When the dust finally settles on Suvarnabhumi International airport, and the flashlights and whirl from the media cameras have faded away, Thailand will surely face an uphill struggle on slippery slopes to repair the image it betrays to the rest of the World. The Land of Smiles beauty and charm will have slipped from its placing at the top of the best destination charts to find itself struggling to keep a grip and foothold on the ladder. A grip that is weakening with every new day that dawns with a sea of yellow enveloping Suvarnabhumi airport.
For those of us living outside of Thailand it is difficult to get a feel for the whole current picture, a feel that can only really be tasted by living, sharing and having your finger on the pulse of South East Asia’s big news story.
Back here in England for many people Thailand scores a big fat zero on life’s meter, seen has a sun kissed romantic dream holiday for couples, a chance of freedom and expression for gap year students and a sex retreat for lonely middle aged men, Thailand has now set an unerring course into the front rooms of the UK’s scandal loving, disaster hungry armchair critics.
Today I set out armed with notepad and pen for a liquid lunch and to try and find out how much your average man on the street, really knows about what is happening in Thailand and what it is all about. Has your average domino wielding OAP heard of the PAD, did the PPP mean a night spent to and fro from the toilet and was the UDD an anagram of dud. Swindon in rural Wiltshire was my location and I set off to find out how Suvarnabhumi airports great big picture, was being viewed by a few simple souls hell bent on a few quiet ales and an escape from the cold bitter wind.
The Queenstown Working Mens Club was where the wind blew me first. Until last year the Queenstown was a men only bastion of TV sport, dominoes and gentle chatter, the doors were reluctantly forced open to allow women by the progress of time, legislation and a few Mills and Boon loving members. The fairer sex are now allowed to grace the hallowed tiles where many men have drank to forget the wife they left behind in the kitchen. On certain occasions women are now permitted entrance to the club but on this morning it was male testerone hormones only.
Positioned against the bar as always, caressing and gently fondling his preferred beer was Pat or Paddy as he’s better known. A retired railway worker originally from over the Irish Sea, Pat was first under the spotlight of The Mango Inquisition to find out whether it mattered to the grey matters of rural Wiltshire’s beer suppers, about the present predicament Thailand had placed itself and thousands of stranded tourists in.
Pat surprised me with his grasp of the general cause of the problem, the protesters wanting the government to resign, but there was no mention of the PAD or the Prime Ministers relationship to Thaksin Shinawatra. The stand alone Irishman recounted TV pictures of tourists being bussed away to Bangkok hotels and admitted ” No way would I pay for a hotel, I would sooner sleep in the airport,” I said my thanks and moved on. Talking to three more of the club members produced a disappointing lack of knowledge over the crisis with – to busy to watch TV, I don’t take any notice and tell me what’s happened I haven’t had time – being the major contributions. All four interviewees were pensioners and scanning the sea of wrinkled faces I decided that at the Queenstown Club, PPP was indeed an alternate to bed wetting and the UDD was an anagram in red. It was time to move on.
The Merlin Bar was next on a familiar and well beaten track made by yours truly over many years. A popular, well furnished bar with a more cosmopolitan clientele who would surely have their ears pinned to Thailand’s political ground, and able to remedy the PAD airport siege in quicker time than it takes to make a G and T. Steve a 40 something local council worker enjoying a few lunchtime beers on his routine weekday sabbatical was first in line for the Mango grilling. Steve could offer very little know how regarding the affair in question only vaguely recalling seeing something about stranded tourists on a snatched news program. Our conversation soon passed on to the great bars of yesteryear and some of the voluptuous barmaids that came with them.
Mad Mick, 46, and probably the oldest participating punk rocker in town was next on the hit list. Mick who is continually fueled with Coca Cola and therefor alcohol free, raised my hopes of this quizzing being the real thing. Our conversation quickly changed course from Thailand to Millwall Football Club, two worlds apart, how we took such a diverse path I still don’t know. PAD, MFC come on you Millwall. I made a mental note to later google search the effects of Coca Cola on memory retention and random conversational topics. If only Johnny Rotten was now stranded in Bangkok, things would have been so very different.
Tony Pils, 51, currently on sickness leave from his work as a Building Society manager, surely someone with his time and position would be aware of Thailand’s current political position. ” Students on the rampage…..gits on student grants waving placards….pushed into the back of the drawer by this Mumbai business,” great comments, but way off the mark. Pils seemed to be more Holsten than prescription, I decided to leave it at that and try someone else in a bar that was starting to fill.
The much travelled and worldly wise landlady Linda, young barman Aaron, cuddly couple Fred and Deadre and even a man who surely had his finger on the heartbeat of life, taxi driver Glenn, all failed to come up with any positive facts about Thailand’s current crisis. They were all aware that Thailand had problems but offerings of – they have already sent the president to England, aware of some problems but I don’t know what, no I’ve never heard of them ( PAD ) and I saw something about Mumbai – left me with the distinct feeling that it was time to drink up and go home.
I’m very sorry Thailand but the common folk of Wiltshire in the good old U and K, have obviously ignored the Internets informational highway, the big screen parked proudly in every living room and the first three pages of every decent newspaper, the people of Wiltshire and probably the whole UK, don’t give give a monkeys uncle if you sink or swim. Do not come knocking on our big expensive door with your third world collection box.
I left the Merlin and walking home I wondered if Thailand was still Siam and Pattaya a small fishing village where Thai women spent their days weaving fishing baskets whilst their men fought the rough seas in the Gulf of Thailand. My journalism career lay like torn newspaper cuttings, discarded and swept away with the wind. Journalism, a yellow shirted PAD protester had more chance of a free meal in a Chiang Mai restaurant. If only Johnny Rott……………Hoo Don
Credits
Photograph top PAD protesters © Dannyphoto80 | Dreamstime.com
Photograph PAD guards in vehicle © Dannyphoto80 | Dreamstime.com
Photograph bottom PAD protesters © Dannyphoto80 | Dreamstime.com
© 2008, Martyn. All rights reserved.
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Hi Hoo Don,
I really enjoyed reading this post and hope you continue this blog project. It impressed me to the degree of now having you to my blogroll.
Thanks for the pleasure.
Regards
Martin
so the PAD finnaly get what they want, or should i say the rich and the army generals get what they want, what will happen when the ignorent pesents vote in another goverment thease paid patriots dont like, will we see the airports closed down again, this will really show the rest of the world what a fine democratic nation thailand is, or could it just be another third world banana repulic lurching from one crises to another. god keep thailand safe frome patriots.
Come on… until the Thai crisis is worthy of ‘problem to be aired’ status on EastEnders, with short-of-cash Phil hired as a PAD bodyguard for Sonthi, Suzy deserting him and seen slipping into a sleezy Bangkok motel with a Thaksin lookalike, and Bianco who’d won a free holiday in Pattaya – after a particularly heavy session in the hotel bar – arrested for lese majeste and slung into prison for a few years… your average Brit will have trouble pinpointing Thailand to within a few thousand miles on a globe. That is, with the exception of a surprising proportion of 45 year+ male Brits, who seem to possess a remarkable ability to locate a cross-section of Pattaya go-go bars to within 100 metres on the map – with their eyes closed.
Thank you Martin. Cheers Tom(from the Beginning Part Two)I will be in the Merlin about 12, now the airport is clear I gotta do a bit of Santa shopping.Hello Pete, perhaps a comeback for Dirty Den as a go go bar owner with Dot Cotton as the cleaner, working to save enough money to bail her son Nick from the Bangkok Hilton.
Your in-depth research in rural Wiltshire, the nearest UK equivalent to Isaan, has uncovered matters of considerable concern. A British PAD-style organisation is needed as a matter of urgency. The Juicy Mango’s survey will help in the launch of a new UK-wide campaign. It is clearly vital to relieve the British electorate of at least 70% of their voting rights. With such a pathetic knowledge of international affairs, the average British man-in-the-street, especially in rural Wiltshire, is obviously not intelligent and/or educated enough to vote in the next general election.
Under the new constitution members voted for by the electorate will retain a token 30% of decision-making powers, while appointed wise men (and women if absolutely necessary) will be responsible for anything beyond matters concerning Millwall FC and the Professional Darts Corporation.
I propose myself both as one of the wise men and leader of BAD, the British Alliance for Democracy, Pete Sondhi FrogBlogger. I would welcome suggestions for my list of fellows. Anyone with an IQ of over 80 will be considered, as long as they have lots of money and influence because I’ve a few debts to pay off.
Pete, even if I put my overdraft in, mango squeeze my credit card and use your kids pocket money I still ain’t got enough dough plus I’m still 44 short on the IQ, counts me out on the fellowship. Tactically, maybe as a first target on the run up to the big one, we could lay siege to Wiltshire’s biggest brewery, dry the farmers out, make them start shaking, longing for a cider or a bottled light ale. If it don’t work, what the hell, we’ll be to drunk to care. I will now talk in a whisper, I know the lay of the land, Wiltshire, 30% of the vote is way to high, interbreeding, church fetes, summer nights, corn fields and that famous book Cider With Rosie, way to high…..I can see France at Christmas is going to be a merry and very funny place to be with you around.
Not so merry I fear – it’ll take more than a week after I arrive back to get used to the idea of being in Europe again for a few months!
But then, you know the feeling, needing to be in two places at once…