We are a messy race

Ko Kud, Thailand, 28 May 2007
Now, I'm not having a dig at Thailand per se, the inordinate amount of rubbish the human race produces is a global phenomenon and truly phenomenal. That said, probably the Gulf of Thailand is a little more chock-a-block with flotsam & jetsam than most stretches of water. I ended up waking up in the middle of the night the other...err...night (product of going to bed at 8:30pm I think) and not being able to drop back under the spell, I started thinking about the issue. I guess it was on my mind.

Now I'm not going to get all overtly moralistic and Green Party Manifesto thumping (recycled, unbleached paper, natch) although there's no reason not to, but I did have a little bit of a personal epiphany. (Any 15 year old fourth year economics student - feel free to shoot my arguments down in flames. Make a change from me enduring said 15 year olds deafeningly shooting each other in CyberShacks with their online gaming.) It occurred to me that on the grander scale the world economy is based on production and consumption. At the bottom of the production chain are the raw materials: coal, wood, oil, gas, beef, wheat, iron ore...the list is endless. And we as consumers consume these raw materials (no, really!), often after they've been refined and manufactured into other stuff. And it's the byproduct of all this, the stuff that's left over or not useful that we end up just chucking out, clogging up landfills, littering fields, parks and road sides...and oceans. And that's not even going into the non-renewable issue that entangles a lot of the base materials.

OK, so that's not going to win any prizes for fresh or groundbreaking news I know. But isn't the whole world's economy based on us producing more, consuming more, paying for newer, bigger (or smaller in some cases), faster, shinier, things with more knobs and dials, more channels, tones, computerisation...all in a stunning NEW colour that's the must have hottest trend! And therefore isn't the world economy completely at loggerheads with the growing motto of 'Reduce, reuse, recycle' that Jack Johnson has so adroitly popularised (and after three months of having it played on loop coming up through Malaysia and Thailand I would happily recycle all his CDs into coasters or Frisbees).

So if we were really to embrace this ethos of RRR, then surely commerce would have to start marketing (and making) their products differently and certainly not building in redundancy that I'm sure takes place these days. I mean, what mobile phone doesn't seem to start playing up after a year and a half? Coincidence or a conspiracy between phone manufacturers and cellular network providers to tie you into another 18 months contract as you need a new phone and you're not going to pay off the shelf prices (although you pay more in the end I'll warrant)? (Guess whose phone has just started playing up!)

Volvo - buy one for a lifetime, hydrogen cell compatible and we'll even throw in a fresh water waste collection system so kiss goodbye to water rates!

Is that really going to happen? Where's the money in making a product that doesn't need replacing...ever, in reducing consumption to the lowest level possible? So where's the money in NOT polluting and producing more waste? While society still operates on an attitude of consumption, then there is no impetus to change the way things are. Like most things in life, change comes at the level of personal responsibility...or we could all carry on regardless until you can walk from shore to shore across the rubbish floating in the sea or have to wear gas masks to walk in an urban street.

OK, rant over but just for those that like pretty pictures, here's a delightful selection of pretty items I encountered simply strolling along the beach in Ko Kud. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice beach. It just could have been nicer without all the junk. And that statement works for the world in general.

(Jeepers, I think I've become Evan!)

Richard Branson meets Robsinson Crusoe

Ko Kud, Gulf of Thailand, May 25-29, 2007
When the going gets tough, the tough go to the beach. With the processing of my passport application being dealt with by the starched shirts at the British Embassy in Bangkok, there was nothing to do but wait, and where better to contemplate my navel than at the beach on a tropical island? Let me see...nope can't think of any really. So it was off to Ko Kud for me.

A few things about late May in Thailand. It's the start of the rainy season and this means...well, rain mainly. It also means bugs of a blood sucking nature, who enlivened by the warm wet conditions, start to party. I guess the two above related factors explains why May, June & July are the 'closed season' for Thailand's tourist spots. Ko Kud was no exception. I ended up being the only tourist (and I really mean I saw no-one else) on the west side of the island (fourth biggest in Thailand so considerably bigger than Lundy!). All the accommodation was (not surprisingly) also closed but I managed to wangle my way into a resort called A Na Lay for a handful of beans (good value compared to what it would cost in the 'on' season). I also negotiated with the owner 'Vee' to eat the same meals as the lads that were repairing the rather swanky hillside bungalows. A limited choice but as authentic Thai food as you could wish for, if a little eye wateringly spicy at times.

So I had my own private resort effectively, all to myself making me feel a bit like Richard Branson hanging out on one of his own islands. But I also felt a bit like Robinson Crusoe in my isolation.

It did rain quite a lot and I also got bitten to bugg*ry (to use a very apt expletive) so it wasn't all coconut flavoured gravy. Also the solitude started to get to me and I started playing cribbage with a Milky Joe character of my own invention.



The beach on the west of Ko Kud where I hung out with Milky Joe.

My own teak wood veranda looking west over the sea.

The rickety jetty (under repair) looking west, sun setting behind.


A sun lounger. Not that useful when there's no sun but could be used at a push to shelter under when the rain lashes down.

Hello! You travel half way around the world and are in a place where there are few people, no cars really and barely any roads and what pops up - some traffic cones! Jeez.

A strange fruit, not to be mistaken for Simon Callow...another strange fruit.


Whilst on Ko Kud, I learnt it was my friends', Catrin & Pops, wedding. So here's a wee message of congratulations and good luck...and a can of Singha beer with which I toasted their health.


In case you couldn't read it, here's a close up and I think you might need bifocals!

Time travel

The missing bit: Malaysia and Thailand Apr & May 07
You might have noticed that the old Bligblagblog got miraculously up to speed and we are now pretty much in the present. This was due to me kind of skipping a goodly portion of my wayfaring, namely the bit including Malaysia and the Thai islands.

They say a picture speaks a thousand words, so to that effect I have loaded up a whole host of new pics on my Flickr site to save having to do the writing bit. That said, couldn't resist displaying this selection here. They don't tell you anything of my travels really, maybe just a little about my state of mind. (I think you get the picture...quite literally.) Obv the more informative style pics can be seen on Flickr.

Amazing who you bump into on the road. This is Nathan & Petra from Herne Hill, a stone's throw from my home whom I met in Kota Bahru, Malaysia and hung out with on the Perhentian Islands. After a little chatting it turns out that they not only know of the Badger (my upstairs neighbour and once the owner of the finest pair of Piccadilly Weepers south of the river) but are big fans of a band he plays in: Rowan & The Crops Failed. Petra in fact runs (or rather ran before they left London to see the world) the South London Club at the Windmill in Brixton and The Badger was at their farewell bash. Small world eh? Still, I wouldn't like to lick it clean.

A charming advertisement for what I presume are the Penang version of Fishermen's Friends.

A urinal in Penang, Malaysia. A strange place for a pair of tongs...I wonder what they are used for? Still, could save washing your hands I suppose.

A portrait of some rum looking cove from Penang's museum. When I took it I thought it looked the spit of Jon Petty but now I see it again I think it's more like Richard Hammond - the midget from Top Gear, a show I HATE (and that's a strong word in my book).

Now here's a freak of nature. A gang of six toed cats in Langkawi. This was the mother of them all. They say that homo sapien dominates the earth due to our manible thumbs. Is this the next link in the evolutionary chain?

Ahhh, a little reminder of home - nutty brown Harvey's IPA at the Royal Oak on Tabard Street. Shame it was just a beer mat but The Badger tried to send an emergency parcel of the ambrosia before to Perth but to no avail. Still, the beer mat did a fine job of keeping the bugs out of the Bangkok G&T!

The wheels on the bus go round and round

Trat, SE Thailand
Having a fearful ordeal getting posts onto the BligBlagBlog. Seems that Blogger.com has become persona non grata with the Thai government akin to the You Tube incident when someone broadcast a spoof vid of the K%I/N&G that caused offence and the Thai plug got pulled. I suspect something similar has happened with Blogger.com and some dreadful anti-royalist has posted that the K*I&N^G dresses funny or smells of soup or something. I couldn't possibly agree.

Anyway, had my first brush with the famed Royal Thai Police Force yesterday. I was minding my own business at Bangkok's Eastern bus station, humming The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round to myself, as is my wont when at bus stations, when I caught the attention of the afore mentioned law enforcers. It was obviously a bit of a slow day on the bus station beat, so three of the stout fellas came over to ask me a few simple questions, the first of which was 'Can we see your passport.' Ah.


Those keeping up with the story thus far will foresee the obvious and subsequent escalation of events. For those new to Spratticus (and may I offer a hearty welcome) I shall fill in the gap - I lost my passport last week. All I have is a letter from the British Embassy in Thailand saying 'This dunce claims to be British and we're in the process of knocking holes in his likely story.'


There then ensued a scene like the first rush at the Biddenham jumble sale - two of the chaps ransacked my baggage: clothes, flip flops, books, pens (a lot of pens actually) and a surprising amount of dental floss was tipped onto the bus station floor and handled fairly roughly, whilst a fair sized crowd encircled to spectate.


If I had charged 20 bob a person I'd have made quite some readies. The other man-in-black proceeded to bark a series of questions at me and had me sweating a little from the top lip, despite being profoundly innocent of any misdemeanour other than murdering the tune of a children's song.


In the end they got bored and left me to repack my chattels, not even a suggestion that I should 'compensate' them for their hard work and fruitless search. I skulked off to the other side of the station and switched my humming tune to Three Blind Mice.

Oh, and not to go on but...

This comes on the back of another run in with 'authority'. I was looking for a shop down by the river in Bangkok, on a mission to find some dressing gowns for Jo (that's a bit irrelevant), and instead of getting the passenger ferry one stop up the river I hopped on the complimentary ferry. That is complimentary for guests of the very swanky Oriental Hotel that was going to the same spot as I wanted to, more or less. Well, as I disembarked at the hotel jetty I was confronted by a tedious little man in a safari suit asking if he may help me. I then started fibbing:

Me: I'm just meeting my friend Jo for drinks at the hotel.
Safari Suit: And is she a guest at the Oriental?
Me: Oh yes (oh no)
SS: And what room is she in?
Me: I don't know.
SS: Can you find out?
Me: I could give her a call I suppose (oh dear)

...pause... he gives me the head cocked sideways look...

Me retrieving phone from pocket and pretending to dial a number and then making up a conversation: Hi, Jo...yeah, it's Ants..uh huh...yeah...I see, you're at the shops still...OK, I'll meet you there...see you in a few minutes.

(All the time he's saying in a loud hissing whisper 'Ask for her room number'...which obviously I didn't, as I was speaking to no-one and that no-one wasn't staying at the Oriental.)

SS: Did you get her room number?
Me: No. But it's OK, I'm going to meet her at some shops close by.
SS: Can you call her back and get her room number?
Me thinking this has gone beyond ridiculous: Errr...OK.

...repeat same makey-upy call only this time strangely...

Me: It's just going through to voicemail. ...shrug...

He gives up at this point and directs me to the lobby and I escape to freedom! How stupid was that? Tosser...him and me!

Tailor made for Don Johnson

Bangkok, Thailand
Just because my administrative world has come crashing down around my ears, it doesn't mean there's not fun to be had. Never seen the point of wearing a hair shirt and birching myself into repentance. Maybe that's why I never fitted into the Catholic mold.

Dan, Jo & I went out for a jolly about Bangkok on Saturday afternoon and part of the jolly involved picking up Dan's freshly tailored dinner suit (for the British Ambassador's party, don't ya know) from a tailors - Boss Apparel (...not to be confused with Hugo Boss apparel) in Ratchadamri.

Well, Dan's trying the old whistle on in the shop and something seems to have gone seriously wrong: the trousers fit a treat, the body is perfectly figure hugging...but wait a minute, should the arms only be three-quarter length and give the Don Johnson impression? I don't think so!

The tailor is noticeably silent, perhaps thinking if he doesn't say anything, no-one will notice. But we do; it's bloody obvious. With a quizzical look he even gives the arms a small tug as if somehow he's going to miraculously expand them down the exposed five inches or so to Dan's wrists.

I suggest he could get away with it if he has a shirt made with incredibly lacy and flouncy cuffs a la Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen, but that suggestion is dismissed.

Gutted neither Jo nor I took a snap (I'm sure the Boss man wouldn't have been too chuffed but hey!). Instead here's a digital photo fit body double that took me about three hours to reconstruct:

Untangling this fine mess

Bangkok, Thailand
Well, you'll be sad to know that none of my belongings (the show-stopping ones) turned up, as was always likely to be the case. However, I did get my flip flops back. Some dizzy French woman had put them on 'accidentally' and I recognised her from the Internet cafe walking in the street. Being in no mood to act coy at this point, I challenged her on her oversized footwear.

'Oh, I am zzzorry, I didn't realizzze, I zzzzought zzzey felt a beet big'. I think that deserves the childish remark of my schoolboy youth - chinny!!

So, there was nothing else to do other than to scoot back from Pai, northern Thailand to Bangkok and quite a scoot it was. Bus, moto taxi, mini bus, (earthquake...seriously), overnight train and Skytrain finds me back at Ros & Dan's off Thong Lo and elbows deep in trying to bail out the leaky vessel that is my current situation.

So, new passport being applied for and the wheels of that procedure have been greased by a piece of pre-trip planning quite against the grain for me - I had photocopies of my passport and driving licence in my main pack. Flight tickets being re-issued altho' there's the usual hassle associated with United Airlines that I won't go into for fear of curling up into a ball and muttering incoherently to myself. Can't do a lot about the Thai visa until I get a new passport, which could take up to 10 working days. Ooops.

Also bit the bullet and bought myself a replacement camera from Bangkok's premiere electronics mall - Pantip Plaza. Love the name. Got the same one as I lost, 2GB memory card and Samsonite case (I mean for the camera, not a suitcase) for half the price I paid for mine eight months ago. Chuffed about that.

On a note of fun, high jinks and high balls: Jo Bole rocked into town en route from Kuala Lumpar to Brunei. OK, so that's a strange 'en route' but it was mighty fine to see her...again (last time in Broome, Western) and to celebrate, slightly belatedly, her birthday. Wanna see some snaps?...OK then:

Dan relaxing on JoB's arrival with a glass of fizz. Niiiiiiice.

Me looking a little startled chez DazRon and unusually wearing a yellow t-shirt.

Jo's birthday meal last night at La Villa Italian restaurant, round the corner from DazRon's. Ahhh, la dolce vita!

Ros & Dan, raising a glass of Italian brandy that the proprietor, Roberto, insisted was better than the Armagnac & Cognac we had ordered...and he didn't have anyway. Funny that.

Jo & me...seemingly avoiding low flying aircraft.

The usual silly snap that tickled me. From a convenience store. I guess if you need pressure cooker spare parts, it is pretty convenient. Sorry.