We Love the King

Much has been written, photographed and video'd recently about the struggles of the Thai populace as it comes to grips with the information age and the emerging perception of rights for its working class.

The press and indeed most commentators resident or otherwise focus or are focused (by whom we should ask) on the contrasts of the internecine oligarch wars and the general person on the farm and how iniquitous his/her life is by comparison with the rich elite. The perception that its this inequity that fuels this "class" war stoked by warring elite faction leaders, is perhaps a ruse being promulgated by the media to polarise those that are within the debate, and to boor those of us who stand without such that we give it the usual 3 day outrageous indignation treatment then move on.

You see, Sompong on the farm is willing to be as rich as anyone else in the district. He has no problems with the consumer society. This is hardly a communist/workers unite scenario at all. Thailand has never really been that way inclined.

The real issue is all about the I am more worthy than you syndrome, distinctive in all societies royal (lower case intended).

What the heathen peasant underclass fail to accept is that Thailand is owned by a guy who tells everyone he is the King and hence above them and their rightful master. He is one of the richest men in the world, certainly the richest ruler. And his blood, so the fairy story goes, is different from yours and mine. His is blue. Stop laughing, Thai's believe it, why shouldn't you?

For his blueness, he gets to control vast amounts of land and to get everything for free and he also controls what you can say or not say about him and his royal court. Speak your mind and you end up in Gaol. Toe the line and he lets you pay taxes. Winner eh?

So what is a King (or Queen for that matter)? Why do they have this power to command us? They are not elected, they don't really contribute anything to our society, in fact they really don't even make good TV. They do monopolise land and create social structures which polarise us into courts royal and the general peasantry. They do pass their blue blood down to their kids and the fairy tale seems to perpetuate itself down the generations. Their eliteness is aided by their appointment of courtiers who are almost as elite as the king. Generals, clergy, judiciary, serious other land owners. They in turn promote this bluebloodedness on so that they have some clear societal differentiation. In other words, they are on top and you clean their streets (and their kids streets and their kids streets).

Maybe the Thai people have a need for an overlord. The Red Shirts may not agree with that. Cant say I do either. The king seems to think its warranted though as the advertising on TV, cinema and roadside hordings all to tell us how wonderful he is costs taxpayers a fortune.

Parasites.

Can we draw a few parallels here to other command and control structures? Appropriate land for the exclusive use of the elite on a higher force basis? Control the serfs, get them scared and in debt?

These people can only "lead" us if we let them. This scares the wits out of the so called elite. Given the massive information availability nowadays called the internet, their sham begins to lose its gloss and we see them dressed in our clothes, no blue blood, just people who take a dump in the morning like we do. 


So whats the justification for the class polarisation? Yep, thats right, nothing.

Same message to the god boys. Your time is well passed, stop sucking the people dry and go do something useful. 


Maybe the new rulers of the world might give the king of thailand a job if he ever gets honest and distributes all his billions to the real Thai people. MacDonalds has a good seniors program. Its an honest days work. The catholics could seriously decrease world poverty by giving up all their treasures they've snuck off with over the centuries.

Time for revolt. Don't accept that anyone anywhere is better than you are. Help your brothers and sisters understand. Don't be afraid, thats what the king needs, your fear to keep you loyal. Stand up. Think about it.

We love the king  

StrayLya

Mate.

Lets have another go at that spelling, Ozzztraeleeya. Yep thats better.

20 years later. A quadrillion frequent flyer points on the worlds shittiest airlines. I am deposited, like an empty bottle for recycling, back in my "birth" country. Woo, awesome, good food, nice air, civility and weather. That strange phenomena that makes the temperature fluctuate and the wind actually blow. And rain of course, not some massive 5 minute tropical dump of water then mega hot and sweaty, but cooling gentle rain. Cute eh?

So whats changed in my absence?

Let me digress a little bit (its my blog, and eventually you will get it).

A group of 12 year old boys would meet on a Friday night. After school, dinner etc. The evening would be spent watching early music videos (the show was called In Focus if my memory is still functioning), then the real entertainment of surf movies. Early the next morning, as in still dark, we would walk to the nearest railway (about 5 km) to catch the first train to the city. Then a ferry to Manly the closest beach.

All day we would surf, even if there wasn't any, we would still paddle out into the slop dodging the old sewer pipes (heritage listed now) and arguing with the lifesavers who always stuck their bloody flags where the surf was good. They would try and move us off, we would take great delight in tear arsing through the motley crowd of swimmers (lesser creatures in a surfers mind) until they either moved the flags or the swell direction/tide changed. Evil bastards life savers.

Then home, via the ferry, train and walk. A quick sleep, then Sunday, the same trip. Every weekend.

Dedicated? We were normal for the time. The concept of walking and long public transport hikes wasn't really something we ever complained about. Ya just did it. There wasn't really an option anyway.

Sustenance was easy. From stealing milk left at doorsteps (sorry yeah it was us) to great australian foods like fresh bread and devon, milk, hamburgers (not american style at all, even remotely), sandwiches, fish and chips. We would each have about $2 in todays terms. Quite often, we would accumulate change.

You would just leave your towel and thongs (sandals) on the beach. Go surf, come back and everything was exactly where ya left it. Mind you, we were not angels.

We drank water from a tap. Plenty of them around the city.

As we got older, we got mobile and weekends or weeks (school holidays) were spent tramping the coast. We would hitch hike our way north or south and live encamped on a beach, surf, eat, sleep, surf eat sleep. It was a wonderful lifestyle.

At age 15, a mate and I travelled all the way to Queensland on a hitch hiking road trip which saw us away from home for 6 weeks. We lived where we could. Caravan parks, camping grounds, in schools when it was raining. Our creature comforts were a spare t shirt, a sleeping bag, wax and a kerosene lamp (my Mum insisted that we take it, god bless her).

My name was (and still is) Mike and I was pleased to meet ya. The whole world was a wondrous place.

No mobile phones, no internet, no TV, no deadlines, no fear.

So do I see any changes?

Would you let your 12 year olds go wandering on weekends? Would you drink the water? Can you have a day out without  spending over $50 per head? How about walking 5 km to the nearest transport hub? Leave your stuff unlocked/unguarded?

Get my drift? I could go on and include the fast food invasion and the whole lifestyle convenience thing, but really what's the difference between the Australia I left and the one I just returned to?

Simple. Fear.

The beaches are still there, not many axe murderers catch the train and water is free. Half a loaf of bread and 250 g of Devon is still so cheap.  You can eat and drink what ya like so long as ya keep moving.

TV paralyses us into thinking the world is a nasty place. It rarely is any such thing.

Take a hat, walk out the door and off down the road, no need for the phone plenty of others have them if you really need them. Enjoy the sun and trust people. What a difference you will make.

I love youse all (unless your a lifesaver)

Islanders

A gentle breeze wanders sideways through my afternoon
I gaze abstractedly at the sea lapping below me dreaming where it might take me.

Another island day, punctuated with the change of tides and strength of wind, time itself seems irrelevant.

Islanders.

They come from everywhere and between them have done most things. None of it means a great deal in their present mindset. Nothing is rushed, no force, genuine people abound. Some work, some don't need to, all are accepted, religion, colour, sexual preference, ethnicity all celebrated, everyone welcome. All are coloured with a self reliance and a timeless spirit eager to share without any competitive thought. The vortex they create is magnetic, easily capable of overpowering.

Clothing is functional, shoes are for formal occasions. The goal of the day is to appreciate what surrounds.

I find myself finally unwinding and learning to celebrate the silences between conversations without any self consciousness. No longer a pregnant pause or a negative space to be filled by some form of entertainment such as music or TV. Now a chance to listen simply to the wind. Feel the rain on my face. Appreciate the suns warmth and the nights cool.

Manyana, tomorrow. Maybe I will find my shoes.

Treasure Island

An eagle glides majestically across the verdant jungle, rising to its eerie on the cliffs of the island.

My boat lies at anchor, 40 metres from the line of the shore.

I hear the play of monkeys in the forest, birdsong and the soft susurrus of the sea lapping at my side and breaking in small waves on the beach.

This is Langkawi. Malaysia’s paradise in the Andaman.

Two months ago, almost to the day, I flew in for the first time ever to finally join my new boat (well new for me anyway). I knew no one, and had not so great knowledge (other than books and conversations) of boats but a dream.

A strong dream, nurtured since I was about 10 years old and was walking down a wharf with my Dad where we found an old abandoned fishing boat. I could see its charms immediately, but Dad didn’t quite see how we could get it home.

Long years have passed and when I arrived in Langkawi, it was like walking into that dream.

My first impressions of the place on jetting in from fast paced Singapore were not great.

A bit grubby? Not much infrastructure, hellish hot. Maybe I had made a mistake.

Several weeks passed and my love for the boat I had bought increased daily. I was busy as a one armed wallpaper hanger learning and commissioning navigation systems, power and light, engine and batteries and of course learning about sails.

The camaraderie in marinas amongst cruising sailors is deservedly legendary. Here are people who have lifted themselves from the mundane and struck out on extraordinary journeys of self and world discovery. All of them help me. From parts to advice, from sail cleats to yoghurt recipes. I am amongst some of the friendliest people I have known to date. A striking characteristic of all these people is their lack of commerciality and their acceptance of all races. Quite remarkable. Considering I knew no one when I arrived, I now have family whose exploits on the sea I keenly listen to.

As I move around town and interact with the locals, buying fittings, engine parts, even food, I meet some of the loveliest unassuming people to add to this family.  I spend hours just pleasantly chatting, something I cant ever recall doing.

Days fly by, and it dawns on me that Langkawi is not about the towns and main island, its truly the people that make this place special.

Today, nearly 2 months after arriving as a novice, me and my boat lie at anchor in one of the most scenically picturesque islands I have ever seen. No one is around. Earlier I walked the beach, listened to the monkeys play, watched as eagles soared above and the hornbills flapped noisily squawking around the forest.

Only tracks left of humanity were my footmarks in the white sand.

Paradise found

For Pete, cause he did deserve to be here.