SOUTHEAST ASIA:
March - June 2001



IN-FLIGHT
On the connecting flight to Tokyo, I have already decided to set my watch ahead. My mind keeps wanting to compute Eastern Standard Time, but before I can, I purposefully think of something else. Why bring that almost 10,000 miles around the world with me? I wish I knew how many kilometres that was... Ok I do. I am sitting next to two of the many reasons my country is frowned upon throughout the world. I was hoping for someone interesting, but instead I am stuck by ignorance at its finest.


THAILAND
Bangkok Airport - Nonstop. Late. Hot. Just under 30 Celcius, but 100% humidity. This is the best I will see, weather-wise, but even so it felt as if I stepped off a plane and into a swimming pool. I love it.


The tourist brochures will tell you that Bangkok is the "Venice of the East" and that its Thai name translates as the city of the angels. They will rattle on about the splendor of the Grand Palace and the awesomeness of the Emerald Buddha, the golden sands of Phuket, the magical charms of the hill tribes of the north. In tones no less rapturous, they will tell you that this improbable, fairy-tale kingdom where members of the reigning Chakri dynasty are revered as demigods and where there is a coup attempt, on average, every three and a half years is the land of smiles. All of which, more or less, is true.


As I think most of you knew when I shrugged and answered "I don't know" to most of the "why are you going?" questions, what brings me to Thailand are reasons far more basic and far more elusive. It is, you see, the most sensuous spot on earth.


All right, I know what you are saying. Even from here, beside the night stalls of Lampang, with the smell of cooking curries wafting in the air, even from here, literally halfway around the world, where I awake most mornings to the sounds of chanting monks, I can see the smirks. "Sensuous huh? What this guy really means is sexual."


You have a point. Pleasures of the flesh there are in Thailand, and in ingenious profusion, as all the western and Japanese businessmen can attest.


By sensuous though, I simply mean just that: having to do with the five senses, to which i would add a sixth, imagination. In the excitation and stimulation of these, Thailand has no peer, as of yet.


Thailand nor sensuality immediately smacks you in the face. Rather, the country and the quality unfold: gradually, languorously.


In short, you cannot go looking for sensuousness, here or anywhere else. You have to let it overcome you, and the way to start is by getting hot. For some reason, heat and sensuality go hand in hand (when, for instance, was the last time you heard Siberia described as sensuous?), and the heat in Thailand, where the Thai start donning sweaters when the temperature drops below 30 Celcius, is an extraordinary kind. Five minutes in it and you are drenched to the skin. After an hour, your mind is on its way to being parboiled. It starts playing tricks. The noisy tuk-tuks take on an inexplicable charm. The street sellers' sweets, which had previously aroused only worries of dysentery, seem indescribably tempting. Even the smell of urine, which permeates many a back alley, seems, if not agreeable, pungently natural. The hotter it gets, the longer you stay out in it, the more you find yourself seduced, lured. And then, even without realizing it, you are captured.


Once Thailand has gotten hold of you, it begins revealing its sensual treats. There is, for starters, the food, which has an effect quite unlike any other on the palate. Thai cuisine is famous for being hot, and much of it is. Its spiciness, though, is not of the Mexican or Indian variety. Bite into a chili relleno or spoon down a mouthful of no-holds-barred curry and your taste buds are not so much tickled as bludgeoned into submission. With Thai food, even the brings-you-to-tears sort, it's different, not in the BTU level but in the warmth it brings to the tongue. A little mint here, a little ginger there, a little cilantro, garlic, and onion somewhere else, all conspiring to bring pleasure. But, no matter how incendiary the initial experience, how sincere the vows not to tempt gustatory fate again, one finds oneself unable to resist another bite.


All notions of dieting (a concept welcomely alien to Thailand) are put aside. The ingredients are healthy and fresh, and besides, the Thais at the next table, none of whom have a millimeter of fat, are shoveling down helpings from eight dishes. Thus assured, you signal for several more of your own and after that, dessert. Invariably, it is fruit, except that it does not look or taste like fruit. The slices of pineapple, watermelon, papaya, and mango are recognizable enough, but the intensity of their flavor comes as a shock.


If you keep your eyes and ears open, you can also gain an appreciation of some of Thailand's sensuality. There are, for instance, the colors; a spectacular array of them, from the coolest blues to the deepest crimsons. And the at once chaotic yet ordered way in which goods are displayed. Even the humblest street vendor labors to make sure that his small store of whatever, be it a mound of peppers, a cache of scarlet runner beans (they're like the American kind, only five feet long), a sack full of religious amulets, is arranged to please the eye, his own and those who might chance to buy. Unlike in the west, where so much of what we consume is spread out in prepackaged, flash-frozen, take-it-or-leave-it heaps, in Thailand presentation is, if not everything, a whole lot of it. You see an item and you instinctively want to touch it, handle it, smell, and taste it. After a time, even the cacophony around you makes sense. The music, the saffron-robed monks, the chattering women, the sing-song tonal language, the astonishing natural beauty - it is all part of the piece.


The Thai are mad about sounds, and they like to hear as many of them as possible, preferably several different ones going on at the same time. There is, for instance, the riverboat which before setting out on its evening cruise, honks its whistle - the first stanza of "Oh Susanna." The bus rides are filled with Thai pop music and 400 simultaneous conversations. And so it goes, not merely on the phone or in elevators or in markets or in shops, but everywhere. Always the sound of something engaging the ear. I enjoy my peace and quiet, and sometimes this wears on me.


The sounds, the sights, the sensations - the sheer sensuality. And still i am discovering more.


The real sorcery of this dizzying place was that, before I knew it, it could work on me not just in the physical sense, but in a subtle moral seduction. For here was decadence so decorous that it disarmed the criticism it invited; amorality expressed with the delicacy of a ballerina's nod. And amid such a guiltless marketing of love, righteous indignation could only bounce off the mirrors. Slowly, I saw, the city would unbutton your beliefs; gently, it would unbuckle your scruples; coolly, it would let your defenses slither to the floor. Buddhism did not forbid pleasure, the Thais kept saying - just the infliction of pain. So why find shame in enjoyment, and why take enjoyment in shame?


This Bangkok, is the most invigorating city, the most accommodating city, more lazy and seductive than two polar opposites could have hoped to have come together. Elegance here is seasoned with funkiness, the efficiency was set off by mystery. Sugar blended with spice, one could say.


This is the perfect westerner's synthetic: all the exoticism of the east, served up amidst all the conveniences of the west. It is easy though, to get away from all of the west, turn left here, right there, and suddenly what was Bangkok was staring you straight in the face. It was not the Emerald Buddha or the Grand Palace, it was the Thai student asking you to help him with his English, or the professor doing his best to help you with the tuk-tuk drivers.


I mention all this to because it is my firm belief that travel involves experiences, not sights. Real travel is coming across people whose viewpoints are completely different from my own, finding out that you still have much in common, that you can communicate regardless (even if that means saying "choo-choo" when inquiring about the train station), and that you can learn a lot. Travel is transformation - if the trip shook your ideas up, if the experience changed you, then the journey was a success.


It took me two days to realize that this was a success.


BURMA
For a moment in time, a brief moment in time, I forgot about all the river diseases I was warned about, and stepped into the murky red-brown water of the Mae Sai River, towards Burma. I call it Burma for the sake of the Burmese people, who live in fear of their government who has taken it upon itself to change the name of the country to Myanmar. I call it Burma especially for Aung San Suu Kyi.


With Thai military in the hills surrounding, I ventured out into that river, giving in to the wishes of the Burmese children who spotted me eating peacefully at my bungalow. I know there is tension between these two countries, and the Thai authorities maintain strict immigration control on buses in the north and have a very strong presence at the border, as noticed by armed patrolmen all along the river. None of it seemed threatening though at that moment, and certainly it had no reason to be for a western tourist... so I kept wading deeper towards the kids and the splash fight I knew would erupt.


The kids never passed the halfway mark of the shallow river, somehow they knew not to cross it. My transition was allowed though, and without passport, without visa, or tourist card, I entered Burma. The kids immediately attacked with water, but especially with bodies. It seemed as if I was a 6'-2" representation of everything the West was, and if they could climb to the top of me, they could conquer the world.


I only spent 10 minutes or so in this country, before a mother came along to gather the kids away from the white devil. I'm sure those kids have long since forgotten their brief river battle with an American, but I will probably see those few minutes just as clearly as if they were happening for the rest of my life.


MALAYSIA
I have spent two nights in Penang, so far my only introduction to the country. My initial reaction is that it is too easy here. Most people speak English, and the mood is much more accomodating. Things are geared towards the traveler in this city, and it makes it easy to settle in. That is why i need to leave! It seems too easy. Signs are in English, help can be found anywhere, I do not have to struggle with Thai anymore.


That being said, I am back to enjoying diversity. There are Chinese and Indians in abundance here, although being pushed out by the ethnic Malays. I have had some excellent Indian food... something I have been craving for a while.


The atmosphere in Penang reads like an early 1900's Chinese town. The architecture is a hogdepodge of old run-down pastel shophouses, cramped on the street, Making walks very atmosphoric. By the way, I have no idea what an early 1900's chinese town reads like, but I can make assumptions!


Is it just me, or is this heat relentless? The heat and humidity follow me around all day, soaking through everything I own. My only relief is a trip to the mall or an air-conditioned room full of computers for emailing travelers and aggressive local teenagers. (I actually have a chill from the vent blowing down my back, but I will not complain)


Although most people are unattentive to western people, some seem upset at our presence. Possibly a statement about former British rule and some of the stories everyone has grown up on. On to Ipoh and KL...


Explaining the nature and causes of economic growth must somehow put into view the proposition that growth is essentially an urban phenomenon, the un-planned consequence of one bright spark's energies emanating the prospects for other, less talented citizens.


It has become politically and bureaucratically fashionable to plan, subsidize, intervene, and control. It is within the cities of the world that I have now seen, east and west, where people transcend this, and stick to their guns despite efforts to get them to see social-democratic sense.


I am in the city of Kuala Lumpur. I should have been here a long time ago. Since the tops of the Petronas Towers appeared over a hill on my bus ride two days ago, I feel somewhat more alive.


This is the first time since small instances in Bangkok where I have witnessed prosperity. More families are lifted out of poverty, partly as more leave their villages to find work in this booming city. I am guessing. I will state again: the city is growth's main motor. More women here are educated, I have already met more that are not married. Marrying later in life leads to independence, finding jobs outside the home, sparing some of the drudgery that accompanies poverty. Still, I am only guessing.


I sat and talked yesterday to a young woman who has lived in KL for five years now. In that time, she has made enough money and managed to move her whole family to the city. She talked about her job as boring and meaningless, but the story of what the city has done for her and her family would make a heart-warming film. Little did she know.


The gleaming new skyscrapers, the traffic jams, the busy airports, the industrial smog, the acres of marbled hotel lobbies, the golf courses, the driving ranges, the shopping malls splashed with the neon lit names of designer chic, the ubiquitous cellphone beep; this is surging urban energy at its finest.


Point to the KL map. Randomly. Walk to the place your finger falls on, then look everywhere: 360 degrees, up, down. This city is the epitome of 'shop-till-you-drop' capitalism. It is a huge market for every item of prosperous modern life- styles - televisions, personal computers, telephones, cars, clothes, holidays, air travel, books and magazines, wines and spirits, 90 percent of which you will see on that panorama I just proposed. Here, credit cards lead the way.


There is one important difference I see in cities of Asia compared to the cities of the United States. There is a notion here that doing well for oneself is regarded as a matter for commendation rather than carping.


SINGAPORE
Why oh dear Singapore, do you insist on demolishing beautiful old buildings in front of your citizens? It seems that your island country has no Historic Preservation Committee to deal with matters of such beauty. It seems that modern tidyness is all that you are after. Singapore, dear Singapore, I must say that despite your aggressive urban energy, I cannot look past these crushing blows to your very foundation, and ask that if you must continue, please at least construct walls so that I do not have to bare witness to the destruction.