Back to reality.....

The infamous Bangla Road, Phuket

I've just returned home from Thailand, tired and physically drained. Twenty-five hours of travelling, most of it spent in three hectic and debilitating terminals. The longest flight was an overnight leg from Bangkok to Sydney. Sleeping in economy is never easy, but when you have the under-two squad screeching throughout the whole trip.......

I'd like to conclude my series (a trilogy in four parts) on Phuket, with a few personal observations.

Phuket is an astonishingly beautiful place. Rich verdant hills cascade to azure waters befringed by golden beaches (stop waxing lyrical, Flaxen- you big ponce!). The temperature is a constant 30 degrees and the sea is warm and clear. Paradise it is. Normal it ain't. The region is an aberration; a beautiful whore. Phuket exists as it is because of tourism and many of the tourists tramping the streets are looking for sex. There are few places in the world where a man of my age can walk into a bar and pick up an attractive young woman within 20 minutes. Beautiful women from all over Thailand, but especially from the north, flock to Phuket to take a piece of the tourist gelt. They come from regions mired in desperate poverty and they see Phuket as their financial salvation.

Others come also. Older and the 'not so pretty' women can work in the massage parlours or sell trinkets on the streets. Men become stall owners, tailors or taxi drivers. The competition for your attention is fierce. By the way, not all massage parlours are thinly disguised fronts for prostitution. Many provide simple, traditional, Thai massage. Stalls selling 'designer' branded goods are everywhere. Where else in the world could you buy a 'genuine Prada' bag for $20? Well, perhaps Hong Kong. And what is Phuket's obsession with selling suits? To thrive in this environment, or just to survive, the Thais have to be as cunning as a fox and as quick as a ferret as they fight for your attention and eye contact.

It was my observation that most of the Thais in Phuket make very little money. One day I had a relaxing one-hour foot massage. The treatment cost me 350 baht or the equivalent of $NZ14. I chatted with the delightful Thai girl as she expertly worked my feet and what she told me was revealing. Of the 350 baht, the girl kept 100 baht. The rest went to the shop owner. She said, on average, she had four customers a day. For 13 hour days, she was making 400 baht a day, the equivalent $NZ16.

The girls working the bar earn a lot more, but we are talking about relative economics. Most are willing to become your 'girlfriend' for the length of the holiday. In return, the man will buy the girl items as required throughout the duration of the contract. For the gentleman (for it is he) it is no more expensive than pandering to his wife's financial excess. The 'Holy Grail' for the girls is finding a Western husband. In an instant, the hard life melts away and they become financially content. As for real happiness- there can be no happiness with an empty belly.

If there is real money to be made, then it is to be made by the taxi and tuk-tuk drivers. Considering the price of other services in Phuket, the taxi tariff is relatively expensive. A short ride from the hotel to the main area is a consistent 200 baht ($8). For a five minute drive, the drivers are earning half the day wage for the average massage girl. I suspect the drivers are organised and managed as a cartel. They don't appear to compete between themselves. Also, I don't think you would be allowed to turn up one day and set up your own taxi service. I wager, that in this circumstance, you would quickly incur great wrath. The famous Thai smile would disappear with celerity or alacrity depending on lexicon. Everything is strictly regulated. The number of taxis is kept within bounds, they are protected and of course, regulated. Which begs the question: Who is doing the regulating? I'm speculating that someone, and someone close, is pulling the strings and making loads of money as a consequence. Isn't this just the way the world works for us all if we are lucky?

In the final analysis, would I go back? And the answer is yes. Phuket has so much more to offer than the sleazy, sex thing. Although, I do confess, on the next trip I will go alone and leave my wife fully immersed in day time tele and 'Hello Magazine'. Arse.

Mayhap I won't come back......... 

Tuk-tuk: The only way to travel, at a price

Ping Pong A-go-go and Snorkeling

No comment required

I managed to get myself sunburnt whilst snorkelling. Normally I wear factor 30 sunscreen, but on this occasion I didn't bother and suffered accordingly. I really should know better considering my fair complexion. I'm now the colour of a ripe tomato and my shoulders are afire and glistening with 'after sun' lotion. We had spent the day at Phi Phi Island, a mere 2 hour boat ride from the mainland. To call the island, 'A paradise', doesn't really do it justice. The boat stopped off at a cove which featured in the film, 'The Beach', starring Leo DeCaprio and the evocatively Elfin featured, Tilda Swinton. I snorkelled to the beach accompanied by shoals of gaily marked fish. Once ashore, several monkeys came down from the surrounding cliffs and regarded me with frank disdain. I tried to stay outside faeces throwing range but they were fast, cunning, and surprisingly accurate. Sadly Mrs FS had forgot to charge the batteries in her camera and therefore our memories will always remain in sepia and eventually fade away once our suitably primed brain cells are no more.......I've digressed.

On the night we sampled one of the ubiquitous 'Ladyboy Shows' which are thrust upon you as you weave through the hectic main thoroughfare, Bangla road. I'm not aware of the collective noun for 'Ladyboys', so I'll just call them a 'Bollock'. We entered a darkly lit bar which sported a small stage. Including our party of four, about 20 customers be-speckled (steady, flaxen) the bar area. Just to mention, before I receive moral censure: This was not one of the seedy shows which also abound in 'The Strip'. No nudity; no ballistic ping pong balls and no small rodents were harmed during the performance. You don't pay an entrance fee as such, but are obliged to purchase a drink at an inflated price. A beer costs 300 baht. This is about 4 times the cost of a beer in a standard (is there such a thing?) Bangla road bar and is equivalent to $NZ 13. The 'girls' were dressed up in Carmen Miranda-esque costumes and pranced and mimed about the stage to popular songs. The 'cabaret' was interspersed with comic dance routines performed by an overweight, middle-aged, Ladyboy. All very amateur but strangely entertaining and beguiling, nonetheless. At the end of the 30 minute show we got up to leave; too slow, sexy Western boy! Suddenly we were surrounded by a gaggle of Ladyboys (a bollock, perhaps?). It reminded me of when I was a lad at Skegness beach throwing chips to the gulls. I was that chip. This is where the 'girls' make their real money. A photo with miss 'Mimi' will cost a couple hundred baht. All escape routes are blocked and we were barraged by a cacophony of noise and movement. Some of the other punters knew what was coming and made a rapid exit. And they needed to be very quick as the performers were lightning fast and rapacious once the final note died away. Being of a naturally curious disposition I took the opportunity to observe the 'gulls', sorry 'girls'. Most you could tell were men, although I'm talking through a haze of hindsight. They all wore very heavy makeup to disguise any traces of masculinity. Two of the 'girls' were very convincing, indeed. But I wondered if this would be the case with a lighter application of foundation and lip rouge. Luckily, I will never know. Eventually, we fought our way out of the bar. The whole experience, for myself and Mrs FS, totalled about 13 hundred baht with the drinks and 'photo tax'. Sounds a lot, but works out at $NZ 25 a head. Not bad for an interesting and unique experience.

Although the 'ladies' were amateur performers there is no doubt they were professional hustlers. I have a certain sympathy and respect for these folk. It is not an easy life and the actual takings from the punters was not that great when you consider the number of 'girls' involved. Not a great deal of money to be made for their hard work. And at least, whilst fleecing us, they had the courtesy to smile.        

         

Not a girl in sight.......

Phuket

A view from the hotel

We arrived in Phuket at 1.00 am after the inevitable flight delay. Next morning we teamed up with our friends from Aussie- actually they are Scousers but I won't hold that against them. The first thing you notice is the heat. Thick, steamy, heat. Every effort outside an air conditioned cocoon elicits a deluge from the pores. Within minutes, I was a lathered mess. Of course, being an Englishman abroad I'd packed a suit and sensible shoes. These items are never destined to be removed from the case and I spend my time in light/tight shorts, sandals, a Tee shirt and a bow tie (not really).

Walking the streets of Phuket is a deranged assault on the senses. Every third shop is a massage parlour. Impossibly attractive young girls coo to you from the sidelines. And there be tailors. Indian tailors are everywhere. "Come inside Sir and I make you a wonderful suit for little monies." Taxi and Tuk-Tuk drivers are constantly asking if you would like a ride. Some find the continuous pestering annoying. Most, like myself, quickly adapt and see it as part of the local noise. At every other step I utter: "No thank-you" with a smile. The Thai people are genuinely warm and friendly and I really don't mind the hawkers. After all, they are only trying to make a living in a highly competitive environment and I can't condemn anyone for that. Remember, if they don't sell, they don't eat. There is no safety net here. 

On the second day, our respective wives went to the mall to shop. Mrs FS is a professional shopper of the highest order and is content to spend all day in the retail environment. It has got to the stage where I absolutely refuse to go shopping with her. She views shopping as recreation, whilst I consider the experience as a chore. And so, with my mate in tow, I decided to have a walk around the town.

The first thing to be noticed is that the 'massage ladies' become more strident and insistent. Without our wives, we are obviously viewed as 'easy fruit'. "Sexy boy come and have massage, after, I go with you". There is no doubt, I'm a fine looking specimen, for my age. But to think I'm a sexy man in the eyes of a young woman, is a stretch, way too far. We eventually squatted down at one of the many open-air bars. Our hosts were a couple of delightful young Thai women. As we were the only customers they sat opposite and engaged us in near perfect English. Would we like something to eat? Would we like a sexy lady? After they realised that we were genuinely just there for a cold beer they relaxed somewhat and became less predatory. We chatted and laughed with the girls and played a couple of bar games. An old Western man passed by, he was about 65, grey-haired and heavily paunched (is this a real word?). He had his arm around a stunning looking Thai girl who could have been no older than 21. As they passed, one of our genial hosts shouted to the girl, in English: "Wow, look, sexy man". We all laughed. But as the couple passed, the young Thai girl glanced back toward us. Her expression said it all: a mixture of frank despair and resignation. Sad, poignant and wretched in equal measure. I stopped laughing and exchanged a meaningful glance with my hostess- she was no longer laughing. Eventually, we decided it was time for a swim and left the girls to woo their next customer. "You come back later", they shouted as we left. "Of course", I said. It seems everyone becomes a liar in Phuket, eventually.

        

                                                                                                                                                                                 

Flaxen Saxon in Paradise

Tomorrow, I fly to the sun-kissed, monsoon bestrewn, shores of Thailand. I escape the ambient 6 degs C of Wellington to merge with the relative balmy 27 degs C of Phuket and environs. Although my resort spa has unlimited and free WiFi, I am under strict instructions, from Mrs FS, that this resource is to be used, sparingly. Actually she wants me to leave my laptop behind, but this is an injunction too far. I am sure I'll find time to write. I can't be out and about every night sampling the local fleshpots, not at my age. But I'll be buggered if I'm going to watch the tele. Television all over the world has become universally awful. Programming is filled with cheap and tacky reality shows which fill me with televisual dread and despair. On those occasions, I shall retreat to the quietude of the Hotel lounge and leave the missus to ingest the Thai equivalent of 'Rate my Big Fat Arse' (arse). Oh, deep joy.

The point I'm trying to make is that posting over the next two weeks may become erratic or none existence. Don't despair gentle readers! I shall return and regale you with exotic tales of an Englishman abroad.

Hopefully I won't have an invigorating experience with one of those 'testicularly endowed women' or get thrown into the 'Bangkok Hilton' for trying to smuggle out a kilo of Viagra sewn into the lining of my shell suit. Only time will tell. Dioclese has full admin rights to the blog and will keep you informed in the event of my demise or unforeseen circumstances of doom.

Mr Mu-Gumby will be accompanying me

Ancestor Paradox

'Tree of Doom' Steady Flaxen, this supposed to be a sensible post- arse

Most folk are interested in their antecedents and many have undertaken genealogical research. Are you related to the 17th century Earl of Wessex, or a sheep rustler hanged by the neck until dead? The simple answer is both.

Superficially, at least, how many ancestors you have appears an easy question to answer. Mathematically it represents a simple exponential progression. Thus, you have 2 parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great grandparents and 16 great, great, grandparents and so on..... After 30 generations, which would take us back to the middle of the 11th century, you would have a staggering 1.1 billion distinct ancestors alive in that generation! Just going back one more generation would generate 2.2 billion relatives. The  problem is that the world population of the time is estimated to be in the region of 250 million. Go back 50 generations and you have 1,126,588,362,522,624 ancestors. In this instance, the living ancestors are in the quadrillion- if you don’t believe me do the basic maths yourself.  So something must be seriously awry. But what could that be?

Inbreeding and Circumstance

Inbreeding is generally not practised in polite society. I use inbreeding in the sense of cousins marrying cousins of various relatedness (1st and 2nd etc). However, it is to be acknowledged that certain less

well- developed societies practise 1st cousin marriage as an act of virtue. In today's indigenous English population, 1st cousin marriage is rare, but in the past it was a relatively common. We take our mobility for granted. One hundred and fifty years ago people were more constrained geographically. Most folk walked everywhere and this would limit the individuals they interacted with and eventually married. The majority would find partners within just a few miles from where they were born. Under such circumstance, the chance of meeting a relative of some degree would be relatively high. The presence of 1st cousin marriage in a genealogy reduces the number of ancestors in comparison to the mathematical exponential maximum. If some of your ancestors indulged in first cousin marriage they would share common grandparents. If you don't believe me try drawing out the pedigree plot. I've illustrated an example below. 

Therefore, some of your ancestors are 'duplicates'. I'll consider an exceptional theoretical example and assume that all your ancestors married a 2nd cousin. Instead of having an exponential increase we actually start to see a regression in ancestral numbers. With each generation, we would see a reduction in ancestors by 1/8th. This reduction would accumulate as we progress through the generations until we come to the 30th generation in the 11th century. Here, instead of 1.1 billion mooching relatives, you would have a meagre 4.4 million ancestors alive at that time. This is not a realistic scenario, but I hope it illustrates how we can downplay and deviate from the ridiculously high theoretical maximum. However, even in this extreme example we haven't reduced the number of ancestors enough- 4.4 million people is still far too many. Other models have been proposed which also explain why are ancestral numbers are not impossibly large. They are often based on mathematical manipulations, which for obvious reasons, I will not consider. Professor Robin Fox, in his seminal tome, ‘The Tribal Imagination: Civilisation and the Savage Mind’, contends that about 80% of all marriages, in history, have been between 2nd cousins or closer. What I take this to mean is that not 80% of all matings were between 2nd second cousins but for all practical purposes, the additive ‘cousin’ effect was equivalent. I’m sure you will be able to discern the subtle distinction.

Another point I would like to make concerns population bottle necks and population catastrophe. In the past, there have been population disasters. The 'Black Death' in the Middle Ages is a notable example. During a relatively short period about a third of the population of Europe carked it. Therefore, the pool for breeding would have been significantly diminished. There is even evidence for catastrophic declines in population in pre-history. About 70,000 BC, the explosion of a super-volcano in Sumatra nearly caused humankind to become extinct. The best guess is that, after the event, there were only a few thousand individuals left and subsequent population recovery was very slow. This and other unknown events have taken their toll on our ancestors. 

I hope I’ve convinced you with my rather simple exposition that relentless doubling of your ancestors cannot occur due to ‘inbreeding’ and population 'bottle necks'. There are other factors in the mix but I’m disinclined to elaborate as further discussion becomes technical and burdensome (can't be arsed).

As an aside, I would like to consider the skewing of the data by a very prolific breeder. This concept only applies to men. Women are exempt for sound biological reasons because they are unable to have large numbers of offspring. But for men, the potential is limitless given unlimited access to females. Throughout history, there have been a few powerful men who have exercised this prerogative without restraint and consequently have sired large broods. For instance, Genghis Khan’s Y chromosome can be found in 1 in 200 men alive today. Not only did he have a lot of kids but his sons followed their father's ruthless proclivities.

It is often claimed that many Western Europeans are descended from the great Frankish king of the 8^th century, Charlemagne. But before being carried away with our new found regal status it is sobering to note that 99.99% (or greater) of our ancestors were undoubtedly of simple, poor, peasant stock. So if you are tempted to adopt airs and graces, you are well-advised to cast off pretensions and embrace a humble demeanour, as befits your lowly station.

Gone with the wind

It has just been announced that Tipton is to be eternally privileged to be the ensconced repository for the appropriately named: Tipton Town's Turbulent Tempestual (definately not a real word) Wind Farm. The turbines will be sequestered in Tipton's Tranquil Valley adjacent to Placid Nook. Commenting on the enterprise, The Mayor of Tipton, the esteemed 'Baby Doc' Vowel, stated that the placing of the turbines on his property was purely coincidental and in no way related to the government subsidy of £2,000,000 per year, that will undoubtedly ensue/accrue to the landlord.

Mr Vowel averred that at maximum output the 'Vowel Money Generating Turbines' will produce at least £10,000,000 over a period of 5 years. It is expected to contribute, not a jot/Watt, to Tipton's power generation. It is a proposition of pure serendipity that 'Mr Khan's Dead Wild Bird Sanctuary' is within striking distance of the 20 turbine complex.

The notorious loud whining which issues forth will come as no inconvenience to those who vote, as the turbines will be placed askew upon a building containing Tipton’s terminally befuddled, auditory unenhanced and disenfranchised, citizenry. Bugger nuts.

Pythagorus never ate beans

Mere words escape me when in the presence of a great man

Pythagoras was a very interesting individual. Most folk only know him through the famous theorem which bears his name. And what an elegant theorem it is, although there is a debate about whether he uncovered/discovered it himself. Anyway, no blog would be complete without citing the theorem at least once: 'Pythagoras theorem states that in any right angled triangle, the sum of the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides. Thus, if we are given the dimensions of any of the two sides of a right angled triangle we can calculate the length of the third side by applying this theorem.

What we know of this great man is through the work of others as he has left us no extant writings. He was born in Samos, Ionia, in 569BC. His father was a wealthy merchant and therefore Pythagoras received a liberal and extensive Greek education. He was a true seeker of knowledge, and in his younger years, travelled widely to be taught by the greatest minds of his time. At some time, he acquired a love for mathematics and mysticism. He should be commended for the first accomplishment and condemned for the second.

In about 518BC, he settled in southern Italy. At Croton he founded a scientific and religious school. His teachings were a curious mix of sound mathematics, science and weird, spiritual mumbo-jumbo (not Mugumbo- that would be just silly). He believed 'everything was number' and taught that at the most fundamental level, reality is mathematical in nature. He attracted acolytes who had to obey strict rules. They were not allowed possessions, practiced vegetarianism and eschewed beans. They were probably the only non-flatulent mathematicians in the entire history of the world.

The school practiced profound secrecy, on the pain of death, and therefore nothing is known of Pythagoras's actual work. However, there is no doubt that Pythagoras and his pupils made significant developments in mathematics. They were very much interested in abstract mathematical principles and not concerned about practical applications that might ensue. The 'Pythagoreans' were the first to note (pun intended), that vibrating Lyre strings produced harmonious tones when the ratios of the lengths of the strings are whole numbers. Of interest, the advances in mathematics were made in spite of not having a sophisticated notation for number. Modern numbers are wonderfully kind for those who dare to manipulate them. But how would a mathematician fare, for instance, if he had only access to the Roman numeral system. Try doing basic mathematics with IV and XII and you will quickly learn what an impediment this would be. The ancient Greek system was no better. Therefore, the Greek contribution to mathematics tended to be in the discipline of geometry. Geometric problems can easily be expressed in algebraic form, but the ancient Greeks would have none of it.

The discovery of irrational numbers is attributed to the Pythagoreans. According to history, (?legend) the Pythagorean philosopher, Hippasus of Metapontum, in the 5th century BC, discovered these 'naughty numbers'. Mathematics would never be the same and the Pythagoreans were deeply shocked and perturbed. It is recorded that for his contribution to knowledge, Happasus (for it is he) was drowned by his peers for impiety. So what do I mean by an irrational number and why did the ancients get so excited and upset? Consider the square root of 4. We come up with a nice sensible number of 2. Wonderful in its poetic symmetry (steady Flaxen). But what about the square root of 2? Here we enter the dark world of mathematics. A slight digression is required to inform those not versed in mathematical principles. A rational number is a number that can be written as a ratio. Thus the number on the top (numerator) and the number on the bottom (denominator) are whole numbers. Therefore 8/4 and 10/2 would constitute rational numbers. An irrational number has endless non-repeating numbers to the right of the decimal point.  Pi (22/7) and the square root of  2 are impressive exponents. Just as an aside and to fuck your mind up, there are an infinite number of irrational numbers between 0 and 1. Makes you think, dun it? Digression endeth.                          

Regardless, I can't see why a man should lose his life as a consequence. Surely a slight castigation and a light scourging would suffice. Seems the ancients were just as barbaric as us 'moderns'. Perhaps we should take some comfort in this.

So what can we say in conclusion of this most singular and fascinating, individual. Apart from not liking beans, he seems a man possessed of an astonishing versatile intellect and what little we know, he also appeared to have his modicum of human and intellectual frailties. The introduction of mysticism into science has no place unless you are a quantum theoretical physicist. In which case it is essential. How otherwise are they able to contemplate multiple dimensions and the mysteries of space and time.  

Mayhap posterity should be kind to Pythagoras. He lived in turbulent political times and intellectual discovery was in its infancy. Often great men are drawn to simple unifying concepts. Einstein spent most of his life trying to unify all the forces of nature but ultimately failed. Pythagoras set out to solve the world's conundrums based solely on number. We can scoff at his naivety. But it is due to advances in thought by the likes of Pythagoras that we are privileged to think this way. Modern man is indeed blessed if only we can bother to recognise it.