Daily in Asia

Things Done to Towels

Day 6.

Once in the Land of Thighs it is possible to see that many of the more obvious things on public display have deeper significances. The ubiquitous presence of His Divine Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyade in posters and beautifully framed pictures, for example, is not merely a reminder of who's in charge, matey, but is a link with the wider shared Tai heritage, a confirmation of Buddhisty philosophical values in a Thai version of the doctrine of Manifest Destiny, and a current and potent adherent political statement all wrapped up in one. It seems that one of the worst insults round these parts is to question a chap's patriotism and love for all things regal.

Another symbolic Thai reference with philosophical depth that is perhaps identified more obviously by most visitors, is the religious iconography. Buddha images are everywhere; for worship and for the obtaining of merit, for teaching and reinforcing of central cosmological ideas within the Thai mind, and to justify social harmony within a clearly inequitous society. That religious symbolic art is so pervasive is symptomatic of its philosophical adoption. That mythical Garuda half-man-half-birds and Singha lions appear everywhere signifies that these creatures are ever-present links to that greater, more mystical reality - the one that transcends the here and now, the mediocre ups and downs of life, the mundane self-doubting of the individual and the vulgar vagaries of politics and society.

It is also symptomatic of the plain fact that there has not, of course, been a complete reformation of Thai religious thought along the lines of that experienced in Europe in the 16th century and after. This aspect of Thai life and thought has continued through wars, famines, revolutionary sea-changes of Governments, kings and prime ministers. There also appears to have been sufficient freedom of thought for most individuals to fully express themselves in their own style without being coerced into adopting tenets of faith with one fearful eye on the rack or the flames: it's your business.

Which naturally brings me to towels. I've seen some astonishing towelic creations over my years in this place of keenly-adopted iconography and religious philosophy. I'm beginning to think there is something deeper to this towel origami than meets the casual western eye, but no-one has explained this ancient eastern art to me. Please offer your in-depth suggestions into the secret language of meta-towelling.

When in doubt, buy a couple of coconuts and put on a hat!

Day 10.

It has been raining a bit today. When I say, 'a bit', I mean raining in a tropical way a bit today, which really means a lot because we're in the tropics. So I should have said, it rained a lot today. I should have said, it has been raining a lot ALL day.

Enough prittle-prattle! We hired a cheap hire car, about as cheap as chips (if you've ever had expensive chips, that is) and droveded round this sun-kissed island of Langkawi. Ah, the beautiful bays and beaches, the green mountain summits, the radiant forest tree blossoms could all have been seen had it not been bloody raining so hard. We dodged raindrops between gift shops and mountain stream walks, between a cheap lunch of Phatprik next to the deserted bay of Black Sand Beach (Pantai Pasir Hitam) and the unbelievable Galeria Perdana.

I will have to stop here and rant a bit about this place. You may question my motives because we didn't actually go inside, but I just couldn't bring myself to dip into my pocket and pay for the privilege of seeing the gifts awarded to the Prime Minister Yang Amat Berhormat Dato' Seri Dr. Mahathir bin Mohamed and his wife.

I've never met Mahathir and if I did I'd no-doubt be won over my his 87 years of political guile, but I cannot abide this man because of almost everything he stands for. To have held the position of prime minister for 22 years alone must make him one of the most corrupt, self-serving political reptiles on the planet. He did little to avert put inter-racial conflict in 1969 and once in positions of power promoted Malay interests over all the other ethnic groups in the country. He used religion, ie Islam, as a means to maintain power and legitimacy and smeared or jailed any serious political opponents. He sold off as many as 50 government-held utilities and firms each year to whoever was paying and made Malay compulsory in educational institutions, thereby making Malays largely unemployable outside the country. And then there's his interference with and jailing of Anwar Ibrahim, which deserves a whole-other blog.

Yes, many recent policies and initiations have brought success within the country, but many would argue that these were achieved largely in spite of him. He's an anti-Western, anti-Semitic bigot who seems to have acted on the wider world stage merely to meet his domestic ambitions and stir the pot.

So, we did not go to see all the lovely lavish gifts awarded/given to this man. Having said all that, the attraction was packed with Malays. I presume they all saw a different side to the man and the motives behind these lavish expressions of love and admiration. Maybe he really is a darling who has only the dear, dear love of his country at heart, but I think not. He's the kind of bastard that makes me want to rant and fume and uncontrollably swear!

 

So anyway, I bought a silly hat and two smashing, large coconuts. That's the right sort of gift for a bloke like me...

Clash of Cultures, Blend of Cultures

Day 11.

So here we are, two expat Brits who have their abode in Hong Kong, taking the Australian-built ferry from the enchanted, but once-cursed, island of Langkawi and heading to Georgetown, Penang, the concession for British protection for the sultanate of Kedah and eventually the first British possession of the Malay States.

Georgetown, of course, takes its name after King George III, the reigning monarch at the time the East India Company set up this far eastern centre to better organise the trading of spicy commodities. It also became a fortified base to keep thum Frenchies out of the region.

On board are Malays, Europeans, Chinese and lots of Saudi Arabs. On the TV screens is playing John Carter, the recent Disney adaptation of the 1964 novel by the American writer Edgar Rice Burroughs mostly set on the planet Mars. Next to us the Arab couple are reading the Quran (as are the rest if they're reading at all), the Memsahib is reading A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin, the obese resident of Santa Fe, New Mexico who is now very famous and presumably also very rich. I am reading A Study in Scarlet, the first Sherlock Holmes novel by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle published in 1887. The Chinese, headphones firmly plugged in, are keeping themselves to themselves playing games on their iPads.

Some of the men are in shorts and some in long trousers. Some wear peaked hats or light trilbys -so-named after a stage adaptation of George du Maurier's 1894 novel, Trilby, in which performance the style of hat was worn. Some of the ladies (guess who?) are in stringy tops and shorts and some (guess who?) are completely hidden behind their burqas so that it is difficult to make out that they have clear, deep-brown eyes.

Outside the rainy swell is somewhat increasing and from time-to-time the ferry swerves left and then right, presumably to avoid obstacles in the sea ahead. We saw a lot of wood, great big pieces of timber washed down from jungle rivers, on our previous ferry journeys -it would not do a vessel, even as large a catamaran as this, much good at all if it were to make contact with submerged tree trunks at these speeds. I now know where the life jackets are. The crew recently came around offering grey plastic vomit bags: so-far I'm not aware of anyone using them.

At the very front of the passenger cabin is the little Arab boy, maybe three- or four-years old and the very apple of their young parents' eyes. He is singing inane and repetitive childish babble to a largely unresponsive audience. Dressed in a white t-shirt with green sleeves and shots, and completely without inhibitions, he mindlessly plays on the enclosed steps up to the fore-deck, quite a dangerous location considering the swell. He has already fallen over twice, but his parents are happy his attention is not directly on them. His t-shirt has a picture of the 1940s cartoon characters Tom and Jerry with the words, "Joy & Happy".

Penang emerges from the sea, first the mountains, then the taller hotels, then the whole city. Happy to leave the ferry, the confused passengers surge out with their luggage onto the cool Friday streets. Despite the ever-insistent taxi touts, it already feels like a pretty, antiquated, culturally-mixed town.