This posting comes directly to you from Thailand. Why? Because I'm in Thailand. [Well, we were at time.]
My wife and I have been here for six days now, but it only took me about forty-five minutes to start to feel like George Negus, and about an hour and a half to surpass him. I don't wish to overstate things, but I'm fairly confident in my assertion that I know everything there is to know about Thailand and its people. I'm able to feel this confident due to to the relaxed pace of life - and subsequent time available to think - that is afforded to one firmly ensconced beside a resort pool.
One of the things that is surely readily apparent to any who visit Thailand (or numerous other Asian nations) is that they have a system and culture of transportation that is - or should be - the envy of all Australians. Let me explain.
In Thailand, it is not uncommon to see a young child behind the wheel of a scooter. In Australia, it is more common to see grown men behind the wheel of a car, operating it for all the world as if they've never operated one before, and have been reared to believe that the world is one giant computer game created solely for their pleasure, in which their actions have no consequences at all. In Thailand, their drivers are better than ours before they turn seven. This is shameful. Not quite as shameful as a grown man being unable to legally ride a scooter, but shameful nevertheless.
Additionally, the Thai people are more than happy to transport pretty much anything on a scooter. Livestock? Fine. A Fridge? Sure! A family of six? Why not! A sheet of glass, between driver and passenger? Sounds fine! Another scooter? Now there's a thought! The simple fact is, anything goes. In Thailand, the a can of red paint and a couple of benches can turn a mini-van into a mini-bus in no time at all.
The Thais have all manner of vehicles moving in and out of each other and considerable variant speeds. As things stand, this would not work in Perth. Why? Because we are discourteous, and actively seem to believe that we ought not need to pay attention when we drive. We are, in short, extremely stupid. And if you want evidence for this, one need look no further than how two respective cultures view the role of the horn.
The horn in Australia is confined to addressing matters in the past tense. It is for complaining about things which have already occurred. Important things, such as; you drongo, you're travelling about four kilometres per hour slower than I'd ideally like to travel; or, you've changed lanes, you donkey; and even, you nit, you're now in front of me, you cad, and I've subsequently needed to activate my vehicle's breaking mechanism . See? Important things.
But in Thailand, the horn is used in a completely different way; it is an instrument of future-tense. Rather than a sound of complaint, it is actually a sound of courtesy. Put simply, if you're in a car, and you're coming up on a scooter - which happens constantly, due to the number of scooters on the road and the fact that cars invariably travel at greater velocity - the polite thing to do is let them know you're about to go round them. And do you know what scooters do? They move farther to the left of the road. They don't slow down and block traffic. They don't make any rude hand gestures. They just move over. Wonderful.
The reason the Thai network of people-moving ought to humble us Aussies is because it is grounded on a foundation of genuine courtesy, as opposed to the impatiently adversarial approach that seems to have consumed us in comparison.
And just when you think they can impress you no more, they display even greater degrees of ingenuity.
We happened to take a speed-boat cruise (well, a fast cruise, if you'll forgive the oxymoron) to a number of surrounding Islands. It was great. There were monkeys and snorkeling. (The monkeys did not snorkel. They did swim though, which was a surprise.) The boat was pretty full, and amongst the passengers was an American bloke who hailed from Hawaii. I thought he looked like a young Marlon Brando, but unfortunately he was built like the elder Marlon Brando. (Or possibly his private island.)
What I found incredible, was that rather than steer the boat using its inbuilt mechanisms, they just got poor Marlon to switch periodically from one side of the boat to the other. I thought this a masterstroke. I mean, he certainly needed the exercise, and a boat's steering column is surely as susceptible to wear and tear as any other machine. Put simply, they did right by two machines; one of steel and fibre glass, and one of bone and pies.
The Thais. They are taking civilization onwards.
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