Having failed to persuade more friends to motorcycle with me through Spain and France, I was about to give up all hope when solid biker stalwart Frank Teeuven, agreed to join me on the trip - much to my relief. Frank suggested that we rent our bikes in Spain where the rental bikes were more to our liking, and besides, the Basque Pyrenees are one of the motorcycle meccas of the world.

Consider the Tour de France bicycle race, which encompasses sections of the Pyrenees, how every year, cameramen, safely mounted on the latest and most powerful motorcycles, struggle to keep up with the top riders of the Tour de France in the descents, so we thought it might be a nice place to explore the motorcycle challenge. (Bike, Britain’s best-selling motorcycle magazine, had a recent article pitting an 170hp Yamaha R1 against a veteran bicyclist over a 14km stretch, and the motorcyclist just managed a 27second pip over the finish line).

As I’m already in poor shape, being of a certain age with a dodgy back, the choice of vehicle was never questioned. The 800cc BMW bikes we rented were perfect for the task.

The Pyrenees are indeed a motorcycle mecca, with kilometers and kilometers of alpine roads, and in addition to the beauty of our environs, unforgiving hair-raising paths with 1000m drops and twisty asphalt strips to separate the men from the boys.

In this instance, I soon learned that although I have 15 years experience over Frank, he left me standing like a jilted bride within a few harrowing bends, speeding out of sight, and invariable waiting for me at the next intersection. It was a relief he is not a smoker, as I could visualize him stubbing out the remnants of his cigarette on my leather jacket as I approached, a bored James Dean expression across his brow.

Actually, were it anyone else, they would be checking the map. But not our man, Frank. You wouldn’t know it from talking to him, but our Frank has a savant-like ability with paths and place names. Over breakfast, as we casually laid out our path on the hard copy 1:850,000 Michelin map, we would not consult it again till the following morning. I say “we” but once it became clear that the GPS I paid for mislead us more than helped in the minor country paths, Frank took over all route duties.

It was just as well; as a map maker, I should not get lost, but I always do, having a memory for names like a Thai dam holds back flood waters. It doesn’t help that I don’t speak French and the last Spanish class I took was when puberty hit (and if you remember what that was like, you know my mind was not on conjugating the various words necessary to get directions or order Tapas).

Indeed ‘love of food’ is one the of the reasons I returned to Thailand, so it was with some disappointment to find that they don’t serve food in France at 2:15 (”pardon monsieur, sil vous plait… ” [said pointing at his watch with the contempt only a Frenchman with lots of bile in a throat clearing exercise can muster].)

On the Spanish side of the Basque region, it was no better, with bite-sized Tapas served at all hours but completely inedible after 3pm when they turn dryer than British humor on BBC, and not substantial enough to stave hunger till restaurants begin seating at 9pm. Ooh, where is a good som-tam gaiyang stand when you need one!?

In addition to some of the culinary challenges (sea urchin anyone?), one mountain, the Col d’Aubisque, which we also ‘cycled’ to the 2012m summit, revealed its weather challenges, as we experienced frozen fingers and dense fog in the 1.5C September ‘late summer’ weather on the path to the summit.

Packing for a motorcycle adventure is easy. Helmet, jacket, gloves, a pair of jeans, a few underwear and socks. The boots can usually double as shoes, but if you plan on walking at all, another pair of shoes is ideal.

That said, visualizing cold in an air-con Bangkok room is not an easy task, when even a long sleeve shirt feels warm. As it was, no, my seven kilo leather jacket with its thick 1.4mm cowhide is an anacronysm in the age of lightweight fabrics and thermodynamic layers which are waterproof, breathable, and lightweight. Yeah, but with a tip to vanity, Frank looked like a blue blob while I looked, well, cool…

Of course, I did forget that the lowest forecast of 12C temperature did not mean it couldn’t go lower, and that 12C is the predicted temperature at rest, not powering along at 100km/hour. As it was, my luxury warm gloves with Thinsulate were as protective as wearing a 7-Eleven bag in a bucket of ice water, and the first outing saw rain fall all day with temperatures in the low tens.

Nice.

Frank faired little better, and we both toasted the inventor of heated grips that night, as while my hands remained soaked in soggy leather, at least they went from cold to pleasantly toasted.

The other nice attribute about my ‘retro’ leather jacket, was when we went out on the town in Pamplona: I could wear my jacket and look good, while Frank was stuck in his mother’s knitted angora (could his choice of fashion by why Frank remains single?).

Actually to be fair, I have already purchased a new tech jacket which inflates like the Michelin Man within 0.5 of a second in the event an accident, but having worn this particular leather jacket across America, Cambodia, and the grasslands of Inner Mongolia, I can’t just discard her now, can I?

We had seven full driving days, starting from Madrid, taking in the Atlantic coast towns of Bilbao, San Sabastian, Biarritz, and some mountain destinations like Lourdes and the Col d’Aubisque.

Each town was picturesque in its own, charming, historic, worthy of postcard shots and souvenir buying, but there seemed to be fewer and fewer people on the streets and boulevards… Maybe its because I’m from Bangkok where I’m used to seeing every side street bursting with stalls and vendors and most Asian cities are notoriously over-populated…

The Guggenheim Bilbao was also a stop on our whirlwind tour that deserved a respectful afternoon of wandering, even for a philistine like me.

But where are all the tacky knock-off souvenir vendors selling cheap Chinese-made plastic doodad replicas of the Bilbao right outside the entrance? I guess this isn’t Bangkok…

We even fitted in Pamplona, where we shared a suite at some famous grande hotel, enjoyed their boxed breakfast (€22), and overnighted at an amazing Francisian monestery occupied for 800 years, before enjoying a last night in 1,000 year old Madrid, where a few more days would not be out of place to discover the gospel of siestas and intimate city squares.

After a week like that, it’s just a matter of time and money before I plan my next motorcycle adventure, for as they say, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

]]> http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?feed=rss2&p=114 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=112 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=112#comments Tue, 26 Apr 2011 10:41:59 +0000 admin http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=112

Ho Chi Minh City is a bustling urban sprawl of a million zippy little people toodling about on a million zippy little motorbikes, all going god only knows where in a damn hurry.

The constant revving of Honda engines, the drone of scooters, and the incessant honking and beeping at first puts a mild to moderate strain on your nerves before building momentum over the course of a few hours to thrum like a buzzing hive of bees inside your sore cranium.

A superb headache ensues, followed by a dulled pain that gradually tampers down as your ear drums become desensitized.

Interestingly, like commercial pop radio, the hideous sounds of biker beeping eventually subsides into a kind of white noise; urban muzak, if you will.

Horns are used here (as in India) to indicate pretty much every possible manner of vehicular interaction from the aggressive “Get out of my way!” to the last-minute “Look out I’m ramming up your back side!” to the more mundane “Hey, I’m gonna turn left, like, right now!”

They are also pressed and caressed into bleeping squeals in order to indicate “That’s my parking space” or “Fuck off! That was my parking space!”

Walking down the high end streets of Dong Khoi lined with silk boutiques selling rampantly overpriced robes and other embroidered whimsies fit only for the pale paws of unenlightened tourists, one can hear the scooters buzzing and feel safely cocooned from the almost frantic activity taking place all around.

The spirit of Doi Moi (a socialist-oriented market economy) works like a gentle massage as long as you’re within the circle of wealth that hoops around the Opera House and a few streets beyond.

Here is Gucci. There is Vuitton. Hmmmm….. Is this … Vietnam?

Fear not, you are indeed. For lining all of the avenues and running way down Le Loi, the national flag flies, adding crimson banners that look rather jaunty and cheery.

As Cartier’s red windows frame glittery diamonds, brilliantly winking in the mid-day sun and retro-looking propaganda posters provide splashes of color along the boulevards, camera-wielding amateur photo-journalists and eager tweeters can find plenty of shots worthy of a Facebook upload.

Look at the juxtaposition of that red commie flag and the Cartier door!

The new Marxism.

Then, backing out of the inner sanctum of the hotly trod upon tourist trail, venturing beyond the triangle of the Opera House (no opera tonight), the echoing cathedral (we welcome Catholics), the water puppet theatre (a touristic connivance), the backpacker denizens of Bui Vien (Cheap beer!), you can run into, and be deftly run into by, the real Doi Moi hoi polloi of this here city.

Trek down to the hawking, spitting, yelling, cursing, smelling, stink of the Bin Tay market in Cholon, the city’s Chinatown. Here you’ll see some hard core commercialism taking place.

No shiny, glossy, air conditioned, luxury goods genteelism and flirty smiles to provide a fine cover of finesse for what’s really going on. Instead, it’s all in your face pushing, shoving, sullen vendors, thousands of people hawking millions of products (’Made in China’), all struggling and climbing and breaking each others backs to get to the top of the human food chain.

Forget the robotic mouth smiles and the half-hearted sales chit chat. Here its just three things, and they’re all BUSINESS.

Men push carts overloaded with Melamine-laced dried food in boxes straight off the boat from charming Guang Dong; tons of flip flops, plastic helmets for bucket heads, tired looking hair weaves, coffee beans shat right out from the straining buttocks of a small weasel (I kid you not), boxes and boxes of every other item imaginable, from polyester face masks to neon latex bras.

It is here that you’ll see the so-called real city and it is here that you’ll find the nameless (unsmiling) folks whose urgent activities create the majority of the ceaseless noises reverberating all day and night.

No fancy scooters or hoity toity Finos for these guys. It’s all dusty workhorse bikes and ugly vehicles that’ll carry forty boxes of plastic door knobs and machinery tools for delivery and sale.

These people are driven.

This is a small country with a population that works damn hard. No slackers hanging out in malls here. No disaffected youths cooking up meth for extra cash or selling their panties to old men for a new handbag.

Even on a Sunday morning at 6am the parks are full of kids in scout uniforms doing jumping jacks and lunges. Benches are set upon by young mothers knitting up a frenzy. Yes, even their knitting looks suspiciously like a work-project.

Ever wondered how the Vietnamese won several big ass battles and eventually won two major wars against first the French and then the United States (and their coalition groupies) ?

They were wearing sandals and straw hats and more than a few of them were young women.

Their weapons were decades old and ammunition had to be smuggled in.

Their guerilla tactics included living and hiding in claustrophobic underground tunnels that stretched for more than 200km.

So. How did they do it? How do they do it?

Even after a sobering visit to the slightly disorganized War Remnants Museum, which tourists tick off their to-do lists before making haste to the must-see Cu Chi tunnels, even after shedding a tear or two looking at evil pictures of dead kids and decimated countryside, even after getting pissed off at the waste, the brutality, the ignorance of war, even after shuddering your way through the agent orange exhibit and feeling foul about mankind in general and Americans in particular, even then….

It’s not until you’ve wandered the streets of old Ho Chi Minh and catch tired laborers catching their much-needed shut eye while still attached to their modes of transport;

Or until you’ve found beauty and humor in the sight of a pedestrian wearing a brightly patterned crica 1970s (early) polyester pant suit paired with a straw coolie hat;

Or until you’ve discovered the oddity of the bastardized French baguette now spread with chilis and duck pate;

Or until you’ve sat through a two hour circus performance agape among the locals as contortionists defy the laws of human physiology;

Indeed it’s not until you’ve set foot into the anthill of the real city, where the teeming masses rev their engines and pour forth into a relentless drive to do better, be better, get things made, get things done, moving onwards and upwards, it is then that you really get to see and admire the fortitude, the  forthright ambition, the go-to energy and the verve.

In short, these people are on the move.

[photos: Aaron Frankel]

]]> http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?feed=rss2&p=108 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=107 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=107#comments Mon, 13 Dec 2010 03:07:27 +0000 admin http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=107

The post below is from Father Joe Maier who founded and runs the Mercy Centre in Klongtoey (orphanage and care centre for slum kids aka Human Development Foundation).

It’s an interesting perspective on the effects of the “troubles” of the last few months. It shows Community in action, not only those on rich Silom but poor Klong Toey.

May 27, 2010

Dear Everyone

Once again from Bangkok, “after the present troubles”

All is quiet.  The curfew is slowly going away.  I believe Saturday p.m. will be the final night.  Today, Thursday, as I write this, curfew is from Midnight till Four a.m.  The first night, five folks tried to torch different parts of our Klong Toey Slum. One by dropping burning material from the express way above the slum.  All were doused in minutes. Two of the arsonists were 14 year old kids who had been given a handful of money to throw a petrol bottle bomb anywhere they could, to burn the slum, and if they succeeded, they would get more cash.

The total slum mobilized and kept watch against strangers, and even their own. First time in my 40 years here I have seen total unity:  No one - absolutely no one will burn - will torch - our slum. And that is the way it was and is. Our kids kept watch also, boys patrolling the street with a couple of slum street motorcycle gangs and the girls up the roof, keeping watch. We don’t have enemies, but our buildings are large, and look flammable, (which they ain’t) but you can do a lot of damage with a petrol bottle bomb!

The loss to this beloved land is beyond counting. For most, all started rather jovial - everyone getting a daily stipend of anywhere from a thousand Baht for people on foot, &  three - four thousand Baht for motorcycles for joining the rallies. A thousand Baht is 4 - 5 days wages for unskilled labor here in the Slums and a bit more in the Provinces. But then if you joined the protesters, they took your photo, registered you. That was when it began to unravel.

Then, it all blew up. Huge buildings, banks, shops, homes got torched. Hospitals evacuated.  The Police were passive, allowing everything to happen,  Maybe that’s what they were told to do.  I shall not comment on that. I think everyone was ”like slapped senseless” by the reality.

What now?

Life goes on.  We pick up the pieces. We are most uncertain of a calm tomorrow.  We here in the slums, strongly feel this is just the beginning.

The poverty level here in Klong Toey has  jumped higher. The Port closed for a while. The bars closed, &  many of the night time working moms of our kindergarten kids had no work - no customers. Street kids went hungry.  Most of the slum had and still has no work - no wages. And the long term suffering is just now beginning.  More and more people come to us daily for help, to begin their lives again.

Had the Protesters won the day, we would now be under dictatorship with lots of folks disappearing.  The Law of the Gun.  I am reminded of the lyrics of “Keeper of the Song.  Those in power write the history, those who suffer write the songs. Meanwhile  Now, children are beginning the new school year -But the corruption goes on, the ‘carpet baggers’ go on.

We, and that means almost everyone in Thailand,  fear that any new radical government certainly would not be interested in the cost, time and effort necessary to bring about  the radical economic changes urgently needed for  better equality.

As for us and our children, our family at Mercy Centre, thank you for your prayers and concern. Many of you asked how you could help us.  I hope that I do not have to put out another letter, urgently asking, begging for your assistance.  Right now, today, we are fine, unscathed physically, but emotionally pretty beat up. Some of our neighbors died, both protesters and those in uniform. Death is death.

Perhaps to finish this:  One of our six year olds, recently come to us from the streets, proudly announced to me this morning, that … me…fr joe…. ain’t a liar !!!  He now believes that his front teeth are growing in cuz he can kind of feel the new ones coming down.  But now, he wants to know how the big teeth got there in the first place.

Perhaps you can answer that.

All for now.  Prayers

Father Joe & Ms Usanee our Exec. Dir. and all of our children and staff.

The Brooklyn Dodger (working and living on Silom Rd., here’s my update on the latest goings on downtown)

May 23, 2010: Miracle on Silom

At 7 am I went to ITF Tower and saw all the soldiers packing up. They waied me and I waied back. By 8:30 am they were all gone from ITF.

At about 10 am I walked up Silom to take the Skytrain to survey the situation from above and to go to JJ market.

The miracle I saw and was unprepared for were hundreds of volunteer workers, young and old locals, cleaning up. Not merely collecting garbage which had been done by the Bangkok administration but washing down bus stops and other utilities.

These were not paid red shirt mercenaries but normal Thais. There was one Thai reporter taking photos. No CNN.

Marching up the street were the last of the Silom soldiers. They were bedecked with flowers. I waied them and they waied back. I also shook their hands.

In front of CP Tower there were soldiers and locals doing a photo shot.

We then took the Skytrain and noticed a fair like gathering of cleaners mobilizing to clean up Rajadamri.

Along the route we noticed that there was still mounds of filth left by you-know-who.

Along Ploenchit we noticed more volunteers cleaning.

The area in front of the World Trade Center was still a disaster area with loads of garbage but also fire engines.

Siam Theater was burned down to nothing.

All in all , some 4,000 volunteers joined together in a bid to wash away some of the ravages of recent weeks on Bangkok.

I can say that I am proud to be one of the locals of Silom referred to above.

Reungvit Nandhabiwat is the owner of a business in Bangkok.

This is going to be a long note, but I want my overseas friends to understand what has been happening here in Thailand.

I would like to present a case against the international media’s reporting on the situation in Thailand, particularly Bangkok.

Most of you will likely will be seeing only scenes of soldiers shooting or injured people being carried away on international TV channels for 30 seconds, but never get to know the background.

What if these protesters were in New York, Singapore, Tokyo or London?

The truth is, the Thai government has been too accommodating by withholding the use of force since the rally started two months ago (with the exception of the April 10 event, when the soldiers were ordered to move in without live ammunition and subsequently got slaughtered by unknown gunmen shooting from among the red shirt protesters).

The majority of us support the government in dealing with the terrorists hidden amongst the protesters. It held talks with the rally leaders and offered peace solutions to them 10 days ago.

The prime minister publicly urged the protesters to disperse for fear of violence created by the terrorists. But the plan wasn’t accepted.

So, it came time to block food and water supplies from entering the centre of the protest.

If the demonstrators were peaceful, they wouldn’t rush out to throw rocks, firecrackers and even bombs at the soldiers’ barricades — thus causing the soldiers to defend themselves by firing rubber bullets and live rounds.

It has been very frustrating for the law abiding citizens of Bangkok — we even voiced our dissatisfaction at the government for its failure to uphold the laws.

The situation was like Bangkok was being held for ransom. A lot of businesses got affected because it’s happening right in the middle of the major commercial area.

Again, think what your government would do if there were a large group of protesters blocking all traffic at Orchard Road in Singapore; Times Square in New York City; Ginza in Tokyo; or Knightsbridge in London. For two months.

They set up barricades to search through personal belongings of everyone travelling through the area.

Also think what your government would do if those protesters invaded a nearby hospital, causing doctors and nurses to evacuate patients — some of whom were newborn babies in incubators and those in ICU—to other hospitals.

And most important of all, think what would your government do if the protesters were found to have a large stockpile of M79 grenades, M16 and AK47 assault rifles.

Do you think your government would be as tolerant as the Thai government has till now been?

AND NOW LOOK:

]]> http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?feed=rss2&p=104 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=103 http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=103#comments Fri, 07 May 2010 11:20:54 +0000 admin http://www.groovymap.com/blog/?p=103