What are the developed world's worst city airports? And what makes an airport bad for you? I'm convinced Melbourne and Perth's airports must be somewhere on a worst airport list. Due to bad plane and bus connections, I spent a fair bit of time at both of these Australian airports this past week, and it was painful. Perth's domestic airport seems to work 9-5 despite flights arriving and departing at midnight. It's small, has few shops, fewer eating options, and needs a good scrub. But because Perth is a city with a small population, I'm going to be a bit more forgiving. Melbourne on the other hand has no excuse. It's Australia's second largest city, a busy business/finance hub, and a major tourist destination. There's no excuse for Melbourne's Tullamarine airport to be so appalling. So what makes it so dreadful?
* Opening hours - nothing was open when my flight arrived at 5.30am, and most cafes and shops didn't open until 8.30-9am despite the airport being busy with commuters; if there are flights coming and going, then the whole airport should be open for business.
* No public lounges and few seating options – apart from the departure gates, there are few places to sit other than the airport's dismal cafes; there's not a single comfortable seat, only wooden benches and hard plastic café chairs, so plan your connections carefully or you'll have a sore bottom before you've even boarded the plane.
* No decent business facilities – can't get comfy and want to work instead? Forget about it. At Milan's Malpensa we can at least pay to work in a business lounge for the day with free internet, lots of desks, soft sofas, and complimentary refreshments. Nothing of the kind in Melbourne. Not only could I not access the expensive wireless internet service (and airport staff members had no clue either), I couldn't find any space to work and nowhere to plug in my laptop, apart from a dirty cafe. As I had a three hour wait I was prepared to pay for it too, but no such luck.
* Few enticing shops - nowhere to relax, no place to work, so you want to browse? Get that idea out of your head too. I found one average bookstore, an okay newsagent, three luggage shops, a music store that was closing down, an overpriced L'Occitane store, and a cheap fashion accessories shop (everything was going for $10). The only decent place worth killing some time was the Gourmet Traveller store.
* No appetizing places to eat or drink – of the four café/bars I found, one didn't have any food (“Saturdays are quiet” the guy said), the other had muffins and soggy white-bread sandwiches that looked like they had been made when I passed through the week before ("You're probably right!" laughed the girl when I told her), and who really wants to hang out at Gloria Jeans or Subway for godsake? And everything was expensive, from $7 sandwiches to $5 coffees.
* It’s dirty, stinky and tatty – Melbourne airport needs a good bath! From the food crumbs, hair and cigarette butts on the floors of the cafés (I thought it was non-smoking?!) to filthy, smelly lavatories with clogged toilets and dirty washbasins, this is one grotty airport. I finally found another bar just before I was about to board my plane - "Yes, this is the airport’s best bar" the bartender assured me - yet the furniture was dirty, scuffed and ripped (no, it wasn't shabby chic), the tables were sticky, drinks that had been spilled on the floor hadn't been mopped up, and there was that lovely all-pervading stench of beer.
I'm not looking forward to returning next week. So, do you have a city airport you hate? And if so, what are the factors that make it so bad in your eyes?
Pictured? Not Melbourne or Perth - that's Koh Samui's airport in Thailand, which is actually pretty darn cute.
Now that I've convinced you that Thai spas offer the most sublime experience of any spas in the world, here's a list of my top ten favorite Thai spas and treatments, to help you select one for your own indulgent spa getaway:
1. Six Senses Earth Spa at Six Senses Hideaway Hua Hin - be massaged by the vibrations of Tibetan Singing Bowls; trust me, there's nothing like it!
2. Anantara Resort & Spa, Koh Samui - elevate yourself to another level with the three-hour Anantara Body Extreme beginning with an Ayurvedic clay mud treatment followed by a steam bath, rain shower, and rejuvenating facial.
3. Four Seasons Hotel Koh Samui - the jungle setting is soothing enough but try the Siam Fusion, an East-meets-West treatment based on pressure-point manipulation enhanced with a warm lemongrass, ginger and camphor compress and deep tissue massage with essential oils.
4. Banyan Tree Spa Phuket - lie back in your own beautiful private pavillion (pictured) and enjoy the famous four-hand Harmony Banyan treatment where two therapists work on you simultaneously!
5. Four Seasons Tented Camp at the Golden Triangle - mellow out with a Mandalay Magical Cleanse, including a Burmese body polish, facial and hair mask, and tangerine and sandalwood foot massage.
6. Rayavadee Spa, Ao-Nang, Krabi - the aromatic Royal Siam massage is a must, combining reinvigorating Thai and Asian massage techniques using a stimulating blend of essential oils.
7. Evason Phuket Resort & Six Senses Spa - the sensuous Spa Journey is the treatment to try here, another indulgent four-hand full-body massage, gentle facial, and sleep-inducing foot massage by two therapists.
8. Anantara Resort & Spa Hua Hin - the three hour Culture of Anantara treatment begins with a Shirodhara massage (the 'massage of the third eye'), followed by a deep back massage and a soothing honey and milk bath.
9. Spa Ten at Siam@Siam, Bangkok - this beautiful contemporary designed spa is a real oasis in bustling Bangkok so the calming Urban Escape package is the one to try; guys should go for the rejuvenating '10 out of 10', which includes a comprehensive range of treatments of three hours.
10. AKA Spa, Chiang Mai - one of the few day spas in Thailand that even comes close to comparing with the resort spas; exfoliate with a Lanna Scrub (Sea Salt or Coffee perhaps?) then luxuriate in a Lanna Wrap (Papaya and Coconut Butter are both moisturizing). Heavenly.
Thai spas offer the most sublime spa experiences in the world. Trust me. I got to experience enough exfoliating body scrubs, deep tissue massages, luxuriating body wraps, and revitalizing facials to last me a lifetime while in Thailand last October researching a new spa section (and updating hotels and restaurants) for the DK Eyewitness Guide to Thailand, released this month. We visited a number of spas in Italy recently and none offered the same sensuous surroundings nor relaxing rituals of the Thai spas - they were sterile, lacked atmosphere, were often tucked away in a hotel basement, accessed via the gym, added almost as an after-thought. In Thailand, the spa takes centre stage and a spa experience is something else. There, the spas are situated in stunning settings, overlooking sultry jungles or tranquil ponds, and the spa experience begins from the moment you set foot in the spa: the fragrant aromas of incense and scented candles waft through the air, you're enveloped in the darkness of dim candle light, you're calmed by soft background music (the crashing of waves on a beach perhaps), and voices are hushed to a whisper. The decor is always exotic, whether traditional Thai style or sleek and contemporary. The masseurs are nearly always brilliant, gentle Thai women mostly, who skilfully work your body in silence. Treatments always begin with a foot bath and massage and at the end of whatever wonderful treatment you've had, you're left to relax even further with a herbal tea or zingy drink. If you haven't been to a Thai spa before, then grab a copy of the new DK Thailand guide and go indulge yourself!
We hope you enjoyed our series '10 things that annoy us about hotels'. If you missed it, you can read all 10 posts here. A big thank you to the hoteliers who responded to our gripes with some explanation as to why hotels do the things they do, and in some cases, how their hotels do things differently. They were very enlightening. Do take a read of the comments too, which have been appreciated. We're relieved to know it's not just us who are driven crazy by this stuff. I've also received some comments by email, including one from Guido, the Happy Hotelier, which was hilarious: "Plastic under sheets. As if we are babies without diapers. Its the first thing we check after we check into a hotel and we take them off and replace them with towels......usually many towels because in many hotels the towels are like handkerchiefs." Travel writer David Whitley stays in as many hotels as we do and he had some really insightful comments. David wrote a superb piece on his 'Top 10 hotel bugbears' for Ninemsn Travel. David's gripes include: twin beds passed off as a double, key cards, keycard light slots, 1001 lights, environmental pretense, no toilet brush, shower heads, tiny towels, and ambiguous mini-bar items. Interestingly, David says "It got the most comments I've ever had there. Some of them are priceless - but there are a few interesting points from the hotel industry too." Do take a read for yourself. As for us, you can expect another series of '10 things...' on a different travel topic soon.
Pictured? The divine swimming pool and courtyard at boutique hotel Tri Yaan Na Ros at Chiang Mai, Thailand. A charming hotel with delicious local Thai specialties from the market served for breakfast, but unfortunately rooms are tiny; you can read our full review here at i-escape.
If you must hire a guide (well, you know how I feel about guides), whether it's simply to show you around a city you're a first-time visitor to, escort you on a day-trip, or lead you on a longer trek or journey, here are a few tips:
1) do your research: start with the guide, agency or tour company's website. Are the services, options and prices described? Is there a bio? Are there testimonials? Compare the offerings with that of other guides and companies.
2) go with a recommended guide: nothing beats a recommendation based on first-hand experience. Read testimonials - and read between the lines. Google the guide's name. Consult traveller forums.
3) opt for a specialist: look at the guide's bio. Does the guide have relevant qualifications, skills, experience? If you're looking at art, architecture or archaeological sites you want an archaeologist, artist, teacher, curator, gallery owner, architect, or masters or PhD student. Not just someone who has an interest. If you're doing a cooking or wine course, opt for a chef, caterer, sommelier or wine-maker over a foodie or wine-lover. If it's a bush-walk or trek, has the guide had years of experience in the area and survival and first-aid skills? Are language skills required?
4) go for a local: was the guide born in the place, was his/her family/tribe from the area, or is the guide a long-term resident? You want someone with a connection to the place and is passionate about the destination. For me, the guide's first-hand experience, personal insight, and opinions and feelings can really make the experience special.
5) look for imagination: are any itineraries for walks, day-trips and excursions offered well thought-out, themed and focused? Has some creativity gone into their creation? Are they inspired and unique? If they're the same as other offerings and just like the one in your guidebook, give it a miss. You want to have a reason to pay for something that you could otherwise manage yourself.
6) consider the fee: remember, cheaper isn't necessarily better (you get what you pay for) while expensive doesn't necessarily mean 'best' (some guides over-charge because they know some travellers won't quibble over the price). Look for guides who charge a fee that seems fair for what's offered.
7) meet the guide beforehand: this isn't always possible, but try to meet before you agree to use the guide's services. You want someone who has personality, confidence, social skills, and can communicate well. Does the guide speak your language as well as you'd like? Does the person listen to what you want rather than simply telling you what they think you should do? Does the guide seem like a genuinely nice person? Is this someone you want to spend a day (or longer) with?
A guide can make or break an experience of a place, so make sure you choose well.
While most of our experiences with guides have been terrible (see my last post), we've had a few great guides who've restored our faith in the human guide (sorry!). One worked for the same tour company our socially inept hill tribe guide did (last post again), but this guy was affable, full of energy, obviously loved his job, and his enthusiasm was infectious. His English wasn't great and we didn't leave his biking tour of local market towns feeling enlightened. But we did pick up a few interesting tidbits, got to try some tasty food, and his social skills and good relationships with the market stall-holders meant we were well-received wherever we went. And we had fun. As we were reviewing a few Four Seasons properties as part of our Thailand research (and paying media rates, I might add), we did the activities available to all guests, including a tour taking in the Mekong River, a local village, market and temple from the Four Seasons Golden Triangle Tented Camp, and in preparation for a Thai cooking course, a trip to the market from the Four Seasons Chiang Mai. Both guides were brilliant, which says a lot about training. They were friendly, charming, knowledgeable, smart, and sociable, and once again, had excellent relationships with the locals, opening doors for us in so many ways. Our first guide went in for the touristic experiences a tad too much for our liking, setting up cheesy photo ops, including an uncomfortable performance by a group of local kids in colorful costumes in front of a Mekong River vista, and - worse - corny ops where she could point the camera at us. She did this with such sweetness of spirit and charm, and with such good intentions - most people would love these souvenirs we imagined - that we forgave her. We also came away learning something about the local cuisine, culture and spirituality of the people. The Chiang Mai guide was even better, with a deeper knowledge of ingredients, dishes and eating habits of the locals, and she even revealed a few secrets we'd always been curious about. As our trip was partly in preparation for a cooking course, it was also knowledge that would soon be put to use. Better again. Although we couldn't help but feel we might have enjoyed the tour even more had it have been led by a chef or culinary expert. Still, we got to try lots more tasty stuff, and you can't go wrong with that.
There are good guides and there are bad guides. We've had varying degrees of experience with guides we've used (see this post), but on the most part they've been bad. So bad, I've sworn never to use a guide again. Until the next time, when we've had no choice, and a positive experience has made me re-think my policy. In Thailand last year we used several guides. One was particularly dreadful and all the more disappointing because he worked for an award-winning company that's acclaimed for its culturally sensitive hill tribe treks. Our guide was late to meet us, tripped over at the market, and took way longer than necessary to shop for a few things (and coming from me that's saying something). Not good signs. He turned out to be socially inept, continually behind schedule (largely due to his need to change his clothes three times a day) and spoke disparagingly and condescendingly about the villagers. The only stories he told us about the hill tribes related to their greed or laziness and the human trafficking, prostitution and drug dealing they resorted to over hard work. We were poorly received at villages despite the company claiming their guides were from the area, knew the tribes, and we'd be welcomed with open arms. Instead, the reception was hostile and we only ever communicated with villagers when we made the effort ourselves. Our walks through the jungle involved our guide telling us little other than pointing out poisonous mushrooms, plants and insects, none of which he could name. So when a red stain suddenly appeared on my wrist after I'd inadvertently brushed against something poisonous - and with it came piercing pain, followed by throbbing, then aching for 24 hours - our guide panicked, not knowing the cause or what to do. When he calmed down, he consoled me with: "at least it isn't close to your heart". He did give me his tiger balm, which soothed the pain, yet despite telling us we were an hour away from our destination, he continued to dawdle, muttering that we had plenty of time - as the sun rapidly sunk behind the hills. We arrived in the dark. It turned out our guide was from the south, not from the area at all, and years before had attempted to 'rescue' a young village girl from prostitution. She subsequently ran off to work as a prostitute in Bangkok anyway. That could explain the poor reception.
How is this for an appetizing image? This delectable little morsel of spicy deep fried chicken, served with sweet Thai chilli sauce, was delivered to the door of our room (more like an apartment) at the sublime Aleenta by three of the resort's restaurant chefs. In full chef's kit, they brandished big trays of tiny shot glasses holding these tasty teasers. And with enormous smiles they handed me a couple of the aromatic tidbits with some crisp white napkins and silver cutlery. "A taster of our food in restaurant tonight," one chef smiled. What a an idea! Not only was this another display of that terrific hospitality the Thais are so famous for, but it whetted our appetite and give us a hint of what was to come that night. It also came at a perfect time - sunset - and made me immediately want to crack open a bottle of white.
What's so special about the welcome drink? What does it really mean? I recently wrote about welcome drinks on Grantourismo: "Immediately after your arrival at a hotel in Thailand – after you’ve been greeted with a “sawadee-kaa” from all the hotel staff accompanied by the traditional ‘wai’ gesture (hands shaped as if ready for prayer) – you’re ushered to a comfy seat and offered an icy cold face towel, usually scented with aromatic lemongrass, along with a welcome drink. While the icy face towels are particularly welcomed in Thailand’s sultry heat, it’s the welcome drinks we really enjoyed. We love the variety, from the Four Season Koh Samui’s frothy pink cocktail of guava, mango juice and sparkling ginger ale, to the Muang Kulaypan’s whole coconut filled with fresh sweet coconut juice (pictured)..." So what is it really about welcome drinks that we love? Apart from how refreshing they might be? Do we really place that much importance on them? Would we really care if we weren't offered one? And what do they mean? They're a gesture of hospitality, it goes without saying. And hotels are in the business of 'tourism and hospitality' so it's a gesture we should expect. Then why are we so delighted to be handed a glass of water and damp face cloth? Is it because someone has shown us that they care? Some cultures place more emphasis on these gestures of goodwill than others. We've lived in the Middle East for ten years and everything that's said about Arab hospitality is true. You can't enter a carpet shop in Dubai, Cairo, Damascus, or Marrakesh without being offered tea. Water is brought automatically without asking. It goes without saying you can expect the same in most shops and businesses, in banks even, and, naturally, in people's (even stranger's) homes. Is it that in 'the West' we appreciate the hotel welcome drink so much more because these gestures of hospitality are missing from our everyday life?
While I love lingering over some exotic local liquor at a rickety table on a sunny square somewhere, and taking 'home' those liquid travel memories to recollect later (note: they can especially come in handy on a wintery day in a dreary office when you're feeling a little down - so store them up!), I equally enjoy trying tea and coffee in other countries. Tea, generally being called chai or chay everywhere in the world except where I come from, is a favourite. While coffee can be terribly disappointing - especially when the 'premium' coffee on offer is Nescafe, as it is many simple coffee shops in South American and Middle Eastern countries - tea, at its worst, is at least interesting. This tea we tried at a small market in a tiny village near Phrao in Thailand's north was subtle in its sweetness and strength, and while it wasn't unique or unusual, it was, to me, just right - it was pretty close to being the perfect glass of tea. That's a flavour that I won't easily forget. And with that memory comes (like a series of email attachments) images of the table we sat at, the people we were with, the woman who served the tea who was lovely (albeit tired - she'd been up all night serving tea to late workers and early risers), the market stalls and their produce, the surrounding countryside (rice paddies), and the weather on that day (fortunately the rain held off until we were nearly 'home'. But the wonderful thing about liquid (and culinary) memories is the additional rememberance of 'taste'. Don't you think?
Mojitos in Havana, Caiparinhas in Rio, Pisco in Chile, Arak in Beirut, Lychee Martinis in Thailand... I find memories of exotic cocktails and local liquors, generally sipped in equally exotic locations - an atmospheric fort in old Havana, a beachside cafe on Copacabana Beach, sunset over a dramatic Atacama desert landscape, a nightclub on New Years Eve in Jounieh, and a bar overlooking Burma (in that order) - to be almost as inspiring as foreign food experiences. Admittedly the liquid memories are more hazy. For obvious reasons. Are there 'booze blogs' out there that might inspire me to travel as much as those mouthwatering food blogs I wrote about, I wonder? We recently drank shots of sweet, strong Thai whiskey with a Shaman's father in a hill tribe village in Thailand (the Shaman was at work in the fields), and the warmth that dashed through my body, and the smile that darted to my lips, after a sip of the potent brew is something I won't forget easily. Do I long to return to the Shaman's hut to share some more shots? Probably not. But it's the opportunity to have similar kinds of heady experiences that inspires me to travel. What about you?
There's something about a lunch box that's so endearing. As a child, I loved my lunch box and eagerly looked forward to discovering its contents each day - the greater the variety of edible goodies (a sandwich, fruit, a piece of cake, a 'Popper' - that's packaged juice Down Under) the more I relished 'little lunch' and 'big lunch'. Unlike my playmates who delighted in the days to come when our mothers got too busy to prepare our lunches and we could spend our cents at the tuck shop (a 'canteen' in Australia) on meat pies, sausage rolls, cream buns, chocolate eclairs, and Sunny Boys (I'll let you look that one up), I missed the lunch box days. As an adult I've enjoyed prepping for long journeys on the road, whether it was stashing away a bottle of Pisco and local snacks from the market for long South American bus rides as a backpacker, or more recently on road trips with my husband, making a thermos of tea in the morning and stocking up on muesli bars for the car. One of the things I most enjoyed about skiing (before my husband took up snowboarding and I dedicated myself to imbibing mulled wine by fireplaces in grand old European hotels) was prepping little bags of chocolates, nuts and dried fruit that we'd nibble on while savoring spectacular mountain vistas. And while I'm increasingly disappointed by airline food, I must admit I enjoy opening the little containers and checking everything out. So I was delighted to receive not one but two lunch boxes on our recent trek in Thailand, the first of which I showed you yesterday, and the second pictured today. While it seemed odd eating the contents of this one, cross-legged on the bamboo floor of a hut in a hill tribe village, with its white bread ham sandwich (with the crusts cut off!), chicken drumstick, fruit, and chocolate cake, for a few moments there it transported me back to my childhood and suburban Australia in the 70s. Who ever could have thought a lunch box could take me travelling?
Food blogs inspire me to travel. Especially those by globetrotting foodies blogging about their eating experiences around the world, and expats who blog about their culinary discoveries in their adopted cities. As I’ve been blogging about our Thailand travels, it’s apt that I share some of my favourite Asian-focused blogs: Bangkok-born San Franciscan Pim blogs on Chez Pim about her global culinary adventures, reviewing everything from Asian street food to European Michelin star restaurants; she has scrumptious guides to eating in San Francisco, London, New York, Paris, and Spain, and her Bangkok guide includes blogs on my favorite Thai snacks, pork crackling and Kanom Krok. Singaporean ‘Chubby Hubby’ blogs equally deliciously about his gourmet globetrotting experiences with his wife, with mouth-watering photography; his recent blogs on Bhutan will have you adding that destination to your list. Asian-based blogs with food photography to make me hungry include the scrummy-looking Real Thai by Bangkok-based Austin Bush who blogs about his best eating experiences in Bangkok and other places; the appetizing Eating Asia by a Malaysian-based food writer-photographer team, which includes especially luscious photography; the ravenous-making Rambling Spoon by Karen Coates, an Asia-based correspondent for Gourmet magazine, who is ‘traveling the world by mouth’ (Karen also has a long list of food blogs I’m going to have to check out!); and Hanoi-based blog Sticky Rice about yummy eating experiences in Vietnam. Take a read and see if they don't make you want to buy a plane ticket somewhere. (This pic is mine, of our typically scrumptious, congee-like breakfasts while in Thailand.)
Food inspires me to travel. No doubt about it. Does it do that for you? Whether I’m flicking through a food and travel magazine, drooling over my husband’s food photography, or just taking a look at my own food snaps from our travels, mouthwatering images just make me want to go! Take this pic of Mieng Kham, a deliciously tangy Thai appetiser made with betel leaves, dried shrimps, limes, peanuts, palm sugar, coconut, and birds-eye chillies (hope I’ve got that right!). It’s not something you’ll typically see at your neighbourhood Thai restaurant in Dubai, London, Sydney, San Francisco, or wherever, as Betel leaves can be hard to find. Therefore it’s always the first dish we’ll order our first meal in Bangkok. It’s the dish we most reminisce about. It's the one we most look forward to. And it's the dish that inspires me to find an excuse to return to Thailand.
As I've been raving about the pleasures of food markets and our recent rovings around Thailand's markets, I thought I should actually show you some of the fabulous food offerings from Thanin Market (also known as Siriwattana Market) in Chiang Mai, our favourite. The best time to go is for breakfast when it's at its buzziest.
Try: Chiang Mai's famous spicy pork sausage and crunchy pork crackling with sticky rice, a popular local breakfast. (The pork crackling pictured here is famous all over Thailand).
Don't miss: Kanom Krok - deliciously sweet, little coconut puddings, topped with spring onions or corn.
Take away: delicious deep fried snacks - banana, sweet potato and pumpkin are on offer most days but there are daily specials such as fried banana blossom with sesame, oil and chili! Yum! or 'Aroi' (delicious)! as they say in Thailand.
We generally don't like guides - mainly, it's their bad jokes, the tedious history lessons, the time-keeping mentality, and a certain arrogance, plus we've had a few bad experiences (one of which involved our first visit to one of the world's great wonders, Petra, being ruined by the guide). However, we visited several food markets in Thailand with guides and they were all excellent - knowledgeable, enthusiastic, charming, and had excellent relationships with the stallholders. Once we made it clear to the guides that we'd been to food markets in Thailand many times before, we knew our food, and were familiar with Thai food, it took the whole experience to another level. We got to ask lots of questions, to find out what all those icky unidentifiable things actually were, to learn their Thai names, how they're cooked and eaten, and so on. And by doing so, we learnt an extraordinary amount about the Thai people, their cuisine, and their culinary habits. And we tried lots of food! Admittedly, we weren't as brave as Bourdain. We didn't need to try deep friend crickets or whitchetty grub-like worms, but we tasted a lot of food, a lot more than we'd try if we were by ourselves. We're hooked. From now on, we're going to hire a guide-translator to visit every food market in each new place we visit. And maybe some of the markets we're familiar with too. Who knows what we might discover? And who we might meet. We probably wouldn't have met this friendly fishmonger and had a lesson on Thai fish-scaling if we had have been on our own!
Talk about a moveable feast! We were stuck behind traffic in the old town of Phuket this time and the 'sidecar' of the motorcycle in front of us was loaded with all the bits and pieces this couple needed to set up their food stall at the local Night Market: boxes full of fresh groceries, stacks of plastic stools, fold-up tables, and coolers ('eskies' to the Aussie readers; 'cooler bins' to the Kiwis; but what does everyone call them everywhere else?) full of the tasty food they'd probably been preparing all day to sell that night. They weren't really that much of a traffic hazard. This is just an excuse for me to write about these wonderful Thai people who work so hard to make a decent living sell delicious fresh food each night. Thailand's markets and their tasty eats are one of our favorite things about travelling in this country. Now, isn't food itself motivation enough to travel? I think that deserves a blog of its own.
I love this spray-painted bus with its lurid colors. We're parked behind it in the belly of a car ferry on our way from Koh Samui to Phuket, a day's drive made longer by rain. As we sit in our little hire car waiting for the ferry to dock, extended Thai families start piling into their Hilux's, young guys start revving their motorbikes, and I study the map, figuring out the route we need to follow, the directions we need to take. We watch a couple of young backpackers struggling with their hefty loads, searching for a route between the vehicles to their bus at the front of the boat. They give up and retreat back upstairs, and on their way past they look at us in our car and smile. A tad envious I detect. Well, what a way to be travelling in the rain, poor things. It's moments like these that I'm glad that travel writing is our job, that we can afford to hire a car to travel through these countries, and that it doesn't really matter if it rains - we're not here to lie on a beach, this is work, after all. I wonder if anyone has written about Thailand's zany painted buses and trucks. What is it that makes them so amusingly attractive to my foreigner's eyes? Certainly their exoticism. Their kitsch appeal. But would I notice them in Australia? No, I'd probably think the paint job hideous. In Dubai, the Pakistani and Afghani guys also paint their trucks in vivid colours and hang kooky accessories to their rear vision mirrors. I've heard that in Pakistan there is a festival of painted trucks, the Painted Truck Caravan from Karachi to Kabul. I wonder if travellers actually plan a trip to Pakistan around the event. Could painted trucks inspire travel?
As we drive around Thailand we're struck by the number of traffic hazards we confront on the roads every minute of every day. They range from the downright scary to the surprisingly cute. But no matter how horrified we are when we suddenly come face to face with a herd of animals sauntering across the highway (ox in this case), or as we overtake a motorcycle carrying a family of six (a tiny child precariously perched up front, another small kid on behind soundly sleeping as he somehow clings on to his older sibling, the parents in between), we never seem to get as mad as we might at 'home', where road rage prevails. It's something about the exoticism of the hazards that amuses us more than alarms us. Our willingness to be surprised. Our openness to the unusual. But it's also because we're in a far more tolerant mood when we're travelling than we are on our tedious daily commutes to work where tempers can so easily flare. (Especially, for us, in the gridlock that is Dubai.) Don't you think? My husband, who is the driver in our partnership (I navigate) will probably disagree. But there have been so many traffic hazards to entertain us on the roads in Thailand that I thought I'd start this series.
By visiting the ‘longnecks’, the displaced Burmese women who wear brass coils around their elongated necks, are we perpetuating a method of lifelong discomfort (at the least) for these women that’s the equivalent of the lotus shoes that kept Chinese women’s bound feet tiny and ‘feminine’ (albeit deformed)? Or are we supporting a displaced tribe that relies on the income generated by tourists to survive? While the Lonely Planet Thailand guide we perused in a hotel gave the visit a positive spin, Rough Guide took the opposite tack. Given that Lara and I spend our lives telling people where to go (so to speak!), we decided we’d better visit to form our own opinions...
The signs proclaiming "longneck this way" as we approached the co-operative tribal village on the outskirts of Chiang Rai reinforced my already apprehensive outlook. Surely people visiting the women could at least learn the name of the tribe, the Padaung, a sub-group of the Karen tribe, and those putting up the signs would have enough respect to do the same. To me it was very much “roll up, roll up, see the mustachioed woman!” It placed the women at the ‘freak show’ end of the range of touristic experiences.
The entry fee was steep for Thailand and we wondered how much money the ‘longnecks’ were getting out of this. A disinterested little Thai girl served as our guide, taking us first to meet a beautiful old woman from the Akha tribe. She wasn’t a ‘longneck’, but was the kind of grandma whose face lights up when she smiles, revealing a life well lead and an old age well earned. I took her portrait and hoped that it captured in ones and zeros some of the spirit she possessed. Next, we were led to a simple building where a group of tribespeople played traditional music. While the elaborate headdresses were in place, enthusiasm was conspicuously absent. Some t-shirt-clad members of the troupe clearly wanted to be anywhere else but standing in front of a couple of travellers looking for a ‘cultural experience’. The embarrassment of the situation was evident on both sides. Before the song had finished several had their headdresses off and were wandering away.
After passing the obligatory stands of handicrafts our guide happily pronounced ‘longneck!’ with a flourish. As soon as I saw the intriguing face of the first Padaung woman sitting on the verandah of her wooden hut weaving textiles on a primitive loom, I knew I couldn’t shoot any photos to sell (I left the task of shooting pics for this blog to Lara who chatted to the woman about weaving). I’d seen this very woman on countless postcards and her image had been exploited enough. From a purely aesthetic point of view, she was photogenic, but I felt no compulsion to photograph her. I like to shoot portraits when I feel that someone has an interesting face and sense a confidence in themselves and who they are that can shine through in a photo. Here I felt that I'd just be shooting her for her physical oddity rather than her beauty of spirit, which, I must say, she certainly possessed. We asked her about her weaving and moved on. We met a couple of other ‘longnecks’, both of whom I'd also seen on postcards, but while several tourists snapped away, I just wanted to leave. On the way back to the car we crossed paths with two cute ‘longneck’ children with a couple of rings around their necks. I thought of what lay in store for them in the future – drinking through a straw, working a loom, and being happy-snapped by gawking tourists as they live their life in what is essentially a cruel neck brace.
I often make jokes about my professional digital SLR camera being the ‘soul stealer’, as it’s so big, especially with a flash attached, that it makes people apprehensive when I shoot their portrait. And in some customs the creation of an image or likeness of a person is seen as stealing their soul. I always ask before shooting a portrait, but with the ‘longnecks’ the price of admission gives you carte blanche to snap away. To me, there’s never been a more soul-stealing experience than this. Every snapshot someone takes of the Padaung women is directly contributing to the creation of another generation of young women who have to uphold this tradition. There’s no doubt about it. The complexities of cultural identity aside, the commodification and marketing of the experience is just as abhorrent as the practice itself. Many other cruel decorative practices, such as the Chinese lotus shoes, have been phased out. So should this. The fact that another generation of women will suffer the same indignity aided by my financial contribution makes me uncomfortable. Do you think you’d feel the same way?
