Life is a Highway

Outside of the U.S., Laos seems to have the biggest cars. This comes as a surprise because I thought that a poor country like Laos would be driving leftover Chinese cars. Not so– there are many pick-up trucks, some SUVs and I’ve even seen a hummer. While few people own cars (roughly 4/1000 people), those people and companies who do own opt for larger ones with 4 wheel drive out of necessity, it seems–driving anywhere in Laos requires off-roading.

The distance between Houei Xai (at the Thai border) and Luang Namtha (a few hours from China) is roughly 100 miles. The journey, taken by a top-heavy bus, weaves through through the jungle on a red dirt track where anything that moves kicks dust into the air. This 100 mile journey took seven hours to complete.  Yes, seven hours.  Yet this road is a vital step forward for Laos, as it will become an international highway linking China, Laos, Thailand, and Burma. Two decades from now, the sleepy town of Luang Namtha, where I disembarked, will likely be a booming trade city.

This road seems to epitomize Laos’ spring forward. Until the 1990’s, Laos was relatively isolated from the rest of the world. Only within the past decade has it begun experimenting with trade and tourism on a global scale. As a result, the country is remarkably under-developed, with hundreds of villages accessible only by foot or by boat. The road infrastructure is a combination of paved surfaces and bumpy dirt roads, with the latter being much more prevalent. Yet cutting through the country will soon be a major roadway that will cement Laos at the center of burgeoning regional trade.

Laos’ story could be a rags to riches one, and if it plays its cards right, it can learn from the mistakes of neighboring countries and become a relatively wealthy country without losing its pristine environment and laid-back character. Like the road system, the tourism industry is jumping from non-existent to major Southeast Asian destination. And the country seems wary of repeating the crass commercialism of high-volume tourism that has wrecked havoc on the nature and culture in parts of neighboring Thailand. Many of Laos’ major “cities” have eco-tourism operators, founded with the express purpose of harnessing the tourists’ lucrative dollars in a low-impact fashion. Relative to the number of stores in town, many cooperatives have been established, providing high-quality textiles and handicrafts produced by local artisans, including the handicapped.

Of course, it is impossible to control development, especially in Laos where people are hungry for dollars and the opportunities that they hopefully bring. For each eco-tourism office, there are others springing up, emulating the eco-tours in theory, just probably not in practice. However, for the discerning tourist, there are remarkable opportunities to put one’s money to good use.

As long as one can stand to journey by road…

 

Wat’s Not to Like?

Like many religions or beliefs, Buddhism has a special location for worship– the temple, or wat.  Like other religions, the wat houses sacred images and/or relics.  And like other religions, the wat is a complex with schools for religious instruction, rooms for those studying, and services for the larger community. 

However, the wat has a different feel from many religious places I’ve been to.  At one wat, a couple of men were jogging around the complex, their athletic gear making an interesting contrast to the shaved heads and orange robes of the monks.  At another, people were playing basketball on a court inside the complex.  At larger wats, vendors sell even from carts to the people constantly filtering in and out.  Often, there is a place for massage at or near the wat, and one wat that I am now particularly partial to had an herbal steam sauna! 

In many ways, the wat seems to exemplify the spirit of religion–not only is it a place for monks to train and reach a higher spiritual place, but it seems to serve, more than any place in Thailand (except for, perhaps, the markets) as a place for the community.  I believe this is due to the style of worship particular to Buddhism, as well as the role of monks in Thai society.  Worship in Buddhism, at least in Thailand, is not formal.  People come to the wat whenever they like and quickly pray.  There are no long services involved, making worship completely individual.  Secondly, all Thai males become a monk at some point in their lives.  For most, the length of service is one month, others as short as a week.  Regardless of the length of time served, every male member of every household in Thailand has spent time in a wat.

Furthermore, the wat is a good choice for education.  One young monk I spoke with is studying Buddhism and English.  He chose a monastic education because of cost– it is far cheaper (1,500 Thai Bhat/semester– about $50) than other universities.  And many wats have “Monk Chats” such as the one where I met this monk– an open conversation with monks about anything, providing the tourist a personal insight into Buddhism and the monks a chance to practice their English.

The wat, and Buddhism in general, seem to be doing something right.  The openness and accessibility that I’ve seen seem to be in sharp contrast to the denial and dogma that dominate other religions.  Of course there are rules in Buddhism, but the emphasis seems to be on personal development rather than rigid adherence to rules.  In this climate of hyper-charged religious fanatics, I think we could all use a little Buddhism.

 

Living the Lingua Franca

During my previous travel, I’ve been fortunate enough to either

1) be a guest of someone living in the country and fluent in or familiar with the language; 2) been living in the country myself and been familiar with the language; or 3) been in a place where English is somewhat, if not the dominant language. 

Of course, I didn’t realize this until coming to Thailand.  In fact, I’ve always fancied myself a rather savvy traveler who could easily be taught a few words of the local language by a friend or a book.

Welcome to Thailand.  To be sure, English is widely spoken here and is what I use to communicate save a “hello” and “thank you” in Thai.  But levels of proficiency for most Thais are often basic, and launching directly into English is not the way I would like to be presenting myself.  But I do.  I’ve become that person with the unilingual m.o. that I never wanted to be.  However, short of learning Thai, this is the only alternative, and in many ways, it is not a bad one.

English is truly a global language.  From tourists communicating with local hosts, to travelers passing tips and stories amongst themselves, it is the go-to language.  All signs directed at tourists are in English and woe to the person who does not understand English food descriptions.

This ubiquitous English use reinforces either interconnectivity or isolation, depending on who you are.  Those English-speakers from non-English speaking countries are at a distinct advantage to their non-English speaking peers.  They can go almost anywhere in the world and communicate with most people they meet.  For those native English speakers who do not know another language, however, the effect is isolating and debilitating, putting the control of our communication in the hands of others. 

Furthermore, I’ve found that unilinguistic travel often confines travelers to spaces that use English– a lost opportunity for understanding other cultures in many ways from the physical venturing beyond the English zone to the cultural indicators that language provides (Russian, for example, has many different words for friend, emphasizing degree of closeness.  And in Thai, I’ve been told, the word for “no” is “not yes” giving one a sense of the Thai disposition toward negative news).

In my opinion, English as the lingua franca has immense benefits as it really opens the doors to communicating with diverse people.  However, native English speakers have a unique challenge that is easy to miss– learning another language when it is so easy not to. 

 

“Correct as usual, King Friday”

While the recent coup is the political talk outside of Thailand, in-country it seems as though the only political system that matters is the monarchy.  Thailand is home to King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who is the world’s longest serving current head of state.  And people here love their king.

Today (December 5th) is his birthday and the celebrations that have been visible since I arrived on Saturday are reaching their zenith (I think.  I hope).  Everyone here is wearing a yellow shirt, which is the color associated with Monday, the day of the week on which he was born.  Bangkok’s population has increased with the busloads of people who have come from near and far to be here for his big day.   Around the city, tents are set up with tables, chairs, and buffets– free food for all, donated by the King.

When asked why people love their King so much, one woman said that he is in touch with the people and can propose solutions unencumbered by politics.  He has apparently proposed solutions for traffic problems and understands the difficulties heaped on people in the wake of the 2004 tsunami.  He is also a patron of the arts, well-traveled, and a world-class  clarinetist to boot.

While all this seems a bit like Mr. Roger’s “Land of the Make Believe,” there is a truism here.  Whether elected, appointed, or seizing power by force, people love and respect those leaders with leadership qualities– empathy, intelligence, and an appreciation for the world around them.  And as the U.S. is shows, it seems that no political system has perfected the system of producing those leaders.

Long Live the King! …

 

What to Give to the Person who has Everything?

It’s that time of year– stressing about the annual gift giving that accompanies a couple of religions’ major holidays. 

If I may, I’d like to offer a suggestion to those who are fresh out of meaningful ideas: redirect the gift to those who have nothing in the name of the person with everything.

On the way to the airport in Delhi, my cab was unable to stop at a traffic light without being hounded by small children, old men, young mothers, and others all looking for some food or money.  Not wanting to condone begging in the middle of a four-lane road, especially for the kids, nor believing that this is the best way to change things, I thought I might use my blogging platform to encourage others to give some money to organizations that can help.  The following links are for non-profits that I’ve briefly vetted. 

http://www.forgottenchildren.net/index.htm (US 501(c)(3) tax deductible)

http://www.giveindia.org/give/common/genfaq.jsp  (For US Tax Payers:
u/s 501(c)(3) only if you donate through the partner website, Give World)

http://www.childhaven.ca/ourstory.htm

While there’s no panacea for the widespread poverty in India and the rest of the world, doing nothing means just that, and in India even giving a little translates into big gains. 

I’ll add more links when I can so keep checking…

 

“Horn Please”

I’m not quite sure why most vehicles in India are equipped with sideview mirrors– they seem to be angled in such a way as to provide the driver with a glimpse, perhaps, of his own face or that of his passengers.  What they are definitely not used for is to see if anyone is approaching or passing on the side. 

Why would they?  India has developed an ingenious system that makes full use of the horn that we in the States so often neglect.  Instead of honking when someone cuts you off (how rude!), the Indians use their horn to give a loud extended honk to tell a driver up ahead that they are passing.  All. The. Time.  Many trucks even have brightly painted instructions on the back of their trucks of “Horn Please” to ensure the constant reminder that, yes!, there are other vehicles on the road. 

The system seems to work, though I have almost inadvertently fallen out of a rickshaw on several occasions when a truck would sneak up behind us and suddenly lay on his horn…  But, after all, what’s a little noise pollution in the midst of terrible air pollution?

 

A Lack of Water Everywhere…

Common to this part of the world are problems caused by lack of water.  Its scarcity is seen in the build-up of grime, the buckets in the bathrooms (for sponge baths), empty river and lake beds, and in domestic and international conflicts.

I’ve tried to quell my anger at the filth that is inescapable in India because I’ve realized that my simplistic solution of “why don’t they just wash it off” does not apply in a country where water is so hard to come by.  I’m unclear as to whether it’s high prices or dry taps that keep water usage under relative control– washing things is done sparingly, if at all.  What I have heard, however, is that India’s expanding tourism industry–a boon to the economy in so many ways– brings with it millions of water-hungry westerners for whom daily showers are practically a right (rite?).  Try as I may, I have yet to choose a sponge bath if a shower if present.

In the Jaipur region (about 5 hours from Delhi) several forts call to mind the elementary school exercise of “what’s wrong with this picture?”.  Imagine a serenely beautiful palace (for that’s what these forts really are) perched in or above a lake-sized patch of dirt, with banks clearly delineated, and often small pools of residual dirty water from which a few intrepid locals still try to fish.  This is the scene I saw at a couple of Jaipur’s palaces, and dried up rivers and pond banks are visible throughout the region.  According to several people, the cause is the lack of a big monsoon during the past few years.

The problems that accompany lack of water are more than personal and transcend quality of life issues.  They are ‘ability of life’ issues and are at the root of many conflicts, both domestic and international.  Currently, two districts in the south of India are in dispute because Tamil Nadu, owner of a dam in the Kerala district, wants to raise dam levels to dangerous heights.  Their desire is understandable– the dam provides water to three districts, and is in high demand.  Kerala’s position is also understandable.  Should the dam collapse as a result of high water levels, those living in the vicinity of the dam could be in a dangerous flood path.   And then there are the dissenters, such as people living in Tamil Nadu who fear losing all their water in the attempt to gain a little bit more. 

India’s dam building is also ruffling feathers internationally.  The Indus River and its tributaries flow through both India and Pakistan, as well as the disputed region of Kashmir.  The Indus Water Treaties of 1960 specified which country could use which water and for what purposes (eg India could not use some of the Indus’ tributaries for irrigation at the expense of downstream Pakistan).  However, India is currently constructing the Baglihar Dam on the Chenab River in the Indian controlled part of Kashmir.  It seems that depending on whom you speak with, you’ll get different answers as to whether this violates the Indus Water Treaties, with Pakistan seeing the construction as a poaching of their upstream waters.

This problem is not unique to India and its neighbors.  Rapidly growing populations and expanding economies make for thirsty places.   I’ve heard that the Persian Gulf is becoming increasingly salty as Dubai (and other Emirates?) use desalinization processes of the Gulf to obtain potable water.   And Turkey’s Southeast Anatolia Project that involves the contruction of 21 dams and 17 hydroelectric power plants (source:wikipedia) comes at the price of angering downstream neighbor, Iraq.

It’s quite easy to take many of our resources for granted– for us at home the worst is typically the water bills that must be paid.  In other places the situation is much more dire, affecting quality of life and instigating conflicts. 

 

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Arriving in India on Thanksgiving Day was a shock to the senses.  After ultra-new, monied Dubai, Delhi provided an entirely different experience.  After 24 hours of feeling like I was back in middle school (the highs were higher, the lows were lower), I came to the following sketch of Delhi.

The Good

Like many places, Delhi has clogged roads.  Though surprisingly, they were not as bad as I expected due to the construction of a metro that has taken 1.650 buses off the roads since it opened in 2002 and increased average road speed by 4 km/hour (roughly 2.4 mph).   This metro, which has inspired similar projects in cities across India, has helped reduce pollution by 30% (though I shudder to think of what it was like before the metro).  Also helping to keep the air relatively clean is the use of CNG (Clean Natural Gas) in the many rickshaws trawling the streets.  Small, maneuverable, and mildly terrifying, the rickshaws are a favorite mode of transportation for groups of 2-4 people.  Many of the rickshaws have CNG written on the back, signifying that they are now running on this clean natural gas, helping to ease the clogging of the air.

Another aspect of Delhi, and India in general, that I would categorize as good (better yet, great, or mesmerizing) is the quality of light.  For some reason, perhaps because of the pollution, objects seems to be lit not by the sun, but perhaps by the air around them.  This results in a tremendously warm light at many points throughout the day and oddly illuminated objects.  Coupled with the colors of the area– brightly painted objects and colored fabrics– the effect is entrancing.

The Bad

The tourism industry in India relies heavily on touts.  At first this is entertaining, even interesting, as people on the streets approach tourists to talk them into visiting a particular shop, or even tourism office.  However, when a thirty minute walk turns into two hours because of seemingly helpful young men who offer help you to untangle the maze of Delhi streets (that does NOT correspond to a map) by then directing you to a store or tour office, it becomes downright frustrating, and negates sightseeing as a reason for being in Delhi altogether.  During one particular excursion, Ed and I were approached by at least six men, all of whom “weren’t selling anything” but were adamant that we visit a particular tourism agency.  It got to the point where we could not escape– we were being followed by almost every do-gooder to ensure that we did not get lost on the way to the tourism office.  According to those in Delhi, there is nothing to see except the tourism office… 

Add to this scenario unrelenting traffic.  Traffic that makes no sense– that uses the lines on the road as suggestions to be discarded the moment a constantly shape-shifting free space into which to maneuver makes itself available.  This goes for turning too.  There is no planning ahead, no switching into the right lane if one wants to make a right-hand turn.  Instead, the strategy seems to be to get as close to the intersection as possible and then aggressively weave your way through the dozens of other cars, rickshaws, bicycles, camels, etc utilizing the same exact strategy.  And one must honk ones horn the entire time.  Depending on my mood this alternates between entertaining and ridiculous.

The Ugly

India is poor.  It is a type of poverty that I have not seen before– not in Romania where I stayed with a family with no running hot water and that cooked over a fire in the backyard, nor in Georgia, where the center of the city surrounding the new cathedral has unpaved roads and similar living conditions to that in Romania.  In India, the poverty is a combination of desperation, acceptance, and disrespect that makes me resent myself and the people I see.

My first impression was in Pahar Ganj–not exactly the nicest section of Delhi.  It houses a lot of budget hotels and as such had an odd mix of abject poverty and tourism.  Unlike other parts of Delhi, the poverty is more open and less controlled.  The morning I arrived, tiny fires of garbage burned haphazardly in the streets– not moved to one side, no system of trying to contain the rubbish burning to a specific place, to tidy it perhaps.  To me this seemed to be tantamount to embracing the poverty, rather than rising above it.  Perhaps this is true, or perhaps it is just part of the chaotic nature of Indian life where order isn’t necessarily aspired to…

What really bothered me, however, was the disrespect with which most citizens (mainly male) treat their city.  Spitting is constant (perhaps due to the pollution), as is littering, as is peeing wherever, whenever, by anyone male. Despite the existence of “public conveniences” (restrooms) it seems that many men prefer to relieve themselves in the streets, in broad daylight, even in nicer sections of town dressed in nice pants and a button-down shirt. 

Poverty may be out of a lot of people’s control, but how one responds to that poverty and chooses to live within it is controllable.  In my opinion, adding to the rank conditions and constant reek of sewer in one’s home is within one’s control..  And choosing to do so is ugly in the worst sense of the word.

India is a captivating country, and seems to reward those who are able to look past the surface grime and close their ears to touts. The chaos is frustrating and enlivening and with constant splashes of color, amazing food, and foreign animals, architecture and fruit, it is easy to feel small again, trying to decipher the world around you.

 

Waiting in the Shadows

A common sight in Dubai are people waiting by bus stops, crammed into any available shadow cast by signs, benches, or the rare tree to escape the tremendous heat.  The people waiting for the bus tend to be the many immigrants from India, Pakistan, and the Philippines who have come to help fuel Dubai’s rocket-like economy.

Working in construction and the booming service industry, these immigrants are a key component of Dubai’s economic growth.  With 1/6th of the world’s cranes in Dubai, construction workers are vital (though supply and demand wages don’t seem to be playing into their working conditions.  Read more at the link on human rights to the right).  The hotel industry is outpacing the supply of hotel staff and the 3:1 ratio of workers to hotel guests is declining (by comparison, in London the ratio is more like 1.5:1). 

Together with the workers from worldwide who are staffing the offices and filling higher management positions, these people are creating what could be the next major city. Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum envisions Dubai as filling the gap in markets between New York, London, and Tokyo.  Even the fashion world is coming on board, as Dubai hosts its first international fashion week in March of ‘07.  Looking at the map, this vision makes sense.  Precious little exists in that region in the way of successful and creative places with the capital and size to move forward. 

So keep an eye out for Dubai.  With its combination of international flavor, forward-thinking and dynamism, this city is bound to take its place as a major world city in the coming decades.

 

And Now a Word from My Sponsor

Seriously.  If I had to have a sponsor, I would want it to be Emirates Airline.  What have I been doing all these years, schlepping around with sub par airlines like Delta, American Airlines, and United Airways?  Even my long-time favorite, British Airways, seems childish compared with Emirates.

What really struck me about Emirates, I suppose, is a reflection of the United Arab Emirates, of which Dubai is one, as a whole.  First off, the passengers I saw on this plane are a far different cross-section of the world’s population than I’ve ever seen.  There were Japanese tourists, Nigerian businessmen, Arabs in white caftans and women in bright African dresses.  The mix of cultures on this plane was unique to any place I’ve been, including New York.  In order to serve such diverse clients, the flight staff was equally global and spoke roughly 15 languages between them.

One cannot mention Dubai without conjuring images of the Palms or Burj al Arab.  New projects of similar imagination and granduer are in the works (apparently one for an underwater hotel died prematurely…).  Emirates Airlines has a similar over-the-top approach to comfort and entertainment.  Though sitting in economy class, I was given my own, large tv screen, almost 1,000 channels to choose from, an excellent meal with complimentary wine and liquors, and service that made me feel as though I were in a restaurant.  Furthermore, Emirates never makes you feel as though you are on a plane.  For example, in-flight entertainment started before take-off, eliminating the need to stare uncomfortably at the ceiling or crane your neck to catch a glimpse of land during take-off. 

That ‘innovation’ (I always thought it was illegal to show in-flight entertainment during take-off, or that perhaps it interfered with the communication signals like my portable electronic devices do…) and others, such as cameras showing the view from the cockpit (quite cool while landing) mirror Dubai’s unlimited funds approach to brainstorming.  Anything and everything goes, and there’s a delightful freedom in leaving convention behind. 

So, Erin, if you ever move to Perth, I will be taking Emirates direct from New York to Dubai and Dubai to Perth to visit you.