abode acrobat . net

I arrived in Hong Kong, settled into a cheap hotel, then went out to meet a friend, Oliver, who is working for Deloitte on secondment out here. We met up for what he billed as an “orientation briefing”, but which, to an onlooker, would have been described as a veritable piss-up. Either way, it was good to have someone to show me around.

Now it is an unfortunate and recurring theme on these pages that finding a good internet connection is no easy task, especially if you’re unwilling to pay for it, and no doubt I raved to Oliver about how my small and cheap hotel supposedly provided a wireless service. So,imagine my disappointment when I discovered that indeed I could detect their network, but - and I’ll avoid the technical details - it was in the unfortunate state where I couldn’t get on to the internet; most probably restarting the hotel’s modem would have fixed the problem. I reported the situation to the owner and asked if he could restart it for me - you know, switch it off then on again. He replied with some kind of unintelligible joke but I was hopeful that he’d get round to it at some point. A couple of requests later and it became apparent that he was unwilling to help. He said the modem was locked in his office, and he gave some - again unintelligible - reason why he was seriously unable to restart it for me. Short of breaking into his office, or hoping for a power outage, it looked like I wasn’t going to get the thing working, then.

When I was in Phuket with my cousin last week, we had some reason to recall a story from a family holiday in Spain where my grandparents had a house. Up until a certain point, we were known to frequent a seafood restaurant, a little further south along the Costa Blanca. On the occasion in question, let’s say I was ten years old, and unable to judge these things in advance at that age, I needed to use the lavatory during the starter course. Struggling to locate the light switch, I saw a large lever on the wall outside, but thought that such a big fixture couldn’t possibly be the toilet light switch. Eventually, I found the correct switch on the inside and went in. Beginning my return to the table, I suddenly wondered what the larger switch would have done, so duly went back to it and pulled it downwards. The whole restaurant was plunged into darkness, the ovens turned off, and general chaos broke out amongst staff members. Oh, how we laughed at how I ruined all the food! Oh, how we never went back there…

Anyway, it has occurred to me (and, no doubt, to the astute reader also) that a similar accident here might resolve my internet problem; at the moment I am paying extortionate rates for the privilege of typing these words. I have located a candidate for a switch that could possibly control the power for the entire building - the entire fifteen story building, no less. It is in a corridor guarded by CCTV, but I think I can overcome that and other operational hazards. All I need to know from any electrically-enlightened readers is the following:

• If refrigerators turn off will it ruin the food?
• Will it set off the fire alarms interminably?
• If power is cut to the lifts, will they plunge in darkness to the ground?
• Will people die?
• And most importantly, will it fix my internet?

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Leaving Bangkok with a hangover for the sixth time (indeed, for the sixth time in any medical state), I was quietly excited about arriving in a new city, Singapore. As a holiday-maker in Thailand, it is all too easy to become perpetually incapacitied through drink, and consumed by other high jinks, so I was looking forward to opening a brand new guidebook and having a proper look around…

The Singapore I could see was impressive - a bit like Canary Wharf but done well. With no natural resources, and not so long ago being just another smelly Asian city, Singapore demonstrates what can be achieved through good governance alone. Next time a third world country begs you for money, just tell them to pull their socks up.

The cleanliness and order maintained in most of the city is a result of strict law enforcement, often imposing heavy fines on anyone breaking ’school rule’ level regulations. One companion thought a £500 fine for cycling through a pedestrian underpass was a bit steep. A keen disciplinarian, I see it as a £0 fine provided you simply don’t cycle dangerously. Still, with some arbitrary laws it would be a bit of a minefield. If it was illegal here to be called Dan, say, I’d have been caught red-handed.

I’m going to Hong Kong next where my solution will be to refuse to pass customs until they’ve let me study the local equivalent of Hansard.

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Before leaving for Thailand, my dear cousin Rachel announced that during my time here she would be arriving in Phuket (after a couple of days in Bangkok) on a crazy holiday with her friend. Accommodating as I am, I tweaked my itinerary slightly in order to ruin her holiday for a few days. So, I arrived in the same Phuket resort unannounced and found my way to a separate guesthouse run by Larry the Australian. According to the literature he runs a boutique establishment with only four rooms (get an extension mate) and, as I discovered upon arrival, “keeps things informal”. The quotation (which we shall label 1 for future reference) in the previous sentence was indeed attributed to Larry, but was delivered some time after my arrival; in fact on arrival the place was completely empty, but with initiative I managed to locate an empty room and match it to one of the keys he had left on the counter downstairs.

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This scenic island is an increasingly popular spot for the young crowd - indeed many young westerners seem to be manning the diving shops and other amenities, probably in conflict with visa regulations. Actually, a lot of them are leftover volunteers who helped clean up after the island was destroyed by the 2004 tsunami. In happier times, the island’s smaller sibling was the location used to film “The Beach”, and a snorkelling trip took us to see this up-close. Needless to say it’s not quite as good as in the film where clever camerawork hid the tour boats. Although, I think they all die in the end when their ocean liner sinks, so perhaps I shouldn’t complain.

Incidentally, I have discovered a new form of entertainment in the DVDs available for £1, potentially adding an annualised £365 to the travel bill.

Also, I accidentally managed to offend yet another American, ironically [English usage] by remarking how refreshing it was that - unlike previous encounters with Americans - I hadn’t managed to accidentally offend him yet. Could somebody please check with the Foreign Office that I’m on-message? With me loose in the outside world, Gordon can be free to spend his time worrying about things like car bombs and how to smile convincingly.

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In Krabi, the main town serving as a transport hub to nearby west coast islands, a guest house was advertised as providing free wireless internet access. On arrival, before asking for details about the room, I checked that they did indeed provide this service. “Yes, but you’ll need the password. It’s ten digits long.” The American owner waited for me to grab a pen to write it down. “The password is 1234567890,” he grinned knowing that I could probably have remembered it. And then helpfully: “I just go like this,” running his hand across the top row of his keyboard - although of course not actually touching the keys for fear of upsetting the booking system.

So, I spent the morning on the internet - long enough, anyway, for the American to compliment me on my battery life. I believe the word “phenomenal” was used. (Apologies to those I failed to email - it was an unfortunate oversight.) Anyway, the Israeli girls had emailed to say they were on another nearby island (actually, peninsular, but which can only really be reached by boat), called Railay.I was warned that the journey was perilous in the small ‘longtail’ boats that serve the beach there, involving severe danger of wetness as you wade from the beach aiming for the boat which will be moored a little way out. Accordingly, I kept the room on the mainland so I could leave electrical items there, while heading to Railay for a couple of nights. Naturally, I wanted this decision to be vindicated, and secretly hoped to emerge in Railay with the small amount of luggage I had brought being completely sodden. The seas were rough, and the boat came crashing down over each wave, but ultimately the drenching I had been promised failed to materialise.

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The guide book warned that noisy crab-eating macaques are a hazard on this island. Arriving after a long bus journey, I was relieved to see there were no monkey-like figures to be seen - although no crabs either, so the monkeys must have been there recently. However, there were also no humans.

As one of approximately five foreigners on the island, I was fortunate that two Israelis were out-going enough to let me join their holiday, even dropping their Hebrew in favour of English for discussions between the two of them (apart from on one occasion, where one asked the other where they had left the plug-adapter - in English, but the ensuing details of its exact whereabouts were deemed uninteresting to a third party).

The two of them hired a moped and set about rounding up all other survivors who had washed up on the island’s shores, bringing them to our resort (for those unwilling to grant poetic license, please note there was no actual plane crash or shipwreck). Soon enough, we had a lively little crowd, and enjoyed our time on the island immensely. However, I could not find wireless internet access, so in the fullness of time I had to move on.

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