Sitting on the plane as it was approaching Suvarnabhumi Airport earlier this week, I was flipping through my passport and thinking how dreadfully boring it was. Page upon page of dull departure and arrival stamps from Thailand and neighbouring countries and not an awful lot else. And most of them are in that drab faded purple tincture so beloved of rubber stampers around the world. It would be nice if they sparked memories of exciting trips but they invariably are reminders of long immigration queues. The only item of interest was a breezy-looking Lao visa from a couple of years back which includes a nice shiny silver emblem, which at least brightens up the passport a bit.
The previous passport, now expired, was equally uninspiring, broken up only by a couple of full page orange and yellow Australian visas, a reminder of a couple of entertaining trips Down Under a decade ago - I'll save the Norman the Sheep story for another time.
This is I fear, a reflection of Crutch's lack of adventure in recent times. Years ago I loved travelling by plane and even enjoyed the airports. Now, the very thought of having to suffer the airport hassle is enough to make me want to curl up at home. Standing at Heathrow looking ridiculous in my socks a few weeks ago while somebody inspected my shoes and examined some highly suspicious Shower to Shower talcum powder in my hand baggage made me wonder if it was all worth it.
The virgin passport
I can still remember the excitement of the first stamp in the original passport back in the mid 1960s.
Returning home after two weeks getting sunburnt in Ibiza with my schoolmates, there were a couple of "Espana " stamps which I proudly showed all the family. I was an INTERNATIONAL TRAVELLER and had even learned a couple of words of Spanish. The next year it was "Italia" and before long Europe was conquered. That first passport also went on to contain quite a few distinctive immigration stamps and visas, as would befit an overland journey from England to India. The standout item was the Afghanistan visa, which in 1969 covered a couple of pages with all sorts of exotic excise stamps stuck on it. You really felt you were going somewhere different - which in the case of Afghanistan in 1969 certainly proved to be the case.
Of course the passport mugshot has changed over the years, too - not for the better. That fresh-faced young lad of the 1960s has been replaced by a weary-looking, wrinkly relic in his 60s who wishes he was in his 20s and that it still was the 1960s.
Border talks
One of the more colourful visas in the old days was that issued by Cambodia. In 1970, I travelled there with colleague Tony Waltham shortly after Sihanouk had been ousted by Lon Nol. We crossed the border by walking across the bridge at Aranyaprathet to Poipet. At that time hardly any foreigners aside from Thais had used that border crossing as it had only just reopened and passports were something of a novelty.
The Cambodian immigration official was a friendly young fellow who seemed quite pleased at dealing with a couple of farang. He scrutinised Tony's British passport, nodding knowingly as he flicked through the pages. This would have been a bit more impressive had he not been holding the passport upside down. Then he eventually gave it back to Tony and said with a smile "You American?"
Identity crisis
Early in 2001, after the plane that was due to fly Mr Thaksin blew up at Don Mueang airport - faulty air-conditioning was the official verdict - it raised a number of security issues. Certain people had been travelling on domestic flights under assumed names, and so it was decided to introduce strict "security measures" to ensure they knew who exactly was on board any domestic flight. A few weeks later a British friend experienced these measures at first hand.
He bought a ticket to Bangkok at a provincial THAI office in the Northeast and was asked to hand over his passport. They duly inspected the document and gave him a ticket. He was amused to see the ticket had been made out to "British Citizen, Mr". He later went to the airport and got his boarding pass with the same name "British Citizen, Mr". When entering the departure lounge he was asked for his passport, which was duly looked at but no query was raised. He went on to enjoy a smooth as silk flight to Bangkok as "British Citizen, Mr".
Fair dinkum
You certainly don't need a passport to get to the Ploenchit Fair next Saturday, down by the riverside at Shrewsbury International School. The new location earned rave reviews last year and this time the event promises to be even better. It's been going for more than five decades and raises lots of money for worthwhile causes supported by the British Community in Thailand for the Needy.
Among the entertainment will be some belly-dancing, not by Crutch I hasten to add, although admittedly my belly has been known to wobble on occasions. And I certainly will not be performing in the break-dancing show. The fair is open from 10am-8pm. Take the BTS to Thaksin Bridge station and boats will be waiting to give you a free ride to the fair.
- Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com
Prev
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Next
