Soul Train

Not quite, but this morning's commute was a bit more musical than usual. The tube I managed to wedge myself onto was rammed because of some delay and we all became more intimate with each other than we would have liked, as desperate individuals pushed on at each station.

Luckily, a woman decided everybody really needed to hear her sing the hymn 'Morning Has Broken', in the gospel style. Now, it's not the first time I've heard people singing on public transport but usually it's when they've had a few drinks, are wanting money or just plainly mad. People talk about the tinny beats from people's personal headphones on public transport being irritating, but that's nothing compared to somebody having an emotional spiritual moment aloud in the form of wailing in a confined space.

I willed the train to move off at each station just so the noise of the carriage would drown out her annoying trill. Leaving her behind to the poor commuters staying on at Holborn, I found my musical morning wasn't yet over as I changed lines onto the Central Line. Waiting on the platform was a guy playing music aloud through his mobile for everyone to hear, jigging about. Evidently, mobile phones with speakers are the new miniaturised ghettoblaster - so much for technological advancement.

All I wanted was to doze lightly and so drift into work on a cloud of slumber to ease the pain of the journey, but I got the double dose of Miss Gospel Singer Who Thinks She's A Diva and Mr Listen To My Beats Aren't They Fantastic. There are designated spots for buskers and these people should apply to use them if they think they're good enough, but a packed commuter train and platform are not the places to endear others to your musical (non)talent. Pah, rant over.

Must Come Down

Well, I managed to make it to the top of the building and not come back down the same way (via lift) for my sponsored abseil. Getting kitted up in our climbing harnesses and helmets before clambering up the utility ladder to the roof gave us less time to contemplate backing out once standing at the top.

The final group of four, we stood gazing at the grand vista of London doused in dusk with streetlife far below us, waiting to be called up in turn to step to the edge. The last to go, it was dark by the time I was clipped to the abseil and safety ropes at close to 1800. My instructor sat me down on the low ledge and went through the procedure of standing, toes on the edge with heels hanging in space and the lean-out before the planting of the feet on the face of the building. This was the main hurdle, overcoming the natural instinct of not wanting to lean backwards towards a 200ft drop and giving trust to the ropes before full tension.

Once past the angle of no return when gravity took over I placed my feet one after the other onto the building's face, finally lowering down into position and I was set to go. I walked the first 20ft getting used to the speed of the rope through my hand and with confidence mounting as the harness took my full weight, I pushed off from the wall and let the rope through steadily faster as I descended past office windows and one or two office workers still at their computers!

The feeling of being so high up and dropping in open air with all of London lit up around me was exhilarating and before long a voice called from below telling me I was already halfway (a quick look told me there was still some way to go!). A final shout let me know I was reaching the bottom where I landed and was congratulated by the safety marshall who said I'd obviously done it before! It was a great experience and I wanted to go straight back up and do it again; something which I will definitely repeat at some point.

What Goes Up

A while ago I signed up to abseil 200ft down an office building in the City of London on behalf of the British Red Cross and today in about an hour I get to go 'over the edge'.

I've been sponsored generously and have managed to raise £1500, much of which will go towards the Asian Earthquake aid effort. With not long to go I'm looking forward to it more in excitement than trepidation, although I'm sure that this emotion will be swiftly replaced once I get to the top and get a look down! With my abseiling experience only extending to a 15ft scramble as a 10 year old, this is in a different league.

Hopefully the rain will hold off, as I went to look at the building the other lunchtime with a friend who helpfully noted how smooth and slippery the sides looked whilst I stood gawking at the top. I should be fine with the height following my recent hiking/climbing holiday up in the Lake District, but my abseiling technique is still in question...

Wealthy Weather

As I was walking across London Bridge yesterday I noticed that on the north side the weather was clear, yet just across the bridge towards the south it was totally overcast and grey.

Anyway, these confused weather conditions spawned a rainbow, which viewed from London Bridge seemed to end in one of the towers of Tower Bridge. I recalled the old myth that at the end of each rainbow lies a pot of gold and thought to myself at least I know where to go if I need some spare cash...

Ex-Rated

Met up with friends Learohero, JLo and The MD yesterday evening for a few pints and catch-up chat. There was general banter around the pub table but the main subject was relationships and more specifically, past relationships.

What transpired (without naming names) is that although time tempers most things, it is circumstance which usually governs how ex-partners feel about meeting up in later years. This is taking into account that they didn't split up too acrimoniously in the first place! It's particularly personal, meeting an ex-partner and depends on the mind-set of the people involved - eg some people won't meet an ex if they are still single and their ex is in a relationship, whereas others can and do.

As relationships are unique, people can come away from some totally cleanly whilst others are harder to shake. Then there are the rare amicable splits (eg mutual withdrawal) and the more common acrimonious splits (eg infidelity etc) which obviously govern how ex-partners interact with each other, if at all. In a perfect world, an ex-partner is somebody you once trusted and shared a personal experience with, and so after the amorous love has died there can be some remaining value in a platonic relationship.

The reality in most cases, is that the highly-charged emotions involved in a relationship and the loss of trust in the breakdown mean that this is not possible or desirable. Logically this is often for the best, although there are always exceptions in that some ex-partners manage to remain good friends, which is rare but nice.

Blog Degrees Of Separation

Quite some time ago I responded to somebody's suggestion in the letters page of London's Metro newspaper regarding the conundrum of how to keep the Tube system cool.

Although it was originally conceived in good old-fashioned printed form, a fellow blogger has posted it on his own site which my eagle-eyed friend The MD happened to spot!

Katrina Leaves Her Mark

The full legacy of Hurricane Katrina which lashed New Orleans over a week ago is now becoming apparent with the flood waters being pumped out of the city as newspaper photographs show bloated corpses floating amongst general waste through a waterlogged city.

Nature dealt harshly with this city, reknowned for its parties and carnival atmosphere. However, the lawlessness and anarchy which marked the days following its impact was a grim contrast to the spirit of Mardi Gras. In times of hardship, a highly-evolved social species might be expected to band together and cooperate in helping each other for collective survival, which was generally the case here.

Reports of robberies, killings and rapes show the darker human side and perhaps some might argue that more basic animal instincts prevail in these situations in the fight for survival. However, the lootings which went on were reportedly in the two distinct categories of essential (food and water) and non-essential items (who needs a 30inch TV when your house is submerged?).

The speed with which things descended into anarchy and chaos as aid failed to arrive (the disorganisation displayed was not expected of a developed nation such as the USA) is frightening; yet another example of how fragile our allegedly sophisticated human society is. Survivors who were stuck in the city's Superdome with the thousands of other people to take refuge there spoke of gangs roaming the building as they banded together in groups for safety, describing the scene and events as 'something out of the Lord of the Flies'.

Of course, it is impossible to account for certain people in this world and their selfish behaviour, but it is sad to see that in a disaster zone which affects everybody equally, some people will only think of themselves and the gratification of their needs above others (the reports of shooting at a helicopter airlifting people out made me mad). In these scenarios the instinct for survival is understandable, but taking advantage of the situation to rape and pillage is unforgiveable.

At least most of the people have been evacuated from the city and the clean-up can begin - now we'll see the full extent of the damage as the bodycount will surely mount.

Human Time Bomb

Today sixty years ago, the Allied nations celebrated victory over Japan after America's dropping of two atomic bombs on the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki finally brought the surrender of Japan, ending World War II. Effectively the most destructive war in our short human history, the aftermath left nations in tatters as the participants sought to regenerate and recover. The end of the war should have marked a new era of peace, but the Cold War and new international disputes were only just around the corner.

It seems we have a penchant for flaunting the rules of human civilisation which make up our so called humanity - with war and conflict an integral part of our evolution to date, it remains to be seen how far we can progress before we self-destruct. Paradoxically, it is likely that our progression will also bring our downfall as technologies develop and more sophisticated weapons emerge, the seemingly inherent human urge for war and destruction could extinguish us.

Perhaps it will be our wanton ways with the resources of this planet which will be the ultimate undoing of the most sophisticated and 'intelligent' species to exist on Earth. How intelligent can we really be if we cannot stop ourselves from knowingly damaging the very environment our lives depend on? The only way to progress and survive is to use this intelligence to find ways to coexist with the Earth and each other, as ravaging the environment and human conflict can only shorten our collective existence as a race.

Hiroshima 08:15

Sixty years ago tomorrow morning at 08:15, the world's first atomic bomb to be dropped in anger exploded above the Japanese city of Hiroshima. It is estimated that the bomb claimed around 140,000 lives due to the initial blast and the resultant radiation by 1945, rising to today's estimates of 240,000 victims. There are plenty of political theories regarding the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but there is no doubting their terrible effectiveness.

The anniversary is to be marked by a ceremony in the Hiroshima Peace Park, which I visited last May when I spent a day exploring the city. I had been over to see my brother in Osaka who was working as an English teacher and had planned to make the trip before I arrived in Japan. The shinkansen bullet train took me sedately and swiftly to Hiroshima from Osaka in a couple of hours. The day was bright and hot and as I exited the station I saw that Hiroshima was much like any busy modern Japanese city.

After finding my bearings with a quick trip to the station's tourist office to pick up local maps, I took the tram which would take me to the city's Peace Park. Everyday workers crowded the tram and schoolchildren in their quirky naval-looking uniforms hopped on and off. The tram stop for the park is opposite the A-Dome, the only building to remain standing in the vicinity of the blast as the bomb exploded directly above it, razing everything else around it.

The A-Dome was left as a memorial in its shattered but erect state. I felt quite moved by this building, standing incongruously alone like a scar in the midst of the pretty gardens which make up the Peace Park, a stoic marker of the bomb. This feeling was consolidated when I visited the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum and saw pictures of the A-Dome taken not long after the bombing. It looked much as it does now, only standing even more remotely in the blackened wasteland surrounding it caused by the bomb's destructive force. That Hiroshima has regenerated and that the park (without its shattered monument) resembles any other city park in the world, is testament to human resilience and endeavour.

In another three days the city of Nagasaki will hold its own remembrance ceremony to mark the anniversary of the second nuclear bomb (with a plutonium core as opposed to the uranium one used on Hiroshima) to be dropped. This bomb claimed 70,000 lives initially with estimates of up to 140,000 eventual victims. These anniversaries mark an historical episode which shows the human capacity for destruction, and though superficially the cities have healed, the mental scars remain as do the lessons to be learnt.

From The Hip

The suspected terrorist shot dead at Stockwell tube station last week was innocent Brazilian electrician Jean Charles de Menezes. He was shot seven times in the head and once in the shoulder by armed plain clothed policemen. Seven times in the head seems like overkill to me and the whole event belongs in a Hollywood action flick. Sadly, it is rooted in reality and a man has lost his life because of mistake and terrible judgement.

The debate is raging now that an innocent man has died and the police have over-reacted in response to London's terrorist threats. It is undeniable that the police have a very difficult job to do in this current climate which may involve split second decisions when dealing with potential suicide bombers and terrorist situations. In this case they decided that this man posed sufficient threat after chasing him into a tube station and onto a train carriage, that they shot him in the head several times from close range in the mistaken belief that he had a bomb under his jacket, to safeguard the lives of members of the public.

Now, I can accept that in the critical moment the police had to make their decision and decided to take out the threat (although I'm not sure that it necessitated seven headshots), and that the armed police in the UK are acting on instinct under difficult circumstances. However, this innocent man died needlessly as the police had been trailing him from his house and so could have apprehended him in a less dangerous environment than the train carriage, given their belief that he was a suicide bomber. They even let him get on a bus, which begs the question as to the logic in the thinking that allowed a suspected suicide bomber to board a bus, yet when he got on a tube train they shot him in the head.

Those justifying the police action have commented that they were following procedure and acted to avert a perceived bomb strike, stating that had the police failed to stop him and he actually was a terrorist bomber, the results would have been catastrophic. The counter-argument to this is had the police acted with foresight and a policy of safely apprehending the suspect, events would not have escalated as they did.

An independent inquiry into the incident is underway and if reports are correct, the police acted as they believed they had to in the circumstances when shooting this man at Stockwell tube station. However, had they acted more appropriately when trailing him the ensuing events would not have necessitated their decision to shoot him dead. The full facts are yet to transpire and hindsight makes for easy answers to difficult questions. What is beyond doubt is that the British police face a hard task in terms of terrorist security and have made an unbelievable mistake in killing a totally innocent man; their reputation will suffer for the inept handling of this incident.

Slipping The Net

So the events yesterday were eerily similar to the events of two weeks ago with the devices reported to be similar to the ones used then in terms of weight and size. Except this time only the detonator charges went off failing to set off the main explosives. Another failure was related to the suspects escaping, which in this moment of heightened security and increased public police presence is poor.

Suspect bombers fled tube stations chased by commuters yet still they managed to escape. Questions have to be asked about where the police were at the time (given the focus of attacks on the transport network, I'd have thought tube stations might be a priority). Sure, it's unreasonable to expect blanket police coverage as of course they can't be everywhere - but I've noticed one or two officers at most of the central stations recently so where were the ones at Warren St, if not at Oval and Shepherd's Bush which are a bit further out?

Apparently, armed police reacted quickly after reports that a man ran into University College Hospital near to Warren St tube station, but it seems like a case of locking the gate after the horse had bolted and there are no updates yet as to whether that man was finally caught. If you ask me, the officers who should have been outside that station were the ones who should have stopped that suspect, which would have saved the situation of armed police galloping into a hospital. Latest reports this morning are that a suspected bomber has been shot by police at Stockwell tube station but at the moment no further details are available.

I caught the overland train into Liverpool St this morning as I'm meeting friends for drinks tonight in Soho, so left my bike at home - hopefully there won't be too much disruption to the transport network.

Strike Two

Exactly two weeks on to the day of the terrorist bombings in London, three incidents have occurred at Warren St, Shepherd's Bush and Oval tube stations as well as an incident involving a bus in Bethnal Green, East London. Most people in my office are out at lunch at the moment but it has been reported that these explosions involving men with rucksacks, were bomb detonators going off as some of the suspects were witnessed running away and minimal damage and injuries have occurred.

The police and services have gone to a raised state of emergency and these suspected terrorist attacks have caused the tube system to be suspended until further notice causing more transport headaches for commuters later this evening. I decided to ride in this morning so should be ok getting home give or take a couple of road diversions.

With news breaking by the minute it is hard to tell exactly what has happened, but with the underground down again it seems this was another attempt to strike London which hasn't quite gone to plan, as luckily none of the bombs seem to have been properly detonated. Well, the full picture will only appear after things have calmed down so I'm off to lunch for now.

Over And Out

Saturday saw the last wedding of this year (unless there are some late announcements!) for me - that of uni friends N & V. As per the usual wedding between university friends it was nice to catch up with everybody, indulge in a few drinks and relive our student union days on the dancefloor. With the transport difficulties in London, it took me a while getting to Liverpool Street station from where I had to catch a train to Chelmsford, as the wedding venue was Leez Priory nearby.

A memorable day, we were in the beautiful surrounds of antique Tudor buildings set amongst expansive gardens complete with ponds and towers to explore. Following the wedding ceremony, which was carried out up in a romantic tower, guests were free to wander the grounds and buildings in the afternoon sun and as the evening's entertainment beckoned, people were attracted to the vicinity of the bar.

There were plenty of ducks wandering about due to the nearby ponds and they tended to follow people to the main buildings in search for food. It was almost like a scene out of Hitchcock's 'The Birds' when guests opened the main timber door to be greeted by a multitude of ducks waiting expectantly.

London Bombings Aftermath

Met my sister at London Bridge yesterday afternoon to try and get home after all the transport disruption due to the bombings, joining the hordes of people walking up to Liverpool Street station which was reported as apparently open for overland trains only. Once there, we found crowds outside as the police and transport officials had closed the entrances explaining that they were trying to sort out limited train services. As Zone 1 buses (central) were not running we decided to walk north towards Hackney until we could catch a bus - which we eventually did, getting home in two hours as opposed to a usual commute of 40 minutes.

There are officially 37 dead from the four bombs which went off yesterday: 21 from the King's Cross tube; 7 from the Edgeware Rd tube; 7 from the Aldgate tube; 2 from the bus at Tavistock Square nr Russell Square. It's scary to think how much randomness plays into who lives or dies in these situations as my sister was on the train in front of the King's Cross tube which was bombed. She told me her train was rammed with people (she only just squeezed on), which explains the high number of fatalities on the train behind as it would have been similar. The death toll will probably rise due to the high number of casualties estimated at over 700.

My colleagues were saying that train and tube services were running a limited service this morning (with the affected tube lines closed) and that there were fewer people than normal. I decided it would be easier to ride my motorbike into work today than take the variety of bus routes and tube connections I would have had to use because of the closure of the Piccadilly line and King's Cross station. Road traffic seemed to be quite busy with plenty of buses running. On the whole, most of the transport system is up and running and people are trying to get on as normally as possible after yesterday's trauma.

BBC UPDATE

The Inevitable Strike

Luckily for me I got to work early this morning and so missed the chaos that followed all the so called 'power surges' on various tube lines including my usual Piccadilly line. Twenty minutes later and I could have been caught up in one of the tube trains involved in the explosion at King's Cross station which is on my daily commute.

Cue hysteria and speculation which mounted as news of other explosions came filtering through, initially described as electrical 'power surges', the news that a bus had exploded near Russell Square made up my mind that the explosions were a touch more sinister than electrical disruption. So the inevitable terrorist attack on London has happened. Well, at the moment the complete underground network is incapacitated and there are no buses running in central London - according to news reports, a terrorist outfit affiliated to Al-Qaeda is claiming responsibilty.

It's too early for any accurate official figures for the dead and injured, but given the timing of the attacks during the rush hour they could be quite high. The problem for many now (including myself) is being stranded in central London as the underground network has been shutdown and there are no buses operating around the centre of the city.

What is more frightening to me, is not that the attacks occurred (they were inevitable), but that the police and services which are on an anti-terror state of alert seem to have been caught totally unawares. Perhaps with focus on the G8 summit in Gleneagles and hence supposed heightened security, nobody thought an attack would come now. However, the police and emergency services are in full effect and the important thing now is not criticism, but support to help get the city of London fully functioning again.

BBC REPORT

A Spanish Affair

Arrived back yesterday from Spain where I've spent a long weekend celebrating the wedding of a couple of friends out there. Quite a raucous occasion in traditional full-on fiesta spirit, there was no fretting about whether the sun would come out as per your average english wedding because it was damn hot day and night!

It was a nice and easy registerial ceremony but the fun started at the restaurant where after a fine lunch/dinner the music was turned up in the wedding suite and the bottles of whisky and rum were broken out. Spanish measures are generous compared to the usual amounts to be found in the UK, and so the party was pretty well fuelled. We all moved on from there to sit out on the terrace of a nearby bar later where the drinking continued in more relaxed surroundings with only the younger generations involved this time (the elders having retired after the restaurant).

Eventually, we all made a move for the beach, reassembling there armed with various bottles of alcohol, ice-boxes, snacks and other essentials for a beach party. We carried on till dawn, only interrupted once by the local police who came to check we weren't up to anything too naughty and left us peaceably reminding us to clean up after ourselves - in all, a first for me as I've never finished off a wedding with drunken nightswimming before!

Hot & Spicy

Just recovered from the weekend which saw a marathon event of a wedding take place. My friend RJ's wedding which involved a double ceremony and dash across London on one of the hottest days of the year so far. The schedule was tight, my suit felt tighter and I left the wedding card at home.

Not a great start to the day as I reached Baker St and discovered both the Metropolitan and Jubilee lines out of service. Luckily the Bakerloo line took me close enough to Wembley Park to be picked up by a friend en route to the church. I think including this one, the last four weddings I've been to have involved Catholic services and I found the congregational responses strangely automatic given the twelve years which have lapsed since I attended Catholic school and compulsory mass - I suppose it lodges in your brain somewhere whether you like it or not.

Following the church service, it was a race into the centre of town to the reception venue and the Vedic wedding ceremony for this was an Indian wedding. My first experience of such a ceremony, I found it fascinating to watch the various rituals being performed within the ornate wooden four-poster stage symbolising a temple (bride and groom having changed into traditional clothing from their previous western dress and looking just as great) - all explained in english between his sanskrit chanting by the very humorous and engaging Vedic ceremonial advisor.

Quite a spectacle and apart from the excellent food, music and venue, it was a very enjoyable wedding for its uniqueness and one which I'll remember for a long time to come. Also, I can't remember the last time I had seven different kinds of curry on a single plate - fantastic!

Wedding Season

Nothing but stag dos and weddings for the next month or two so I've been busy trying to organise myself into some kind of um, organisation - sorting wedding presents out, flight tickets (the one at the end of the month is in Spain) and other such necessities.

There's nothing like a good wedding in my book, but consider everyone getting sloshed and any/all of the following occurring (which I have seen in my wedding-going career so far):

(1) Catch me, catch me - ladies (some larger than others) scrabbling like frantic ferrets to catch the symbolic bouquet...usually ends with one or several ladies on the floor due to drinks spillage (see big moves below). To date, no fatalities but a couple of sprained ankles have been witnessed.

(2) The little people take a sip - children falling ill from drinking from adults' unattended/leftover alcoholic drinks (it's kind of funny seeing them reeling around...until they start vomiting everywhere). Let's face it, most of us tried it on at their age and there might even be some uncle (let's say 'Jim') who encourages such under-age sippage of the 'Ah, let 'em have a drink, it's a wedding for chrissakes!' school of (un)thinking.

(3) Uncle Jim shows his big moves - there's always some middle-aged rooster willing to show the youngsters how it's done on the dancefloor. Usually the only thing they achieve is self-injury by slipping on drinks spillage when attempting the 'running man'. Young children shriek in delight; older ladies tut and mutter that he should know better at his age; his wife reaches for the wine bottle.

(4) Love spreads - ah, how infectious love can be...pity that sometimes at weddings one or the other person to hook up are already married, and not to each other uh-huh. Seems to these lovers-who-like-living-on-the-edge that everyone's too busy celebrating to notice, but there's a lot of wily old eyes out there.

(5) Keep it in the family - familial fall-out sometimes related to the above when people have been found out, but usually related to some long-simmering family feud which everyone talks about happening in the distant past yet nobody can actually furnish the details. Uncle Jim gets a bloody nose but gives uncle Phil a black eye - they are last seen at the bar necking whisky together, whilst their bored wives dance with the young and dashing ushers.

Well, not all weddings are raucous events and sometimes they pass serenely and without major catastrophe. Now, I'm not cynical - I think two people pledging their troths to one another is a great thing; it's just that if you go to as many weddings as I seem to, then you start looking for something to differentiate each one, else they all merge into one big blur of white dresses, bad dancing and drink...

Altogether Now

With three weddings to attend in the next two months, it seems to me that from year to year, like birthdays, they come in clusters. In a few years will come the christenings all clumped together - perhaps it's some weird law of nature whereby some kind of pattern emerges if you look at it, um, in a kind of cod-scientific way.

Well, for the less space-minded I suppose the answer for most of these things is logical in that weddings come together because people usually want to get married in the spring/summer months; birthdays are just random so you're bound to know a few people with birthdays close to each other unless you're a hermit; and people of your age who are married will probably sprog babies at roughly the same time, hence christenings will not be too far apart either.

The time to be worried is if you start having to attend multiple funerals...

Direct Seating

Well, carrying on with London's 3rd Korean Film Festival, I went along to see the closing film (Windstruck) last Friday with friends Robbierto and The Sash. Arriving 35 minutes before the screening we thought we'd left ample time but didn't reckon on the popularity of the film (or perhaps it was because it was Friday plus the film was free), as the queue stretched all the way into Leicester Square and round the corner to The Empire. Which in short, was very long.

Dutifully we queued, as more and more people joined behind us and eventually the line of people snaking out in front of us slowly crept forwards as the organisers finally began to hand out free tickets at the head of our shivering procession. Having waited for half an hour in the queue and getting within sight of the entrance, the cinema must have been reaching capacity as organisers began running past us down the queue to count heads.

We started to fret that we'd waited freezing in the queue only to get to the final few people and not get in. The guy at the front informed us all that they were down to the last handful of tickets as we edged closer, realising that it was going to be a close call. When we finally reached the front there were only two tickets left. Typical. I told the other two to go for it as I'd already seen one of the festival films earlier that day, but then a Korean guy amongst the organisers stepped forward and seeing we were together said he was holding a single ticket which he offered me, and so thanking him in korean (kamsa hamnida!) I went in with the others.

Having taken our seats upstairs in the circle (the last time I'd been up there at the Prince Charles was years ago), we'd just settled down to wait for the film when the guy who'd given me my ticket appeared onstage in front of the screen and introduced the film and then himself as its director (Kwak Jae-Young)!!

Quid Pro Quo

Well that's how it usually goes in this world, there's not much that comes for free. In a city where a pint of beer can cost three pounds plus for the privelege of sitting in the bland identikit environs of some ubiquitous chain pub, and a one stop bus journey costs over a pound, it's almost taken for granted that you have to pay above the odds in London. So it's refreshing and actually astonishing that the 3rd London Korean Film Festival is a free event, running for the duration of this week down at the Prince Charles Cinema (I was trying to think what the catch was - we wouldn't be released from the cinema until we'd help make an industrial batch of kimchi???).

Films featured include recent releases as well as acknowledged Korean classics such as 1960's Hanyo (The Housemaid). Four films a day are being shown, all selected to show different facets of Korean cinema in a bid to appeal to a wider international audience. In recent years Korean film has come to the fore in Asia and critical awareness has gradually grown following the success of films like Oldboy, which took the Grand Prix at last year's Cannes Film Festival. The quality and originality of some contemporary Korean film is testified by their proposed Hollywood remakes, eg Yeopgijeogin Geunyeo (My Sassy Girl), Janghwa, Hongryeon (A Tale of Two Sisters) and Oldboy, all of which must surely lose something of their originals' essence in the translation as remakes generally fail to match the originals.

Having been to quite a few film festivals, this one isn't as grand in scale as others but the organisation has been as good, especially in dealing with the numbers of people who are turning up given that it's a free event at a single venue (the tickets are released half an hour before each screening on a first come first served basis so there's some good queueing going on!). Overall, it's a fantastic free event which doesn't happen everyday and plus they give you a free bottle of bulgogi marinade sauce on entry, so you can run home afterwards and whip up a batch of bulgogi stir-fried beef for your dinner - what more could you ask for?!

What No Vote?

No surprises this morning following yesterday's general election in the UK with Tony Blair still in the driving seat, trying desperately to move away from the Iraq issue where he and President Bush went on a joyride looking for a downtown bar called WMD. They got lost on the way and managed to do a hit-and-run on a vagrant locally known as the Saddistic Hussy, taking out a few innocent civilians in the process. Most of the locals are reported to be glad to be free of this neighbourhood scourge, but this came at a price as B&B also caused a fair amount of collateral damage on their rampage. Finding plenty of accomodating petrol stations nearby, their cruise continues.

Blair is now doing his best as a politician to squirm away from these recent controversial international issues to re-focus on domestic ones such as health, employment, education etc - everything a government usually does to try and avert the public's attention from its international activities to its home affairs. An attempt to reassure the public that the government is thinking about the state of the nation as opposed to merely lavishing its attention and resources on far-flung shores at the neglect of home issues.

This comes as a postscript to the election win as Labour try to regroup following a victorious but bruising campaign in which they have seen their majority representation drastically reduced. Blair has survived for a third term in office but the contentious Iraq War has obviously hurt his party's political power as the voting shows. It can only be hoped that he fulfills his reconciliatory promises regarding domestic issues as there are many which need addressing. Then again, he's a politician so perhaps Elvis will turn up in a UFO piloted by a pair of Ewoks before anything actually happens.

As it is, I didn't vote yesterday - not merely out of apathy and disillusionment, but the more important factors of not having been sent ballot papers and disappearing off the electoral roll. I was registered to vote before, so must have fallen through the system and am now invisible in a way. However, my latest payslip tells me that the tax office can most definitely still see me.

30 Years Of Hurt

So rang the refrain of the England song for the Euro 1996 football tournament signifying the 30 years of waiting since the English national team had won a competition - the World Cup in 1966. Tomorrow will mark an anniversary for another nation, with the sweat of sporting exertion being replaced by the blood of war - it will have been 30 years since the Fall of Saigon ended Vietnam's civil war on the 30th April 1975.

The official line of the Vietnamese communist government is that the date marks the 'liberation' of South Vietnam from democratic powers and the unification of the nation under the umbrella of communism. For those who fought against Ho Chi Minh's North Vietnamese communist guerillas to keep their families and themselves in the free democratic society of South Vietnam, this date signified the end of their war and lives as they knew it. Most tried to run to escape retribution by the communist victors but many were caught and sent to so-called 're-education' camps, only to be imprisoned, some never to return home.

This desperation to evade punishment and discrimination plus the hardships brought by communist rule whereby the authorities centralised all resources (zealously implementing skewed communist policy which would stall the country's economic development through mis-management and corruption for years), led many to flee and take their chances on the open seas, hence becoming known internationally as the Vietnamese 'Boat People'.

In recent years following the failure of communist economic policy, there has been a more open attitude to western investment and a turn towards capitalism, plus tourism provides a significant contribution to the economy. These changes may seem hopeful but political censorship, religious oppression and the running of a corrupt dictatorial regime (which has squandered resources leading to the under-development of the country) means life remains hard for those still there, whilst most who left remain in self-imposed exile.

I have family in both these categories and for South Vietnamese such as us, this anniversary most definitely represents 30 years of a communist regime which has only caused pain, suffering and the separation of family members alive and dead. Political refugees that we are, it is the end of this corrupt communist regime which we desire and the return of our own free nation. Some commentators talk optimistically of some kind of reconciliation as the regime slowly evolves to a more open western-embracing government.

However, the existence of oppression, censorship and corruption still means suffering for those remaining there, whilst the scars of past ordeals means reconciliation with the same regime which inflicted them is unthinkable for most of the South Vietnamese in political exile. To forgive is nigh impossible and to forget is to demean the huge human suffering of the past and present.

Papal Pass

With Pope John Paul II's passing on Saturday night, the world has lost not only a religious figurehead, but a remarkable man who had true humanity in his heart. He will be mourned not only by Catholics worldwide, but by a wide spectrum of people who hold this Pope in such high regard for his tireless international humanitarian work.

Not everybody agreed with his uncompromising moral teachings, especially regarding contraception, his views on homosexuals and the place of women in society (whom he wrote should naturally aspire to motherhood). Nonetheless, he held universal respect for his beliefs in humanity and the unity of the world which saw him travel across the globe to countries stricken by war and poverty amongst other socio-political problems.

The widely held esteem for him is shown not only by the numbers of pilgrims, but non-Catholics alike, flocking to Rome to pay their respects (a logistical nightmare for the Italian authorities). Most of the world's leaders will also be present for his funeral in a few days' time, to see off this moral crusader who implored them to seek peaceful remedies to their conflicts. The world has lost a true spiritual leader - not only in the religious sense, but also in the humanist sense.

R.I.P Pope John Paul II 18/05/1920 - 02/04/2005

Weather Or Not

Spring is officially here and true to form, the British weather turned warm at the weekend only for it to be wetter than a whale's blowhole today. That, and our recent arctic blast means the climate for our corner of the world remains as schizophrenic as ever, although pan-Europe there has been unusual weather recently (global warming/environmental degradation anyone?).

However, the clocks revert to BST (British Summer Time) this Sunday which allows more daylight and with lengthening days, more time for boys and girls to spend out at play amongst the bars, pubs and parks of Londinium Town - plus it's Easter bank holiday weekend. So the outlook is definitely brighter (whatever the weather decides to do).

State Of Contagion

It seems to be the time of year that various strains of flu and the common cold are circulating amongst the masses. At home and work people are coughing and hacking, plus there are plentiful virus-rich sneezes circulating the public domain (like the one which shot into my airspace courtesy of a woman sitting next to me on the tube last week, and to which I attribute my current sore throat and phlegmy cough). The state of the nation is officially: ILL.

It's almost party-time for viruses with ill people struggling into work dousing others with their abundance of contagion on the transport system and at the workplace. The old Catch-22 situation of knowing you're ill but not feeling so bad that you could take a day off (maybe because you skived one recently following that heavy mid-week drinking session?). So you struggle into work coughing and sneezing whilst Mr and Mrs Virus get to perpetuate their little viral debilitations around train carriages, buses and in offices.

Perhaps we should start wearing those surgical masks which people in Hong Kong and China were wearing during the Sars outbreak over there - it would have saved me from that tube sneeze last week, if not from looking like a commuting extra from ER.

Cold Cold Music

It's so COLD - not an excuse for a lack of productivity (at work, blogging or otherwise) but I'm writing this post one-handed with the other keeping warm under my armpit. I have the feeling that the people who set the air-conditioning in my office building have the heat regulatory systems of penguins because they seem to think it's too hot.

Went to visit my musician friend JM yesterday and his wife and baby daughter to see how they all were. He told me about some of his latest work which involves doing some stuff for Vital Arts, a kind of arts charity set up within the NHS (National Health Service) Trust, whereby he has a 12 week residency at a central London hospital. They're paying him to go in and play music for a few hours each week in various hospital departments including the chemotherapy and the dialysis wards. This makes sense as these patients have to sit still for long periods of time whilst they're being treated for illnesses which they have already acknowledged, so they actually appreciate some kind of diversion.

What isn't so understandable is when he was sent to play in the room for women awaiting the results of their mammograms. Sure, the intention was to soothe them with some relaxing live music, but the reality is that these women were in a small room fretfully waiting to see if those lumps in their breasts were malignant tumours. Probably the last thing they wanted was some musician sitting in the corner playing some tune, no matter how soothing. You'd have thought that some member of the hospital management might have considered this.

These people need at least some privacy in their heads, if forcibly made to wait in a room full of strangers. So it's obvious how well a male sitarist trying to play discreetly in the corner of a small room full of anxious women waiting to see if they had breast cancer went down - one of JM's more thankless gigs and the poor guy was only doing his job. He received a few terse comments but the only way the frosty situation could have got any worse was if he'd played Monty Python's 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' - at least he wouldn't have been too far away from the A&E (Accident & Emergency) department.

In The Grip

So Winter's finally got into gear over here following what UK weather forecasters have described as the warmest January in 15 years. Suddenly it's gone all arctic from this pretty mild start to the year, apparently due to a system of high pressure sitting over northern Europe and Russia. Woke up this morning to find that everything seemed to have a light sprinkling of castor sugar - an effect snow has of making things look more interesting that I even did a double take at a dog turd on the pavement (or was it because I was taking extra care not to fall foul of undercover canine treachery?).

No thoughts of making any epic dash for the bus this morning given slippery conditions, though a little jog might have warmed me up against the wind-chill factor. Froze my hand off on the tube holding onto a pole whilst standing up in the carriage aisle - my tube goes overland a few stops before it reaches my underground station but even so, those poles must be connected to something outside the train for them to conduct that much frost-bite induced pain.

So maybe we can look forward to a White Easter - the way the weather is these days I wouldn't be too surprised. Climate change is definitely our doing and possibly our ultimate undoing. There can only be so much abuse the planet can take before the damage is irreparable and no amount of political posturing and bickering at world summits will be able to prevent this. It's about time the World took responsibility and the so called leading industrialised nations which make up G8 should be showing the way.

Instead of merely paying lip-service to the public about these issues whilst remaining chiefly concerned about economic policy, these governments need to assemble structured plans of action as each day brings yet more evidence of the harm we are doing to our environment.

Crashing The Gonzo Gates

Bequeathing us the form of journalism he developed during the 60s and 70s known as gonzo (which entails a cocktail of fact and fiction with elements of the real or imaginary consumption of drugs and/or alcohol), Hunter S Thompson took his life on Sunday evening at his home in Colorado with a gunshot to the head. Since then the tributes have been flowing for this colourful, hard living exponent of his own creation - the original gonzo hack. He summed up his own philosophy succinctly: "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone but they always worked for me." A true maverick, he once rode with the Hell's Angels then had a spectacular falling out with them (which spawned his first major book 'Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga', in 1967), and kept a peacock as a guard-dog.

His style was brought to a modern audience by Terry Gilliam's 1998 film of his best known work 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', starring Johnny Depp as himself. Beneath the drug and alcohol haze, he was a sane and astute moral commentator who never minced his words where politicians were concerned - he was known to be opposed to the re-election of George (W) Bush, describing a consecutive term in typical fashion as, "four more years of syphilis." An inspiration to writers worldwide desperate to follow in his free-wheeling path, Hunter S Thompson leaves them to mourn the passing of their gonzo Godfather. Some of the more anarchic moments in his raucous life can only be imagined from his observation that, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

However, a more fitting epitaph for this literary champion of counter-culture is his assertion:

zzzzzzzz"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."

R.I.P Hunter Stockton Thompson 18/07/1937 - 20/02/2005

A Wonky Chinese Experience

Met my friend Learo after work yesterday for a few beers and a couple of games of pool at The Black Horse pub off Oxford Street. It's not far from a few English language schools so you get a good mix in there of foreign students, after-work drinkers and shoppers ducking in for a bit of respite from the hordes on Oxford Street. When we meet for a drink we usually go for something to eat in Chinatown afterwards; well, we've made it a mission to eat in all of the restaurants there in an act of research and to satisfy our own culinary curiosity (if not our waistlines). Quite a mission actually given the speed with which restaurants fold and new ones spring up there.

Our traditional fuelling station was that Chinatown institution, Wong Kei (Wonky as pronounced by a waiter I overheard answering the phone once) - a restaurant of legendary status for the slapdash manner of its waiters (with the reputation of the rudest in London) and cheap but decent food. The seating system to the uninitated can seem quite strange but makes perfect sense once you realise that this is not an establishment to leisurely linger over a meal - this is an in-out slophouse of the highest order! People on their own are usually sat on the groundfloor whilst if you are plural, you're given the (in)famous direction, 'Upstairs!' or 'Downstairs!'. Regardless of where you're sent, you'll be sitting next to complete strangers (management policy to maximise seating) which always makes the visits entertaining, especially later on in the evening when everyone's had a few beers.

The sad truth is that the place is past its heyday, when the waiters were truly rude, slapping plates down in front of you with a scowl and directing you to your places with a 'You sit here!'. Now the levels of rudeness have gradually evolved to something like civility and you even get a smile and a thank you sometimes - I almost miss the 'What you want?' request the waiters used to bark when taking your order! However, there are still a few waiters there who know how to scowl and it wasn't that long ago that I was there on my own and having bent down to rummage in my bag, heard a bang and sitting up again saw that the bowl of won ton noodles I'd ordered had magically appeared unnanounced, waiter nowhere to be seen.

The full comedic value of the rude waiters who used to throw menus around and swear at you in Cantonese/Mandarin has been reduced which long-time customers bemoan, but at least the quality of the food remains. The golden rule here is to keep the orders simple - you pay cheap prices for good basic food. Don't expect to get quality steamed sea bass in soy sauce with ginger and spring onion here - you can't go wrong with the noodle soup dishes or the meat and rice combos such as barbecued (char siu) pork on rice. Change is inevitable I suppose and maybe related to commerce as they refurbished the restaurant last year to smarten it up a bit. However, the pantomime past is commemorated as you can now buy Wong Kei T-shirts with 'Upstairs!' & 'Downstairs!' on them.

Example of a classic waiter-customer dialogue I've heard in my time there:

Customer: (Having stuck his hand in the air for 5 mins to be noticed) Excuse me, can I have a knife and fork please?

Waiter: (Takes one look at the customer's plate of beef ho fun noodles) You lazy boy! No learn use chopsticks hmm?

Customer: Um, no so can I have a knife and fork...

Waiter: (Snorts) Ok, but more next time you learn chopsticks hey?
(Strides off muttering in Cantonese)

Despite this, I've never seen a knife and fork request refused there!

Anyway, Learo and I are in a moment of culinary diversification (well, in terms of Chinatown eateries) so the last few times we've been to different restaurants. Last night we went to the recently opened Chinese Experience, which was frankly disappointing. The decor is all modern and sleek to the point of being bland and the staff do not fit this interior. They are all smartly dressed but seem to have been trained with the Wong Kei manual; this kind of staff has its place in an establishment such as Wong Kei's, but in a modish restaurant charging above average prices, you expect decent and efficient service. Moreover, the food wasn't up to standard for a place seeking to be a cut above all the other restaurants in Chinatown - Learo's char siu pork on rice was half the size of its Wong Kei counterpart and the meat was actually dry and hard, making us think that the kitchen had microwaved the moisture out of it; my stir-fried rice noodles were similarly proportioned and bland.

To be fair, we arrived quite late and were told the kitchen was closing so they just managed to squeeze us in. Being a new place I suppose you can overlook staff teething problems for the moment. However, the kitchen is less easy to forgive though there have been good reviews of the dim sum menu, so a return visit at a more decent hour might yield a less wonky experience.

Phantasmic Popera

Yesterday evening I watched my second musical show. I've been to loads of plays and other live performances in London's 'Theatreland', but have always passed on the musicals. The first one I saw was 'Miss Saigon' a few years ago, and even then it was only because a friend persuaded me to go as the show was on its final run in London.

However, last night's showing of 'The Phantom of the Opera' was actually fantastic. Perhaps it was because my companion and I had no idea what to expect (her first ever musical show) apart from a sketchy understanding of the plot (the programme was thin on details and fat on adverts). It was a lot more dynamic than I presumed, with plenty of excellent imaginatively atmospheric sets; the whole vivid performance itself was very tight, demanding the audience's attention. The familiar Lloyd Webber pop opera hits were deftly sung by a skilled cast and soared with the hypnotic cadence of tunes such as the signature 'Music of the Night'.

I envisaged at least a few slow moments but none emerged and we were both transfixed by the whole spectacle, along with the rest of the audience. In all it was a great evening out - I saw a very nice show with very nice company. A highly enjoyable and recommended experience, although as with most things, it might not be everyone's cup of tea. The only thing to mar the evening was the melon-sized head of the guy sat in the row in front of us.

Murphy & Sod Strike Again

Yes, I cancelled my bankcard and my travelcard and have to wait a week for re-issue, plus I had to pay for a new gym pass. Yes, shortly thereafter my travelcard wallet was found at the bottom of the laundry bin. Yes, Murphy's Law and that of Sod are pre-eminent forces in this universe.

Yes, it is very very annoying. At least I found it before today, the beginning of the Lunar New Year - Year of the Rooster/Chicken, which my superstitious mum says is a good thing...now I don't have to hear her telling me what bad luck I'm supposedly going to have all year. Well, Happy Lunar New Year anyway.

Lost & Unfound

Not one of the better days I've ever experienced. Got up and left for work adamant that I had my travelcard wallet (public transport again!) in which I also keep a bankcard, work and gym passes and a few business cards/contact numbers, in my jacket pocket, but a fumble as I rounded the corner of my street told me no. Already late, I ran back to the house and sprinted up to my room to search the pockets of my other jacket which I'd worn the previous day but no again. Now, I'm generally a creature of habit and more often than not keep things in the same place. The home for that travelcard wallet is a jacket pocket and not finding it in any was extremely frustrating.

I had to concede to time however, so grabbed some money and ran for the bus stop. Today I've been racking my brains as to where I saw it last, which was Friday evening when I went for a few drinks after work - I didn't lose it during the course of the evening as I used it to get the nightbus back home. So I've either lost it on the bus, in the street, or somewhere in the house (my contact lenses were in their usual place in the morning though!). I must admit my memory from Friday is a little hazy but I do remember the journey home.

So, if I did lose it on the bus or in the street I've been lucky that nobody has taken advantage of my bankcard, which I checked earlier. I've put a stop on the card and ordered a new one (I'll be on credit from friends until Thursday!) but you just know that by the Laws of Murphy and Sod, my travelcard wallet will turn up in some nook or cranny once I've gone through the whole rigmarole of replacing passes etc. How annoying and I'm just frustrated with myself because I seldom lose things even after a drink or three! Oh well, the World spins on...

The Nightbus Experience

Perhaps I should rename this blog the Public Transport Blog with all the mentions of it in the past few posts. However, I suppose that's just a reflection of my life in London and how I go about it, ie via public transport! A group of us have had a Spanish friend staying over for the past 5 days so much public transport was used during this period. If you've ever been out for a late night in London somewhere, chances are that you've had the 'Nightbus Experience'. The phenomenon of various people all ranging from sober to merry to the more unconscious states of inebriation, catching public buses to take them home/more parties/straight to work, at crazy times of the night is one which many people take away with them as a memento of London.

Depending on the hour and the passengers, the atmosphere can be a bit party-like or sometimes it's a sombre pre-hangover feeling. Indisputably though, it's the weird and wonderful things to be heard and witnessed on nightbuses which culminate in the 'Nightbus Experience'. Of course there are the inevitable elements of some overexcitable idiots who spoil it for everyone by trying to settle drunken disputes in an aisle full of standing (well, staggering) passengers, as well as those drunken pontificators who decide to bestow all their inebriated wisdom on their fellow travellers and forget the art of debate, thinking that theirs are the only voices worthy of hearing. Sometimes on a nightbus journey you're thrown a real gem and we were treated the other night to the sight of a tipsy girl flouncing down the stairs with a small, but perfectly formed, coconut in her hand as we sailed through Islington at half past three in the morning on the N19. I remember asking a couple of strangers sitting behind whether coconuts were in season or not and another meaningful nightbus debate was born.

Oh, and you haven't had the true 'Nightbus Experience' unless you've fallen asleep on one and woken up somewhere that you've never been before...

Full Frontal

So the wondrous public transport system in London claims another victim. Actually nobody died, it was a woman who'd fainted at the top of the ascending escalators at Holborn station. I didn't witness the fall but she was stretched out on her front surrounded by members of the Tube staff as I walked past. Odd place for a person to faint in my experience as usually faintees (is that correct terminology for someone who faints?!) on the Tube are those who've been standing too long on platforms or on packed trains. That woman must have fainted in mid-stride as she walked off the escalator so nobody could have caught her (ouch) as sometimes happens on the carriages and platforms when people are standing about.

There must be something at Holborn station that makes it an eventful place because it's where I witness plenty of weird and wonderful things. For example, the time I was walking through the connection between the Piccadilly and Central lines when, at the top of the stairs there was a girl of about 20 or so who'd stripped naked, her clothes all about her on the floor and commuters filing past staring. Pretty surreal really but it certainly spiced up that journey! To this day I don't know what that was all about as she looked pretty compus mentus and not seemingly drunk. Some Tube staff were there trying to cover her up with a coat - perhaps it was a student prank or some publicity stunt by a far-out media company, though I didn't notice any bodyart on her - not that I looked that closely or anything!

Sick On PT

Going home from work yesterday, I got on a Piccadilly line tube from Holborn station and had to stand in the carriage as there were no seats as usual during the rush hour. As the train moved off, what can only be described as a stench began to blow through the carriage but I couldn't see the source for all the commuters standing in the aisle. When people filed off at the next station I saw a dishevelled old man asleep on a seat halfway down the carriage with vacant seats around him, the obvious malodorous source. I was about 15ft from him and a sharp acrid tang of stale urine and alcohol rose off him like fumes. A woman sitting opposite him was actually trying to control herself from retching.

It's logical that if you use public transport you have to be prepared to deal with members of the public. That old man last night was also a member of the public, no matter what social level he may have been (probably homeless) and had every right to be on that train provided that he'd managed to get a valid ticket from somewhere somehow (difficult to get through an underground station's electronic gates without one). Sure, it wasn't pleasant; in fact I've never seen anybody retching because somebody smelt so bad before - but on public transport you'll come into contact with other members of the public, so no matter what you just have to deal with it.

Anyway, it's sad and unfortunate that he came to be that way in the first place; he probably had nowhere to go so the best he could have expected was a homeless centre, if he could even get to one that is.

NYC

No, not the Big Apple but a condition known as New Year Cramp which I suffered this lunchtime whilst at the gym during my first session back after the festive season. Full with unfamiliar faces to the regular hardcore gym-nuts who were there before the overindulging began for Christmas etc, there was much red-faced exertion going on. Was doing fine with my usual stint on the cross-trainer (ski) machine followed by a punt on the rowing machine but a last-minute pang of guilt pushed me to try a kilometre on the running machine which eventually proved a feat beyond my legs (now more accustomed to being propped up on a sofa than pounding on a treadmill) which succumbed to NYC. Have New Year resolve to get as fit as I was when I ran the London Marathon (2001 & 2003) though I have no plans to run it this year despite yearly sequence dictating I should (one year on, one year off) - my last marathon could literally be my last marathon, though I do think three is a nice round number (and the magic number according to De La Soul).

There was supposed to be a national three minutes of silence today to commemorate the dead after the Asian Tsunami disaster. Our building's frontdesk sent a message through the tannoy to all the offices to remind everybody just before midday. I'm all for respecting the dead but wonder why this disaster warrants a three minute silence whilst others are just one minute, such as that for Memorial Day to commemorate those who died during the two World Wars, the Twin Towers terrorist attack and the Hillsborough Football disaster etc. Who decides these things, I always thought one minute was standard? Just a random thought.

This disaster is so far-reaching in terms of the nations directly affected not just in terms of the indigenous people of those countries directly devastated by the wave but tourists as well. The news scenes convey pure nightmare scenarios of injured people lying about makeshift, under-equipped hospitals and people looking for missing relatives and friends. My brother has been travelling SE Asia and was in Bangkok on his way to Cambodia when the disaster happened and so was lucky not to be caught up in it.

Whilst some First World countries (eg USA, Japan) have had their share, it seems the Third World suffers a disproportionate amount of natural disasters. They have definitely got it all against them. If the First World can exploit these countries to their own economic ends, they should be first in line to aid them when catastrophes occur. Sadly, it takes some kind of disaster like this to unite countries in humanitarian causes as opposed to warring with each other for a change and even then it's only temporary.