Laughing at Hippies

An
American in Asia:

His Quest for Cosmic Truth

(or at least a Decent Espresso)

I took myself to the infamous Khao San Road this Sunday. It's infamous to the Thais mainly because it's full of hippies. Or rather those lazy backpacker types that dress like hippies and spout the ideology of the 60's but are actually just spoiled children who would sell you out to the man in a second if their parents took the BMW away. It's a funny sight for a few hours, to watch these kids come here to see all the Buddhist relics and clasp their hands in prayer beside devoutly Buddhist Thais, while offending those very people by wearing shorts, revealing tops and short skirts. Men really don't wear shorts here if they are leaving the neighborhood. It completely mystifies folks here how Westerners can be so rich and dress so tastelessly.

It can go both ways, though. I remember eating at a restaurant in Tokyo with a Christian theme. It was set up like a cathedral, with stained glass, pillars and a vaulted ceiling. To one end there was a life-sized pale, bleeding Christ nailed to a cross, as he is wont to be. Occasionally passels of Japanese girls would gather in front of the altar for a photo op with Jesus, waving and giggling, "Cheeeeezzu!"

Khao San Road serves one vital purpose for me aside from derisive amusement. When backpackers run out of money, they sell the books and CDs they've brought with them and I can pick up some titles that aren't available here for a couple hundred Baht. This time I found a couple old Somerset Maugham novels with those funny covers that were considered steamy in the 50's and 60's. I also found two Jules Verne novels that I'd never heard of before. I'm reading one called Michael Strogoff, an adventure across the steppes of Russia to save the empire of the Czar from an arch-villain. I have been reading nothing but old novels in the past couple years, mainly because the English really cracks me up.

In describing an English reporter: "The Englishman, on the contrary, appeared especially organized to listen and to hear........His ears, to be sure, had not the power of moving as freely as those of animals who are provided with large auditory flaps. But, since scientific men know that human ears possess, in fact, a very limited power of movement, we would not be far wrong in affirming that those of the said Englishman became erect, and turned in all directions while endeavoring to gather in the sounds, in a manner apparent only to the naturalist."

Ha ha ha ha!! If any writer was this verbose in these post-Hemingway times he'd be run out of town on the first onomatopoeia. He could have just said, "The guy had good ears and he listened with them." but they were allowed to have more fun with words in those days. I really dig the fact that he felt he had to add the part about naturalists at the end. Verne's innocent worship of science is just so cute.

This week I have a couple second-hand stories from trusted sources:

Almost a Brush with Fame

My friend was at a party at her boss' house. There was some old white guy in the living room and everyone was fawning over him. He had long stringy hair which really didn't go with his wrinkly face and my friend was completely uninterested in meeting him. She was mystified as to why everyone was making such a fuss over the guy.

The evening was fun anyway and she had a great time hanging out in the kitchen. The living room just seemed like a question and answer period so she never went in and met the guy. A few days later she had it explained to her that he really was quite famous. It seems he is the singer of a band from the 60's called something like, "The Rolling Stones".

Which is cooler, meeting Mick Jagger, or avoiding him, hanging out in the kitchen and eating his food instead?

A friendly border crossing in Cambodia, photo courtesy of The Nation newspaper in Bangkok.

Bribe Carefully

One of my friends makes frequent trips to Cambodia. He is a nice guy you can trust, but is also accepted company in some disreputable circles. A mutual friend has gone so far as to call him a yakuza type. I don't know the reason for his trips to Cambodia, but it seems like his services there involve solving problems of one kind or another.

The border town of Poi Pet is the nearest place where a Bangkok resident can leave the country without using an airport. As such, when tourists want to renew their visas it's a common destination. They just skip across the border and come back again all in one day. As gambling is allowed there, but not in Bangkok, it is also a haven for gamblers. In fact there is nothing in Poi Pet except five casinos and a few hotels. No one lives there except casino workers, hotel workers, a few farmers, oh yeah, and the army.

It's in the middle of the jungle and separated from civilization by lots of nasty things like cobras, malaria, a few tigers and jungle rot. Oh yeah, and the army. If you are fortunate enough to win big money at a casino there, it is not a good idea to try to leave with it on your person. Unless you want to open a Cambodian bank account, you are going to have to part with some of it for purposes of hiring protection.

To this end the management of the casino can introduce you to some friends from the army or the police force. Or better, both. Though if you win too much money from the casino, it might not be a good plan to ask them for protection. Either way guards are needed and the cost must be borne. Sometimes the protection can get annoying, I'm told. It's difficult to concentrate on a game or enjoy a drink when a policeman and a soldier absolutely refuse to vacate the spaces immediately behind your shoulders.

Bribery is not fool-proof and sometimes it can cause unforeseen problems if someone is left out of the loop. Such was the case when a man won what you might call serious dinero and the casino provided him with an escort from the army. Captain So-and-So was put in charge and our hero was accompanied towards the border by a small platoon. However, they were ambushed by another contingent, captained by someone who wasn't in on the bribe and six men died in the ensuing firefight.

I think I'll just head on through to Angkor Wat if I'm over that way. I don't have much of a gambling bug anyway.

Jeffrey Studebaker has been (in no particular order) a SE Asian correspondent for a Singaporean travel magazine, a teacher, consultant and translator in Japan, a guitarist with the band, Swoon 23 in every city of the US of A, a coffee roaster in Seattle, a bike messenger in Portland, a marine fire system repairman in Seattle, an osteoporosis clinic researcher in Providence, a mental ward counsellor on the night shift in Portland, a brief success in New York, and he has now returned to the US after nearly a decade in Asia to pursue a publishing career.