Lady on a red boat with parasol - Firenze, Italy

On the bridge parapet sits a girl who reads 

against a misplaced blue-lagoon background

while the Oltrarno and the Historic Center swap

tourists turned hostages of their own accord.

Sunsets - Boracay, Philippines

It's my second time in Boracay. It is still a great place: a little tropical island with white sand bays and cristal clear water. However, I have to admit that since the last time I was here things have change a little, and not for the better, unfortunately. There are more people, lots of package tours and silly attractions, less control, more trash and noise. 
We also heard some worrisome stories: big industrial groups are apparently planning to enlarge Caticlan airport in order to allow more and more tourists to reach the island, to buy land and build new resorts and residential compounds all over the place, even to build a bridge connecting Boracay with Panai island. 
I am afraid that in a few years they will have fucked it up.
There is one thing they will not manage to ruin: those beautiful sunsets on the main beach. 
I've seen a lot of great ones, in Asia and elsewhere, yet these ones, if you watch them at the right place and time, are really hard to match.

The "motorsai" experience - Bangkok, Thailand

Taxi "Motorbaaai"

Have moooob! Taxi no gooo, mo-ter-saaai gooo! OK mai krab?
You say OK, and you hop on, with all your luggage, guitars, saxophones, dogs, pigs, chicken coops, bread, cheese and ham, radio, TV set, satellite dish, dad, niece and grand mum...skirting cars, bikes, food stalls, protesters, cops, journalists, office workers, tourists, hookers and ladyboys, from the airport link terminal to your hotel, air, chili vapors and smog on your smiling face.
And that's when you suddenly remember why you liked it so much the first time you came here...

Yet another cynical post: the Thai prostitution myth

Penis rock and vagina rick at sunset, how romantic! (Koh Samui, Thailand)

This is the cynical post that I promised here.

Next time I see one of those cheese TV reports on prostitution in Thailand I swear I am going to puke. Of course the majority of western journalists are good professionals and I wouldn't dare say anything about them or their work. There are some, though, who should have their pens, laptops and tablets confiscated. A bunch of low level word-workers who rely on trite myths and stereotypes to justify the salaries their editors give them.
Those that for years have told us the story of the poor Thai girls taken advantage of or even enslaved by old and slimy sexual tourists are among the most sly.
It's hard for me to believe that they have really been in Thailand, collected evidence, looked around, tried to understand and finally got it all wrong that way. It must somehow be intentional. They must have based what they wrote on hearsay, relying on some urban legend or isolated tear-jerking case in order to achieve some sensationalist effect and exploit the overwhelming Western hypocrisy. Reading Michel Houllebecq could provide some inspiring ideas on the subject. On the other hand it is quite unlikely that over the years I've only come across exceptional cases. I got to an apparently arrogant yet unequivocal conclusion: I just know more than them about this subject.

How to fuck up a nice place - Koh Samui, Thailand

Beach party

My fingertips are itching. I need to write a couple of cynical posts, and the first one is going to be about the Thai island of Koh Samui: the perfect example of a heavenly place that have been fucked up in just a few years. 
I've been coming to Chaweng beach for about ten years. I remember well the impression I got the first time I got here: a beautiful bay with white sand, clear water and tropical vegetation. Lively at night: a few pubs with live music and screens for sport events, a couple of discos where you could spot a certain number of hookers but also a lot of "normal" customers, including Thais, and a few bars. The general atmosphere was still very simple, in line with the rural origins of the country: a lot of street food stalls, mototaxis that could take you anywhere for a small fee, songthaews - something in between a taxi and a bus - authentic local markets, nice people, some funny odd ones, smiles, coziness. I liked it a lot. I'm neither the no-electricity-faraway-island type of tourist nor the luxury resort one. Koh Samui was just the right mix. 

There is a smelly key attached to our ankles

My left foot

Look at them, more sectarian than the fascist, classist, racist people they feel they are so different from, as a result of self-proclamation rather than their actual way of life. They look down on you because you don't wear the same fluttering rags they do, they snob you because you don't take part in their rituals, maybe they even despise you for the fragments of your conversations they manage to overhear. If you only dare include them in the varied "tourist category" that you feel every westerner passing by a tropical island belongs to they will interrupt you, indignant, and they will point out with arrogance and conceit that "I will never be a despicable tourist!" Not even a budget tourist? "No! I am a traveler!"
They manage to give the worst of themselves when they walk, actually glide over the world barefoot, with the air of a modern Jesus who finally learned to walk on water, free from that bourgeois burden which is a pair of shoes, receiving the light of an ultimate answer to an existential question each time they step on a thorn, a dog shit or some city sewage.

Politically incorrect and probably a little pessimist on development, globalization, rich and poor countries, etc. - Burma

Some kind of "energy saving" traffic light in Thibaw

Burma is an opportunity. An opportunity with a blurred expiration date printed on. A chance, a model, a concrete example to reflect on matters such as development, globalization and international relations that in a few years we might not have anymore. Getting out of Rangoon airport means entering a world that in the last sixty years has developed very little, almost nothing at all actually. A system that for some aspects has even gone back in time. A place where people move on foot, by bicycle or with run-down cars on dusty roads that cut through expanses of trash, get on the bus with a sack of rice and two chickens, don't complain if the train travels at twenty kilometers per hour bumping on undulated and badly connected rails, cook their dinner on a wood fired stove, if a tooth is aching because of a cavity just pull it out, are not much interested in fashion and the latest technological devices (actually, nowadays this last statement is true only in part). Yet, they seem to be little stressed and moderately happy, they smile a lot and live with optimism. 

Still, if one looks carefully around, it is not possible not to take notice of the first signs of a wave of development that in a few years will probably wipe all this out. And every time something like this happens you can hear some foreign visitors mutter their usual trite comments.

Mini Venices

Yesterday was the first dull, grey, rainy, chilly and humid day since I arrived to Padova more than one month ago. I spent it entirely at home. I was afraid that the mild and luminous great time I've had so far was over and that the Po Valley fall would have taken me as far as the Marco Polo airport, where I'll board my flight back to the tropics in three days.
I was wrong. Today is a sunny day, the sky is clear, I can finally put into effect that plan that I thought I had to postpone until next year. 
I get off the coach in Chioggia and I take a walk downtown while I wait for the vaporetto to leave. Chioggia is very nice, with its calles, canals, Istrian stone bridges, red houses with white decorations. It looks like a little Venice, only with cars. I didn't see many tourists, other than two North Europeans drinking a spritz. I sit in the stern, out of the cabin, and I watch the rotten wood of the briccolas, the slightly rippled surface of the lagoon and the rugged islets, covered with a bristly greenish beard, while I let the breeze massage my face. At Pellestrina everybody gets on the bus bound to Lido, using their combo boat-and-bus tickets. I spent a few more cents and bought two separate journeys: that allows me to take the bus where and when I want. I could have rented a bicycle; I know, it's faster and the route along the murazzi - between the sea and the lagoon - is a charming one, the fact is that today I don't feel like that sort of visitor, I don't wanna speed through the little towns, I have to penetrate into the calles, stop at a corner, watch the people and the houses, smell the intermingling perfumes coming from the water and kitchens: my means of transport, cheap and flexible, is once again a pair of rubber shoes.

Remarkable skill - Thailand

Two things can surprise Asians when they first meet me.

One is my age, and I'm pretty used to that: since I was ten I've developed (esthetically speaking) much slower than the other kids my age. At junior high and high school this was causing me problems. I was often treated as a lower grade child, especially by the girls...and I couldn't take comfort in the attention of the younger ones: at that age a two year difference is as important as a geologic era. The only thing I could do was wait and hope: there were no other solutions. And fortunately it worked. From the age of twenty on my babyface has become less and less of a problem. Nowadays it can even be a relief, especially when I meet some old friends from school or university, white-haired, bald, wrinkled and bloated.

The other thing that can make many Orientals goggle is my nationality. Italian? Really?! I would have never said that. I thought you were...and then they start listing an incongruous sequence of countries I might come from: France, Switzerland, England, Belgium, even Holland! Total confusion, any place would do, except Italy.

Just playing with some toys - Bangkok, Thailand

I watch them exercising on the lawn of the small park. The tasteless standardization of their dress code, never affected by updates and seasons. I look at them while they throw clubs, diabolos and rubber balls in the air, two, three, even four at times. They swing poles, hula hoops, chains with wicks linked to the ends - unlighted of course because changing them is expensive and they are on a tight budget - or just colored rags to simulate the flames.

Their serious expressions are what amaze me most. I'm not blaming them for playing of course. I remember the mellow days of my youth at the beach, in parks or even residential streets, sweating with friends or by myself after any sort of ball. The hours spent frying my brains over a meaningless chess movement disguised as life turning point. Even computer games have taken precious shares of my teenager years. I'm aware of the importance of recreational activities for the mental balance of human beings, maybe even too aware of that sometimes. The only university exam I ever thought had a name worth of a branch of human knowledge is called "Game Theory": I decided not to take it only after finding out that it was not exactly about games, not as I could conceive them at least. It was just another engineer deceiving trick.

Unexpected implications - Pattaya, Thailand

Hard to believe as it may seem I think that it has actually already happened: the average daily number of Russian tourists in Pattaya might have exceeded that of local hookers, or so it seems, at least in the high season. And apparently the figures are only bound to increase. I mean, in Pattaya...of all places!

The city tourism has been based on the cheap and easy offer of sex for decades, since the Vietnam war times, when the American GIs used to come here for rest, distraction and leisure.

Why do we travel?

Opposite types of tourists (or travelers?) that I'd rather not meet: those who travel the world to prove (most of all to themselves) that their country is the best there is, without even giving a chance to the place they are visiting, and the ones who often love any country they come across better than their own, even though the filth, violence, greediness, racism, corruption, poverty and injustice they might find there are things they would never tolerate at home.
Lack of balance and intellectual honesty apart...what a huge waste of resources! If they have already made up their minds, why don't they just stay in the place that was awarded their prize before the contest even took place, enjoying the case-hardened clarity of their opinions, by doing so saving lots of time as well as the money of the flights, the hotels, the restaurants, the tours and the guides? 
Besides the confirmation of our expectations, shouldn't we also find in travels the pleasure of discovery?

Tourists, travelers or just confused?

In Asia I often meet Westerners who feel offended if someone calls them tourists.

"How come? Do you live here, by any chance?"

"No, I don't"

"Well, then, what do you do?"

"I travel."

"And how would you define yourself, if not a tourist?"

"A traveler!"

"Oh, I see..."

Worthy of a general - Bangkok, Thailand

Fortunately in Bangkok one doesn't have to witness only ghastly shows like this. If one keeps his radar tuned and has patience he'll be able to enjoy a number of amusing and instructive little scenes.

A Korean tourist has just bought a Phat Thai, one of those cooked at the edge of the road, on a large tilted fry pan set over a gas stove and served on styrofoam trays. When he still has a third of the portion left one of those old men who collect empty bottles of beer to make a few bucks draws near him. The Korean moves aside to let him pass and then starts to wolf down what is left of his Phat Thai. Using the chopsticks with perfect skill he shoves elephant-like quantities of food into his mouth, holding his breath, letting out flooded engine-like sounds, dropping fragments and leaning forward to prevent his shirt from getting soiled. A disgusting scene. But why is he doing that? Don't tell me that he's going to...no! He can't do it!

Appearances - Bangkok, Thailand

Some ladyboys toss, squawk, point at something. Everybody turns around but the action is gone. A foreign tall guy, wearing linen clothes, stands still for a while and then walks away. There's another man on the ground, motionless, bleeding. People rush to give some help, while the culprit is shown to a couple of cops. He draws near, gesticulates and tells his story. The other provoked him with two kicks in the groin, he endured the first one and then knocked him flat. He's arrogant and tipsy. People stare at him, it seems that they have already decided to blame him. The cops take him away and an ambulance arrives. Some paramedics remove blood stains from the victim's face: he writhes while a tourist tries to hold him still. They ask him some questions, he only answers Russia. A few moments later he opens his eyes, then without saying a word he hits the tourist with a jab.

Suddenly everybody is assailed by a doubt. Judging by appearances is a risky gamble. The beanpole is arrogant but he might not have lied, without even been listened to he was handed over to the cops. And a naive tourist, helping his victim, as a token of gratitude got punched in the face.

Photo "Fighting wolves" by Tambako the Jaguar (CC), from flickr

Like chickens in a coop - From Siem Reap to the border, Cambodia

(Spring 2002) 
Come on, come o-on! I don't have time. It's gonna be a never ending trip, a double day, I get a herniated disc just to think of it. I must hurry up, without messing around. Follow your schedule, you prepared it yesterday, when the heat and the mosquitoes didn't let you sleep. Glob that pancake, gulp down your coffee, pay this rat-hole bill and roll down the stairs. The mototaxis, the motorbikes, where are those kids? There were so many when I didn't need them. Here is one who's spotted his fool, he's coming along to pick me up.

"Need a motorbike? Angkor temples, Sir?" What temples...what Angkor...I've arrived to Siem Reap a week ago, I've consumed those temples more than the centuries and the jungle. "To the main intersection, where the pick-up trucks are." He stares at me blankly, like a sleepwalker or a koala. Koala bears only have two expressions: the eucalyptus-chewing and the eucalyptus-swallowing, in both cases it seems that they're dying with sleep. How do they say main intersection here? The owner of the hotel, she will be able to help me. "Madam, hey! Madam, here! Can you please tell him where I'm going in Cambodian?" The woman lets out some cracks from her throat, it seems that she's breaking wood with her mouth. The koala-driver switches expression, his second way to look a bit dull. He nods his head, lowers his chin, does he understand? Or maybe he's just swallowing some eucalyptus? There's no time, I hop on the bike. He starts, speeds up, yeah, he understood! When we get to the junction I know it's the right one: there seem to be at least a hundred trucks. Which one is it? Who can speak English? This is definitely not a place for tourists, they travel on pseudo-comfortable vans, but I was late, the seats were sold out.

That second mouthful - Bangkok, Thailand

A friend of yours has arrived today and this is the first time that he's visiting Thailand. You take him to a restaurant and order Som tam (*). You tell the waiter to make it mai pet (**). The dish is in front of you, you taste it first and you're supposed to tell your friend whether it's hot or not. It does taste nice, so fresh, crispy and sour. Hold on! Don't do it, don't tell him "it's OK", as if you didn't know much better than that. Wait for a while and take a second bite. The remaining slices of green papaya might have undergone spontaneous self-combustion. You're mouth goes dry, your face is a turnip and the fork is hovering between you and the plate. They didn't add peppers, as it was supposed to be, but nobody took the trouble to wash the mortar. And if this is an authentic Isan (***) joint, for the previous patron they might have put thirty chilies. 

(*) Som tam (ส้มตำ): green papaya salad. It comes in many different varieties.

(**) Mai pet (ไม่เผ็ด): not spicy. What is considered "not spicy" in Thailand can be glowing coals for many westerners. It can be even worse in case we are talking about the North-eastern provinces. If you want your food to be "not spicy" you have to order it mai pet lei (ไม่เผ็ดเลย), which means "not spicy at all", or mai sai prik (ไม่ใส่พริก), which means "don't add any chili".

(***) Isan (อีสาน): North-eastern part of Thailand, culturally related to Laos.

Photo by Fabio Pulito

The relief valve, violence in Thailand - Bangkok, Thailand

Two foreign guys and two local girls are sitting at the table next to ours. There's something familiar about their conversation. I ignore my friends and eavesdrop a little: I was right! The guys are speaking English when they address the girls but when they are talking to each other they switch to Italian and even to some kind of Veneto dialect. They spice up their speech with curses and obscenities and sometimes they insult the other patrons of the restaurant.

There's a lot of noise and I haven't heard if some of the comments were aimed at us. To avoid misunderstandings I crack a joke in Italian. One of them stares at me with a blank expression and I think that he doesn't understand what I'm saying. Then he starts to talk but he's totally drunk. In the sequence of hiccups, grunts and oaths, I decipher the gist of what he's trying to say: as I don't come from Veneto as they do, I cannot get some nuances of their conversation. To prove that he's wrong I start to speak our dialect. Once again it takes a while for him to understand, but when he does he stares at me, then he stands up and shakes my hand, says that I'm cool and gives me a drink.

A pitiful scene at the insects stall - Bangkok, Thailand

This street is packed with foreign tourists. A bunch of people are surrounding a stall and I walk that way to see what's going on. It's the usual group of newly arrived foreigners staring in awe at some oily fried insects. On a set of trays, entangled by the legs, there are grasshoppers and crickets, larvas and scorpions. Some young Chinese are trying a bug, holding it by a leg as if it was scorching, eating it slowly, bit by bit.

At the other end there's a bunch of westerners. A workout fanatic is eating a scorpion, while a couple of girls are taking photos of him. You can tell by his face that he dislikes his snack, but he bites it as if it was a turkey leg. He rips a claw and chews it fast, then he manages to swallow it while he pumps up his chest. At first the Thai guy is smiling at them, but the merry atmosphere is about to end.

The western guys are totally drunk. A blond man grabs some crickets from the tray and pushes them into the big guy's mouth. He eats one up and then shuts his lips, but the blond guy crushes them against his chin. He opens his hand and makes a face while he's looking at the mush of legs, wings and shells. Then he absentmindedly puts them back into the tray. By now the Thai guy is extremely upset but he still doesn't dare saying anything to them. He gives them a couple of embarrassed looks, then he tries a smile, but it's not the amused type.

Soundless emotions - Phuket, Thailand

The mini-van driver enters the lobby, takes a quick look and shouts: "Airport! Airport!". I grab my backpack and follow him. When I'm out of the hotel I hear some cries, I turn around but there's nothing wrong. Suddenly the driver starts to run, holding a bag in his right hand. Half a minute later he's already back and he places that bag in the trunk of the van. He's noticed the confusion in his passengers' looks and tries to explain what that was about: "He...no talk. He...look lady..."

He looks disappointed by our blank stares, drops further explanations and shuts the door. A few seconds later a foreigner with bleached hair walks in our direction at a quick pace: he slides the door with excessive strength and chooses the seat right in front of me. Then he turns around, stares at something behind us, stretches an arm, points an accusing finger and with escalating anger starts to give out some sounds: "Ngh! Hmn! Ngh!" We all turn to watch but there is nothing to see. We are all overcome by a sense of embarrassment and we start to pretend that we're doing other things.