John Stupart.com

NOTE: This was written on a rather bumpy bus to the Cambodian border, so spelling and grammatical errors are inevitable. You’re all mostly literate so I expect you to deal with it!

-John

Located in the western part of Bangkok, Khao San road is essentially a 100 metre stretch of paved mercantilism. Lovingly wrapped in layers of food vendors, clothes shops, Sikh tailors and one-legged beggars, the place represents quite possibly the essence of what Bangkok is about once you’ve seen all the temples; a commercial den of epic proportions, inhabited by greedy-eyed Thai’s aiming to lift as much money out of your wallet as possible.

During the day you can buy anything from witty satirical tshirts to… well, witty satirical tshirts. Much like many touristy flea markets in SA, the vendors tend to sell almost exactly the same crap as one another. This is partially beneficial as this means one can haggle a price from one and attempt for better somewhere else. The downside, of course, is that you can spend 2 hours in Khao San road during the day and you would have seen just about everything noteworthy. Indeed, after several days of inhabitation in the area, I had started weary of the constant harassment by slick-looking Indians offering tailored suits and vendors running into my way trying to force their cheap trinkets on me. It’s offensive and loud, but worth seeing if only one can say they’ve seen Khao San road.

But at night the place changes considerably. From about 6pm onwards the tshirt vendors close up and make way for the plethora of makeshift bars and food vendors, eager to cater for the throngs of tourists out for a night of fun. And make no mistake, Khao San is packed to the gills with tourists, from all corners of the earth. Buckets of beer, cocktails of every concoction and shots of just about anything are on offer as you sit on cheap plastic chairs and watch the throngs file past you. Generally-speaking, buying drinks from these places tends to be considerably pricey. We opted instead for the 7/11, purchasing beer and thusly consuming it on the street (it’s legals in Thailand), which is ultimately a far more satisfying experience.

And then there is The Club. This fine monument to techno and house and every other mindless machine-made tune that is exported from Ibitha is located slap-bang in the middle of Khao San road. Replete with neon blue signs and giant streaming air-pillar things, the club makes one feel decidedly under-dressed when entering in slops and baggy shorts. Still, entrance is free for foreigners and the dress code is non-existent, so it’s both easy and affordable.

Anyone who knows me will realise that I generally loath house ‘ndoef ndoef” music in all it’s bastardised forms, but The Club holds a special place in my heart as it truly is an amazing experience when joined with good friends whilst travelling far away from home. Likewise, my fledgling Japanese ability is a key to instant friends in the club, as I am able to swiftly pick out the locals from the tourists, utter a quick “Nihon-jin desu ka?” and watch the amazement in their eyes as they realise the gaijin is talking their language. After a brief explanation of our lives and respective purposes therein, the new friends are officially introduced into the general population of the established friends (and one brother) and much merriment ensues.

The Club would likely suck were it not situated in Khao San road, but the fact that it’s so much fun when out on holiday means that many happy memories are made while thrashing one’s body to repetitive synthesised sounds. A few years from now, if someone asks me what I’ll remember most fondly about my time in Bangkok, it would likely be that spent in The Club with my brother and friends. There are similar and better places in Johannesburg, to be sure, but it would never be the same, nor would I want it to be.

So a week is past and for the first time in a while the mad house has screeched to a halt, allowing me some time to catch my breath, shower and scrape the toe jam off my feet. South East Asia, it seems, is dirty.

Laos itself was a stunningly beautiful trip, with amazing countryside and rolling mountains. Likewise, the society itself has been stunningly eroded to the brink of outright oblivion. The people poor, straw hut poor, with mangy dogs littering the roads, overflowing sewerage drains and appalling facilities. The comrades working for the communist-led government of course don’t suffer this indignation. They are the lucky few who get to live in palatial walled-in villas, safely separated from the dirt proletariat. If anything, Laos is a textbook example of why Communism is a hopelessly flawed ideology when placed in the hands of some exceedingly greedy people (ie just about any human being!)

But on the rickety 11 hour bus ride from Vientiane to Luang Prabang, the raw and painstakingly obvious beauty of Laos is thrown in front of you to stare at, mouth agape and eyes wide open. from the lush green rice paddies, misted rolling mountains, to the guard with the AK47 sitting at the back, the immediate sense of one’s mortality is made quite apparent.

But this is a country that, much like Thailand, relies on tourism for a good chunk of what little money comes into the economy, and that means tourists, LOTS of tourists. In Hokkaido, gaijin get funny looks simply because there aren’t very many of us there. Indeed, whenever I see a round-eye in Japan, I almost want to grab them by their shirt and speak to them in fluent English for a few minutes just so I can remember what it sounds like! In Bangkok and Laos, tourists are as prevalent as the street vendors peddling everything from pepsi bottles to tiny little fried birds on a stick. They’re everywhere, and so is the market that supports them. Finding a guest house is thankfully easy, tourist taxis do the rounds regularly, and haggling over what amounts to $1 or so difference on a purchase permeates the society. It’s not quite what I expected, but I’m not entirely sure it’s a bad thing for a foreigner to be surrounded by other foreigners. It’s just such a shame that getting off the beaten track is a lot harder than one would hope.

Luang Prabang, for all it’s majesty alongside the Mekong, is a tourist haven. the small town consists almost completely of tourist-related wares. It makes for an intensely exotic experience though, as finding the most commonly popular local attractions is extremely easy to find. From elephant rides to Lao massages it’s all attainable within a 10m radius of your accomodation.

Walking through the crowded streets, visiting one temple after another, watching my brother burn through camera batteries like a coke addict in Columbia is a great way to spend a few days. Everyone is friendly, of course, thanks to the tourist being many of the locals’ primary sources of income, and the characteristic Asian half-smile is constantly worn at all times, making the reading of their faces extremely difficult.

Bangkok is the tourist Mecca, with virtually every single inch of every single block in the city covered with taxi drivers, street vendors, con artists, prostitutes, “tour guides” and folks generally trying to pimp the tourist for as much Baht as possible.

What this does mean, however, is that there’s never a dull moment, as every waking moment is spent looking, searching, haggling or simply absorbing the atmosphere of the place. Clubs are free but drinks are expensive, and God knows how much the gender-ambiguous ‘girls’ who reside in every establishment charge for a night of company. Of course, one sees many middle to old-aged tourists with ‘companions’ roaming the streets at all hours. Interesting in and of itself.

But the first week here has so far shown me not so much the local people so much as how the local people interact with the tourists. I could say that this isn’t the real Thailand and Laos, but I honestly think that the tourist culture, as well as the interactions therewith is just as much a part of the culture now as sticky rice and poverty. I honestly had the idea in my head that Japan, Thailand and friends bore similarities that could cross borders within the region, but I now see that that little gap of ocean makes the world of difference!

There’s far more to the picture, but I’m too overwhelmed to write it all down at the moment, and my time on the meter says I don’t have long to write anyway. Needless to say again, but I shall anyway, Laos is a truly majestic country ruined politically and economically. A really harsh existence interspersed with injections of first world ‘foreign aid’. That there are no old people around says a lot (they generally die quite quickly due to the lack of healthcare), but Bangkok is the same but difference. A beautiful nation that loves their King, has a crapload of temples, enjoy fleecing the foreigners, but one that I would love to have seen 50 years ago even more!

This time last year I had just arrived back in Durban after a fantastic year at Wits in Jo’burg. It was basically a time to see old and familiar friends and family and sorta rewind a bit and decompress from the constant hustle that characterises Jhb. What’s more, the holidays in Durbs meant a time for me to figure out just what on earth to do during 2007. At first I was presented with one clear and obvious way forward: The Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA). They have a remarkable ‘cadet’ programme where young graduates like yours truly get educated on the art of being insincerely sincere and sipping one’s cocktails in the correct fashion for a year. Well, ok more like a year of learning how to write reports in government-friendly (read: droll and simplified) format. From there the programme serves as a launching point into a dynamic career as a junior diplomat, changing desks every four years or so. By any stretch a great career path to go down. So of course I turned it down when I got the call to attend the final stage of the process (the last of four.) I was pretty confident I’d get the job. Not only I am exceedingly intelligent and eloquent, but my stunning humility serves as a beacon heralding the modest magnificence that is South Africa. Also, more realistically, I was the only white kid applying, so by the own BEE standards of the government, I was virtually guaranteed a spot because, ironically, of my skin colour.

But I turned it down. And now, almost eight months later, I’m not one bit sorry that I did. To be sure I thought long and hard about my decision. A safe and cushy career path in a field-related position that’s relevant to my academic interests is indeed a tempting carrot to bite. But on the other hand, I realise that I’ve really done nothing but academically-relevant roles since high school, and how can I be certain that this is really for me? Furthermore, I’m young. Being twenty-three grants me the time to take a year or two off and do something else, see somewhere else and not worry overly much about performance ratings. So I turned down the DFA in favour of the JET programme, and I love it! The DFA will be there when I’m done with my roving, and perhaps other opportunities will surface, but if 2007 has taught me anything, it’s that wherever you need to be, there you are.

It’s been a totally polar year for me. The first six months was spent in absolute mind-numbing boredom as I sent out my CV and covering letter to just over a hundred companies, receiving replies from less than ten, and generally being an unproductive lout. After flying out of Jo’burg, however, my world has been rocked, and it’s still shaking. I’m not ready to leave Japan, and I’m not sure if in six months I will want to either. But I must, before I begin to tire of the whole affair. Much like my holiday in Durban, you can get too much of a good thing. As I told my mother on the phone the other day, I’d rather not recontract for a second year here and leave Japan absolutely loving it than leave in two or three after growing disenchanted and thoroughly bored of the exercise.

So where am I now? I’m about to leave for Thailand, Laos, perhaps Cambodia and Vietnam, the latter being a country I have wanted to visit since childhood. And just like this time last year, I shall be rejoining some very old friends (Kelly, whom I’ve known all my life) and family (my brother, whom I’ve also known all my life.)

Certainly an entirely different country, with assuredly different experiences, but with some old and familiar friends and family. The more things change…

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My picture for the week. Hokkaido may be predominantly Buddhist and Shinto, but they still love Christmas for it’s purely aesthetic charm. Much, I suppose, like the rest of the industrialised world…

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As mentioned above, I will be away on holiday until the 11th of January or so. Johnstupart.com may well see some “dispatches” from my travels while away, but don’t count on it!