The Price of Travel
Before I started this trip, I'd always wanted to go round the world, to 'travel'. I'd missed my cue before and after university and I kept fantasising 'well perhaps I'll go next year, or the year after'... but I never did. Now I'm wondering if I actually want to, if in all consciousness it would still be possible for me. I think not at the moment. There are several reasons for my change of heart but the two clearest are the environment and the notion of 'travelling'.
I can't claim to be an expert, having never snorkelled over coral before, but here in Chaweng, the busiest beach on Koh Samui, what was perhaps once a living organism, full of fish and plant life is, now, as empty as the desert. I spotted the odd crab, one shoal of fish and some stray nemos bobbing up from the deep and dashing away as soon as they saw me but there was little for them to feast on. What's more the water, instead of the clear blue of, let's say, the Aegean, was as murky as an open-air swimming pool that has been full of children coated in suncream... And even though it strikes me as physically impossible to squeeze any more development onto this side of the island (though the west is still relatively untouched), the sound of hammers and drills can be heard from the sea and in between the taxis, songthaews and jeeps runs truck after truck full of girders, cement and rubble. Can islands sink?
It makes me question my own notions of what travel is. Koh Samui used to be a backpackers' paradise, apparently, and their interest in it sparked more mainstream tourism such that it is now more like the Costa del Sol than anywhere else I've been. As Alex Garland's The Beach pointed out, at least in the book form, the cost of finding the wilderness is its loss, since everyone else discovers it. The Rough Guide's approach is to suggest the next island up, since every backpacker wants to find the next Beach. Thus they all disappear. I live in one of the most developed countries in the world so I have no right to criticise the country that seeks to make something of the natural resources so loved by its visitors. But I feel uncomfortable about contributing to their destruction.
And what of those who 'travel'? I understand travel to fall into two main categories. Tourism is not, in my opinion, the same as 'travelling'. The first has very clear objectives for many: learning about, seeing and enjoying a new culture whilst hopefully having a break,usually for a shortish and fixed period of time. The second is more of a voyage, to more countries, for longer, to learn both about others and one's self. I am sure there are thousands, millions of people who go travelling and learn a great deal but I seem to have met several, only in passing I admit so they could be lovely people in other circumstances, who act as if the only consideration whilst travelling is how to squeeze the last penny out of the locals.
In a very very cheap Thai cafe where as far as I could tell the most expensive item was all of 200 TB, that's 2.60 or $5 or so, I watched a relatively well-dressed young English woman waving a Malaysian note in the faces of the staff, explaining very loudly that this was worth 100TB and could she therefore eat something? I don't know if she had simply failed to change any money, couldn't get any cash out of the thousands of ATMs or had run out, but as far as she was concerned she was entitled to food. The staff shook their heads. The young woman then obviously managed to find some money because she ordered the cheapest things on the menu, 10TB (13pence or 27 cents) worth of rice and a juice. At this point I could accept that she must have been stuck (even though I noticed her boyfriend/husband/friend, with whom she was at odds, crossing the road to a rather nice resort on the other side of the road) and it was good to see that she had got something to eat. I wondered if I should check that she was okay. But what happened next appalled me and quelled any desire to help. Once her rice arrived she stood up and asked for more: 'this isn't enough rice; give me some extra' she shouted, shoving her bowl in the chef's face. She wouldn't sit down until they complied. The staff wearily dished out another portion. And this in a country where the average daily wage is supposed to be 150TB. Or is that weekly?. She's not the only one: in an internet cafe (rate for 1 minute: 1TB) I watched an Australian woman argue that she hadn't been using it for 40 minutes, only 35 and in a songthaew, the cheapest form of transport on the island, for which it is advised to check the fare before getting in the back, a young man (who'd jumped on without checking) dismissed the driver's request for another 10TB and walked away with his cocomut. This isn't travelling; it's bullying. Or begging.
I want to see the world without taking from it. But I wonder, as Hurricane Rita approaches Texas and a typhoon hits Japan, as young Westerners travelling on a shoestring behave as if the locals are there to be exploited, if that is still possible.
I can't claim to be an expert, having never snorkelled over coral before, but here in Chaweng, the busiest beach on Koh Samui, what was perhaps once a living organism, full of fish and plant life is, now, as empty as the desert. I spotted the odd crab, one shoal of fish and some stray nemos bobbing up from the deep and dashing away as soon as they saw me but there was little for them to feast on. What's more the water, instead of the clear blue of, let's say, the Aegean, was as murky as an open-air swimming pool that has been full of children coated in suncream... And even though it strikes me as physically impossible to squeeze any more development onto this side of the island (though the west is still relatively untouched), the sound of hammers and drills can be heard from the sea and in between the taxis, songthaews and jeeps runs truck after truck full of girders, cement and rubble. Can islands sink?
It makes me question my own notions of what travel is. Koh Samui used to be a backpackers' paradise, apparently, and their interest in it sparked more mainstream tourism such that it is now more like the Costa del Sol than anywhere else I've been. As Alex Garland's The Beach pointed out, at least in the book form, the cost of finding the wilderness is its loss, since everyone else discovers it. The Rough Guide's approach is to suggest the next island up, since every backpacker wants to find the next Beach. Thus they all disappear. I live in one of the most developed countries in the world so I have no right to criticise the country that seeks to make something of the natural resources so loved by its visitors. But I feel uncomfortable about contributing to their destruction.
And what of those who 'travel'? I understand travel to fall into two main categories. Tourism is not, in my opinion, the same as 'travelling'. The first has very clear objectives for many: learning about, seeing and enjoying a new culture whilst hopefully having a break,usually for a shortish and fixed period of time. The second is more of a voyage, to more countries, for longer, to learn both about others and one's self. I am sure there are thousands, millions of people who go travelling and learn a great deal but I seem to have met several, only in passing I admit so they could be lovely people in other circumstances, who act as if the only consideration whilst travelling is how to squeeze the last penny out of the locals.
In a very very cheap Thai cafe where as far as I could tell the most expensive item was all of 200 TB, that's 2.60 or $5 or so, I watched a relatively well-dressed young English woman waving a Malaysian note in the faces of the staff, explaining very loudly that this was worth 100TB and could she therefore eat something? I don't know if she had simply failed to change any money, couldn't get any cash out of the thousands of ATMs or had run out, but as far as she was concerned she was entitled to food. The staff shook their heads. The young woman then obviously managed to find some money because she ordered the cheapest things on the menu, 10TB (13pence or 27 cents) worth of rice and a juice. At this point I could accept that she must have been stuck (even though I noticed her boyfriend/husband/friend, with whom she was at odds, crossing the road to a rather nice resort on the other side of the road) and it was good to see that she had got something to eat. I wondered if I should check that she was okay. But what happened next appalled me and quelled any desire to help. Once her rice arrived she stood up and asked for more: 'this isn't enough rice; give me some extra' she shouted, shoving her bowl in the chef's face. She wouldn't sit down until they complied. The staff wearily dished out another portion. And this in a country where the average daily wage is supposed to be 150TB. Or is that weekly?. She's not the only one: in an internet cafe (rate for 1 minute: 1TB) I watched an Australian woman argue that she hadn't been using it for 40 minutes, only 35 and in a songthaew, the cheapest form of transport on the island, for which it is advised to check the fare before getting in the back, a young man (who'd jumped on without checking) dismissed the driver's request for another 10TB and walked away with his cocomut. This isn't travelling; it's bullying. Or begging.
I want to see the world without taking from it. But I wonder, as Hurricane Rita approaches Texas and a typhoon hits Japan, as young Westerners travelling on a shoestring behave as if the locals are there to be exploited, if that is still possible.
posted by Louise at 9:22 PM
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