The Blog of E.M. FitzGerald

Now that I am back in the States, and away from Asia for a bit more than a week I have had some time to reflect about my experiences in Thailand. I have already spoken gads about Muay Thai, Phuket, the people, lifestyle, etc. There is however, one thing that during my time in Thailand began to define the country. Since I was in-country I thought it a bad idea to get into political observations as I didn’t want to be deported because of my views. I am of course talking about the Red Shirt protests that happened, and were broken up by the Thai military in Bangkok.

Better late than never. When I got to Thailand, the Red Shirt protests were in full swing, and the protesters had situated themselves in the shopping area of Bangkok. Since these troubles had been going on before I left, I didn’t bring any kind of red shirt with me on my trip, not wanting to get myself mixed up in that mess. When I arrived in Thailand, it wasn’t a topic on my mind at all. I planned to avoid Bangkok like the plague, and as such I wasn’t concerned should that topic arise.

And, it did arise. The people of Phuket (who come from all over Thailand) had very strong views on the issue. For the most part, they didn’t support the Red Shirts. The general feeling I got from the Thai people I encountered who talked about the protests said that it was a bunch of Thai people from the north who didn’t actually live in Bangkok doing the protesting. They were causing far more problems than they solved, and should have stopped a long time ago. The Thai economy was descending at a rapid rate because of the protests, and in the country that is dependent on tourism, that is a big deal. The general opinion was that there were better ways to achieve a victory for the people than closing down part of Bangkok with general insolence. When the military did come in and brake up the protesting, there was a clear sense of relief that swept through the country. It hadn’t been the first time the military had come in to put down a protest, but it was one of the best documented cases. As such, the backlash to the Thai people and their economy would clearly last for at least a year, something that everyone on Phuket knew was coming.

My own personal views on the subject are hard to define. Thailand is not my country, I don’t know the people or the politics so coming to any conclusion about the situation would be inexcusable on my part. Had I lived in Thailand, been a Thai citizen and understood the situation with greater clarity, then maybe I would weigh in on the frustrations of the people in that country. As such, I am not in that position, so I find it best to keep my mouth shut as it is quite clear that I do not understand the situation. If only this were a general rule that people in our followed, keep your nose out of business that’s not yours!!

The last couple of days in Hong Kong seemed to last forever. It was sunny, which was quite nice but since we had already done all the tourist stuff there was nothing to do but shop. I hate shopping, with nothing less than an unholy zeal. I don’t need to buy anything, and yet it seems that all there is to do in Hong Kong is shop. What a bummer. In the last couple of days we visited a few malls that had free xbox 360 games to play, and spent way too long there because we were bored. The same old routine kept us going. Wake up late, walk around, eat lunch, find somewhere to go, go there, spend as much time there as possible, eat dinner, go to Starbucks and have dessert and coffee, go to 7-11 to buy water and other foodstuffs, return to the hostel room and watch bad Hong Kong TV before a night of miserable sleep. Can you tell I didn’t really enjoy Hong Kong? You would be right on the money.

Finally it was the day to leave. I had a double espresso the night before to keep me awake so that I could sleep on the plane. Getting to the airport was simple, we just walked up the street a ways to the bus stop and got the same bus that we had taken to the hostel back to the airport, the good ole’ A21. Getting the airport we had 2 hours to burn, so we walked everywhere. Nick discovered that one cannot bring water onto the plane anymore (news to me), and we eventually boarded.

Luckily it was not a full flight, so we had a seat in the middle of our row separating us. This provided a space for all the pillows and what not. I merrily put on my eye shades and ear plugs, and set in to pass out. I managed to nearly get there too, I was just on the edge when I was woken up by the damn Cathay Pacific stews. They were serving lunch or something along those lines. I was not happy. I try my best to sleep on planes and usually don’t, so when I am nearly there and get woken, I am obviously upset. Anyway, I ate the shoddy airplane food.

The service from the flight attendants on this flight was piss poor, and they were very rude. I will never be flying Cathay Pacific again, the curs. I watched an abysmal film called “Clash of the Titans”, which to be honest was nothing better than a 2 hour waste of my life. After that I dallied around a bit, finally settling on a few episodes of Top Gear that I had already seen, as well as a biopic about Steve Mcqueen which I found to be quite interesting. By the time that finished, the plane was landing and I was back in the States.

Of course then there was immigration which took a solid 30 minutes because of undermanned booths. In addition, for some reason customs was slow as hell too, all of which added to my prior annoyance. Needless to say, I was not enjoying the flying experience. Luckily I escaped the airport and caught the airporter after about 20 minutes. Whisked away from Thailand, Hong Kong and SFO, I was on my way back to the bay.

Oft have I wondered at the state of the world in which I happen to exist, and today in that regard was the same as many others. Troubling news and worried faces greet me from media outlets whenever I open my eyes. The fear that tries to crush me on a regular basis has become ordinary, in fact I almost welcome it. E.M. vs Fear, “Fight for your life night X” the title fight would be called. This writer against all those who spout what seems at the time to them as the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine. A bout of the ages it would be, as the incredible amount of fear generated by the media is very near to overwhelming. All the violence, hatred and despicable acts of  petty, ruthless and vile that have been spewed forth like so much venom would be the hardest of opponents to conquer. The pen, as has been said many a time is mightier than the sword so perhaps, just perhaps the victor would be the underdog.

I close my senses to this, and block out these malefactors. Leaving the inferno for another time I open my eyes and leave. Not to a place inside my head but one of a physical nature. In youthful days as well as now when a greater age has settled upon me there is a place where I would go to reflect upon this world of ours. That place takes the form of a hill on which a water tower has been, for as long as I can remember, perched.  The trek to this lonesome spot is not hard, yet most who view it think little of it and do not make the trip. The constant explorer, I have found myself at the top of this hill for many a hour. As not only is it a fine place to think; the view is second to none.

A view into my valley

Plato was the topic which I had on my mind this day, once I had expelled the fear-mongering that had nearly inundated me prior. The work in particular that had entered into my thoughts, was “The Republic”. In addition to having read the text many times, as of late I have been listening to an excellent version on several CDs. It has become background noise while all the writing and working happens. The story of Socrates has ever so gently entered my subconscious in this nature and has lead my conscious mind to turmoil. The subject/s that have been assailing my mind have been those of Oligarchy and that of the drone.

A bit of explanation is in order with regards to Oligarchy, as it is not a well known governmental system. According to Plato, an Oligarchy is a type of government based on land qualifications. Meaning that only those who hold a certain amount of land can hold governmental office. As to the reason why this often obscure form of government had taken a hold of my mind is due to a recent (or maybe not so recent trend) in politics, specifically with one individual. Meg Whitman is her name, and she is the CEO of eBay and is in the running to become the next governor of California. I have nothing against her, as I do not know her personally, but she embodies this trend. That trend being that only the very, or incredibly wealthy hold government office. There are naturally exceptions to this, however the vast majority seem to have accumulated a large amount of wealth. Using this wealth, they attempt to buy the office which they seek. Meg Whitman for example has spent an enormous amount of money, well into the tens, and by the campaign end may be into the hundreds of millions to win the governorship. Mayor Bloomberg of New York city and Ross Perot are additional examples of this trend. Frightening? Yes, but not for obvious reasons. What worries me, is that 1% of the population of this country control 95% of the wealth. This in turn means that most, if not all of the people who are to hold major government office are going to be coming from this 1%, much to the chagrin of the other 99% due to the fact that the 1% have the funds to finance a campaign. Anyone familiar with coaching knows, that if you only have access to 1% of the talent available, you aren’t going to wind up with a very good team. While there might not be a property qualification to hold office, there is certainly an unwritten rule as to a wealth qualification, which in many regards is very similar. Now, certainly it is possible to raise funds, and accept donations from the public. With the turn that this country is taking though, it is getting harder and harder to get money out of the drones.

The drones, are the general populace. We, and I include myself in this statement, are so wrapped up in our daily lives that we do not have time to think about the larger issues at hand. Sure, when we are pressed we might donate a few bucks to a charity if we can spare it. Though on the important issues, we tend to let thing play out in front of us without taking an active roll. We, the workers for this great American system go on about our days, without a thought in the world that we can make a serious if not monumental difference. Some do end up making this difference, and they are recognized for it, though the majority of us simply cannot find the time. There is so much to do, after all. What, with reruns of ones favorite show on TV, the newest cell-phones, social networking, commuting, eating, sleeping, searching for porn on the internet, etc. it is just impossible to find the time. Thus, the title of drone, one who goes about doing their tasks and thinks not of anything else.

Is it time to make a difference? It is always the time to make a difference, this very moment in time is the right time. It doesn’t matter what “side” you’re on. Stop being a drone, and become a drone with a stinger. Have an effect on the way the world runs. When it comes down to it, making positive change regardless of ones values is a good thing. I truly cannot understand why people delay and procrastinate when it comes to bettering their society and civilization. Aren’t we all together in this insane thing we call life?

These were the thoughts that tumbled through my mind as I sat atop the windy hill next to the water tower. The breezy tumult blowing through my short locks, invading my clothing and causing me to shiver. I stayed there for a while though, and hope reached me. The clouds broke and the sun shone through, perhaps a good sign of things to come.

-E.M.

P.S. I would like to thank all who left me comments, you are very kind and your words brighten my day.

I also have a facebook fan page if you want to become a fan, as I will be posting updates as they come on facebook as well, the url is: http://www.facebook.com/pages/EM-FitzGerald/118242311523423 .

It was a day like many other in this particular region of California, and by that I mean that the sun was shining from its heavenly vault while a light breeze played with the plants and trees. Not one cloud interrupted this sweet metaphor of perfection, and only the slightest of hazes had been stirred up by humanity. Bearing witness to such a day, it seemed all but impossible to remain indoors while such beauty passed.

Off we went then! Two friends and I, into the wilds of a place called Lucas Valley. This place was well known to me, as for many a day had I run up the steep hills on either side of the turbulent asphalt byway. Up, up, and up again once more into the very sky itself I would run. Gravity never got in my way as I hauled my frail human body up the steep fire roads to the pinnacle, upon which I felt like nothing less than the ruler of the world and all its inhabitants, as such was the majestic views the summit commanded. For a full turn of the body, nothing but the grandeur of nature surrounds the lord of the venerable spot.  Away from the troubles of the world below, content to be amongst the eagles, vultures and the multitude of livestock which graze upon the hills I would stand.

This was a day to be different than others, as we hiked up the hilly pass-route. Normally I would have run, but as those whom I had joined on this venture were not in sufficient shape it was not to be. Happily though I ascended the steeps and shallows of the hills that stretched into valleys below. The trail was long and without any substantial shade which did not bother my personage. However this was not to hold true for my companions, who for want of water and leafy vegetation over their heads kept a slow pace. Through the pasture lands we trod, over small brook and rocky land, until we had ascended to the very top of our climb.

The view from the heights is one to take the breath away. The major sights are in attendance, those of San Francisco, Oakland and the San Francisco Bay to boot. Behind are the foothills of Marin, stretching all the way until the great Pacific Ocean itself, just barely visible on the horizon. Though the view was amazing, tired feet came first and nearly all our or small party took a seat on the grass underfoot. I nearly broke out into a pastoral poem, something with a bit of Virgil in it, though I quickly came to my senses and realized that such a poem would certainly be lost on my friends. Instead of emitting an ode to nature I set up a camera that we had brought and got to taking many a photo of the scene.

A view from the top!

On the way back down the hillsides I continued to shoot with the camera, wandering off the trail and into the high grasses. Quiet of mind and sound of spirit I wandered about, enjoying the day and the people. They were tired though, as the hike had worn them out to no small degree, so we headed back with greater speed. On the descent we were greeted by the magical chirping of several fine varieties of bird, as well as the lapping of water against stone. Such a symphony I find dear to me, as the instruments are of nature, and create a grand movement.

The Rolling Hills of Marin

Not to be outdone by natural sound, discussion followed our party until we reached the end of our descent at the roadway. Tired, sweaty but happy we piled back into the troika +1 horse and made our way back to the hearth of civilization.

-E.M.

Allergies, once started never seem to leave fast enough. They stay, and cause me a constant irritation that if those foul miscreants bothered me the year round’, I would certainly lose my mind. Regardless, those lovely allergies greeted me along with sunshine in the morning. Waking up later than I had before, I rushed through the daily waking routine and was out the door with the two good friends whom I wrote about before. We traveled by autocoach to Larkspur where we met up three other fine individuals. From there we dashed off to the sometimes-great city of Oakland for a baseball game.

My team, the one, the only team I will ever root for, the Oakland Athletics happened to be playing a rather abysmal team from Baltimore. In years past I would be hesitant to go to such as game, as the love of my athletic life usually weren’t able to obtain enough positive numbers to do anything, much else win. However, in this early and current year I was hoping this was not to be the case. With a winning record, my Oakland A’s looked primed to sweep the series against the hopeless Orioles.

Arriving at the park, the day was as grand as it had ever been. The sun shone like a diamond from the sky, providing dazzling illumination to the scene. The park itself detracted from the day, as the massive structure of concrete and green seating has always to my eye appeared as a blemish on a city already tarnished with violence. As usual the stadium parking lot was not full. The A’s are not the best team at selling seats to their games, as no big-name players seem to inhabit their low-end roster. Despite the potential for disaster, our group walked into the park after buying our tickets and settled down to watch another showing of the national pastime.

I have always had a strange love affair with baseball. I do not live and die with my favorite team, as were I to do so I would be so many feet under the ground that there would be no hopes of me ever seeing the light of day in the next century. In my youthful days I played little league and loved it to the core. I played on some excellent teams in those years. It was on those teams that I began to love playing the game, though watching it I have always found to be something of a bore. The action is not a constant in baseball, it is very much a stop and go sport which makes for difficult viewing on the television. Being at the game itself makes life easier due to the distractions of the ballpark, though it is still something of a mind-numbing event, except in the course of the playoffs.

That being said, I hunkered down and awaited the slow march of innings that awaited me. Being something of a health food nut, I didn’t partake in the usual ballpark fare. No hotdogs, garlic fries or ice-cold cokes for me. Instead I treated myself to the tradition of the ballpark beer. Beer at any sporting event is expensive, and $5 for a cup of beer actually wound up being on the cheaper side of things. There are few things as fine as sipping on a cold beer while watching men run around bases. It certainly takes the edge off the game, and distracts the drinker to the lesser aspects of the game. The 85 degree heat beating down upon the cowboy hat I bought in Mexico, the stiff green seats in front of me over which my legs were unceremoniously draped, and the constant flag waving of the fan sections high above. If there is a cure to boredom at a baseball game, it is the consumption of beer soon to be followed by the obligatory jaunt to the usually filthy mens room.

But I digress, the game went well until the 3rd inning when those hated Baltimore fiends managed to score three runs. From there on out, it was downhill for my A’s. In the end, they only managed to score three runs while the Orioles cracked out an impressive 8 (thanks largely to errors). Nevertheless, I left the game happy, tired and content.

After dispersing to our various modes of transportation it was decided by several of us that sushi would make an excellent ending to the day. Thusly, we headed to the local sushi place in Larkspur and ate sushi that was far too small for what we paid for. Slightly dejected, to home we all went. I had the luck of finally being able to finish setting up this blog during that time.

So now, all peoples can enjoy my writing, without any sort of confusion!

-E.M.