The 'Bangkok Mouth' is back with a slightly irreverent look at all things Thailand.

The end of the Mom and Pop shops

Let’s have a look at the retail trade in Thailand for a moment, in particular the supermarkets, the convenience stores and what are lovingly referred to as the ‘Mom and Pop’ shops. One of the reasons I’ve chosen this topic is there’s currently a storm brewing over Tesco Lotus’s aggressive expansion plans and the accusations that they are leaving their competitors trailing in their mighty retail wake. Several Thai economists and business writers have got themselves into serious hot water over this issue and Tesco is flexing its muscles and suing the journos for all manner of misleading statements, at least according to Tesco Lotus. And these are statements that have found their way onto the pages of some of Thailand’s most influential business magazines. I was involved in the retail game for quite a number of years in England, and it’s a business that never fails to excite me. I don’t care if you manage a hypermarket in the downtown area of a capital city or run a tiny convenience store in the middle of nowhere and see five customers a day. There’s something so wonderful, something so challenging about dealing with members of the public and putting their goods into a plastic carrier bag.

Let’s get back to Tesco Lotus’s quest for world domination. There was an interesting letter in the Bangkok Post last week. I couldn’t work out whether the writer was personally bemoaning the demise of the friendly neighborhood Mom and Pop shop (I didn’t read it that carefully) but he made the point that it isn’t the supermarket giant that is killing the Mom and Pop trade, but the 7-11 convenience stores, which seem to sprout up on every street corner in Bangkok these days. I’ll go along with that argument part of the way at least. There are far too many 7-11s. Sometimes you can stand at a busy intersection and have three stores fall within your normal range of vision. That’s just ridiculous. There can’t be that many people who need to pay an electricity bill or fancy munching a sausage-on-a-stick. There can’t be that many customers who want to buy something as insignificant as a can of Coke and then watch as no fewer than four shop assistants get involved in the buying process – one to take the beverage, one to ring up the amount on the cash register, one to sort out the change, and a fourth one to standby lest one of the other three should faint during the transaction.

I don’t want to debate the shortcomings of Thailand’s favorite convenience store chain (there isn’t enough room on the website) but whenever there’s an argument over who’s killing the Mom and Pop trade, I can’t help feel that everyone is missing the point. What’s in danger of being forgotten is that nipping into a Mom and Pop shop, be it for a packet of potato chips, a bottle of water, or one of those green and yellow scouring pads, is often the most miserable of experiences. Let’s be honest about it, the reason they’re dying out is because they’re crap. I ventured into a dark and dingy Mom and Pop shop on Soi Thonglor yesterday in search of one of those refreshing cold towels (phaa yen) which normally sell for about ten baht. An old boy of about ninety-six shuffled out of the gloom in his grubby singlet and faded khaki shorts, and when I asked him if he had the item in stock, he mumbled about having to go back in the direction he’d come from to fetch it. He re-appeared with the cold towel in what felt like a lifetime later and asked me for eight baht. He then had to disappear into the murkiness a second time to count out two baht change from a filthy dirty money pouch. The whole transaction took four minutes. That’s about three and a half minutes longer than it should have. By the time he’d finished, oh man – I desperately needed that cold towel. Yes, the Mom and Pop stores are dying out and we should all be up-in-arms. We should be burning our bras and chaining ourselves to fences as these time-honored pillars of the community are ruthlessly swallowed up and spat out by the retail giants. I’ve got two words for that – ‘my arse’.

I’m almost ashamed to say it, but I’ve very recently become a Tesco Lotus shopper. For years and years I’d pledged my allegiance to the Foodland chain of supermarkets and pushing a trolley around the small but well-stocked Sri Nakarin branch was a weekly ritual come rain come shine. But all good things come to an end. I’d grown tired of the dry-cleaner losing my trousers and thinking a smile made everything OK. I’d had enough of the appalling service in the Took La Dee restaurant. Most of all I was fed up with seeing an exciting new item on the shelves only to have it disappear completely when stocks were sold out (Naan bread, tins of Mediterranean style tuna, fresh parmesan cheese and small plastic Zip-loc bags to name just four) And don’t get me started on the price of fruit at Foodland. Does the guy who prices these items ever stick his head outside and see what the rest of the world is paying for an apple?

I do unfortunately get slight pangs of guilt from walking around Tesco Lotus and filling a shopping basket. I’ve read the articles written by the Thai economists and I’ve looked at Tescopoly.com, the excellent anti-Tesco website that seems to have an awful lot of weight behind it. However, Tesco’s have won me over with their excellent range of Tesco ready meals. These are not those crappy microwave meals that you stick in the oven for two minutes and consist of a plastic tray with two sections of overcooked disappointment, but a range of freshly cooked meals all nicely packaged and lovingly wrapped with a cardboard sleeve that announces itself as ‘sweet and sour fish and rice’ or ‘macaroni with chilli and chicken’. The fruit’s cheaper too. Perhaps it’s just me getting old but whereas I would once stand outside the Birmingham council house, fist raised aloft, protesting alongside hundreds of others about the hardships faced by Nicaraguan tin miners, these days it’s anything for an easy life. I’ve put the Billy Bragg albums in storage you might say.

I realize that I’m moving into dangerous territory here, but I’m something of a supermarket snob and fiercely proud of it. Alas, supermarket snobbery and shopping at Tesco Lotus aren’t exactly the most obvious companions. For that reason I tend to drag the wife around Tesco’s just as the sun is coming up and not later in the day when Thai families descend on the place in search of a cheap day out. You could say I get there early to secure the choicest fillets of fish, but that’s not the reason. The truth is that I hate having to duck out of the way of runaway child-powered trolleys and I can’t stand to see or hear Thai men coughing phlegm over the salads and freshly baked muffins. Someone really does need to put up a sign in the bakery section that says ‘please note that the tongs are for picking up the bakery items, and not scratching your backside with’. But early morning shoppers tend to exit the store unscathed by such experiences so I’m proud to count myself among them.

40 things that I miss about life in England (for the sheer hell of it)

1) Standing outside Gregg's the Bakers eating a hot sausage roll with proper sausage meat in it
2) Fields of daffodils and spring lambs
3) A pint of bitter shandy at some isolated country pub
4) The phenomenal selection of quality microwave meals at Tesco Lotus
5) Driving through ten villages and knowing that each and every one will have its own identity
6) Church bells on a Sunday morning
7) The first frosty morning that's always good for the brussel sprouts
8) A lonely train station that sees barely six passengers a day and yet still manages to keep a guy in the ticket office under full employment
9) Elderly shop assistants in newsagents and off-licences who address you as 'my love' or 'lover'
10) Strawberry bon-bons, Jaffa Cakes, Jammy Dodgers and Wagon Wheels. Need I say more?

11) Pedestrian crossings that actually function as pedestrian crossings
12) Fleeting exchanges with fellow walkers and ramblers such as 'turned out nice again hasn't it?'
13) The football pools man
14) A 50p each-way bet in the local Ladbrokes and ripping up the slip as 'Lucky Jim' limps in half hour after every other horse
15) Shouting up a piece of plaice or haddock when you enter a fish and chip shop
16) The overwhelming cheerfulness of charity collectors as they shake their tins
17) The sound of leather against willow on the village green
18) Queuing at bus-stops and the general orderliness of public transportation
19) Bizarre craft shops that are run as purely a labor of love and sell bizarre nic-nacs that no one would ever buy
20) Off-the-peg trousers and jackets that actually fit the normal human being

21) Rummaging around in charity shops
22) Sunday morning football
23) Feeding the ducks
24) That unmistakable Sunday morning chorus of electric lawnmowers and hedge-clippers
25) A sandwich and a cappuccino from Pret-A-Manger
26) Sheltered harbors, fishing smacks, jaunty fisher-folk, the smell of sardines and shitloads of seagulls
27) The whole country coming to a standstill thanks to two inches of snow.
28) "Can you spare a pound for an old gypsy?"
29) The pride in wearing a poppy as Remembrance Sunday draws near
30) Getting invited to a wedding and deep down, actually quite looking forward to it

31) Front page newspaper photos of people eating ice-cream and splashing about in paddling pools just because the thermometer has gone above 68 Fahrenheit
32) Old people who still refer to things as 'four shillings and ha'penny' despite the UK going decimal almost 40 years ago
33) The laughable predictability of bank holiday traffic jams
34) Morris dancers
35) The English affection for its dogs
36) Stewed tea, burnt toast, lumpy mashed potato and tough steak
37) Car boot sales and Sunday markets - and having the audacity to ask the seller if they'd 'take fifty pence for it'
38) English fruit - strawberries, apples, plums and cherries - that look like shit, are in season for about 72 hours, but taste like no fruit you've ever tasted before.
39) Affordable cheap plonk (if only for cooking with)
40) Chinese and Indian take-aways on every single high street

Something's definitely afoot

Has anyone had the misfortune to stroll down Wittayu Road recently? Well 'stroll' is probably not the correct word to use - it's more of a limp and a hobble if truth be told. I'm talking here about the Sukhumwit end of Wittayu Road with the lush compound of the American Embassy on one side of the street and that untidy hotch-potch of food-stalls and fly-by-night translation businesses on the other. It's never been the most pleasant of walks, whichever side of the road you choose, but at the moment there are extensive footpath repairs in progress and the whole area resembles a war-zone. It's horrible. I ambled down to my local bank this week, opposite the Conrad Hotel, and walked most of the journey in the face of oncoming traffic. You couldn't negotiate the footpath itself unless you fancied going arse-over-tit into a sand dune or falling down the infamous Bangkok pothole. Why oh why does the Bangkok pedestrian constantly have to put up with being treated like a third-class citizen? Why should cars have priority over me?

Of course all this is nothing new. Thais have been digging up the footpaths and endangering the lives of pedestrians for donkey's years. I remember a student telling me a long time ago that the major problem is none of the utility companies consult each other. The electrical company might dig up a stretch of footpath to lay a new underground cable (or do whatever electrical companies do) and after they've returned the footpath back to a reasonable state, along comes the water company to dig it all up again. Six months later, and the electrical company decide their original work could probably be improved upon. The result - a stretch of footpath in almost constant upheaval. And all the pedestrian can do is smile through gritted teeth as they twist an ankle for the third time that week. Complain? Well you could do - but frankly no one gives a shit. That's if you knew who to complain to in the first place.

It's not always the fault of the utility companies though. Sometimes paving stones are dug up and replaced purely for cosmetic reasons. I'm all in favor of making the city look more appealing but I'm also a believer in if a job is worth doing, then it's worth doing well. You've probably seen the gang of Thai laborers mark out an area of footpath in readiness for a paving stone makeover. They'll set about the task with bits of string and measuring tape. Some of them even look as though they've got the right tools. Six months and a few heavy rainstorms later, the whole foundation layer subsides and you're left with a concrete ripple effect with every stone or slab sticking out at a jaunty 45 degree angle. Soi Thonglor (Sukhumwit 55) is a fine example. No wonder the motorcycle taxis that ferry people from one end of the soi to the other do such a roaring trade.

The whole footpath and re-paving conundrum is rather like Thailand in a microcosm. It's a kind of 'organised chaos' - the begrudging acceptance of second-class results with little or no regard for the end user. All I'm saying is surely there's someone somewhere in the this kingdom who knows how to lay a proper footpath.

While we're on the subject of 'expat gripes', I took my wife out for lunch last Saturday, funnily enough to Soi Thonglor and a fairly up-market restaurant called Vanilla. I'm told it's owned by the S&P chain of restaurants but we're thankfully spared the display stands of tasteless bakery items and processed cold meats that are part and parcel of its mainstream outlets. Vanilla is tastefully decorated in an old colonial style and at about 700 baht a head for a main dish and dessert, it certainly falls into the category of mid-range eatery. At just after midday on a Saturday there were surprisingly very few diners in there. This however didn't stop the waiters making a complete balls-up of every single order. My wife got the wrong dish twice, and a Thai woman dining with her husband on the next table managed to send three meals back to the kitchen before she eventually got her spaghetti and clams in a neapolitano sauce. Now this kind of chaos I don't mind so much because watching each waiter come out of the kitchen, stand in the middle of the restaurant, and try hard to guess who the dish he was holding belonged to, was both amusing and entertaining. It was a bit like watching Manuel in Fawlty Towers but with six waiters all playing the role. All this aside, what really gets my goat in Thai restaurants is when your partner's meal arrives ten to fifteen minutes before yours does - as was the case today. We recently held a poll on the ajarn discussion forum and asked members what was the single-most worst aspect of dining out in Thailand. Meals arriving at different times stood out as easily the most common gripe. To be honest I've come to expect it in lower-priced restaurants but I find it hard to swallow in a place where you're handing over the best part of 2,000 baht for nothing more than a quick lunch. As my wife and I paid the bill and left the restaurant, I turned to her and said "do you know what? We must do this again next year"

Things aren't always as they seem

Several years ago, I was having a late Sunday lunch at a small restaurant just off Soi Ekkami. It’s an eaterie that frankly speaking serves up distinctly average Thai meals but is better known among local Thais for its mouth-watering array of home-made cakes and pastries. I’d better not mention the restaurant’s name because the Cheesecake House probably wouldn’t like it.

Anyway, on this particular day – at the height of the Thai strawberry season – the restaurant was promoting a special ‘strawberry and scones cream tea’. It consisted of a pot of tea for two, a couple of plump freshly-baked scones with cream, jam and butter and a small helping of fat, ripe strawberries. At least that was what was offered in the photograph. What could be more satisfying and what could feel more British than a cream tea on a hot Sunday afternoon? I gave the waitress my order and rubbed my hands together in that state of giddy expectation you only experience as a precursor to strawberries and cream.

When the cream tea finally appeared, what was plonked in front of me bore little resemblance to the hype. I counted one miserable-looking scone, a miserly dollop of jam and cream and three strawberries that had definitely seen better days. I didn’t complain. I’ve learned that there’s little point in these situations, but it did kick-start something that still irritates me more than most things. I’m not sure of the legal or formal expression – or even if one exists – but let’s refer to it as ‘pictorial misrepresentation’. It sounds so much nicer than ‘lies and bullshit’. Pictorial misrepresentation is when you sit there scratching your head wondering how someone (usually a business owner) can possibly get away with it. One section of wall in the Cheesecake house is festooned with press clippings detailing the owner’s story and how she developed a passion for bakery while living in the USA. You couldn’t complain about your measly high tea to her because she was probably entertaining friends on an obscenely large yacht somewhere off the Phuket coast, but you’d think that living for many years in the good old U.S – where the consumer is king – would make her slightly more appreciative of the golden rule – ‘what you see is what you get’.

We’ve all been duped at some stage haven’t we? We’ve all arrived at hotel rooms chosen from brochures that promise us ‘a paradise on earth’ only to find out it’s anything but. And while your heart may sink and thoughts of a dream vacation may rapidly diminish, you can’t help but begrudgingly admire the trickery of the photographer and his wide-angled lens. I’m sure that pictorial misrepresentation goes on all over the world. It’s just that Thailand never seems to think there’s anything remotely underhand about it.

If I could give out an award for the worst offender, then let’s engrave the name of Swensens ice-cream parlours on the trophy right now. The vast gulf between the photographs on the menu and the stark reality of what gets delivered to your table is almost beyond words. That’s not to say Swensens ice-cream products are not enjoyable; they’re just always a huge disappointment. Can that thing sitting in front of me with a plastic spoon sticking out really be the same as the item on the menu with its lush maraschino cherry, the jelly beans, the lashings of chocolate sauce, the American flag – all fighting for space in a glass vessel you can barely hold with both hands.

I’ve had it in for Swensens ever since a couple of years ago, when they introduced a devilish creation called ‘Mars and Me’ - two halves of a Mars Bar lain lovingly atop a double scoop of rich chocolate ice-cream and a sprinkle of chopped nuts. Yes I know it’s not very imaginative and I know it would usually only appeal to a seven-year-old but you see, I’m a glutton for such small pleasures, particularly if they’re made of chocolate. I just couldn’t wait to sink what teeth I’ve got left into it. But what’s this? Two scoops of rich chocolate ice cream, a sprinkle of chopped nuts, and unless I’m very much mistaken, the two halves of a two-fingered Kit Kat? Glory be. Call the waitress over. I need a word.
“Where’s the bloody Mars bar?”
“Sorry sir. Mars no have”
So we’ll just stick any old chocolate bar in there and hope the customer doesn’t notice. Well….what could I say?

Pictorial misrepresentation. We’ve got to get together. We’ve got to beat it together. By the way, I’m off to renew my 10-year British passport this week because my current one expires in October. This means having passport photos taken. Does anyone know of a photo shop where they can get on the computer and make me look ten years younger? Just an idea.

Life on the ocean wave

I've just been lucky enough to have my folks visit me in Thailand for the eighth time in less than twenty years. It's always a very challenging situation for me because they invariably arrive with two 'new best friends' and new best friends always want to see everything that this magnificent city has to offer. Over the years - and in the company of several husband and wife couples - we've been to the Grand Palace five times, Wat Arun on probably half a dozen occasions, and we've spent more time at the POW cemetery in Kanchanaburi than a world war two historian. We've bought T-shirts in Mahboonkrong, had trousers altered in Central Chidlom and stood in more rooms in Jim Thompson's House than probably even the silk king himself ever did. But all good things come to an end. I waved them a tearful goodbye at Suwanabhum airport on Saturday morning and hung up my tourist guide's cap for at least another year.

What these family visits give me is the opportunity to get out there and see Bangkok through a tourist's eyes. I mean instead of moping about my house in Samut Prakarn and shouting at the the garbage-men for leaving litter on the drive-way. It's nice to remind yourself what the capital has to offer for the package tourist on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation or perhaps the jet-lagged traveller on a two-night stopover. Anxious to ring the changes this year - and because Ma and Pa were staying fairly near the river - I was determined to finally get to grips with Bangkok boat travel. Not the mad boats that ply the smaller canals but the glorious vessels that chug up and down the mighty Chayo Phrya river. As both a non-swimmer and someone who listens to far too many stories of people falling into polluted Bangkok waters, I've made avoiding boat travel one of my missions in life. Perhaps it was time to conquer the fears that had built up inside me for so long. One glance at a decent Bangkok map tells you that moving four elderly people around on water is always going to be preferable to organising two metered taxis and instructing the driver to 'follow that cab - and don't you dare stop at any gemstone shops'

BTS Saphan Thaksin is definitely the place for all things nautical. Just a few short steps from the river (follow the tourist throng), you can catch all manner of cross-river ferries and tourist express boats at one convenient location. For the real skinflints you can even hop a shuttle boat to one of the lavish 5-star hotels on the other side Then you can wander around the hotel lobby to waste a bit of time and jump the shuttle boat back. But for those not comfortable with 'cheating the system', the normal Chyao Phrya express boat will take you all the way to Nonthaburi (a journey of some 45 minutes) for just 15 baht. It must be the world's greatest travel bargain. Even more so if you've ever harbored a perverse desire to see Nonthaburi.

I felt like a whole new world had opened up to me. To see Bangkok from the river is to see Bangkok at its very best. Old colonial buildings with immaculate lawns stand side-by-side with dilapidated factories and the ramshackle corrugated iron lean-tos that belong to the capital's forgotten river folk. Nothing gives you a more varied and exciting taste of Bangkok than a quick trip up river. And as you drift and bob at each of the thirty pier stops between Saphan Thaksin and Nonthaburi you see suburbs of the city you didn't realise existed. There are numerous riverside restaurants you make a mental note of sampling and old forgotten temples that even those with the severest cases of 'temple burnout' wouldn't mind exploring. Take a boat up the river - you'll be glad you did.

Hats off to Ayutthaya

We decided to spend a day in Ayutthaya and journey there by train. I quickly came to the conclusion that this old capital city is somewhere I've sadly neglected. Firstly it's just a couple of hours from Bangkok and secondly it really does have some lovely attractions and georgeous old ruins. My wife can't remember the last time she set foot in Ayutthaya. That's nothing short of criminal because it's a delightful city with so much to offer. But first a word or two about train travel.

My word, hasn't Hualampong Railway Station changed over the past few years? All I could remember from my visa run days were grubby people sifting through garbage bins and overweight women selling dubious-looking chicken-on-a-stick. Now Hualampong has embraced the KFC / Black Canyon Coffee Shop era and waiting for your train is more enjoyable for it. You don't even need to look for the information booth these days. In front of the computerized ticket office, there are smartly dressed staff armed with all manner of timetables and leaflets, who are not only a mine of information but deliver it in impeccable English. Now that's what I call progress! How far we've come from the run-down information desk with 'back in five minutes' scribbled on a piece of cardboard or a bored-looking female clerk who when quizzed about the platform number for the Chiang Mai train would often give you a choice of three.

One thing I still don't understand is the disparity between the price of a second-class ticket and a third-class ticket to Ayutthaya. Second-class tickets get you a numbered seat in the filthiest air-conditioned railway carriage imaginable featuring crud-covered windows you can barely see out of and all the mosquitoes you can swat. You do get an unappetizing complimentary meal served in a polystyrene box but it hardly justifies the cost of over 300 baht per person. Third-class travel on the other hand is a mere 20 baht per person and you get to sit in a far cleaner carriage with windows open to let in the country breezes. Not only that, but in third-class you experience by far the most enchanting aspect of train travel in Thailand, namely the sellers who walk up and down the aisle dispensing ice-cold drinks from plastic buckets and beef jerky with sticky rice. Trust me - third-class travel wins hands down.

I'm not sure who's responsible for the tourist authority in Ayutthaya but he / she deserves to be shaken warmly by the hand. One of the more disagreeable aspects of travelling by train (or bus for that matter) in Thailand is that moment when you disembark and find yourself besieged by half the local population - all wanting to take you somewhere in their preferred mode of transport, be it car, jeep, open-sided truck or go-kart - and all for a price of course. I've always found it a most distasteful activity to start negotiating schedules and itineraries the moment you step from a train. You always try to project an air of 'I'm in control so don't be quoting me over-inflated prices sunshine' - but the local knows he's got you. You're a stranger in a strange town. Exit the station alone and all you're going to be doing is negotiating mile after mile of hot dusty road flanked by tyre service bays and Suzuki dealerships. The unofficial tour guide has got you well and truly over a barrel. 

In Ayutthaya, they've handled the problem very well indeed. There's a large notice-board on the station platform displaying clearly the names and photos of all licenced tour guides and drivers. The guides themselves are kept off the station giving you ample time to compose yourself and pay a quick visit to the station loo. Once refreshed you're ready to tackle the tour guides head on. We approached a young gentleman by the name of Pong and he gave us a straight deal at 200 baht an hour for three hours. He was polite and courteous and spoke excellent English. He took us to all the usual temples and ruins and a few I hadn't been to before. It really was a marvelous few hours spent in his company and not once did he attempt to steer us towards a tourist scam. After the trip, I was only too happy to sign and write a testimonial in his notebook. Well done Ayutthaya!

How long you ever go to Thailand before?

Spend any great length of time in Thailand and sooner or later you'll be pounced upon by a small group of primary schoolchildren who have been given the unenviable task of hunting down friendly-looking foreigners. Usually part of a class project, the English teacher gives students a questionnaire and asks them to prowl shopping malls and tourist areas to find willing 'foreign victims' to provide the answers. This is not however to be confused with the bunch of commission-driven idiots who stop you near BTS Asoke and ask you how long you've been in Thailand and where you're currently staying. Their objective is solely to get you to into some nearby 5-star hotel where hopefully you'll part with hard-earned cash for a membership scheme entitling you to a double room three weekends a year and half a dozen buffet lunches.

I was approached on Saturday morning in Central Bang Na Shopping Mall by four very polite schoolgirls. Firstly, having taught a bit myself, I know how much courage it can take to ask a foreign stranger if they'll answer a few questions - especially one being dragged around the shops by his wife and now taking five minutes rest to ease his nagging lower back pain. My expression must have conveyed all that and more. But suffering aside, I'll always take the time out to answer carefully and even correct any grammatical errors in the questions. I've never worked out whether or not students appreciate me putting my teacher's hat on at times like this but I guess old habits die hard.

I've never really taught students of this delicate, impressionable age nor have I ever set students the task of 'harassing' foreigners while they go about their daily business but I do get so irritated by the questions themselves. On Saturday morning, the girl who had been chosen by her friends to enter the dragon's lair and engage me in conversation, put the ten questions in front of my face and said "can you answer these?"
I asked what school they were from and what nationality her English teacher was. The school I must confess I'd never heard of and their teacher was apparently a Thai lady. That might go some way to explaining why the first question was "how long have you ever go to Thailand before?" and then moved to "what is your phone number?", "what is your e-mail address?" and ending with the utterly bizarre "what about Thailand?" Well, what about Thailand indeed?

Perhaps I shouldn't interfere and bring the occasion down, but I can never just answer the questions as best I can and let the students walk away happy thinking 'mission accomplished'. Before you know it I've whipped out a biro and I'm making corrections and explaining verb tenses. All in the middle of a busy shopping mall. I may be coming at this from the wrong angle but isn't this their teacher's job? I wanted to know what they stood to learn from letting me read the questions on the clipboard instead of holding it away from me and relying on their spoken English. I was also interested in what they were going to do with my e-mail address and phone number? And finally we worked out that "what about Thailand?" would be better phrased as "what do you like most about Thailand?"

I think it's a terrific idea to send the kids out and get them comfortable with talking to foreigners. But why not ask questions worth asking? What's your favorite day of the week and why? Do you live in Thailand or are you on holiday? When is your birthday? (the answer practices months and ordinal numbers) How many countries have you been to? Which one is your favorite? How often do you eat fish? It makes the whole experience so much more enjoyable, not to mention educational, for both parties. Honestly, if I see or hear "how long have you ever go to Thailand before?......once more.

Christmas. Bah! Humbug.

December in Bangkok gives you a lot to be thankful for. The oppressive humidity hits an annual low, the traffic can be considerably lighter, especially towards the end of the month, and there are often lighter teaching schedules for Bangkok chalkies. Then why is it the one month of the year I probably look forward to least and feel at my most morose? The answer is of course - Christmas and New Year. It's a period of time to get misty-eyed and nostalgic and experience the unwelcome burden of homesickness. You'd think it would get easier after living eighteen years in Thailand but let me tell you it doesn't. I was fortunate to be brought up by parents who always did Christmas up right and made it a magical time of year for us kids. Decorating the tree, pulling crackers over the Christmas turkey, watching an old John wayne movie on Xmas eve, and jostling elbow-to-elbow with last-minute Xmas shoppers. I loved every single minute of it. Even the relatives who I didn't particularly like, who would drop by on Boxing Day for a 'small snifter' Every moment is still a cherished memory.

I think teachers are divided into two camps at this time of year. Those who say 'bah humbug' and continue working as usual, and those who make a token effort to recreate the festive spirit in the comfort of their apartments - as difficult as that may be. Some might even be lucky enough to find the time and the money to escape to the beach for a few days. After years of treating December 25th as 'just another day' I now find myself with a house and a wife and I do everything possible to recreate some of the memories from those childhood Christmasses. It's tough though. There's something very weird about decorating a Christmas tree when it's ninety degrees and blazing sunshine outside, and there's a definite sadness about watching your partner open a modest pile of presents and then have to rush off for another day at the office. I make the usual Christmas Day phone calls to Mom and Dad, my brother, my three aunties, and my only living grand-parent. They're always pleased to hear from me but they too seem to be going through the motions. It's almost as if once the children have fled the nest, the magic of Christmas is gone forever.

But at least they cook a Christmas dinner. I gave up on mine years ago. I'm not one for stuffy hotel dining at 2,000 baht a head complete with hordes of screaming kids and besides, I've had some bad experiences in Bangkok down the years. One year stands out in particular when my wife and I (we were not married at the time) walked the length and breadth of Sukhumwit Road popping our heads into every hotel to see who did a Xmas lunch. At every single establishment we were told to come back at 6 'o' clock. But I wanted a Christmas dinner now! To cut a long story short, we ended up in the Hard Rock Cafe in Siam Square and got the last two seats next to the toilets. Between mouthfuls of turkey and cranberry sauce, we got to watch a steady procession of males emerge from the bathroom wringing their hands and doing up their zippers.

Christmas can be an endless source of conflict in private language schools between teachers and Thai staff or management. Basically the teachers don't want to work and the Thai staff do. It starts off as a casual "are we going to close at Christmas?' asked by a teacher in the first week of November, and then leads to a threatened strike by the middle of December. I've found from experience that Thai management will often succumb to teacher pressure and close their doors for a day or two but it's often done begrudgingly. Students very often cancel classes anyway so in some cases it's not a big issue. However, to finish with a brief and not particularly funny anecdote, I was working at a private language school in the early 90's and every teacher (and there were a good fourteen of us) was adamant that he / she would not work on December 25th. Well, all except one - the teacher that needed the money. There's always a teacher that needs the money. And work he did. We gave him the keys to open and lock up and he came in to work on Xmas day to teach five hours while the rest of us walked up and down Sukhumwit in search of a turkey dinner.

Apartment-hunting and the hell of the lower Sukhumwit
I'd forgotten just how much energy it took to walk up and down Bangkok's sois in search of an apartment for rent. It's something I hadn't done for nigh on eight years, but I've got my folks coming over for a month in January and the instructions were simple - find us an apartment for no more than 30,000 baht a month. Oh and make sure it's near the sky-train line. And a swimming pool would be nice as well. Piece of piss I thought. I'd only ever looked for stuff in the 5-10,000 baht bracket so with a 30,000 baht budget at my disposal, I'd probably have a deposit slapped down within half an hour. Oh how wrong you can be.

I'd been all over the internet in an attempt to compile a list of suitable locations. Some websites I even got redirected to three times. It's amazing how difficult it is to locate independent websites amid the jungle of real estate portals and listings of serviced apartments way over my budget. It's even more difficult to find somewhere that will rent for just a month. A quick scour of Bangkok's well-known expat forums told the same story - finding good apartments near the sky-train for one month for under 30K isn't actually that easy.

I started off on Silom Road with some internet leads in the Soi Saladaeng and Soi Convent areas. Of the three I looked at, one had a lovely garden setting, a spacious coffee bar area but pokey rooms and no swimming pool. The second ticked almost all of the boxes but was slightly over budget and had lazy-looking staff. The third one didn't have any rooms available so I never got further than the reception desk. However, I lucked out with the fourth choice on my list - the Shangarila Suites, in the shadow of Chong Nonsri BTS - and I told them I loved the room but in time-honored fashion 'still had a few more to see'. Truth is I didn't. I headed up to lower Sukhumwit and from there my plan was just to walk up and down side-streets and keep my eyes peeled for bargains.

I started off with Sukhumwit soi 15. This soi is something of a nostalgia trip for me because the Manhattan Hotel is the very first place I stayed at when I came to Bangkok on a three-week package holiday in 1988. I popped my head in just for old time's sake and it was refreshing to see things hadn't changed. It was a three-star back then and although I'm no hotel inspector, you'd be hard pushed to give it a better rating now. The lobby hasn't seen a coat of paint for twenty years and the only addition to what I remember had been the installation of a scruffy internet corner with four computers that had been just plonked there rather than arranged with some sort of thought process. The taxi mafia still plies its trade just far enough away from the main entrance to stay out of trouble with the hotel management. The tailor's shop touts are younger but still just as irritating, and Yong Lee is still on the corner serving up overpriced food in the dirtiest restaurant imaginable. What is it about this part of Bangkok that always puts me in a bad mood?

I headed on to Sukhumwit 22 on the other side of the Asoke intersection. This is another place I have strong ties with having lived there for almost a year in the early 90's. From my balcony I actually watched the Imperial Queen's Park Hotel being built. It all seems so long ago. I cut through Washington Square and its mish-mash of badly-parked cars and dilapidated beer-bars to emerge in Soi 22 and its rows of massage shops. As far as the eye can see, if you're into foot massages then Soi 22 must be foot massage central. Unfortunately not that many people are on a Tuesday afternoon so you're left with huddles of under-employed teenage girls and middle-aged women sitting outside their respective shops with little to do other than scoff noodles and beckon half-heartedly to passers-by. I ambled a few hundred metres up the soi, more out of duty than anything else, before deciding that Soi 22 held nothing for me. Getting accosted by the taxi mafia opposite the Imperial Queen's Park and being told that it was senseless to walk around Bangkok put the tin lid on it. I reached the mouth of the soi and vowed never to walk on its footpaths for as long as I shall live.

It's about now (and it could have had something to do with the heavy pub lunch at The Robin Hood) that the energy levels dropped dramatically. I'd started off that morning with the best intentions - perhaps not a spring in my step but definitely looking forward to the day ahead - but now here I was seriously flagging. I'd been told that sois 36 and 39 were a hotbed of apartment rentals but I shuffled up both sois with the look of a man who knows when he's beaten. I aborted the mission and called the Shangarila Suites off Silom Road. 28,000 baht a month you say? With a swimming pool? And a washing machine! I'll take it.

How are things different in the 'civilized' world?
After spending a couple of weeks in New Zealand, it's interesting to analyze the differences between life in Bangkok and life in the more 'civilized world'. I realise that fifteen days is not always enough time to get an angle on life in any particular country but I'll take a shot anyway.
The first thing you appreciate when you take that initial morning stroll is good old fresh clean air. The purity of the air has you almost gasping for breath and reeling with dizziness. It takes a good few days to get used to it. Chilly winds and morning frosts are something you forgot existed but experiencing them once again is a sheer joy. How lovely it is to walk on organised and well-built footpaths with proper paving slabs and quality curb-stones. Oh the bliss of walking along the roadside without the fear of suddenly disappearing down a great big pot-hole that's been carefully marked out with a wooden stick and a plastic bag. It's great to walk in a city where the humble pedestrian is both recognized and well catered for.

The biggest shock to the system is when you get behind the wheel of a car. My wife found driving in New Zealand incredibly hard to get used to. And there was me thinking that if you could negotiate the traffic in Bangkok, then you could drive anywhere in the world. Alas, it's not quite as simple as that. You suddenly find yourself in a world of speed limits, courteous driving at right-hand turns, motorists who signal, motorists who stick to their lanes, and heaven forbid - the dreaded roundabout, where you have to signal right and then signal left as you exit. I'd never really though about it but Thailand doesn't really have roundabouts like the ones in the civilized driving world.

But although there were many things I adored about New Zealand, I was glad to get back. You miss the 'cheekiness' of Thailand. You miss the 'lawlessness' and the twinkle in its eye - however much they get you down at times. There are little things you appreciate like the personal service at gas stations instead of having to pump the gas yourself and spilling four litres down your trouser leg. And there are the big things you miss such as supermarket shopping. Thailand may not have the greatest selection of goods on earth when it comes to supermarket shopping but oh boy you can't beat those prices. There's nothing like a trip to another country and paying over 60 baht for a can of Coke to give you a firm reality check. Yes, I guess there's really no place like home.

A break from Thailand
I'm leaving tomorrow to spend a couple of weeks driving around New Zealand's South Island - well actually my wife will be doing the driving and I've been relegated to the role of map-reader. Despite the fact that driving a car was part of my job back in the UK, I haven't been behind a wheel for almost 18 years and the wife thinks that's far too long away. I keep telling her it's like riding a bicycle and something you never forget how to do, but my protests are all falling on stony ground as they say in the good book. I'm excited about this trip because New Zealand is a place I thought I'd never get to visit. One of my more cynical colleagues from years ago used to question why anyone would want to visit New Zealand when it's just like Wales only much further away. I can't argue with the distances.  Even Australia has always seemed a ridiculously long way to go for a vacation - and yet look on a map of the Pacific Rim and you'll see that New Zealand is Australia and then some. It's a bloody long way from home! I've just checked the weather stats for Christchurch and it's a chilly sixteen degrees with a good chance of rain. That sounds like my idea of heaven. The food, the scenery and the people are all sure to be an enjoyable part of any trip to New Zealand but it's the change of climate I look forward to most. Imagine the joy of being able to wear two layers of clothing. Imagine the simple pleasure of not breaking into a sweat - just by walking from an office building to the nearest sky-train station.

I like to get out of Thailand once a year. Perhaps you can have too much of a good thing I really don't know. Mini-breaks in Chiang Mai and Hua Hin are all well and good but they are still Thailand. The same heat and humidity. The same language barriers. The same dishes on every menu. I remember my old friend Paddy who lived in Hua Hin (sadly no longer with us) and how much he used to relish his quarterly visa runs to the Malaysian border - despite being married, retired and well-qualified for a one-year visa. "I love to have a break from Thailand every three months" he used to say. "Meet a few different people and see something new". Mind you, if you'd met his Thai wife, you might have formed your own opinion.

A load of bankers!
It doesn't matter a jot whether you're a 20,000 baht a month teacher or a well-heeled ex-pat on a fat overseas salary, the time comes when we all have to do business with Thai banks. And if you're unfortunate enough to be classed as a foreign alien, then dealing with Thai banks is undoubtedly one of the real minefields of life in Thailand. I don't know what it is about them but if banks here have set out to be as 'foreigner-unfriendly' as possible, then they can all claim to be a roaring success. If you're looking to deposit a couple of thousand baht into your savings account or to bank the weekly takings from your grocery shop, then you'll have few problems. If you want to withdraw a bit of cash because the nearest ATM machine is not working, then step right up to the counter. Any other kind of transaction - ordering foreign currency, applying for a banker's draft, transferring money overseas, etc - and you're taking the staff so far out of their 'comfort zone that you begin to question whether it's actually a bank you've walked into.

My first problem lies with banks who don't display their signage in English - which is most of them. I hate the sinking feeling of walking into a Thai bank and just not knowing where to go or who to ask for help. You find yourself just standing there with a look of helplessness and hoping one of the staff will stop shuffling papers for a moment and take pity on you. The Onnut branch of The Bangkok Bank adopted a wonderful system several years ago where they employed a middle-aged gentleman to greet you as soon as you walked through the door. You told him what you were there for and he would direct you to the appropriate counter. It was an amazingly effective system and a godsend to any foreigner who found himself in a strange and busy out-of-town branch.

Like in most countries I guess, the level of service varies significantly from branch to branch. I spend a lot of time in banks and while I always endeavor to use the branch I'm most familiar with, it isn't always possible, especially if I'm on a tight schedule. Walk into a branch where my face isn't known, and the teller will bring up my details on the screen and look at me as if I were Osama Bin Laden's right hand man. I have to clock my reflection to double-check it's not a day when I've decided to venture out in my turban, robes and ceremonial sword. Even in a branch where I've made numerous financial transactions, the staff will question my signature or ask why I'm sending the money overseas. I know we live in times of due diligence and money laundering, but why does paying a thousand dollars into an overseas pension fund sometimes feel like I'm funding nuclear missile tests in a remote desert.

Last week I went into my local branch to buy a banker's draft. It wasn't a significant amount of money and the transaction should only involve filling out a form and waiting twenty minutes for staff to complete it.
"Could I have the form for a banker's draft please?"
The teller looked at me as if I wanted to discuss the results of her pregnancy test. She let out what I can only describe as a shriek of terror. "Banker's draft cannot. Not this branch"
What should follow in this situation is the suggestion of what to do next and where to go. I think in the customer service world, it's referred to as 'help'. But I'm only a customer. And a foreign one at that. She shoved the number of the helpdesk into my hand and waved me away. There's nothing I love more than calling a helpdesk on a Monday morning and hearing 'if you would like to apply for a credit card press 1. If you would like to take one of our bank staff out for dinner and a show press 2' You get the picture. I went to another branch and got the banker's draft within ten minutes. It's just a shame it took me over an hour to get there. My grandmother was right. Keep it in a tin box under the bed. Put a good lock on the door. And you know exactly where you are.

Health check-up time
I recently spent half a day at a Bangkok hospital having my annual health check. This is when you spend 12,000 baht of your hard-earned cash just so a doctor can analyze six hours of tests and tell you that you have an enlarged lipitor gland in your endymorphous canal so it would be a good idea to cut out the coffee and chocolate. It's frightening how the years take their toll. One minute you're running around in the park playing football and the next minute there's a Thai nurse holding your hand as you huff and puff on the walking machine. "Shall we try it on speed number two now Mr Philip or would you like to rest for a while?" Anyway, as I was sitting in the reception area, I started to make a list of twenty essential aspects of any Thai hospital.

1. An area in which the disabled ramp, the ambulance loading bay and the taxi rank all converge on one another - resulting in utter chaos.
2. Promotional literature showing a convalescing old grandmother and two fat grandchildren jumping up and down on her bed.
3. Strategically-placed vases full of wilting flowers.
4. The nurse who somehow manages to parade your urine sample in front of 346 gawping out-patients.
5. The kindly bespectacled doctor who greets you with a cheery "and what can we do for you on this fine morning?" before it dawns on you that it's the only sentence of English he can speak correctly.
6. The middle-aged, overweight out-patient who sits in the reception area picking at her bare feet.
7. The glasses of cold Chinese tea, covered with cling-film and looking suspiciously like zebra's wee-wee.
8. The clapped-out TV that's showing a loud tranvestite slap-stick comedy routine and forcing the engrossed patients to miss their appointment.
9. The stick-thin 60-year old nursing sister who's given the job of looking after the foreigners on account of her ability to say 'this way please'
10. The hospital gown cunningly designed to reveal your bare buttocks as you shuffle past the mincing queen in the X-ray department.
11. The registration form that takes your partner thirty minutes to fill in while you die slowly of a heart attack. Despite the hospital already having your details on a computer.
12. The Thai family of fourteen who have come to visit someone in hospital with a cold.
13. The fifty-year old farang who gets wheeled out into the reception area temporarily distracting the people from the antics of number 8.
14. The explanation from the pharmacist that you take the blue pills twice a day, the green ones four times a day, and the striped ones only if it's a full moon - and the fact that no one ever listens anyway.
15. The sad lonely S&P franchise which sells tuna sandwiches, slices of madeira cake and tins of all-butter shortbread - the cornerstone of any good convalescent diet.
16. The billing / insurance claim dept with its mountain of paperwork, three overworked secretaries and a brain cell dying of loneliness.
17. A Thai man in a sort of grey uniform whose job it is to wheel patients to other parts of the hospital and change light-bulbs.
18. The 96-year old great grandmother who gets wheeled into the doctor's surgery ahead of you and emerges two hours later.......still alive.
19. The magazine rack which contains the May 2003 edition of Hot Superbikes and a Bangkok Post color supplement celebrating the 50th anniversary of Chemitox Plastics.
20. A group of four nurses huddled around a computer and all taking it in turns to move the mouse.

Thai provincial towns
And while we're on the subject of lists, here are twenty aspects that go together to make up any decent Thai provincial town. It doesn't matter whether you are in Nakhorn Sii Thammarat or Nakhon Pathom, you can always enjoy the following

1) A temple that's falling to bits and over-run by stray dogs.
2) A 7-11 which is virtually next door to another minimart that has exactly the same color scheme as a 7-11 but isn't one.
3) A green sign that says 'waterfall 10kms' and points up to the sky.
4) A place where female university students can buy stationery and little purses to keeop their spare coins in.
5) Some sort of filthy engineering workshop where the three Thai gentlemen gathered on the footpath clearly enjoy hammering things.
6) A pub with a buffalo skull above the door and a fence made entirely of wagon wheels that hasn't opened for about 7 years but has forty empty beer crates outside.
7) A Honda dealer
8) A solitary ATM machine belonging to some obscure Thai bank and located in the hottest three square metres in Thailand.
9) Another Honda dealer
10) A mini-roundabout with a myriad of freshly planted blooms because next month there's going to be an exhibition in the vicinity.
11) A photocopying shop that looks about as unwelcoming as any retail business could ever be.
12) A place that specializes in auto accessories, but today has a table of over-ripe bananas at 10 baht a bunch out front.
13) A water fountain that's been lovingly installed by the local authority but only serves to make you wonder who's had their mouth around the tap.
14) A clearly well-funded museum that has photos of old shipwrecks and display cases of 17th century underpants.
15) A line of of six samlor drivers all snoozing in the midday sun.
16) A furniture shop that's a mecca for lovers of grey chipboard and things on wheels.
17) A music shop blasting out a medley of 70's disco classics through a pair of giant speakers with all the acoustics of a Coke tin.
18) A huge poster of a smiling politician wearing one of those cheap white nylon jackets.
19) A sign that says 'toursit atraction' and leads to number 14.
20) A pot-holed, gravelly clearing of land which you find out upon further inspection is actually the bus station.
 

Missionary position
Maybe I just look like the kind of guy who needs saving from his life of sin, but the fresh-faced, blonde-haired young man with the Hollywood smile, homed straight in on me. He boarded the MRT at Petchburi station, took a quick scan of the carriage and decided that I was definitely his man. "How are you doing today?" he chirped.
Dripping with sweat and wrestling with my tangled I-Pod cable, I somehow managed to muster a rather unfriendly "alright thanks". Most people would have taken that as a signal to go forth and multiply but when there are souls to be rescued from the devil's evil clutches, such brush-offs are minor almost insignificant obstacles at best. We both knew exactly what was coming next - the cluster of unbearable conversational gambits. "How long have you lived in Bangkok?". "Where are you from?". "What do you do here?". "Are you on your way home?" I hadn't been asked these questions since I was last in Soi Cowboy but I played along and gave him the answers he wanted to hear. I closed my eyes and braced myself for the full impact of the inevitable segue way. "I'm from the Church of the Latter Day Saints, and we believe that......" The rest is just a blur. I wasn't listening. I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss my stop. He then apologized for not introducing himself. To be honest I forget the name. It was something like Brad or Chuck or something equally wholesome, clean-living and unmistakably American.
"Are you a religious person?" he enquired. I answered yes without a moment's hesitation. But it's amazing how you can live here for eighteen years and not be able to think of one single church when pressed for a name.

"Do you have time to get together to talk about things?"
I'm not sure if he meant the political situation in the deep south, the chances of getting a multiple entry visa in Penang, or how Chelsea will fare without Jose Mourinho but I got the distinct impression we probably weren't on the same wavelength as far as discussion topics were concerned. Thankfully the train pulled up at MRT Asoke and the whoosh of the opening doors was my signal to leg it. I would be up that escalator and through the ticket barrier before you could say 'complimentary bible'. Somewhere on a distant cloud, a bearded man with a kindly face might start shaking his head in disbelief, but I had to get out of there. The best laid plans of mice and men aside, the missionary quickened his pace to follow me across the station concourse. "What will you do when you get home?" he asked.
"Well I'll probably get home at about six and then spend some time in front of the mirror wearing my wife's clothes. She doesn't get home until seven you see"

I didn't say that of course. I'm far too nice a guy. I told him I would give God some very serious thought and implored him to keep up the good work. One powerful handshake later and he disappeared into the crowd of commuters to select another victim. However, I couldn't resist the temptation to stand and hover from a safe distance. 'Selling religion' in Thailand must be a dream at least in terms of grabbing someone who'll listen. I watched the missionary approach four or five Thais in the space of a few minutes and they all listened intently before telling him they couldn't speak English. Now why didn't I think of that? Still, I have nothing but respect for a man who will willingly travel around on a subway train - in a capital city - and make conversation with total strangers. As anyone who has seen Borat - The Movie will testify, it doesn't always work out that well.

Getting around Chiang Mai
Is there a city or town in Thailand that's more expensive to get around than Chiang Mai? Even though my wife and I are fairly seasoned travellers, we found ourselves spending a small fortune on songtaews and tuk-tuks - often for distances that would barely cost fifty baht in a Bangkok taxi. I can certainly see why the first thing most long-stay ex-pats do is buy themselves a 'motorsai'. There's no way you could live in Chiang Mai for any great length of time and be reliant on hired transportation. The whole system is a tad confusing and very often irritating. There are two-seater tuk-tuks and the larger red 'songtaews', with their two rows of bench seats, on literally every street corner and parked in front of every hotel and guest house, but most of those are only interested in tourists wanting to do a 100 baht or 200 baht run out to a local tourist attraction such as Doi Suthep or the Chiang Mai Night Safari. If you're looking to get from the central area around the Thae Phrae gate to say the train station or CM University - a journey worth 30 baht at the most - then you have to flag down a red songtaew and hope the driver is going in that direction or willing to go that way for a reasonable fee. This will then be on the understanding that the driver can pick up other passengers on the way. The whole journey has to be discussed and negotiated with the driver beforehand - and very often in pouring rain or searing heat.

Chiang Mai is officially one of Asia's most comfortable cities to live in with its relatively clean air, an abundance of good restaurants and helpful friendly locals, but the way you are pestered by vehicle owners from the moment you land at the airport is not one of its more attractive features. Even a gentle stroll down one of Chiang Mai's main roads becomes an endurance test as you find yourself saying 'no thanks' to the tenth taxi driver in as many minutes. I'm all in favor of people touting for business but just because I stand on a street corner to take in a view or collect my thoughts, doesn't mean I'm in the market for a tour around a Burmese temple and a quick gawp at some remote hill-tribe village. I'm no economist but there are simply far too many drivers chasing too small a market. And all of them are looking to make their one big daily catch. Even at Chiang Mai bus station, there was a huge sign, clearly visible and clearly stating that a taxi into the center of town was 60 baht (and steep even at that price) However, it still didn't stop one opportunist accosting us as we got down from the bus to offer his services for 80 baht.      When we drew his attention to the sign, he came down to 70 but we walked on, wandered a little away from the bus station and got a songthaew for 40. This high-pressure negotiation for transport is of course part and parcel of life in Asia but it doesn't make it any less wearisome the older you get - regardless of how long you've lived here.

Chiang Mai's attractions
I undoubtedly fall into the 'demanding' category as far as Chiang Mai's attractions go. I've been up and down those steps to the temple at the top of Doi Suthep more times than the head monk, and the hill-tribe experience has left me a little cold ever since I saw a hill-tribe hut boasting its very own satellite dish. I sat down in front of the hotel tour operator on the first morning and she knew within a matter of minutes that she'd got her work cut out. She went through a great long list of options and much to her annoyance, I interjected with the occasional 'been there', 'no thanks' and 'done that'. We eventually settled for Chiang Mai Zoo on one side of town and the Chiang Mai Night Safari on the other. I suspected this might amount to 'caged animal overkill' but when it comes down to a choice between waterfalls that are probably no more than ambitious streams, opium smokers with long necks, and oh no, not another temple please! - I'm sorry but the animals win hands down.

I last went to Chiang Mai Zoo about six years ago and commented then on how it obviously needed a serious cash injection. Sadly no one seems to have dug deep into their pockets and on a low season, rainy afternoon in September, the zoo painted a pretty depressing picture. Refreshment stalls were closed and shuttered. Cages stood empty and forlorn. And most of the star attractions looked as though they'd long given up. I swore that the ostriches and giraffes (caged together to probably save on labor costs) were nuzzling each other to hide the fact they were having some sort of secret meeting, and top of the agenda was how to get the hell out of there. For a tourist it was soul-destroying; for an animal lover it was heart-breaking. However, the zoo does have two fine pandas, and when you've got pandas on your list of exhibits then there's always hope. As you'd expect, the pandas enjoy five-star treatment in their own five-star enclosure. There's a whole army of Thai staff engaged in the welfare of these magnificent animals. There's someone employed to make sure the humidity is kept at exactly the right level. There's a woman who specializes in covering your camera flash with black sticky tape (pandas love bamboo but hate flash photography) and there are three people who look after the panda gift shop.  It's a pity they don't tell you at the entrance kiosk you have to pay a further 100 baht (on top of the 100 baht zoo entrance fee) to enter the panda enclosure but every one seemed to accept it. A closed circuit TV positioned outside keeps visitors informed on what state of activity the pandas are currently engaged in - be it sleeping peacefully in their den, gnawing on sticks of bamboo, or running around playing a little baseball. I didn't care much because I wasn't going to miss the opportunity to get up close and personal with one of nature's rarest bears. And I'm so glad I did. I got about as close as its humanly possible to get to a panda. Any closer and I could have tickled its stomach and Chuang-Chuang could have put a furry arm around me. I stood there mesmerized for a good thirty minutes. When you're a guest of the animal kingdom, this is about as good as it gets.

The Chiang Mai Night Safari is a relative newcomer to the list of CM must-sees and in stark contrast to the zoo, it's obviously had oodles of funding thrown at it. It's twice the admission price of the zoo but you get very well-trained staff, spotlessly clean toilets, attractive eating areas, a lake with its own magic fountain, and an extensive, if unexciting array of healthy-looking animals. Like other night safaris around the world, the main idea is you clamber aboard an open train with small groups of excited people and do a four-kilometer circuit of dark jungle terrain. Every so often the train makes a stop and the driver shines the brightest flashlight imaginable into the eyes of some unsuspecting meerkat. There's a polite chorus of 'oooohs' and 'aaaaahs' and the train shuttles on to the next animal enclosure - this time inhabited by animals that look like a meerkat but aren't one. Unfortunately, the whole experience was ruined by a group of Chinese tourists two rows behind us. A famous French existentialist once said 'hell is other people'. I get the impression he'd probably been to the Chiang Mai Night Safari. They really were the most obnoxious bunch of people. The women were loud; the men were louder. We stopped in front of the lion enclosure and it became a contest to see which of the Chinese could roar the loudest. Yes, they were that irritating. I would have given anything - and I mean anything - for one of the big cats to scale the perimeter fence and indulge in a Chinese take-away - provided he left me alone of course.  

Thai massage and the lost opportunity
You've got to have a massage if you're in Chiang Mai. There are massage shops everywhere, ranging from the 120 baht an hour 'mattress on the floor' type to the up-market teak wooden house complete with gurgling fountains, aromatic candles and staff who look as though they have some idea what they're doing. The wife and I tried both kinds of establishment while we were there, and like anything else in life; you get what you pay for. I do like a traditional Thai massage now and again provided that the pampering is gentle rather than rough, and the massage is administered by a female under forty. There's nothing sexual or thrill-seeking in it, but I don't want to be pummeled and manipulated by a woman who looks like an extra from Prisoner Cell Block H. Or indeed by a Thai man. I don't care how many Wat Pho certificates he's got under his belt or how many years he's been blind. I don't want the back of a Thai man's hand brushing against me comics - accidental or otherwise.

So the wife and I have stumbled on a massage shop imaginatively called 'Modern Massage' somewhere near the Tha Prae gate. At 150 baht an hour for a traditional massage it fell into the category of cheap and cheerful. Well it was certainly cheap. We walked in and spoke to the girl sitting in the window. This is how the conversation went (in Thai);

My wife: "We'd like a massage please. I want a one-hour foot massage and he (pointing at yours truly) wants a one-hour traditional Thai massage"

Girl 1: "OK. You want a one-hour foot massage and he wants a one-hour traditional Thai massage"

My wife: "Yes that's correct"
(at this point a second girl enters the reception area)

Girl 1 to Girl 2: "This lady wants a one-hour foot massage and he wants a one-hour traditional Thai massage"

Girl 2:  "OK. You want a one-hour foot massage and he wants a one-hour traditional Thai massage"

At this point a third girl entered the picture. I'll let you guess what Girl 2 said to Girl 3 and then Girl 3's response. By now I was seriously close to killing someone.

There then ensued the most bizarre conversation between the three girls as they discussed which one of them knew how to administer a foot massage. As it turned out only one of them did. As for my traditional Thai massage, none of them seemed very keen on the idea of laying their hands on me. I put it down to lack of training but you can make up your own story. As they stood there arguing the toss I so wanted to butt in and tell them that this was the kind of conversation you have out of the customer's earshot but the truth was I was enjoying the lesson on how to best ruin a business in just ten minutes flat.
This is a problem I have with so many, so-called Thai business people. They have no interest whatsoever in being successful and who knows, perhaps making a little money along the way. They're interested in doing enough to just survive. The two concepts are entirely different. You see evidence of the 'let's just survive' mentality all over Chiang Mai. The woman in the bookshop who  tells you she hasn't got such and such a book but makes no attempt to recommend anything else. The girl in the restaurant who doesn't bother to point out that having the special with coffee and fruit included will cost you just 30 baht more. The tour operator who would rather tell you where you can't go due to the risk of floods and not where you could go. The list is endless. It's not a language thing because if there's anything that I admire about the Chiang Mai people, at least those in constant contact with tourists, it's their ability to speak English well.                              

The Rose of the North beckons
I'm taking my wife to Chiang Mai for three days this Friday. We were lucky enough to secure return flight tickets for just 3 baht each as part of Nok Air's third anniversary give-away. OK, once you've figured in airport departure tax, fuel surcharge, baggage charge, docking bay tax and the pilot's alimony payments, you end up paying about 2,000 baht a ticket, but I do love a bargain. One of the most enjoyable parts of taking a trip in Thailand (at least from my point of view) is that it gives me a chance to blow the dust off my Lonely Planet guide. Now I'm going to be the last person to criticize a range of guides that clearly sell by the proverbial truckload but I tend to read through the LP guidebook for all the wrong reasons. While up in Chiang Mai, I'm planning on doing a side-trip to Lampang. Although I've been before and frankly the town itself isn't much to look at, the two-hour bus journey from Chiang Mai to Lampang takes you through some of Thailand's most beautiful countryside. The journey really is rather splendid. With that in mind I looked through the LP guide's 'accommodation in Lampang' section. This is one of the entries

"The cheapest place in town is the number 4 guest house, a large old teak house which has gone through at least three different managers and two different names over the last six years. Rooms are basic - just a mattress on the floor - and cost about 100 baht a night. The shared bathroom facilities feature hot water but aren't exceptionally clean"

So basically it's a filthy dirty hovel with a stream of owners all looking to offload it at the very first opportunity. Now doesn't that sound like an idyllic place to spend a holiday or mini-break? I think it's just me getting older but do people still travel to Thailand and want this kind of experience? To take a shower in a bathroom that looks as though it was recently part of a multiple murder investigation? To spend all night listening to the scurry of fat cockroaches and to laze away hours on a terrace of wooden planks that look as though it might give way at any time sending you hurtling into the stagnant pond below? I can never work out whether the descriptions in LP guides constitute a recommendation or a warning. Why don't they come right out with it and tell you you'll wake up with mosquito bites on your mosquito bites and probably wooden splinters sticking in your bum.

I'm not one for the five-star hotels it must be said. I have no interest in going to Chiang Mai and 'dressing for dinner' or sitting at the bar ordering cocktails with silly names, but I do like a certain level of comfort. I enjoy filling in a proper registration card and having my bags carried to the room. I love fiddling through the TV channels and watching Forrest Gump for the 127th time or X-treme skateboarding from Venice Beach. What's a mini-break without laughing at the prices of the goods in the mini-bar or working out which of the little bottles in the bathroom contain shampoo, conditioner and laundry detergent? And the amazing thing is that these mid-range hotels as I like to call them, often cost just a few hundred baht more than the grubby fleapits. I suppose it's all about horses for courses, but while others are unrolling sleeping mats to keep them safe from the perils of the grubby 100 baht-a-night mattress, I'm sitting on the bed watching Oprah Winfrey with the air-conditioning going full blast and the remains of a bland chicken and cashew nuts courtesy of late night room service. Thank you. 

VIP visits
I was in the World Trade Center area last week and got caught up in one of those 'VIP visits' - when a foreign dignitary or a high-ranking politician decides they want to go out and do a bit of shopping - so the population of Bangkok, for twenty minutes at least, suddenly and without warning, find their daily routines thrown into chaos. The fun usually starts about thirty minutes before the VIP arrives, when you notice a sudden surge of police activity. Pedestrian bridges and walkways instantly become no-go areas, choppers hover menacingly overhead, and an eerie silence seems to descend on the city. You half expect someone to shout "run we're all going to die" which is the signal for a Tyrannasaurus Rex to come rampaging down Sukhumwit Road or at the very least some sort of tidal wave. These monthly occurrences have niggled me down the years not just because anyone who isn't in possession of a crackly walkie-talkie is viewed as a potential suicide bomber, but it gives the chance for humble security guards and junior police officers to turn into God. Young uniformed security staff who have guarded the entrance to a particular building for years, and who have saluted you smartly as you breeze past, suddenly turn into your worst enemy. It's almost as if their recognition of you gets completely erased from memory. Just as you attempt to enter a building, they'll block your way and give you the wagging index finger - a gesture I find deeply annoying at the best of times. And then with the foreign visitor - possibly the Chief Finance Minister for Burkino Faso and his twelve wives -  safely ensconced inside the shopping mall, waves of relief flood over us and we can all go back to our daily business.

I just want a webcam
I ventured into the Seri Center shopping mall on Phattanakarn Road yesterday in search of a webcam, so I can wave at my mom on-line and she can actually watch me type out words instead of just reading them as they appear on the screen (isn't technology wonderful?) The Seri Center is possibly Bangkok's worst shopping mall experience. It doesn't have crowds. It doesn't have hordes of pierced teenagers. It doesn't have anything. Except I must say a very decent I.T mall, which I much prefer to that seven levels of Dante's Inferno which masquerades as Panthip Plaza.

I hate shopping for computer software in Bangkok. It's not because I know very little about computers and someone telling me to 'go through my registry keys' or 'booting up my bios' has me breaking out in a cold sweat, but the shop assistants in these places drive me absolutely nuts. Call me old-fashioned but I like my computer technicians to look like computer technicians - and not 'bits of kids' to borrow one of father's favorite expressions. I like them to be middle-aged, slightly balding, and preferably carrying a pen. How can you buy computer software from someone who doesn't carry a pen?

In the first shop I had to disturb a girl of about seventeen who was busy downloading MP3s. It was quite clear from the outset that I had mistaken the shop for a place that was in the business of selling things. She got off her chair with some considerable effort and gestured towards a display case with two webcams in it. I asked her a few questions - none of which fell into the category of 'searching' - but her product knowledge was unfortunately zero. Well she did know that the two items on display were webcams - I'll give her that. I shot her a look of exasperation and told her I'd look elsewhere.

The second shop had about eight shop assistants all fighting for space behind a counter barely big enough for two. It was like watching an I.T version of Twister. Eventually one of them plucked up the courage to ask what I was standing there for and produced the only webcam the shop sold - a snazzy-looking Logitech affair priced at a rather ambitious 1500 baht. I quite fancied it to be honest but I wasn't parting with that sort of cash unless I had a demonstration first. The sales girl (again about 17 years old) looked as though I'd asked her to run naked around the shopping mall shouting 'look at me I'm a goblin'. She summoned the only male employee (as far as I could see) and he muttered under his breath as he realized testing the product involved taking it out of its plastic packaging and heaven forbid - downloading a driver. First of all he had to find a computer. This in itself was no mean feat. He eventually dragged an old laptop from some dusty recess and spent the next twenty minutes battling error messages and resisting the obvious step of turning to me and saying 'sorry the thing's knackered'. Losing patience rapidly, I leant over the counter and told him the item clearly didn't work. He gave me a long convoluted answer about my computer at home being much better than his (how the hell would he know?) and I would have no problems at all setting it up.
I told him that in the world of computer software, there are two choices - something either works or it doesn't. I turned and fled.

At the third shop things began to look up. The sales girl was almost old enough to vote and ride a motorcycle, so my hopes were high. However those hopes were dashed when she told me that they didn't offer a free demonstration, but if I paid for the goods first I could then have a demonstration and if the webcam wasn't functioning properly I could get a refund. This would actually be terribly convenient because I would theoretically be already standing in the fucking shop. Can you get your head round that? No, neither could I.....and left.

I was by now more than willing to return home minus webcam, because I could see my poor long-suffering wife starting to receive the brunt of my anger (as the dear angel usually does) but for one last throw of the dice, I approached one of those dreadful 'accessory stalls' that are piled high with plastic CD cases, funky mouse-pads and blank DVDs and serve no great purpose other than to block up the center aisle and make the whole place look a mess.
"Webcam?" I enquired, with more than a hint of impending disappointment. The lady behind the counter (and she was a lady) leapt from her stool, plonked a 500 baht webcam on the counter for me to examine, clicked a button on her computer where she already had the same model of webcam rigged up, and within seconds I could see myself on the monitor, waving and pulling faces in glorious real-time technicolor. I whipped out a 500 baht note, bid her good day and left a happy man. You see - selling things to the general public isn't really all that difficult is it?

World Trade Center Offices
I was conducting a two-day seminar on 'meeting skills' last week at the very modern World Trade Center Offices Building on Ploenchit Road. Frankly speaking, I spend a lot of time here. The building, which adjoins the World Trade Center shopping complex, was apparently derelict and unfinished for several years when contractors suddenly run out of cash, but with its polished, shimmering steel and glass facade and a Starbucks on the second floor, it's now blossomed into one of the capitals premier office locations. And you can't call yourself an office building these days unless you have a branch of everyone's favorite coffee chain, a tiny Boots chemist with just enough room for one customer and a slightly effeminate shop assistant , and a place to buy overpriced fruit smoothies.

The WTC Office building also has the most complex elevator system imaginable. The first step in the journey from ground floor to desired floor involves approaching the information desk. Depending on the time of day, the desk is either manned by three young ladies who I'm convinced are all pre-op 'ladyboys', or two male security guards who are memorable only for their total lack of English and their navy blue uniforms that are six sizes too big. I think the ladyboys come on duty at 8.00am - give or take fifteen minutes because I'm sure it would ultimately depend on how long they spend applying make-up in the bathroom. Once at the information desk, you tell the staff the number of your destination floor and receive an electronic card that allows you to go to that floor only. To get this electronic card you have to exchange it for a form of identification with your picture on it. Hand the staff something like your Blockbuster Video card or just a plain business card and they positively revel in the opportunity to throw it back at you. When you eventually get hold of the electronic elevator card, you have to walk over to the row of elevators and scan it against a card reader. A visual display then tells you which elevator to use, be it P,Q,R,S or T. Only that particular elevator will take you to your desired floor. Sounds like a recipe for disaster doesn't it? Well, you have two distinct groups of elevator-user: those that work in the building and are as you'd expect, au fait with the whole system, and then there's the rest of us. The rest of us spend twenty minutes getting in the wrong elevators, going up to the wrong floors, and then trying to find someone who can explain how the damn system works. For a first-time visitor or perhaps a motorcycle messenger who isn't the brightest bulb in the marquee, it's a wonderful way to start the day.

The language of Starbuckian
Let me go back to the topic of Starbucks coffee shops if I may. To tell the truth I'm not their greatest fan, but like so many others, I can't start the day without my regular intake of caffeine and very often Starbucks is the only choice at 7.00 in the morning. I'm convinced the worst thing you can do is 'get known' at any particular Starbucks branch. I don't even have to bark my order at them, because they know me as the 'medium-sized cappuccino' guy. I'll approach the counter and the cheerful assistant will say "good morning sir, medium cappuccino?" and that beaming smile will light up her face. Thankfully she stops short of addressing me by name because even as it is, it's a level of cheerfulness and bonhomie that I just can't handle at such an ungodly hour of the morning. You'll notice how I refer to the drink as a 'medium-sized' cappuccino. I think the menu board refers to it as 'tall' or 'grande' or something equally pretentious. I refuse to get drawn into using that strange 'Starbuckian' language. The words small, medium, and large have served us well for centuries and if I'm the last man defending them then so be it.

While I was waiting in line recently, I noticed a rather fetching pastel-colored Starbucks mug, which would have matched the color scheme of my kitchen very nicely indeed. It was displayed on those shelves where they plonk all the other Starbucks paraphernalia such as bags of coffee beans, placemats, coffee grinders and tins of after-coffee peppermints (you know what I'm talking about right?) I gasped aloud at the price ticket affixed to the bottom of the mug. 290 baht. I put the mug back on the shelf with a slight whimper and even picked up a second mug to make sure someone hadn't had a mishap with the labeling gun. They hadn't. 290 baht was the price and that's simply outrageous. This is the major problem I have with Starbucks. Does the guy who decides the prices of their goods ever set foot in the real world? Does he not know that 85 baht for a quiche pie the size of a ten-baht coin is pushing it a bit? Does he not realize that no drink, no matter which mountain slope in Columbia the beans have been picked from, is ever going to be worth 120 baht? And yet you can sit in Starbucks for just half an hour and see a constant stream of middle-class Thais and ex-pats, grabbing a coffee and a snackette, and not once baulking at having to hand over twice Thailand's minimum daily wage for the privilege. As I've said, I go there for my early morning medium-sized cappuccino and some days I might even take a quick peek at the complimentary Bangkok Post if that irritating Japanese fellah hasn't got to it first. The other stuff - the peripheral stuff - the coffee grinders, the booklets on the history of Brazilian coffee-growing, the mugs and the environmentally-friendly t-shirts - can all fuck off. 

McDonalds cafe
How wonderful to see that everyone's favorite corporate clown has seen fit to bring the McDonald's Cafe concept to Bangkok. I'd previously been to their cafes in Hong Kong and Singapore and was suitably impressed. I'm delighted to say that the newish McDees cafe at the Erawan intersection near Central Chidlom is every bit as good. It's an oasis of early morning peace and tranquility where you can relax on a Mcsofa and savor the delights of the sausage burger or perhaps even a blueberry muffin. I've become quite a regular here, and at 6.20 in the morning there's usually just me and a handful of bleary-eyed counter-staff. The breakfast menu is extensive, the coffee is decent and the staff are charmingly incompetent, but it just adds to the charm of the place. There's one girl who's my particular favorite on account of the fact that she seems unable do anything right. I've watched her warm cheesecake up in the microwave, spill coffee all over a customer's tray, and spend thirty minutes wrestling with newspapers and gripper rods. When it comes to adding up 70 baht for a coffee and 45 baht for a chocolate chip muffin it's like watching someone try to split the atom. Heaven knows what she's like under pressure as the day gets busier. And it does get busier. I was so enamored with my first morning visit that I decided to pop back later in the day for a strawberry sundae - and psyche myself up for the rush hour sky-train journey. My word, how things change. There wasn't a spare seat to be had. The place was over-run with schoolchildren. I skulked away hands in pockets and adjourned to the vastly inferior Burger King about a hundred yards away. It was the same story there - hordes of pig-tailed schoolgirls doodling on exercise books and copying each other's homework. I realize this might be a tad controversial but don't you think a law should be passed stipulating that once school-kids finish school at 3.30 or whatever time it is, they are by law, required to go straight home immediately. Let's take it a step further and say that failure to do so would result in a small fine or perhaps a black mark on a school attendance card. Or someone could just shoot them.

May I look in your bag sir?
Isn't it weird - not to mention a little unnerving - that security checks become more and more lax the longer stories of terrorism stay off the front pages of local newspapers? I'm talking about the checks made on our bags and briefcases as we enter Bangkok department stores, office buildings or descend down into the capital's MRT system. Security was beefed up all over town after a series of explosions in late 2006 and on New Year's Eve itself, but with thankfully nothing major to report this year, we're slowly getting back to normal. But is that what's supposed to happen? The security guards are still there at the entrance to every MRT station but to call their barely cursory glance into your computer bag a 'security check' is just plain absurd. I have a laptop case with three separate compartments. I'm no expert on these matters but I would say any of them is spacious enough to hold an explosive. I walk through those MRT security checks and open whichever compartment I fancy. The other day I just waved my bag in the air and they motioned me through. What's all that about? Is it because I'm in a shirt, tie, and business slacks rather than sandals and a flowing white robe.  Perhaps I don't look the sort. At the Emporium Department Store they've given up altogether. The guards used to check your bag carefully and then attach a brown baggage tag to it. You were then free to wander around the store without fear of suddenly being wrestled to the ground in the bedding department. When was the 'red alert' situation called off? and by who? And more to the point - why did nobody tell me? 

The Great American Rib
If you're craving an obscenely large plateful of American food, then you might want to head for the Great American Rib in Sukhumwit 36. Get off at Thonglor BTS and walk to the mouth of soi 36, where there is a large group of motorcycle taxi-drivers. Any of them will deliver you safely at the front door for a ten baht fare if you say 'Amelikan Lib'. If you ask for the 'Great American Rib' then God knows where you'll end up - just don't come crying to me.
Once at the restaurant, you can sit outside under the twinkling fairy lights (which although hot is far superior to the characterless air-conditioned indoor section) and feast on their incredible 'platter for two' - which includes shredded pork, spare ribs dripping in barbecue sauce, spicy chicken, home-made cornbread. mashed potato and corn-on-the-cob. Go hungry - but just don't go at 6 'o' clock in the evening as the wife and I did yesterday. You'll get what I call the 'watching eyes' syndrome. It's that awful situation when you and your partner are virtually the only diners in a restaurant and the place has far too many waitresses - all with nothing to do. I kid you not, we had fifteen waiting staff (I counted them) watching us, monitoring us, waiting for a sign, a subtle gesture, that maybe my plate wasn't big enough or my ice-cubes were the wrong shape. Is this something that's unique to Thailand I wonder? For me it's one of the great downsides of dining out in Thailand. 

The Ancient Village in Samut Prakarn
If you’re ever in the position of having to show relatives or friends around the city and you’ve done all the tourist-guidebook favorites like The Grand Palace and Chatuchak Market, then Muang Boran, The Ancient Village, in Samut Prakarn is a little gem to impress your visitors with - especially on that difficult fourth or fifth day when everyone’s had their fill of shopping and had enough temples, monks and scented joss-sticks to last them a lifetime. The ancient village is in essence a pleasant theme-park with a rather fine collection of scaled down historical buildings and structures depicting architecture from the four corners of the kingdom (now how’s that for a bit of guide-book speak) For those in an energetic mood, it takes a good 2-3 hours to walk around the park, but walk around is only something barmy farangs tend to do. You certainly won’t catch the Thais doing that. They sensibly choose to drive around the circuit in their air-conditioned Toyotas, stopping off for the occasional photo shoot or to get their laughing gear round some barbecued pork or some chicken and sticky rice. But to do The Ancient Village on four wheels is to miss the very essence of what this scenic and memorable tourist attraction has to offer.
A word of advice – go on a weekday when you’ll probably have the whole place to yourself. The weekends often see hordes of badly-behaved overweight schoolchildren all holding competitions to find out who can scream the loudest and generally be the most obnoxious. The park authorities also provide bicycles (and I use that word in its loosest possible terms) for those with cast-iron backsides and for those who don’t mind feeling like they’re part of a circus act. The last time I visited Muang Boran, I must have test-ridden about 20 different machines before I found one with wheels that went in the direction I wanted them to.

I can’t conclude a section on Muang Boran without having a little moan about the double-pricing tariff when you buy your entrance ticket. Foreigners pay approx 300 baht (which includes the comedy bicycle) - Thais pay a lot less. And that’s the way it is. I know this is an issue that many foreigners get hot under the collar about. Let's just say that depending on your character you can either shrug your shoulders and tell the ticket-sellers how many world wars you fought in….or you can go off and write pompous letters to the Bangkok Post. Neither of them will get you anywhere.