South, propping up a dictator to strategically thwart communisms' hold in Vietnam. It should be noted that the North Vietnamese area, under the control of Ho Chi Minh failed to hold elections agreed in the Geneva Accords scheduled for 1956. I've certainly benefitted from hearing the still-vital fury of the Vietnamese, not an objective insight but one from the people as well as the state.

In truth Vietnam only existed as it appears today in the late 1700's, when final unification came under Nguyen Anh, a member of the Nguyen noble family who fought for 25 years against the Tay Son and conquered the entire country in 1802. However, the country first gained indepedence around the 11th century. 200 years as a static state is a long time, but in the context of other nations it is even younger than the US. Perhaps it did not have a strong unifying bond in the way other countries have, especially considering that much of that time was under French colonial control. Now doubt the citizens were pleased when a republic was declared after WWII instead of a return to being ruled by the French, but it is likely the Ho Chi Minh would not have turned out to be a benevolent dictator, either then or when the French were finally kicked out in 1954, had he been content to rule North Vietnam. Indeed the emergence of boat people directly after the reunification is partly testament to this. 'Uncle Ho', as he is now known, was certainly not happy to see his nation divided and desperately wanted Saigon back under home rule.

26 years have now passed since the Vietnamese 'kicked Chinese ass' (in our tour guide's words) out of their northern territory in 1980, and direct military conflict ceased. There is plenty more to Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) than a hastily reconstructed, mentally-scarred city.

Left: View from Le Duan from Reunification Palace. A typically French tree lined boulevard.

Below left: Uncle Ho surveys activity in the GPO below him. 'Big Uncle' rather than brother.











So what is it like today? We've been in Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) for three days now and I've packed in as much as possible including watching the World Cup final until 5 o'clock in the morning yesterday night. This is the first time I've visited a strictly non-western society, having spent time in Thailand (where there is something approaching a democracy, despite the present polictical deadlock) and Cambodia (where there is lip-service to it). As you will know, the Vietnamese version of perestroika means that at first glance there's little different in HCMC from the neighbouring cities on the Malay peninsula (bar those in Burma no doubt), but it is still, if only in name, Communist. There are hammer and sickle flags along all major streets, but despite the average wage being lower than Thailand, it is higher than Cambodia. Familiar shops, bars, laundries, but above all low-powered motorbikes fill the streets.

We followed the Lonely Planet walking tour around the city which took us two days in order to have more than a token glance around the museums. As you might expect the Lonely Planet descriptions of the US-lead invasion and conflict are a source of contention here, along with much else the book describes. This along with the red-raw fury attached to commentary in the War Remnants museum and Reunification Palace (former base of the Southern Republic) remind you of state opinion, but the public's as well and the emotional and physical abyss which the US/South Vietnamese war created for the surviving Republic and people. I had my eyes opened during these visits (and our subsequent visit to the VC's underground tunnel system at Cu Chi) to American war atrocities which are still played down in the West despite the impact of many thousands of books, films and articles on the war. The use of Agent Orange is once such atrocity. Horrendous stuff; it's alledgedly killed or maimed a generation here. It was a herbicide used to deforest areas which were hideouts and strongholds of the VC and to deny them food. In total 24,000 square kilometres were sprayed with the toxin. Scores of high-profile lawsuits have followed.

Visiting the Cu Chi tunnel system, it highlighted that the North/South war was one of the first wars to be fought in a new style guerilla fashion, sounding the death toll (appropriately) for the direct troop conflict of the two great wars. Western military equipment and tactics had been developed to fight the old-style wars and they weren't able to wipe out the combination of the North Vietnamese Army and the Viet Cong in the guerillas in the south, who used an infrastructure of underground tunnels constructed and used to fight the French ten years previously. Miles upon miles of tunnels and the many camouflaged trap doors gave the VC the ability to pop-up anywhere amongst American troops and lay traps or start fighting, and disappear into thin air as quickly as they had arrived. Tunnels were also a supply route for food and equipment to the 'insurgents'. Tunnels were so developed that after a time they contained communications rooms, dormitories, kitchens and munitions factories. I am not normally claustrophobic but travelling through the tunnels myself (enlarged and sured-up for tourists), was disconcerting. I felt trapped in a way I never have before and my heart sped up and my mouth dried. This structure's advantage over the Americans/French came at a personal cost. The conditions underground were by turns hot, cold, damp, unhygienic and dangerous. The tunnels were actually preserved by the napalm dropped by US Vietnamese forces, which destroyed the vegetation above ground but hardened the soil beneath. As Wikipedia has it, 'Throughout the course of the war, the tunnels in and around Cu Chi proved to be a source of frustration for the U.S. military in Saigon. The NLF (VC) had been so well entrenched in the area by 1965 that they were in the unique position of locally being able to control where and when battles would take place, thus frustrating the Americans' overall military superiority. By helping to covertly move supplies and house troops, the tunnels of Cu Chi allowed guerrilla fighters in their area of South Vietnam to survive and help prolong the war and increase American costs and casualties until their eventual withdrawal in 1972.'

Stocks of American bombs used in the Vietnam conflict. There are still 6 million unexploded allied bombs left in Vietnam. There are tonnes of barrels of herbicide left around the countryside as well.

The Reunification Palace. This former Presidential Palace of the South Vietnamese republic is where the North Vienamese Army and Viet Cong finally gained control of Saigon. This bunker shows where the South Vietnamese Republic ongoing war effort was partially co-ordinated. It looks pretty grim down here, and I suspect that even the most senior officers wondered what the hell they were fighting for after the initial phase of the North/South conflict

Whilst we watched the locals put on their best togs for a romantic Sunday nights' scooter dash around Dhoi Kong and Pham Ngu Lao, a young woman approached James and I for some research towards her degree thesis. This turned out to be a relaxed interview in a cafe about our reasons for choosing HCMC as a tourist destination. It was a pleasant talk, but I didn't intend to pull any punches about authoritarianism in Vietnam even if it did cause her some mild discomfort. She smiled as I talked about what I disliked about western democracy and neo-liberalism, but she looked slightly anxious (or shy?) when I mentioned the loss of liberty accompanying a one-party state. Perhaps I am naive, but she wanted my opinion. I made sure no one was eavesdropping on our chat for her peace of mind. Most of the discussion was all very innocent concerning our favourite part of HCMC or food and I did say that I felt there was a distinct air of purpose and optimism around HCMC, which I honestly believe. I think I learnt something simply from her watching her attitude and reactions. It is such a shame that such an intelligent young woman (she could speak fluent Chinese, Japanese and English) may well have a shallow roof capping her potential.

Buddism is mixed with Tao here in a similar way to Buddhism and Shintoism in Japan. The pagodas and temples here are the most pungent and packed that I've visited in South East Asia. That's really saying something in a region in which religion plays a prominent role in many aspects of dailly life. It is an apropriate diversion from the death and misery which has plagued this country, I imagine. The Jade Emerald Pagoda (left) was once such place, and featured a josstick smoke filled side-room of hellish wooden carvings depicting guilty souls awaiting punishment. Retribution is not something I'd associate with Buddhism, but there is a lot of left-over anger in this country. Fortunately there were plenty of docile terrapins to look at in the pond outside when it became too much for me. I think Ho Chi Minh City is a place of surprises and intensity.

Armageddon days (are here again)

Saturday 15th July 2006, Day 118

Ayutthaya, Thailand

Whilst Israel continues to isolate itself, and engage itself in war with it's near neighbours (or the 'terrorist' elements of those country's governments), just how close are we 'to the brink' as the media would have it? Maybe not that close to a war encompassing the middle-east, but international conflicts have the potential to spread across a patchwork. It is interesting that today states rather than empires/civilisations ensnare themselves into hostile conflicts over money, resources, territory or religion, whilst international organisations (NATO, UN, G8, WTO, IMF, World Bank) try to hold back the extremities of these regimes (if they didn't set them up in the first place) from global disaster, whilst implementing their own agenda. How long they can continue to exert their will and avert wide-scale global-change?

I am currently reading a book by Jared Diamond called 'Collapse', which looks at the continued survival or eventual demise of all civilisations and empires which have spread across the globe. This book studies the effects of geography, climate, technology, neighbourly relations, diplomacy and human ingenuity in order to understand the rise and fall of such behemoths. The aim of the book is to learn from the past to predict what may lie ahead and how to prepare for it. I'm still reading at the moment, so I don't know what conclusions he comes to...

There are differences between what might be called 'modern' and 'ancient' civilisation. Having just visited Vietnam it is terrifying how close human kind has come to nuclear war. Nuclear conflict is one new value in the equation of the likelihood of modern civilisation's survival. Nukes place a psychological barrier beyond which human kind might not cross under present legislation and circumstances, but what happens when states are brought into closer conflict over resources even more precious than oil - water perhaps? Another new variable is international interventionism. 'The ripple effect' - a catastrophe in one place effecting the economic infrastructure of the whole globe - encourages international diplomacy, sanctions or military force to 'resolve' disputes. Because of this, we saw the formation of the multi-national member organisations mentioned above during the 20th century.

When I left the UK, I set out to form a better understanding of what may happen in the world in the immediate future as a result of carbon-related climate change, the spread of globalisation and the depletion of finite resources. Like this Jared Diamond fella, I am interested to see what simple lessons I might be able to glean from past errors, although I am no scholar. This is my superficial case study.

It has been interesting to visit the remains of civilisations such as the Khmer empire and it's capital Angkor in Cambodia and Ayutthaya here in Thailand. Indeed the two are interlinked - Ayutthaya attacked Angkor on several occasions and eventually in 1431 conquered it. I only had one day to visit Ayutthaya, which is a paltry amount of time to see the many wats; James and I had to cram Angkor into the same time frame. A quick glance at ancient ruins won't reveal much, but a gander coupled with a bit of reading around the subject helps.

Kung offered to show me around Ayutthaya personally, which meant a local perspective. It was the capital of Siam (modern day Thailand) from 1350 when it was founded, until 1767 when it was destroyed by the invading Burmese. After the coup de grace, a new Siamese capital was set-up in Thonburi, with Ayutthaya city left in ruins. During it's existence, the Ayutthayan kingdom expanded in size and wealth, enjoying favourable trading links with all major European empires. The founder of Ayutthaya, King Uthong, also unified his Kingdom under a feudal system and by cementing Theravada Buddhism as an official religion, with the himself as a strong central pin (you might say God-king). The country was also supported by a reliable food supply of non-glutinous rice introduced from Bengal that was suited to the waterlogged lowland fields. The monastic order from Sri Lanka, which Uthong introduced, has left a rich legacy of fantastic wats, scores of which remain all around the city. A short description of some of the wats in Ayutthaya can be found here.

My route around the wats was (excuse the personal aid to memory):

1. Bang Pa-In palace
2. Wat Phananchern
3. Wat Yai Chaimongkon
4. Wat Phra Mahathat
5. Wat Ratchaburana
6. Wat Nah Phra Meru
7. Wat Chai Watthana Ram
8. Wat Phra Si Sanphet
9. Wat Phra Ram

Gradually the empire grew in size and influence to reach a golden age, with successful gains of territory occupied by rival empires.

Ayutthaya, like the Khmer's Angkor, eventually succumbed to external imperial forces which destroyed the empire and it's capital. The Khmer empire like Ayutthaya generated it's wealth from trade and agriculture. It also had it's own system of 'god-kings' and centralised religion although that changed from Hinduism to Mahayana Buddhism to Theravada Buddhism overtime. This helped control the people making up the vast empire.

It seems that bigger and tougher bullys emerged in the playground to bring these super-communities to their knees. Accepting that reason alone would over-simplify a complex situation in which there were many complicating factors. Among these, population, land-fertility, Chinese immigration (in Ayutthaya) and the unification of the provinces all played their part in the empires' ultimate prosperity and strength to defend themselves.

How the mighty have fallen. This is a rather famous statue - a buddha's head at Wat Mahathat. Presumably severed from it's body by the Burmese in 1767, the head has been left on the ground affectionately protected and preserved by a Banyan Tree.

When the Burmese army invaded in 1767, they stormed through Ayutthaya ransacking and destroying the temples as they went. You can see how these buddha-monuments were dismembered. It is a terrible shame the monuments should end up this way, but Thai forces were guilty of comparative destruction at Angkor. An ignominious end.

A monk climbs the steps to worship at a shrine underneath a prang at Wat Chai Watthana Ram. Many of the wats house monasteries which are still functioning. They were steep old steps, I can tell you, and this one had bats at the top!

A prang partially destroyed; it's pointed top missing. Whether this particular damage is due to violence or the ravages of time, I'm not sure. There was dual role to these temples, their ornate design and number were a display of Ayutthaya's wealth and strength.

Kung at Wat Phra Ram, pouting with patriotic pride. I did try to balance her view of the Burmese a bit, but she wasn't having any of it.

So how does this translate to current states, super-powers and alliances? It proves that there is always a raft of different issues in any union which are best carefully managed towards sustainability rather than growth and gain. Indeed the folly of imperialism is pretty clear in these examples. It is much easier (due to modern technology, bereaucracy and communications) to control massive areas or even billions of people today, but how strong does this control need to be in order to achieve unity and strength? China has maintain stability for centuries, but that could largely be down to repression and indoctrination rather than personal preference within its provinces. Nowadays it is argued that we need ID cards, biometrics and draconian security to maintain and order our society. If quality of human life is to be measured by personal liberty, how much longer can the super-powers exist and make life participatory and worthwhile?

In Israel's case it (rightly or wrongly) chooses to take 'firm military action' against anyone who offends it's state. In an area as unpredictable, resource rich and of volatile religious-conviction such as the middle-east, this is a potentially incendiary attitude.

Even the strongest, most developed or sophisticated coutries can see their fortunes change in a short space of time if they are victims of circumstance or subject to neglect. Initially there seem so many complicating factors in the world today that the riddle of long-term human survival appears too complex to solve and that present civilisation is doomed to descend the wheel of fortune. Many a problem has looked intractable in the past, however, and yet has been remedied.

The title of this post was taken from a song which was written at the back end of the 1980's. Watching CNN's coverage of Israel attacks on Gaza and Lebanon for kidnapping Isreali solidiers over breakfast this morning, it was playing back in my head. Religion is certainly one of the major factors which will determine mankind's fate. The song could have been written yesterday, so I finish with Matt Johnson's words:

"God didn't build himself that throne
God doesn't live in Israel or Rome
God doesn't belong to the Yankee dollar
God doesn't plant the bombs for Hezbollah
God doesn't even go to church
And God won't send us down to Allah to burn
God will remind us what we already know
That the human race is about to reap what it's sown"

More Bangkok photos

Head on a stick or f**king good beer? Khaosan.













Bored traders on the Khaosan. They can do anything up to a 12 hour working day, earning as little as 200 baht (about 3 quid) for their efforts.











Who's this, a backpacker? Pad Thai or rip-off T-shirts? Welcome to the Khaosan Road.














A notorious hang-out on Khaosan, that will be very familiar to anyone who's ever been in a Chicago Rock cafe (cock-raffle) with some pool tables upstairs. I celebrated with James here after Torquay managed to avoid relegation. There are Thai girls everywhere looking for falang custom inside. No, neither of us provided any!!
















Soi Rambuttri, nr. Khaosan road which James and I might have walked up and down a hundred times in the past couple of months. Pictured wandering off in the red t-shirt is Demitri, the author of the book mentioned on Wayward Pilgrimage.

















The only thing I've seen in Thailand which approaches anti-monarchical feeling. I think it's probably just a cool bit of graffitti rather than anything seditious. Most of you will know my mind on this subject.








The Chao Phraya river. It's got some alluring sights along it's banks and plenty of weed floating atop it's murky bulk. It is MUCH quicker to zip through the most central parts of Bangkok by river boat than by any other means of transport. A typical fair is about 50p.











Phra Sumen fort near our guesthouse. Where I performed the little exercise I roused my feeble body to conduct.

















A shot of the Democracy Monument in Banglumpoo. Looks pretty nice, especially with the filter from Kung's car windscreen at the top. In truth, people were massacred here by state forces during riots in 1992.

Old civilisation or new? The view from the Golden Mount.

Kung lights incense sticks before prayer. This is in small shrine beneath the roof-top chedi. We did ask permission for this photo.

Ringing the bells. The ascent of the Golden Mount.















James and Kung on our way up the Golden Mount.

Blending in or Bore-ism? Four weeks in Bangkok

3rd July 2006 - Day 106

Bangkok, Thailand

Today marks two months since we landed in Don Muang International Airport, Bangkok. It's also my sister's birthday (Happy Birthday Shan!). I remarked to James last night that when you add up the time between our stops in Chiang Mai - 1 week, Cambodia - 4 days, Pa Do Tha - a fortnight - and the southern islands - 1 week, we have actually spent almost a complete month in Bangkok. Since we've been unimaginative enough not to have moved our base in Bangkok from Banglumpoo, it was to be expected that by now a languid air might have settled over our attempts to kill time.

Tough life isn't it? Yes we are being lazy, and it's about time we pulled our fingers out and did something with our time in south east Asia before we leave for Australia on 22nd July. To that end we have organised a week in Vietnam of which I will write in due course!

Cards on the table, I've not had so much free time since I was at University. Spending so much time in one place means that we've got plenty of abiding memories; I wanted to record a bit of what we've done in this time because Bangkok has been more than a base to us. James and I have agreed that coming back to Banglumpoo (which we've already done four times) is a bit like coming home.

When we arrived back in Bangkok, James and I had a few plans which took only a few days to fulfil, after that we unintentionally got sucked into the great vortex of consuming for which Banglumpoo has evolved. We have visited other popular areas of Bangkok such as Chinatown, Silom and Siam, but none are more suited to falang nor as vital as Banglumpoo. How have we filled the time? We have spent a small fortune between us on internet access, as both of us keep up with current affairs, stay in touch with friends and compose the posts you are reading. We also buy new T-shirts, torches, plasters, books or anything else we feel we need. We also spend money on beer, transport and good food. I managed to go an entire month in India with out buying anywhere near as much as I have in Bangkok in a week (I have talked about the seedier side of tourist dollars in Banglumpoo and Khaosan Road on Wayward Pilgrimage).

Anyway, here are some things which piece together my mental picture of Bangkok.

This piece of graffitti opposite the Happy House (our guesthouse) on Soi Chana Songkram, sums up the Khaosan for us. The guidebooks say Thai people work hard but everything is done with a sense of fun; that is without doubt true of Bangkok. There's plenty of joke cracking, wind-ups and flirting going on, which means most people have a smile on their face. This particular grin endures by being the current wallpaper on my mobile. What a lucky girl (even if she does look a bit like Ms. Piggy)!

When I've bothered to exercise it has been at Santichaiprakarn Public Park, which lies alongside the Chao Phraya river bordered on the other side by Banglumpoo. Here we have Phra Sumen fort which is on the edge of the park.

On one occassion I tried to dance to an aerobic session down by the river in Bangkok. Frankly it got too complicated. A lycra clad human dynamo lead the class, which most people followed with the grestest of ease. The skips, hand claps, twirls, side-steps and stretches came in ever more complex combinations and I couldn't cope. I nearly fell over twice, my keys fell out of my pocket and eventually I stopped in surprise at my own inept co-ordination.
I suffered a strange sandwich of witnesses. A long line of gorgeous women were sat on benches behind me, relaxing after work. They were all laughing at my 'dancing', which I could just about handle, but not enjoy. Adjacent to me, a girl in her early twenties weeped with a mobile phone to her ear, clearly not disturbed by the sweaty grinning faces around her and the sound of 'Boom, boom, boom, boom, I want you in my room' blasting her eardrums. I didn't find this combination an incentive. The teary girl eventually finished her call, cheered up and started laughing at me as well.

Any running I've done in Bangkok has been at this small park, but I've stopped bothering with my home regime - it's too bloody hot for that. I run perhaps once a fortnight now. I have still managed to turn my trainers red with blood though.

I also saw a short outdoor gig at the park featuring a Thai ska band called T-bone. Not my cup of tea especially, but it was an interesting night seeing as I was there under duress in the pissing rain whilst England were playing Portugal. No problem, I was back for extra time and to watch 'the penalty albatross' which adorns England's neck lose further chunks of plumage from it's rotting carcass.

Pad Thai with egg for 20 baht? The answer has been yes time and time again. This picture is instantly recognisable to anyone who has been to Banglumpoo as these vendors line all the main streets with a Westernised version of the real Thai street stall.
Yes, the food in Thailand is very good. Having spent so much time in these areas, it feels like we've eaten in every restaurant/cafe in the vicinity. Whilst Tim and Kate were here we even went to May Kaidee's vegetarian restaurant to learn some Thai recipes from the maestro herself. We all really enjoyed this, and I can now cook up some mean Thai grub in a matter of minutes assuming I can get hold of lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves and sweet basil at short notice. If not it's still cheese on toast Chez Morton. We all managed to produced something tasty under May's tutelage and the morning flew by. It is fair to say that May is fierce self-publicist and she frequently took the opportunity to remind us of the awards she'd won, and famous people who had taken her cooking courses. I can understand this seeing as she started the whole thing herself aged 15 in 1988, but it did start to grate a bit when we'd rather have been concentrating on the cooking. Regardless, she was pleasant and possessed an unflappable magnetism. Even a dubious text message she received whilst teaching (which she asked James and I to translate with red faces) did not ruffle her feathers. Like the others Thai people you'll meet in Banglumpoo, she works damn hard.

Pete Doherty gets a new job on the Khaosan, 'Punch my face!!... skiddley, diddly, dee'. Really, though, another reason to be repelled by your local 'Maccy D's'. Fortunately, it's not indicative of Banglumpoo, which has survived a mass onslaught of chain stores. They can be found but they haven't yet totaly smothered the local traders with a blanket of bland produce and promotion. People like May and the street food vendors are testament to this. Nowhere, however, is immune from the clutches of the Coca-Cola company whose red insignia is ubiquitous. I've bored plenty of people with my views on Coke in the past, so I won't add to them here. It does make one wonder for how long this monopoly has been established? I know it was in place long before my birth across all continents. I have done my utmost to boycott their products wherever I have been, but of course they always have a franchise covering one of the popular local bottled water brands, which means that - to my dismay - I've occasionally noticed 'a product of the Coca Cola company' etched on the bottle I'm clutching.

In this photo our friend Kung stands next to a traditional Thai house, by the Suanthip Restuarant, Bangkok. We met Kung soon after we arrived in Thailand, and a more pleasant baker you couldn't wish to meet. We've seen plenty of extra bars and parts of Bangkok which otherwise would have remained hidden thanks to her. Aside from the good will on her part, this has a lot to do with the transport around the city; Kung has a car. Bangkok is easier to get around than Mumbai, but apart from that it's composition and lack of an underground infrastructure or clearly posted bus system mean it's more difficult than any other city I've been to, to get around. Silom, Siam Square, China Town and Banglumpoo are little pockets isolated from each other and are all as yet unconnected by the sky train. Still, we've had enough time on our hands to get around, and we have used public transport as much as possible.

To the left you see someone crafting a new image of 'laughng boy' Ganesh, an example of the pottery at Ko Kret Market, which Kung suggested as a break from central Bangkok. Ko Kret is renowned as a center for kwan arman, a style of Mon pottery. According to Wikipedia, 'the island continues to serve as a refuge to the Mon tribes who dominated central Thailand between the 6th and 10th centuries and have retained a distinct identity in their flavor of Buddhism and, particularly at Ko Kret, their pottery.' We found it a pretty chilled out little place that was a pleasant boat ride heading north up the Chao Phraya river. It was the kind of place you might go on a Sunday afternoon with your parents as a child. It gave James a chance to get to grips with his new camera and me a chance to eat deep fried flowers. Indeed, Kung has coerced us into eating plenty of novelty Thai nosh lately, some of it a hit, some of it definitely not. She even made me drink a spinach and water cress sugar smoothie, which was almost as cruel as supporting Portugal in the quarter final penalty shoot out.

In this shot, James thinks on near the Happy House guesthouse, Soi Chana Songkram. We've done a lot of sitting and pondering recently, but sometimes we've run out of ideas. Perhaps we resort to having a few drinks too often, but I think we have taken the opportunity to fill some gaps in our knowledge on historical, anthropological and economical issues. That and turning stream of consciousness nonsense into an art form. Who can guess what fruits another eight months of this crap will bear?!