Phonsovan- Another American legacy

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I flew to Xieng Khuang Province from Wattay International Airport. “International” is stretching it a bit as the only regular flights to cross the Laos border are from Bangkok an hour away. The only aircraft on the airfield was our 50 seater turbo-prop, so no confusion, panic or lost luggage was experienced on this particular flight. Wattay must be the most relaxed and charming international airport in world. If Trumpton had an airport it would be just like this. On the way in it took me about thirty seconds to obtain a visa. I was heading for Phonsavan the main town in the province for two particular reasons. One, was that it was created from the secret carpet bombing of the Vietnam War, two, I wanted to witness for myself the atmospheric and mysterious Plain of Jars.

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Vientiane, jet-lag capital of the world

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The journey out was as knackering as anticipated. In recent years I've become more gregarious which is handy when you're travelling alone. In fact I think I'm becoming like those misfortunates who sit next to you on the bus and bellow in earshot of all the other passengers "I got 44 cats"..."I like you"...."Will you be my friend?" I tried to ingratiate myself into several conversations during the outward journey but as most travellers are usually half my age I think they assume (especially as I'm on the way to Bangkok) that I'm a dirty old man and they politely as possible shunned my pearls of wisdom, wit and repartee.

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Day one. In the doghouse

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I've experienced several travel expeditions to strange and wonderful places off the beaten track and I would guess that 80% of the time is hassle, stress, and physical hardship of some description. Fortunately the other 20% is so exquisitely uplifting and mindblowingly sublime it removes all the negative memories in an instant. That is except when I'm about to set out. These expeditions are planned and booked months in advance with nerve-tingling excitement but when the time actually arrives I'm only conscious of what can go wrong in just attempting to get to the starting destination and the physical and mental punishment I have to undergo. If it wasn't for the financial investment already incurred there is no way I would leave my comfortable sofa and five episodes of Corrie a week. It probably affects me more than most as my subconscious continually under-performs, is inefficient, and goes on wildcat strikes without warning. Finding my wallet in the fridge after attempting to pay a bill from the content of cheese sandwich located in my back pocket is good example.

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travelblog

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To those who have shown a modicum of interest in my blogs....yes both of you, I will be travelling to Laos, Burma, and Thailand over the next five and a half weeks. As I have the combined common sense and sense of self preservation of Mr. Bean and Frank Spencer it should not be without incident. I don't travel well and for me to get back in one piece with my failings would the equivilant of any of the achievements of Scott and Shackleton

reality of unpicking the fabric of society

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I firmly believe that we all need a bit of tat, kitsch, and trivia in our lives. Along with a bit of gossip, the more malicious the better, it’s the cement that gels the more important building bricks of our lives. However after returning to the UK after less than a year working abroad the ubiquitous and permeating affects of reality TV and “celebrity culture”, an oxymoron if ever there was one, has become an assault on the senses and I believe is damaging the fabric of British society. A spell away from these shores has lent me a degree of objectivity. I watched The Apprentice for the first time, the episode when the three remaining protagonists were interviewed by three of Sir Alan’s slick Human Resources people. The contestants were hilariously exposed as aggressive, back-stabbing, callous, and self deluded who could only express themselves using clichéd soundbites of mind numbing inanity in loud vacuous self promotion. They each came across as a lobotomised Gordon Gecko. Alan Sugar’s image has always resembled a sneering Dickensian bullet headed mill owner from Hard Times but was excellent in the self deprecating role of self parody. It was later I realised that he was playing it straight and is as deluded as those who aspire to his greatness. What was more unnerving was that they were feted by the media in general who responded in a positive way using descriptions such as feisty, hardworking, tough, resilient, ambitious, and achieving individuals with little of the above critique. What kind of role models are these and what kind of human traits and values are they lauding for consumption by the younger generation?

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