Thailand travel guide

Both the art and architecture of this period can be split into four sub-periods spanning the years from 1351 to 1767, when Ayutthaya was sacked by the Burmese.

As far as Ayutthayan Buddha images are concerned, for much of the time the artists of the city drew upon the works of other kingdoms for inspiration. To begin with, Uthong Buddhas were popular (them- selves drawing upon Khmer prototypes). Then, from the mid-15th century, Sukhothai styles became highly influential – although the images produced looked rather lifeless and are hardly comparable with the originals. In the mid-16th century, when Cambodia came under Thai control, Ayutthayan artists looked to, and imitated, Khmer sculpture (identifiable by the double lips and indistinct moustache). Finally, in the Late Ayutthayan period, a home-grown but rather fussy style arose, with the Buddha often portrayed crowned.

The Bangkok or Rattanakosin period dates from the founding of the Chakri Dynasty in 1782. But, initially at least, the need for Buddha images was met not by making new ones, but by recovering old ones. King Rama I ordered that images be collected from around his devastated kingdom and brought to Bangkok. About 1200 were recovered in this way, and they were then distributed to the various wats .

It is generally accepted that the Buddhas produced during the Bangkok era are, in the main, inferior compared with the images of earlier periods. In particular, art historians characterize them as ‘lifeless’. Initially, they followed the Uthong and Ayutthayan traditions. King Mongkut (1851-1868) did ‘commission’ a new style: these Buddhas are more lively in style, with carefully carved robes. But Mongkut’s new-style Buddha did not catch on, and more often than not old images were merely copied.

This period marks the beginning of Tai art. Earlier works were derivative, being essentially the art of empires and kingdoms whose centres of power lay beyond the country – like Cambodia (Khmer), Sumatra (Srivijaya) and Burma (Mon/Dvaravati). There are two styles within this northern tradition: the Chiang Saen and Chiang Mai (or Later Chiang Saen) schools. The Chiang Saen style, in which the Buddha is portrayed with a round face, arched eyebrows and prominent chin, is stylistically linked to Pala art of India. Nevertheless, local artists incorporated their own vision and produced unique and beautiful images. The earliest date from around the 11th century and their classification refers to the ancient town of Chiang Saen, situated on the Mekong in northern Thailand, where many of the finest pieces have been found. The second style is known as Later Chiang Saen or, less confusingly, Chiang Mai. The influence of Sukhothai can be seen in the works from this period: oval face, more slender body and with the robe over the left shoulder. Images date from the mid-14th century.

Buddha images from both of the northern periods were carved in stone or semi- precious stone, and cast in bronze. The most famous Buddha of all, the Emerald Buddha housed in Wat Phra Kaeo in Bangkok, may have been carved in northern Thailand during the Late Chiang Saen/Chiang Mai period, although this is not certain.

The Dvaravati Kingdom is rather an enigma to art historians. Theravada Buddhist objects have been unearthed in various parts of the central plains which date from the sixth century onwards, among them coins with the inscription “the merit of the king of Dvaravati”. The capital of this kingdom was probably Nakhon Pathom, west of Bangkok, and it is thought that the inhabitants were Mon in origin. The kingdom covered much of Lower Burma and Central Thailand, and may have been influential from as early as the third century to as late as the 13th.

Dvaravati Buddha images show stylistic similarities with Indian Gupta and post-Gupta images (fourth to eighth centuries), and with pre-Pala (also Indian) images (eighth-11th centuries). Most are carved in stone, with only small images cast in bronze. Standing images tend to be presented in the attitude of Vitarkamudra , and later carvings show more strongly indigenous facial features: a flatter face, prominent eyes, and thick nose and lips. Fragments of red paint have been discovered on some images, leading art historians to believe that the carvings would originally have been painted.

Khmer art has been found in the eastern, central and northeastern regions of the country, and is closely linked to the art and architecture of Cambodia. It is usually referred to as Lopburi style, because the town of Lopburi in the central plains is assumed to have been a centre of the Khmer Empire in Thailand . The art is Mahayana Buddhist in inspiration and stylistic changes mirror those in Cambodia. In Thailand, the period of Khmer artistic influence begins with the reign of Suryavarman I (1002-1050) and includes Muang Tham, Prasat Phranomwan and the beginnings of Phanom Rung; Phimai, the most visited of the Khmer Shrines, was built during the reign of the great King Jayavarman VII (1181-1217).

Few visitors – or residents for that matter – see much but crudity in modern Thai buildings: elegant wooden shophouses are torn down to make way for the worst in concrete crassness; office buildings are erected with apparently not a shred of thought as to their effects on the surrounding environment; multi-storeyed condominiums are built with abandon and bad taste. This is tragic, given the beauty and environmental common sense that informed traditional designs. Much like Singapore, in a few years’ time the Thais may be frantically putting back what they have so recently pulled down. But there are Thai architects who are attempting to develop a modern Thai architecture that does not merely ape the worst in Western designs, and there are some notable new buildings.

The Srivijayan Empire was a powerful maritime empire that extended from Java north- wards into Thailand, and had its capital at Palembang in Sumatra. Like Dvaravati art, Srivijayan art was also heavily influenced by Indian traditions. It seems likely that this part of Thailand was on the trade route between India and China, and as a result local artists were well aware of Indian styles. A problem with characterizing the art of this period, which spanned five centuries, is that it is very varied.

The Sukhothai Buddha is one of the first representations of the Ceylonese Buddha in Siam, the prototypes being from Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka (Ceylon). The Buddha is usually represented in the round, either seated cross-legged in the attitude of subduing Mara; or the languid, one-foot forward standing position, with one hand raised, in the attitude of giving protection as the enlightened one descends from the Tavatimsa Heaven. Most were cast in bronze, as Thailand is noticeably lacking in good stone. Some art historians have also argued that Sukhothai artists disliked the violence of chiselling stone, maintaining that as peaceful Thais and good Buddhists they would have preferred the art of modelling bronze. This is fanciful in the extreme.

For the seated Buddha, the surfaces are smooth and curved, with an oval head and elongated features, small hair curls, arched eyebrows and a hooked nose. The classic, enigmatic Sukhothai smile is often said to convey inner contentment. The head is topped by a tall flame-like motif or ketumula. The shoulders are broad and the waist is narrow. The length of cloth hanging over the left shoulder drops quite a long way down to the navel, and terminates in a notched design.

The graceful walking Buddha (perhaps the greatest single artistic innovation of the Sukhothai period) features rather strange projecting heels (which follows the ancient writings describing the Buddha’s physical appearance). The figure is almost andro- gynous – this was Buddha depicted having achieved enlightenment, which meant that sexual characteristics no longer existed. The finest examples were produced in the decades immediately prior to Ayutthaya conquering the city in 1438.

Steve van Beek and Luca Tettoni wrote in The Arts of Thailand: “Sukhothai sculpture suggests a figure in the process of dematerializing, halfway between solid and vapour. He doesn’t walk so much as float. He doesn’t sit, he levitates, and belies his masculine nature which should be inflexible. Even his diaphanous robes portray a Buddha which has already shed the trappings of this world.”

The initial influence upon Sukhothai art and architecture was from Cambodia. Khmer influence can be seen reflected, for example, in the distinctive ‘prang’ towers of the period . Subsequent stupas can be classified into three styles. First, there is the Ceylonese bell-shaped stupa . This is characterized by a square base surrounded by caryatids, above which is another base with niches containing Buddha images. Wat Chang Lom, in Si Satchanalai, is a good example. The second style of stupa is the lotus bud chedi, examples of which can be found at Wat Mahathat and Wat Trapang Ngoen in Sukhothai, Wat Chedi Jet Thaew in Si Satchanalai, and also in Kamphaeng Phet, Tak, Phitsanulok and Chiang Mai. The third style of stupa constructed during this period is believed to be derived from Srivijayan prototypes, although the links are not well established. It is, however, very distinctive, consisting of a square base, above which is a square main body, superimposed with pedestals, containing niches within which are standing Buddha images. Above the main body are bell-shaped andas of reducing size.

Like sculptural art in Thailand, paintings – usually murals – were devotional works. They were meant to serve as meditation aids, and therefore tended to follow established ‘scripts’ that any pilgrim could ‘read’ with ease. These scripts were primarily based on the Ramakien , the Jataka tales and the Traiphum (The Three Worlds) . Most such murals are found, appropriately, on the interior walls of bots and viharns. Unfortunately, there are no murals to compete in antiquity with carvings in stone, although they were certainly produced during the Sukhothai period and probably much earlier. The use of paint on dry walls (frescoes are painted onto wet plaster and survive much better) made the works susceptible to damp and heat. None has survived that pre-dates the Ayutthaya period and only a handful are more than 150 years old.

Nang yai puppets, literally ‘large skin’, are carved from buffalo or cow hide and may be over 2 m in height. Though they can be skilfully decorated, nang yai are mechanically simple: there are no moving parts. Interestingly, some characters require particular types of hide. For example, a Rishi must be cut from the skin of a cow or bull that has been struck by lightning or died after a snakebite, or from a cow that has died calving. After curing and stretching the hide on a frame, the figure is carved out and then painted (if it is to be used for night performances, it is painted black).

Unfortunately for those who are trying to preserve traditional Thai arts, they are gradually, but steadily, losing their popular appeal. Although tourists may expect and hope to see a performance, most Thais would rather watch the TV or go to the movies.

Khon masked drama evolved in the royal court of Siam, although its roots lie in folk dances of the countryside. Performers don elaborate jewelled costumes, men wearing masks and women crowns or gilded headdresses. Music accompanies the dance, and words and songs are performed by an off-stage chorus. Many dances are interpretations of traditional myths, and performers begin their training at an early age.

The ramwong is a dance often performed at ceremonies and originates from the central region. The fawn is a similar northern dance. Slow, graceful, synchronized dancing, accompanied by drums and symbols – in which hand movements are used to evoke meaning – characterize the dance. Ungainly Westerners are often encouraged to perform these dances, to the obvious amusement of Thais.

It is thought that likay evolved from Muslim Malay religious performances. It was adopted by the Thais and in time became primarily a comedy folk art enjoyed by common people, with singing and dancing. In recent years, likay artists have begun to incorporate political jibes into their repertoires. Cultured people in Bangkok used to consider likay rough and unsophisticated, but in recent years it has gained greater recognition as an art form.

Thai traditional music is a blending of musical elements from a number of cultures, namely Chinese, Indian and Khmer. This applies not just to the instruments, but also to the melodies. Although Thai music can therefore be seen to be derivative, it nonetheless developed into a distinctive form that is regarded as belonging to the ‘high’ musical cultures of Southeast Asia. In the past, talented young musicians would become attached to the king’s court or that of a nobleman, and would there receive training from established musicians. Musicians and composers independent of such patronage were rare, and public guilds seldom lasted very long.

With the ending of the absolute monarchy in 1932, the role of the nobility in supporting musicians began to die. Traditional music became viewed as ‘un-modern’ and performances were actively discouraged by the authorities. It has only been in about the last 25 years that an interest in traditional Thai music has re-emerged. But because of the years of neglect, the pool of talented musicians is very small.

Although court music may have withered, folk music remained popular and vibrant throughout this period – and perhaps nowhere more so than in the northeastern region of the country. Here mor lam singers are renowned, and in some cases they have become national celebrities. Accompanied by the haunting sound of the khaen (bamboo pipes) and singing ‘songs from the rice fields’ about rural poverty and unrequited love, they are among the most traditional of performers.

Thailand’s relative economic prosperity, coupled with the wars that have afflicted neighbouring countries, have brought in waves of refugees to the kingdom in recent years. Following the victory of communist forces in Cambodia and Laos in the mid-1970s, many thousands fled to the safety of Thailand. Those escaping the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge (more than 300,000 people) settled in refugee camps along the southern rim of the northeastern region and have since been repatriated. The several hundred thousand Lao who crossed the Mekong River as the Pathet Lao took control of Laos took shelter in refugee camps along the northern sweep of the northeast. These camps too have been closed and their inmates largely resettled in the USA, Australia, France and Canada.

More recently, the crushing of the democracy movement in Burma in 1988 caused several tens of thousands of Burmese to flee to Thailand. More than 100,000 continue to live in camps along the Thai-Burmese border, from Prachuap Khiri Khan in the south to Mae Hong Son in the north. Guesthouses in Mae Sot, and also in Sangkhlaburi, often collect clothes and medicines for distribution to the refugee camps. These political refugees, fleeing persecution – or the fear of persecution – in their own countries, have been joined since the late 1980s by a new army of economic refugees. In 1997 there were an estimated one million illegal migrant workers in Thailand, most of them (around 75%) from Burma, but with large numbers also from China, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, and smaller populations from India, Bangladesh and Pakistan. There are probably more illegal labour migrants and refugees in Thailand than there are hill peoples, making them the largest ‘minority’ group in the country.

In mid-1996 the government announced it would permit illegal migrants already in the country (but not new arrivals) to work for two years before their repatriation. At the end of the three-month amnesty that was granted to allow illegal immigrants to register, the Immigration Department had compiled a list of 342,000 names. The reason for this strange policy decision was that Thailand, at that time, was woefully short of cheap labour: rapid economic growth had priced many Thai workers out of the lower paid, unskilled manual jobs, and illegal labour migrants from neighbouring Burma, Cambodia and Laos were seen as a neat (and cheap) way to fill the gap. Jobs in road maintenance, sugar cane cutting, construction, food packing and freezing, for example, were characteristically filled by immigrants willing to take so-called ‘3-D jobs’ (dangerous, dirty and demeaning – sometimes, for good measure, difficult, too).

Matmii ikat – woven cotton cloth – is characteristic of the northeastern region. Designs are invariably geometric and it is very unusual to find a piece which has not been dyed using chemicals. Designs are handed down by mothers to their daughters and encompass a broad range from simple sai fon (‘falling rain’) designs, where random sections of weft are tied, to the more complex mee gung and poom som. The less common pha kit is a supplementary weft ikat, although the designs are similar to those found in matmii. The characteristic ‘axe cushions’ – or mawn kwan – of the northeast are usually made from this cloth, which is thick and loosely woven. These cushions are traditionally given to monks (usually at the end of the Buddhist Rains Retreat) to rest upon. Pha fai is a simple cotton cloth, in blue or white and sometimes simply decorated, made for everyday use and also as part of the burial ceremony, when a white length of pha fai is draped over the coffin. Centres of weaving in the northeast include: Khon Kaen, Udon Thani, Renu Nakhon (outside That Phanom), Surin, and Pak Thong Chai (outside Korat).

Except for the hilltribe textiles , weaving in the north and central regions is far less diverse than that of the northeast. Indeed, most of the cloth that is handwoven is produced in Lao (ie northeastern) villages that have been relocated to this part of the country. Distinctive pha sin are woven by the Thai Lu of Phrae and Nan, featuring brightly coloured horizontal stripes interspersed with triangular designs. Centres of weaving in the north include: Pasang and San Kamphaeng (both outside Chiang Mai), and Nan and Phrae.

The pha sin is an ankle length tubular piece of cloth, made up of three pieces and worn by women. The hua sin (waistband) is usually plain, the pha sin (main body of the skirt) is plain or decorated, while the dtin sin (lower hem) may be intricately woven. Traditionally, the pha sin was worn with a pha sabai (blouse or shawl), although it is common today to see women wearing T-shirts with the pha sin.

The Akha are shifting cultivators, growing primarily dry rice on mountainsides but also a wide variety of vegetables. The cultivation of rice is bound up with myths and rituals: the rice plant is regarded as a sentient being, and the selection of the swidden, its clearance, the planting of the rice seed, the care of the growing plants, and finally the harvest of the rice, must all be done according to the Akha Way. Any offence to the rice soul must be rectified by ceremonies.

Akha villages are identified by their gates, a village swing and high-roofed houses on posts. They have no word for religion, but believe in the ‘Akha Way’. They are able to recite the names of all their male ancestors (60 names or more) and they keep an ancestral altar in their homes, at which food is offered up at important times in the year such as New Year, during the village swing ceremony, and after the rice harvest.

Akha clothing is made of homespun blue-black cloth, which is appliquéd for decoration. Particularly characteristic of the Akha is their headdress, which is adorned with jewellery. The basic clothing of an Akha woman is a headdress, a jacket, a short skirt worn on her hips, with a sash and leggings worn from the ankle to below the knee. They wear their jewellery as an integral part of their clothing, mostly sewn to their headdresses. Girls wear similar clothing to the women, except that they sport caps rather than the elaborate headdress of the mature women. The change from girl’s clothes to women’s clothes occurs through four stages during adolescence. Unmarried girls can be identified by the small gourds tied to their waist and headdress.

Men’s clothing is much less elaborate. They wear loose-fitting Chinese-style black pants, and a black jacket which may be embroidered. Both men and women use cloth shoulder bags.

There are two sub-groups of the Hmong, the Blue and the White Hmong. Blue Hmong (aka Black Meo, Flowery Meo or Striped Meo) women wear the distinctive indigo-dyed pleated skirt with a batik design which you often see in northern Thailand. During ceremonial occasions White Hmong women wear white pleated skirts. Day-to-day they wear indigo-dyed trousers . The Hmong value their independence, and tend to live at high altitudes, away from other tribes. This independence, and their association with poppy cultivation, has meant that of all the hilltribes it is the Hmong who have been most severely persecuted by the Thai authorities. They are persecuted by the Thai government for three main reasons: because they were thought (less so now) to be a security risk, prone to banditry and so on; because they cultivate the higher lands and clear primary forest on watersheds, and are therefore seen as environmentally destructive; and because they were the main cultivators of opium in the north (again, less so now). Finally, and in general, they are seen as the ‘hardest’ of the hill peoples and commercially savvy. Like most hilltribes, they practise shifting cultivation, moving their villages when the surrounding land has been exhausted. The process of moving is stretched out over two seasons: an advance party finds a suitable site, builds tWemporary shelters, clears the land and plants rice, and only after the harvest do the rest of the inhabitants follow on.

The Hmong are the only tribe in Thailand who make batik. Indigo-dyed batik makes up the main panel of their skirts, with appliqué and embroidery added to it. The women wear black leggings from their knees to their ankles, black jackets (with embroidery), and a black panel or ‘apron’, held in place with a cummerbund. Even the smallest children wear clothes of intricate design with exquisite needlework. Today much of the cloth is purchased from the market or from traders; traditionally it would have been woven by hand on a foot-treddle/back-strap loom.

The White Hmong tend to wear less elaborate clothing from day to day, saving it for special occasions only. Hmong men wear loose-fitting black trousers, black jackets (sometimes embroidered) and coloured or embroidered sashes.

The Hmong particularly value silver jewellery: it signifies wealth and a good life. Men, women and children wear silver: tiers of neck rings, heavy silver chains with lock-shaped pendants, earrings and pointed rings on every finger. All the family jewellery is brought out at New Year and is an impressive sight, symbolizing the wealth of the family.

The Htin are concentrated in Nan province along the border with Laos and, traditionally, were migratory shifting cultivators growing glutinous (sticky) dry rice and a range of other dryland crops. Some continue to cultivate opium, although these are very small in number. Today, because of land shortages, few can continue to cultivate land in their traditional, extensive manner. The emphasis of the Htin economy may remain on farming but few are food secure and they need to engage in other activities to meet their needs. The general view, however, is that the Htin have found it difficult to adapt to modern, commercial life and have been marginalized by the process of modernization, unable to compete effectively with other groups.

The Karen are divided into two main sub-groups, the Sgaw and the Pwo and these are divided into two sub-groups, the Pa-O and Bwe. The Sgaw and the Pwo are also known as the White Karen. The differences between the two principal groups are in language and dress. The Pwo make up about 20% of the total population and the Sgaw the remaining 80%. Most Karen live in mountain villages and practise shifting cultivation of the rotating field type (that is they move their fields, but not their villages). They prevent soil erosion on the steep slopes by taking care to maintain belts of forest growth between ‘swiddens’ or fields, by leaving saplings and tree roots to help bind the soil, and by not turning the soil before planting. When a community grows so large that the distance to the outer fields becomes excessive, a group of villagers establish a satellite village beyond the boundaries of the mother village. However, with the pressure on land and the incentive to commercialize production, this traditional pioneering strategy is often no longer possible. Karen are being forced to try and increase yields by developing irrigation, and some Karen have moved down into the valleys and taken up settled agriculture, imitating the methods of the lowland Thais.

Karen houses are built on stilts out of bamboo, with thatched roofs. Animals are kept under the house at night for protection against wild animals and rustlers. Most houses have only one room and a spacious veranda. A household usually consists of a husband and wife plus their unmarried children. Should a man’s wife die, he is not permitted to remarry until his children have left the home, as this would cause conflict with the spirits. Indeed, much of Karen life is dictated by the spirits. The most important is the ‘Lord of Land and Water’, who controls the productivity of the land and calls upon the rice spirit to grow. Also important is the matrilineal ancestor guardian spirit, bga.

The Sgaw women and girls wear strands of small beads, which hang from mid-chest to waist length, normally red, white or yellow. The Pwo wear them around their neck and to mid-chest length and they are mostly black. Their necklaces are made from old ‘bullet coins’, strung on braided red thread. Pwo women wear lots of bracelets of silver, copper, brass or aluminium. Sgaw are more moderate in their use of jewellery. All Karen wear silver cup-shaped earrings, which often have coloured tufts of wool attached.

The Karen are prolific weavers. Weaving is done on simple backstrap looms and many Karen still spin their own thread. The upper garments worn by men, women and children are all made in the same way: two strips of material are folded in half, the fold running along the shoulder. They are then sewn together along the centre of the garment and down the sides, leaving holes for the head and arms. The stitching is not merely functional, it is an integral part of the design. Until girls marry, they wear only this garment, full length to just below their knees and made of white cotton. The Sgaw embroider a band of red or pink around their waists, the Pwo embroider red diamond patterns along the lower edge. Married women wear this garment as an over-blouse and they also wear a sarong. The over-blouse is considerably more elaborate than that of the girls: Job’s-tear seeds (seeds from a grass) are woven into the design, or a pattern is woven around the border. Pwo women tend to embroider all over the blouse.

Traditionally, the Lahu lived at relatively high elevations, 1200 m or higher. Pressure on land and commercialization has encouraged most of these groups to move down the slopes, and most of these have now taken up irrigated rice farming in the small, high valleys that dissect the northern region of Thailand.

Villages are about 30 houses strong, with about six people in each house. Their houses are built on stilts and consist of the main living area, a bedroom, a spirit altar and a fireplace. Houses are usually built of wood or bamboo, and thatch. The men are less dominant in the family hierarchy than in other tribes: they help around the home and share in the care of their children and livestock, as well as gathering water and firewood. A typical household is nuclear rather than extended, consisting of a man, his wife and their unmarried children. It is also not unusual for a married daughter and her husband and children to live in the household.

Because each Lahu group has distinct clothing and ornamentation, it is difficult to characterize a ‘general’ dress for the tribe as a whole. To simplify, Lahu dress is predominantly black or blue, with border designs of embroidery or appliqué. Some wear short jackets and sarongs, others wear longer jackets and leggings. Most of their cloth is now bought and machine-made; traditionally it would have been handwoven. The jackets are held together with large, often elaborate, silver buckles. All Lahu make caps for their children and the cloth shoulder bag is also a characteristic Lahu accessory.

Those who maintain their traditional ways practice rotational shifting cultivation. They are regarded as among the most environmentally aware of swidden cultivators. A fair number have embraced wet rice culture, although whether they are hill or padi farmers they tend to be subsistence oriented in terms of production. In addition to farming, the Lawa have a long tradition of working as iron smiths and most have also taken on supplementary non-farm income earning activities. Due to limited land and environmental degradation few can survive adequately from agriculture alone.

The Lisu grow rice and vegetables for subsistence and opium for sale. Rice is grown at lower altitudes and the opium poppy at over 1500 m. Villages are located so that the inhabitants can maintain some independence from the Thai authorities. At the same time they need to be relatively close to a market so that they can trade.

Lisu houses may be built either on the ground or raised above it: the former are more popular at higher altitudes as they are said to be warmer. The floors and walls are made from wood and bamboo, and the roof is thatched. The house is divided into a bedroom, a large living area, and contains a guest platform. Within each house there will also be a fireplace and an ancestral altar.

Lisu clothing is some of the most brightly coloured, and most distinctive, of all the hilltribes. They make up their clothes from machine-made cloth. The women wear long tunics – often bright blue, with red sleeves and pattern-work around the yoke – black knee-length pants and red leggings. A wide black sash is wound tightly round the waist. Looped around this at the back is a pair of tassels consisting of many tightly woven threads, with pompoms attached to the ends (sometimes as many as 500 strands in a pair of tassels). Turbans, again with coloured tassels attached, are worn for special occasions. The man’s attire is simpler: a black jacket, blue or green trousers and black leggings.

The Mien village is not enclosed and is usually found on sloping ground. The houses are large, wooden affairs, as they need to accommodate an extended family of sometimes 20 or more members. They are built on the ground, not on stilts, and have one large living area and four or more bedrooms. As with other tribes, the construction of the house must be undertaken carefully. The house needs to be orientated appropriately, so that the spirits are not disturbed, and the ancestral altar installed on an auspicious day.

The height of Ayutthaya’s power and glory is often associated with the reign of King Boromkot (literally, ‘the King in the urn [awaiting cremation]’, as he was the last sovereign to be honoured in this way). Boromkot ruled from 1733 to 1758 and he fulfilled many of the imagined pre-requisites of a great king: he promoted Buddhism and ruled effectively over a vast territory. But, in retrospect, signs of imperial senility were beginning to materialize even as Ayutthaya’s glory was approaching its zenith. In particular, King Boromkot’s sons began to exert their ambitions. Prince Senaphithak, the eldest, went so far as to have some of the king’s officials flogged; in retaliation, one of the officials revealed that the prince had been having an affair with one of Boromkot’s three queens. He admitted to the liaison and was flogged to death, along with his lover.

The feud with Burma was renewed in 1760 when the Burmese King Alaungpaya invaded Thailand. His attack was repulsed after one of the siege guns exploded, seriously injuring the Burmese king. He died soon afterwards during the arduous march back to Pegu. Three years later his successor, King Hsinbyushin, raised a vast army and took Chiang Mai, Lamphun and Luang Prabang (Laos). By 1765, the Burmese were ready to mount a second assault on Ayutthaya. Armies approached from the north and west and at the beginning of 1766 met up outside the city, from where they laid siege to the capital. King Suriyamarin offered to surrender, but King Hsinbyushin would hear nothing of it. The city fell after a year, in 1767. David Wyatt, in Thailand: A short history, wrote: “The Burmese wrought awful desolation. They raped, pillaged and plundered and led tens of thousands of captives away to Burma. They put the torch to everything flammable and even hacked at images of the Buddha for the gold with which they were coated. King Suriyamarin is said to have fled the city in a small boat and starved to death 10 days later.”

In the middle of the 14th century, Sukhothai’s influence began to be challenged by another Thai kingdom, Ayutthaya. Located over 300 km south on the Chao Phraya River, Ayutthaya was the successor to the Mon Kingdom of Lavo (Lopburi). It seems that from the 11th century, Tais began to settle in the area and were peacefully incorporated into the Mon state, where they gradually gained influence. Finally, in 1351, a Tai lord took control of the area and founded a new capital at the confluence of the Pa Sak, Lopburi and Chao Phraya rivers. He called the city Ayutthaya – after the sacred town of Ayodhya in the Hindu epic, the Ramayana . This kingdom would subsequently be known as Siam. From 1351, Ayutthaya began to extend its power south as far as Nakhon Si Thammarat, and east to Cambodia, raiding Angkor in the late 14th century and taking the city in 1432. The palace at Angkor was looted by the Thai forces and the Khmers abandoned their capital, fleeing eastwards towards present-day Phnom Penh. Although Sukhothai and Ayutthaya initially vied with one another for supremacy, Ayutthaya proved the more powerful. In 1438, King Boromraja II placed his seven-year-old son, Ramesuan (later to become King Boromtrailokant), on the throne, signalling the end of Sukhothai as an independent power.

During the Ayutthayan period, the basis of Thai common law was introduced by King Ramathibodi (1351-1369), who drew upon the Indian legal code of Manu, while the powerful King Boromtrailokant (1448-1488) centralized the administration of his huge kingdom and introduced various other civil, economic and military reforms. Perhaps the most important was the sakdi naa system, in which an individual’s social position was related to the size of his landholdings. The heir apparent controlled 16,000 ha, the highest official 1600 ha, and the lowest commoner 4 ha. A code of conduct for royalty was also introduced, with punishments again linked to position: princes of high rank who had violated the law were to be bound by gold fetters, those of lower rank by silver. The execution of a member of the royal family was, it has been said, carried out by placing them in a sack and either beating them to death with scented sandalwood clubs or having them trampled by white elephants. Even kicking a palace door would, in theory, lead to the amputation of the offending foot.

During Rama II’s reign (1809-1824), a new threat emerged to replace the Burmese: that of the Europeans. In 1821, the English East India Company sent John Crawfurd as an envoy to Siam to open up trading relations. Although the king and his court remained unreservedly opposed to unfettered trade, Crawfurd’s visit served to impress upon those more prescient Siamese where the challenges of the 19th century would lie.

Rama II’s death and succession illustrates the dangers inherent in having a claim to the throne of Siam, even in the 19th century. The court chronicles record that in 1824 Prince Mongkut (the second son of Rama II) was ordained as a monk because the death of a royal elephant indicated it was an ‘ill-omened time’. Historians believe that Rama II, realizing his death was imminent, wished to protect the young prince by bundling him off to a monastery, where the robes of a monk might protect him from court intrigues.

Rama III was the son of Rama II by a junior wife. When King Rama II died he was chosen by the accession council over Mongkut because the latter was in the monkhood. Rama III’s reign (1824-1851) saw an invasion by an army led by the Lao King Anou. In 1827, Anou took Nakhon Ratchasima on the edge of the central plain and was within striking distance of Bangkok before being defeated. After their victory, the Siamese marched on Vientiane, plundering the city and subjugating the surrounding countryside. In 1829, King Anou himself was captured and transported to Bangkok, where he was displayed to the public in a cage. Anou died shortly after this humiliation – some say of shame, others say of self-administered poison. Before he died he is said to have laid a curse on the Chakri dynasty, swearing that never again would a Chakri king set foot on Lao soil. None has, and when the present King Bhumibol attended the opening of the Thai–Lao Friendship bridge over the Mekong in 1994, he did so from a sand bar in the middle of the river.

There were also ructions at the court in Bangkok: in 1848 Prince Rakrannaret (a distant relative of Rama III’s) was found guilty of bribery and corruption and, just for good measure, homosexuality and treason as well. Rama III had him beaten to death with sandalwood clubs, in time-honoured Thai fashion.

The 19th century was a dangerous time for Siam. Southeast Asia was being methodically divided between Britain, France and Holland as they scrambled for colonial territories. The same fate might have befallen Siam, had it not been blessed with two brilliant kings: King Mongkut (Rama IV – 1851-1868) and King Chulalongkorn (Rama V – 1868-1910).

Mongkut (the second son of Rama II) was a gifted scholar. He learnt English and Latin and when he sat his oral Pali examination, performed brilliantly. Indeed, his 27 years in a monastery allowed him to study the religious texts to such depth that he concluded that all Siamese ordinations were invalid. He established a new sect based upon the stricter Mon teachings, an order which became known as the Thammayutika or ‘Ordering Adhering to the Dharma’. To distinguish themselves from those ‘fallen’ monks who made up most of the Sangha, they wore their robes with both shoulders covered. Mongkut derisively called the main Thai order – the Mahanikai – the ‘Order of Long-standing Habit’.

But Mongkut was not an other-wordly monk with scholarly inclinations. He was a rational, pragmatic man who well appreciated the economic and military might of the Europeans. He recognized that if his kingdom was to survive he would have to accept and acquiesce to the colonial powers, rather than try to resist them. He did not accede to the throne until he was 47, and it is said that during his monastic studies he came to realize that if China, the Middle Kingdom, had to bow to Western pressure, then he would have to do the same.

He set about modernizing his country, along with the support of other modern- thinking princes. He established a modern ship-building industry, trained his troops in European methods and studied Western medicine. Most importantly, in 1855, he signed the Bowring Treaty with Britain, giving British merchants access to the Siamese market, and setting in motion a process of agricultural commercialization and the clearing of the vast central plains for rice cultivation. As David Wyatt wrote: “At the stroke of a pen, old Siam faced the thrust of a surging economic and political power with which they were unprepared to contend or compete”. Mongkut’s meeting with Sir John Bowring illustrates the lengths to which he went to meet the West on its own terms: he received the British envoy and offered him port and cigars from his own hand, an unheard of action in Thai circles.

It would seem that King Mongkut and Sir John Bowring were like-minded men. Both were scholars who believed in the power of rational argument. Bowring was a close friend of the philosophers Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill, and he wrote a number of articles for the Westminster Review. He was a radical reformer, in favour of free trade and prison reform and bitterly opposed to slavery. He was a member of the House of Commons for six years, governor of Hong Kong, and Her Majesty’s Consul in Canton (China). He was a remarkable man, just as Mongkut was a remarkable man, and his achievements during his 80-year life were enough to satisfy the ambitions of a dozen men. It seems that Bowring used a mixture of veiled military force and rational argument to encourage Mongkut to sign the Bowring Treaty, perhaps the single most important treaty in Thailand’s history. Bowring’s account of his visit, the two volume The kingdom and people of Siam, published in 1857, is a remarkably perceptive work, especially given the brevity of Bowring’s visit to Siam. As David Wyatt wrote in a reprint of the work (Oxford University Press, 1977), the book is undoubtedly “the finest account of Thailand at the middle of the 19th century, when it stood on the threshold of revolutionary change”.

Unfortunately, in the West, Mongkut is not known for the skilful diplomacy that kept at bay expansionist nations considerably more powerful than his own, but for his characterization in the film The King and I (in which he is played by Yul Brynner). Poorly adapted from Anna Leonowens’ own distorted accounts of her period as governess in the Siamese court, both the book and the film offend the Thai people. According to contemporary accounts, Mrs Leonowens was a bad tempered lady obviously given to flights of fantasy. She never became a trusted confidant of King Mongkut, who scarcely needed her limited skills, and there is certainly no evidence to indicate that he was attracted to her sexually. It appears that she was plain in appearance.

King Mongkut died on 1 October 1868 and was succeeded by his 15-year-old son Chulalongkorn. However, for the next decade a regent controlled affairs of state, and it was not until 1873, when Chulalongkorn was crowned for a second time, that he could begin to mould the country according to his own vision. The young king quickly showed himself to be a reformer like his father – for in essence Mongkut had only just begun the process of modernization. Chulalongkorn set about updating the monarchy by establishing ministries and ending the practice of prostration. He also accelerated the process of economic development by constructing roads, railways, schools and hospitals. The opium trade was regulated, court procedures streamlined and slavery finally completely abolished in 1905. Although a number of princes were sent abroad to study – Prince Rajebuidirekrit went to Oxford – Chulalongkorn had to also rely on foreign advisors to help him undertake these reforms. In total he employed 549 foreigners – the largest number being British, but also Dutch, Germans, French and Belgians. Chulalongkorn even held fancy dress parties at New Year and visited Europe twice. These visits included trips to the poor East End of London and showed Chulalongkorn that for all the power of Britain and France, they were still unable to raise the living standards of a large part of the population much above subsistence levels.

These reforms were not introduced without difficulty. The Hua Boran (‘The Ancients’), as the king derogatorily called them, strongly resisted the changes and in late December 1874 Prince Wichaichan attempted to take the royal palace and usurp the king. The plot was thwarted at the last possible moment, but it impressed upon Chulalongkorn that reform could only come slowly. Realizing he had run ahead of many of his subjects in his zeal for change, he reversed some of his earlier reforms and toned down others. Nevertheless, Siam remained on the path of modernization – albeit progressing at a rather slower pace. As during Mongkut’s reign, Chulalongkorn also managed to keep the colonial powers at bay. Although the king himself played a large part in placating the Europeans by skilful diplomacy and by presenting an image of urbane sophistication, he was helped in this respect by a brilliant minister of foreign affairs, his son, Prince Devawongse (1858-1923), who controlled Siam’s foreign relations for 38 years. Devawongse looked into European systems of government with the aim of reforming Siam’s administration and even attended the celebrations marking Queen Victoria’s 50 years on the throne of Great Britain in 1887. During his time controlling Siam’s foreign affairs, a new administrative system and a new system of ministries was introduced to extend Bangkok’s power to the outer provinces.

The kings that were to follow Mongkut and Chulalongkorn could not have been expected to have had such illustrious, brilliant reigns. Absolute kingship was becoming increasingly incompatible with the demands of the modern world, and the kings of Thailand were resisting the inevitable. Rama VI, King Vajiravudh (1910-1925), second son of Chulalongkorn, was educated at Oxford and Sandhurst Military Academy and seemed well prepared for kingship. However, he squandered much of the wealth built up by Chulalongkorn and ruled in a rather heavy-handed uncoordinated style. He did try to inculcate a sense of ‘nation’ with his slogan ‘king, nation, religion’, but seemed more interested in Western theatre and literature than in guiding Siam through a difficult period in its history. He died at the age of only 44, leaving an empty treasury.

Like his older brother, King Prajadhipok (Rama VII – 1925-1935), was educated in Europe: at Eton, the Woolwich Military Academy and at the École Supérieure de Guerre in France. But he never expected to become king and was thrust onto the throne at a time of great strain. Certainly, he was more careful with the resources that his treasury had to offer, but could do little to prevent the country being seriously affected by the Great Depression of the 1930s. The price of rice, the country’s principal export, declined by two-thirds and over the same two-year period (1930-1932) land values in Bangkok fell by 80%. The economy was in crisis and the government appeared to have no idea how to cope. In February 1932, King Prajadhipok told a group of military officers:

“The financial war is a very hard one indeed. Even experts contradict one another until they become hoarse. Each offers a different suggestion. I myself know nothing at all about finances, and all I can do is listen to the opinions of others and choose the best. I have never experienced such a hardship; therefore if I have made a mistake I really deserve to be excused by the officials and people of Siam”.

The widely held belief that the Thai political system had come of age proved ill-founded. In February 1991, with the prime minister daring to challenge the armed forces, General Suchinda Kraprayoon staged a bloodless coup d’état and ousted the democratically elected government of Chatichai Choonhavan. The last decade of the 20th century was a pretty eventful one for Thailand. At the end of the year, egged on by two generals- turned-politicians – Chamlong Srimuang and Chaovalit Yongchaiyut – 100,000 people gathered in Bangkok to protest against a Suchinda and military-imposed constitution. Elections in March 1992 produced no clear winner and General Suchinda tearfully agreed to become premier – something he had previously promised he would not do. Chamlong Srimuang took this as his cue to call his supporters onto the streets and announced he was going on hunger strike. Tens of thousands of people gathered around the parliament buildings and Sanaam Luang, near the Grand Palace. Suchinda buckled under this weight of public outrage and appeared to agree to their demands. But Suchinda went back on his word, and in response tens of thousands of demonstrators returned to the streets. Suchinda called in the army and scores of people were killed.

Three days after the confrontation between the army and the demonstrators, King Bhumibol ordered both Suchinda and opposition leader Chamlong – who had to be released from gaol for the meeting – to his palace. There, television cameras were waiting to witness Suchinda’s global, public humiliation. He and Chamlong prostrated themselves on the floor while the king lectured them, asking rhetorically: “What is the use of victory when the winner stands on wreckage?” Immediately afterwards, the army and the demonstrators withdrew from the streets. On Friday, Suchinda offered his resignation to the king, and on Saturday, less than one week after the killing began, Suchinda Kraprayoon fled the country. In a televised address, Suchinda accepted responsibility for the deaths.

After the riots of May 1992, and General Suchinda’s humiliating climbdown, Anand Panyarachun was appointed interim prime minister. New elections were set for September, which the Democrat Party won. Chuan Leekpai was appointed 1992’s fourth prime minister. Chuan, a mild-mannered southerner from a poor background (his father was a fish vendor in Trang) gained his law degree while living as a novice monk in a monastery. Never one for flashiness and quick fixes, Chuan became known as Chuan Chuengcha – or Chuan the slowmover. He may have been slow but his government lasted more than 2½ years, making it the longest serving elected government in Thai history, before he was forced to resign over a land scandal.

The Chart Thai Party, led by 62-year-old Banharn Silpa-Archa, won the election – or at least the largest number of seats – and formed a coalition government of seven parties. Bangkok’s intelligentsia were horrified. Like Chuan, Banharn came from a poor background and was very much a self-made man. But in almost all other respects, Banharn and Chuan could not have been more different. Banharn’s Chart Thai was closely associated with the military junta and was viewed as incorrigibly corrupt. As British political scientist Duncan McCargo explained: “there’s no movement for [true] democracy. There’s nothing but the money, and the results [of the election] bear that out”. Two Chart Thai candidates in the elections were even accused of involvement in the narcotics trade. Thanong Wongwan was indicted in California with drug trafficking, where he was reportedly known as ‘Thai Tony’, and the party’s deputy leader Vatana Asavahame had a visa request turned down by the US authorities on similar grounds. Banharn was even accused of plagiarism in his Masters thesis, which is said to bear a striking similarity to a paper by his academic advisor – who Banharn appointed to his cabinet.

While the press may have hated Banharn (The Nation stated that “the only way for 1996 to be a good year is for the Banharn government to go”), he survived because he was an arch populist politician. He used to step from his limousine and order local officials to mend roads, provide electricity, or improve health services. Here was a man getting things done, sweeping away red tape, and putting the interests of ordinary people first. But while Banharn might have been able to ignore the press, he couldn’t ignore the king. In late summer 1995, Banharn’s government found itself explicitly criticized by the palace when the king highlighted government failures to address Bangkok’s infrastructural mess and its shortcomings in dealing with serious flooding. Ministers, the king said, only “talk, talk, talk and argue, argue, argue”. Taking the king’s cue, the great and the good including businessmen, influential civil servants, four former Bank of Thailand governors, opposition politicians (of course), even his own daughter, demanded that he step down. On 21 September 1996 Banharn announced his resignation. The king dissolved parliament.

The elections of 17 November 1996 were close, with Chaovalit Yongchaiyudh’s New Aspirations Party (NAP) just managing to win the largest number of seats, and after the usual bickering and horse-trading he managed to stitch together a six-party coalition controlling 221 seats in the 393-seat House of Representatives. Chaovalit, a canny 64-year-old former army commander-in-chief, never completely managed to hide his ambition to become premier. He was an old-style patronage politician who depended on his links with the army and on handing out lucrative concessions to his supporters. “Transparency”, as Democrat MP Surin Pitsuwan was quoted as saying in August 1996, “is not in his dictionary”.

It was Thailand’s students who precipitated probably the single most tumultuous event since the Revolution of 1932. The student body felt that Thanom had back-tracked and restricted the evolution of a more open political system in the country. In June 1973 they began to demonstrate against the government, printing highly critical pamphlets and calling for the resignation of Thanom. A series of demonstrations, often centred on Sanaam Luang near the radical Thammasat University and the Grand Palace, brought crowds of up to 500,000 onto the streets. During the demonstrations, Thanom lost the support of the army: the Commander-in-Chief, General Krit Sivara, was unwilling to send his troops out to quell the disturbances, while Thanom, apparently, was quite willing to kill thousands if necessary. With the army unwilling to confront the students, and with the king – crucially – also apparently siding with Thanom’s army opponents, he was forced to resign from the premiership and fled the country.

David Wyatt wrote of the October Revolution: “In many important respects, the events of October 1973 deserved far more the name ‘revolution’ than either the events of 1932 or the authoritarian program of Sarit. They brought about an end to one-man, authoritarian rule; and if they did not bring an end to the military role in politics, then they at least signalled a new consciousness of the necessity of sharing political power more widely than had ever been the case in the past.”

While the monarchy receded from view, the civilian government was going through the intrigues and power struggles that were to become such a feature of the future politics of the country. The two key men at this time were the army officer Phibun Songkhram and the left-wing idealist lawyer Pridi Panomyong. Between them they managed to dominate Thai politics until 1957.

When Prime Minister Pridi Panomyong tried to introduce a socialist economic programme in 1933, pushing for the state control of the means of production, he was forced into exile in Europe. This is often seen as the beginning of the tradition of authoritarian, right-wing rule in Thailand (although to be fair, Pridi’s vision of economic and political reform was poorly thought through and rather romantic). Nonetheless, with Pridi in Paris – at least for a while – it gave the more conservative elements in the government the chance to promulgate an anti-communist law, and thereby to usher in a period of ultra-nationalism. Anti-Chinese propaganda became more shrill, with some government positions being reserved for ethnic Tais. In 1938 the populist writer Luang Wichit compared the Chinese in Siam with the Jews in Germany, and thought that Hitler’s policies might be worth considering for his own country.

After the war, Seni Pramoj, Thailand’s ambassador in the USA, became prime minister. He was soon succeeded by Pridi Panomyong, who had gathered a good deal of support due to the role he played during the conflict. However, in 1946 King Ananda was mysteriously found shot dead in his royal apartments and Pridi was implicated in a plot. He was forced to resign, so enabling Phibun to become prime minister once again – a post he kept until 1957. Phibun’s fervent anti-communist stance quickly gained support in the USA, which contributed generous amounts of aid as the country became a front-line state in the battle against the ‘red tide’ that seemed to be engulfing Asia. Phibun’s closest brush with death occurred in June 1951. He was leading a ceremony on board a dredge, the Manhattan, when he was taken prisoner during a military coup and transferred to the Thai navy flagship Sri Ayutthaya. The air force and army stayed loyal to Phibun, and planes bombed the ship. As it sank, the prime minister was able to swim to safety. The attempted coup resulted in 1200 deaths – mostly civilians. For the navy, it has meant that ever since it has been treated as the junior member of the armed forces, receiving far less resources than the army and air force.

The October Revolution of 1973 was the background that led the army to feel impelled to step in once again. However, the trigger for the appalling events of October 1976 was the return of former Prime Minister Thanom from exile, who joined the sangha and became a monk. Installed in a Bangkok monastery, Thanom was visited by members of the royal family. The students took this as royal recognition of a man who had led the country into violence and to the edge of civil war. Demonstrations broke out in Bangkok, again centred on Sanaam Luang and the nearby Democracy Monument. This time, though, the students were not able to face down the forces of the Right. Newspapers printed pictures apparently showing the crown prince being burnt in effigy by students at Thammasat, and right wing groups, along with the police and the army, advanced on the university on 6 October. Details of the hours that followed are hazy. However, it seems clear that an orgy of killing ensued. With the situation rapidly deteriorating, the army stepped in and imposed martial law. Tanin Kraivixien was installed as prime minister, to be replaced the following year by Kriangsak Chomanan.

In 1996, on the 20th anniversary of the massacre, newspapers in Thailand were filled with the reminiscences of those from both sides who were involved. The bones of the tragic episode were picked over exhaustively and the still grieving parents of some of those who were murdered or ‘disappeared’ were interviewed. Such was the coverage of the event – far more detailed and honest than anything at the time – that it was almost as if the Thai nation were engaged in a collective catharsis, cauterizing the wounds of 20 years earlier. Yet in a way the debate over the massacre said as much about the present as the past. Kasian Tejapira, one of the student leaders involved, and by 1996 a university lecturer, suggested that the anniversary was an opportunity “to redefine the meaning of Thai identity – one that is anti-elitist and not conservative; one that was put down at Thammasat 20 years ago”. The former student activists are now in positions of power and influence. Some are wealthy businessmen, others university lecturers, while more still are involved in politics. Most seem to have retained their commitment to building a just society.

The 1976 massacre was a shot in the arm for the Communist Party of Thailand (CPT). Left-wing intellectuals and many students, feeling that they could no longer influence events through the political system, fled to the jungle and joined the CPT. The victories of the communists in neighbouring Indochina also reinforced the sense that ultimately the CPT would emerge victorious. By the late 1970s the ranks of the party had swelled to around 14,000 armed guerrillas, who controlled large areas of the northeast, north and south. However, with the ascendancy of Prem Tinsulanond to the premiership in 1980 and a rapidly changing global political environment, the CPT fragmented and quickly lost support. Its leaders were divided between support for China and the Cambodian Khmer Rouge on the one hand, and the Soviet Union and Vietnam on the other. When the government announced an amnesty in 1980, many of the students who had fled into the forests and hills following the riots of 1973 returned to mainstream politics, exhausted and disenchanted with revolutionary life. In true Thai style, they were largely forgiven and re-integrated into society. Those who died on Sanaam Luang and in the streets leading off it have never been acknowledged, and in many cases their parents were never informed that they had been killed – nor were they allowed to collect their children’s bodies. As the Thai historian Thongchai Winichakul lamented on the 20th anniversary of the massacre in 1996, this showed the extent to which Thai society still valued national stability over individual rights: “Life is more significant than the nation.”

Prem Tinsulanond presided over the most stable period in Thai politics since the end of the Second World War. He finally resigned in 1988, and by then Thailand – or so most people thought – was beginning to outgrow the habit of military intervention in civilian politics. Chatichai Choonhaven replaced Prem after general elections in 1988, by which time the country was felt to be more stable and economically prosperous than at any time in recent memory. During his reign, the present King Bhumibol has played a crucial role in maintaining social stability, while the political system has been in turmoil. He is highly revered by his subjects, and has considerable power to change the course of events.

On 24 June a clique of soldiers and civilians staged a coup d’état, while the king was holidaying at the seaside resort of Hua Hin. This episode is often called the Revolution of 1932, but it was not in any sense a revolution involving a large rump of the people. It was orchestrated by a small elite, essentially for the elite. The king accepted the terms offered to him, and wrote:

Of all the external empires to impinge on Thailand before the rise of the Tai, the most influential was the Khmer. Thailand lay on the fringes of the Angkorian Kingdom, but nonetheless many Thai towns are Khmer in origin: That Phanom, Sakhon Nakhon and Phimai in the northeast; Lopburi, Suphanburi and Ratburi in the lower central plain; and Phitsanulok, Sawankhalok and Sukhothai in the upper central plain.

In northern Thailand, various Tai chiefs began to expand at the expense of the Mon. The most powerful of these men was King Mengrai, born in October 1239 at Chiang Saen, a fortified town on the Mekong. It is said that Mengrai, concerned that the constant warring and squabbling between the lords of the north was harming the population, took it upon himself to unite the region under one king. That, inevitably, was himself. Entranced by the legendary wealth of Haripunjaya, Mengrai spent almost a decade hatching a plot to capture this powerful prize. He sent one of his scribes – Ai Fa – to ingratiate himself with the king of Haripunjaya, and having done this encouraged the scribe to sow seeds of discontent. By 1280, the king of Haripunjaya was alienated from his court and people, and in 1281, Mengrai attacked with a huge army and took the city without great trouble. Mengrai then set about uniting his expansive, new kingdom. This was helped to a significant degree by the propagation of Ceylonese Theravada Buddhism, which transcended tribal affiliations and helped to create a new identity of northern Thai. The Lanna (literally ‘million rice fields’) Thai Kingdom created by Mengrai was to remain the dominant power in the north until the mid-16th century, and was not truly incorporated into the Thai state until the 19th century.

Thailand’s fauna is even more threatened than its forests. Of the kingdom’s 282 species of mammal, 40 are endangered and 14 are critically endangered. For its birds, the picture is equally gloomy: 190 endangered species out of 928, with 38 critically endangered. While for the country’s reptiles and amphibians, there are 37 endangered species out of 405, of which seven are on the critical list. A century ago, wild elephants and tigers roamed the Bang Kapi area east of Bangkok – now it is overrun with shopping malls. It was only in 1960 that a law was enacted protecting wild animals, and even today it doesn’t take an investigative journalist to find endangered – and protected – animals for sale, whether whole (and alive) or in bits.

Thailand’s dominant natural vegetation is tropical forest. In the south, parts of the west, and in pockets such as Chanthaburi province in the east, this means ‘jungle’ or tropical rain forest. Tigers, elephants, banteng (wild ox), sambar (deer) and tapirs still roam the lowland forests, although not in great numbers. Thailand’s forests have been depleted to a greater extent than in any other country in Southeast Asia (with the one exception of Singapore, which doesn’t really count). In 1938, 70% of Thailand’s land area was forested; by 1961 this had been reduced to just over 50%. Today, natural forest cover accounts for only a little more than 15% of the land area and projections indicate that by 2010 this will have declined to less than 10%. The Royal Forestry Department still insists on a figure of over 20% and puts the area of National Reserve Forest at 40%, despite the fact that over large areas not a single tree remains standing, a glance at satellite images will show both figures to be palpably fraudulent.

The causes of this spectacular, and depressing, destruction of Thailand’s forests are numerous: simple population growth, commercial logging, commercialization and the spread of cash cropping, and dam construction. Cronyism and corruption, which is part and parcel of logging across the region, has also marred the management of Thailand’s forests. In late 1988, such was the public outcry after floods in the south killed 300 people – and whose severity was linked in the public imagination to deforestation – that a nationwide logging ban was introduced in January 1989. Few doubt, though, that deforestation continues. ‘The Forestry Department’, as Nok Nguak (a pseudonym) argued, “can be described at best as ineffective and at worst as one of the main culprits in the destruction of our forests” (Bangkok Post, 24.03.98). In February 1998 it was revealed that a logging mafia, in league with the Royal Forestry Department (RFD), had been instrumental in the logging of protected forest in the Salween area near Mae Hong Son, in Northern Thailand. After the revelation of a ฿5 million bribe, The Nation opined that the RFD was ‘hopelessly corrupt’.

The tropical rainforests of Thailand, although not comparable with those of Malaysia and Indonesia, have a high diversity of species, exceeding 100 per hectare in some areas. In total, it is estimated that Thailand supports 20,000-25,000 species of plant.

Thaksin returned to Thailand in February 2008 to a mixture of jubilation and outright hostility. By May 2008 the PAD were back out on the streets, fearful that Thaksin was once again pulling the strings and that the 2006 coup they’d helped precipitate had been rendered meaningless by the PPP’s general election victory. This time, though, things were different. Previously, the PAD had a broad base that had supported the pre-2006 coup, but as a result of their increasingly excessive actions, the PAD became alienated. In short, the PAD had transformed from a popular movement into an extremist vanguard.

In August the yellow-shirted PAD (yellow is the king’s colour) seized Government House, the home of the Thai cabinet, facilitated strikes with its allies in the public service trade unions and, in actions that would foretell of things to come, briefly occupied Krabi and Phuket airports. Thaksin, who was awaiting trial on a number of corruption charges presciently took flight to the opening of the Beijing Olympics with a diplomatic passport (by February 2009 he had not returned to Thailand and is yet to serve the resulting prison sentence).

PAD demagogue and media tycoon Sondhi Limthongkul kept up a steady flow of pro- PAD/anti-Thaksin propaganda on his ASTV television station, while the demonstrators entrenched themselves in Government House. Armed PAD goons (many of them allegedly street criminals or ex-army colleagues of another senior figure in the PAD, ex-Thai army Major General Chamlong Srimuang) placed razor wire around the encamped demonstrators and dragged anyone who they suspected of opposing them off the street to be beaten or humiliated. The PAD needed some form of defence as regular attacks, some involving RPGs and explosives, occurred.

As the rhetoric and ranting became increasingly hysterical, Prime Minister Samak, who was also moonlighting as a TV chef, vowed to hold onto power. But in another bizarre twist, his culinary endeavours ended him up in hot water – Thai prime ministers are forbidden from earning money from other sources (he was paid peanuts for his chef appearances) and Samak was removed from his position by a military appointed court.

Samak’s replacement, the mild-mannered Somchai Wongsawat (Thaksin’s brother- in-law), was initially accepted by Sondhi as a compromise prime minister. Nonetheless Somchai’s appointment did nothing to placate the PAD and a new list of demands was produced, including the establishment of something called ‘New Politics’. The PAD’s (now firmly backed by middle-class Bangkokians and sectors of the elite) belief was that the wrong thinking of the uneducated, poor masses of Isaan and the north had led to Thaksin’s rise to power. In order to get around the ‘failings’ of ‘democracy’ the PAD now wanted a 70% unelected parliament filled with army officers and bureaucrats appointed by the king and his advisors. Any notion of the PAD being agents for democracy was now melting away and with them regularly engaging in nationalistic tub thumping the highly respected Asian Human Rights Commission declared of the PAD “although they may not describe themselves as fascist, they have fascist qualities.”

With the beginning of October things took another dramatic turn. Due to the PAD blockade, the Somchai government was unable to announce or implement the policies they had been democratically elected to carry out (Thailand’s constitution states that a government cannot implement all but the most very basic policies if they cannot be announced) and so they sent in the riot police to throw out the increasingly fanatical PAD from Government House. The result was hundreds injured and at least one dead PAD demonstrator. The PAD fully renounced non-violence and stated that their new aim was to provoke a coup and get their supporters in the Democrat Party installed as the party of government. As all this was being played out, on 21 October the absent and still massively popular Thaksin was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for his role in a crooked land deal. Tensions continued to rise.

With the Thai queen attending the funeral of the dead PAD activist and Thaksin speaking via telephone to mass rallies of Red Shirts (a popular anti-PAD and anti-coup movement) Thailand seemed to be splitting apart.

Then in late November, the PAD, with their popular support draining away, took their most dramatic action to date and while clutching portraits of the king occupied both of Bangkok’s main airports in what they termed ‘Operation Hiroshima’.

The most obvious impact on the international community was that Thailand’s tourism industry ground to a complete halt. Hotels and resorts stood empty as no flights could take off or land through the nation’s main entry points. Images of hundreds of thousands of stranded tourists flashed around the world – the ‘Land of Smiles’ was transforming into angry frowns. More importantly, but less high profile, Suvarnambhumi airport was also one of busiest cargo airports in the world, largely being built to export the goods made in the vast factories of Thailand’s eastern seaboard. With the world in economic meltdown the last thing Thailand needed was a seriously damaging incident like this. But still the PAD held sway, refusing to budge until the PPP government resigned.

What was incomprehensible for outsiders was the way in which the PAD had so easily taken over important facilities such as Bangkok’s main airports. The entire internal mechanics of Thai politics was momentarily laid bare. The PAD had been able to take control of the airports because their backers in the elite were linked to both the military and other shadowy power structures. No police officer or soldier would stand against the PAD as it would mean standing against a group whose actions were perceived to have the backing of Thailand’s highest institutions. The result was that democracy in Thailand was unofficially suspended – the will of the people had been circumnavigated by 3000 violent demonstrators and their secretive backers.

Thailand seemed to be heading towards another coup, but the military was rumoured to be split. If the army did take to the streets on this occasion it was unlikely they would receive the same passive response they did in 2006 and civil war was a likely outcome.

In the end a military coup wasn’t necessary. On 2 December the constitutional court dissolved the PPP (and coalition members Chart Thai and Matchima) banning many of its key people, including Prime Minister Somchai, from politics for five years. While none of the PPP’s MPs and cabinet members had any allegations of any wrongdoing against them the Election Commission had brought charges against a single PPP official for misconduct during the December 2007 general election (similar charges against the Democrat Party were conveniently forgotten). The military-sponsored Thai constitution of 2007 was explicit that any political party official found guilty of one of a number of offences meant that that entire party could be dissolved and its executive banned. And so, with all hint of Thaksin’s influence now absent from government and any semblance of democracy finally demolished the PAD departed the airports and claimed outright victory. Many commentators quite fittingly called this a ‘judicial coup.’

But things weren’t quite over. The PPP had anticipated such a move by the courts and had founded a new political party, the Puea Thai Party (PTP), which wouldn’t fall under the constitutional court’s verdict. Yet the PTP’s numbers were immediately reduced due not only to the banning of up to 37 PPP and coalition MPs but also intervention by the Abhisit led Democrat Party and the head of the Thai military, General Anupong.

In the first few days after the dissolution and with MPs still figuring out where their ‘loyalties’ might lie, the Democrats were the de-facto largest party in the Thai government giving them the right to try and form a government. With reports of MP’s being bought for millions of baht and General Anupong meeting with potential Democrat-coalition partners to ‘advise’ them what to do, Prime Minister Abhisit was voted in with a majority of standing MPs on 15 December. What was most remarkable about this coalition was that key Thaksin allies, most notably the Newin Faction (led by a banned politician Newin Chidchob), were now sided with the Democrats – Newin was previously a bogeyman for both the PAD and Abhisit’s democrats.

With the shiny, handsome, alternative rock-loving PM Abhisit installed, a new era of accountability and democracy was promised. Abhisit himself had personally vowed to root out corruption and restore the rule of law, yet things started to go wrong almost immediately. The new foreign minister, Kasit, told the press how much he enjoyed attending the PAD occupations at the airports and several other key PAD supporters were installed in government positions. The obvious implication was that the highly illegal and murderously violent activities of the PAD wouldn’t only be tolerated but even validated by the new administration. A huge clampdown on lese majeste was implemented by the Democrats with over 4000 perceived anti-royal websites closed and several anti-PAD/anti-2006 coup activists arrested. Organizations such as Amnesty International, whose local chairperson was linked to the PAD, refused to take up lese- majesty cases and the elite seemed to have a free hand in rolling back 20 years of democratic advances.

At this point the Harry Nicolaides case came to court and the international media began to openly question the role of the Thai elite in recent events – even if leading NGOs such as Amnesty refused. The Economist was in the vanguard of the international press and published a series of damning articles aimed at the most senior elements in the Thai elite – the result was that several editions of the magazine were effectively banned in Thailand.

As if to show how widespread the rot had advanced in Thai society, on New Years’ Eve 2008 a huge fire engulfed one of Bangkok’s most popular nightclubs, Santika. Once again unsavoury images of Thailand flooded the international media – over 60 horribly burned bodies, most young party goers and several tourists, were pulled from Santika’s ruins.

It didn’t end there. A story concerning the treatment of several hundred Burmese refugees – from an ethnic Muslim group known as the Rohingya – at the hands of the Thai military began to circulate in the international press. Apparently the Rohingya were attempting to reach Malaysia by sea but had drifted off-course and ended up in Thai waters instead. Caught by the Thai navy the Rohingya were allegedly beaten, starved and then towed out to sea and set adrift on unseaworthy boats with little or no food and water. Those that refused to board the boats were murdered. Up to 500 Rohingya were thought to have perished, with similar independent allegations of maltreatment at the hands of the Thai military surfacing in both India and Indonesia. The Democrat Party-led government’s reaction was to blame the media – some even called it a BBC hoax. Abhisit, his much vaunted humanist credentials on the line, refused to take a hardline against the military who’d seemingly carried out the Rohingya murders – after all this was the same military who’d helped both him and the Democrats gain power.

And it wasn’t all quiet on the home front either. The red-shirted National United Front of Democracy Against Dictatorship (UDD), who’d formed out of a broad coalition of pro-Thaksin, anti-2006 coup and anti-PAD activists, took to the streets. Tens of thousands of people took part in almost completely peaceful demonstrations with their key demand being a general election (The Democrat Party haven’t won an election since 1976) and the prosecution of PAD activists. All the UDD’s demands were rejected by the government who now seemingly lurched from crisis to crisis – several members of the Democrats were then involved in corruption scandals surrounding the sale of tinned milk.

As his first term progressed Thaksin revealed an authoritarian side that was increasingly alarming. With an economic boom slowly re-establishing itself, a whole set of social problems had to be evaporated. To this end, in 2003, a war against drugs was declared. This wasn’t a poster campaign nor an attempt to stop smuggling. It involved the whole- sale extra-judicial murder of thousands of suspected drug dealers, drug addicts and anyone else the police didn’t really like that much. Some commentators felt that the notoriously corrupt Thai police were just getting rid of their competition, others agreed that this form of social cleansing was the only way to control the nefarious criminals who ran the illegal drug trade. Organizations such as Amnesty condemned the deaths – many victims were shot in the back or executed with a single head shot while restrained – although the international community, to its shame, was largely silent.

September 2006 changed everything. On the morning of the 19 September (UK time) the BBC’s news website began reporting that Prime Minister Thaksin – then in New York at a UN conference – had declared a state of emergency. By the afternoon the BBC were reporting that tanks were on the streets and Thaksin’s government had been replaced by an army council – a full scale military coup had taken place.

If you walked around the streets of the capital a few days later you’d be forgiven for wondering whether anything had happened at all. In a move designed to win over the masses a national holiday was declared and by the end of the first week locals were delivering flowers and food to the army. A typically Thai sense of surreal fun descended on the capital and tourists posed with the tanks for photo-ops. The coup had seemed to unite the nation: peace prevailed.

Within a few weeks a new prime minister, General Surayud Chulanont, was installed and the hard-fought-for, though ultimately flawed, 1997 constitution was shredded. New elections and a new constitution were mooted for later in 2007 and a civilian cabinet was put in place. With Thaksin skulking in China and the country seemingly united behind the king, a feeling of optimism grew.

It didn’t last long. After the civilian unity cabinet made a series of poor judgements regarding foreign investment leading to a mini stock market crash, several bombs exploded in Bangkok on New Year’s Eve, killing nine people, authority seemed to be draining from the new regime.

By the middle of 2007 a great deal of uncertainty had crept back into Thai society. Efforts were being made to root out the supposed corruption of the Thaksin years and to create a more enduring constitution. Yet the process of redrafting the constitution was decidedly problematic. Key voices, such as social and trade union activists, were left off the body responsible for drafting the new document. When it did finally arrive it contained the seeds for less democracy rather than more – the upper chamber was to be largely appointed and the military were to be given broad and sweeping new powers during times of ‘national emergency’.

In late 2007 the country took part in a referendum on the draft document, supervised by the military, and the constitution was passed with 57.8% of the total vote. However, this figure does not reflect the fact that criticism of the draft and opposition to the constitutional referendum was made a criminal act by the military. No real public debate was allowed to take place yet 42.2% still voted no – hardly a resounding victory given the circumstances.

Chaovalit was, in a sense, unlucky to take over the reins of government when he did. Economic conditions were a cause for concern in the country in late 1996, but no one – scholar or pundit – predicted the economic meltdown that was just a few months away. He appointed the well-respected Amnuay Virawan as finance minister. But the collapse of the baht, the Bangkok stock market, the property and finance sectors, and a haemorrhaging loss of domestic and international confidence created conditions that were impossible to manage. Even so, his performance was hardly memorable. As The Economist tartly put it, “he dithered when decisions were needed, bumbled when clear words might have helped, and smiled benignly while the economy got worse”. The central bank spent a staggering US$10 billion trying to defend the baht’s peg to the US dollar, and interest rates were raised to 1300% for offshore borrowers in an ultimately futile attempt to keep the speculators at bay. The baht was allowed to float on 2 July, ending 13 years of being pegged to the US dollar. Two cabinet reshuffles during August did little to stem the criticism of Chaovalit and his administration, and there was talk of military intervention – though the army commander-in-chief quickly distanced himself from any such suggestion. In September, Chaovalit used his promised support for a vote on a new constitution to defeat a no-confidence motion. Even so, the end of Chaovalit’s administration was in sight. On 7 November, Chaovalit resigned as prime minister after less than a year in power.

Following Chaovalit’s resignation, Chuan Leekpai, leader of the Democrat Party, stitched together a new seven-party, 208-person coalition and became prime minister for the second time. Given talk of military intervention a few months earlier, it was a relief to many that Thailand had achieved a peaceful change of government. The key question, however, was whether Chuan could do any better than Chaovalit, particularly given the mixed make-up of his coalition government. Chuan and his finance minister, Tarrin Nimmanahaeminda (the fourth finance minister of the year) vigorously implemented the International Monetary Fund’s rescue package and even managed to negotiate a slight loosening of the terms of the package.

The economic crisis enabled a coterie of young, reform-minded politicians to gain high office – like urbane, US-educated foreign minister Surin Pitsuwan. Fed up with coups and corruption, and backed by an increasingly assertive middle-class, these politicians were committed to change. As Chuan’s special assistant, Bunaraj Smutharaks, explained to journalist Michael Vatikiotis, “If we don’t seize this opportunity to instigate change, the future generations will see this [economic] crisis as a lost opportunity”. (Far Eastern Economic Review, 30.06.98)

The December 2004 tsunami came to overshadow many of the events in the south. Thaksin’s handling of this disaster was seen by most – at least initially – to be efficient and statesman- like. An election was called soon after in February 2005 and with the economy in a full-scale boom and free face whitening cream for female voters, Thaksin’s TRT won a landslide.

Yet, Thaksin’s style of rule, popular with the impoverished masses but not with the middle classes and Bangkok elite, soon began to divide Thailand. Early in 2006, and fuelled by an alleged tax-avoidance scam by the Shinawatra family who’d just sold their large telecoms company into foreign hands, a series of demonstrations aimed at Thaksin’s ruling party began to turn into a serious movement, the Peoples’ Alliance for Democracy (PAD). Alongside this, Thaksin was accused by certain parts of the media of not showing sufficient respect to the king and even of lese-majesty – a serious offence in Thailand.

The Muslim south has long felt separate from the mainstream of Thai society. And with another period of economic prosperity in place – something which hardly touched the Muslims of the south – a series of demonstrations, killings and bombings occurred. However, it wasn’t until October 2004 that an event took place that gave this insurrection a sense of legitimacy and urgency.

After a violent demonstration outside a government building in the small town of Tak Bai, hundreds of Muslim demonstrators were arrested. Beaten and shackled, they were then loaded into army trucks like human logs, stacked one on top of another, four or five deep. More than 80 people died of suffocation. A wave of violence followed with Buddhist monks and teachers becoming targets and explosions a regular occurrence.

The beginning of January 2001 saw the election of Thaksin Shinawatra and the Thai Rak Thai party, in a landslide victory over Chuan Leekpai and the Democrats. Thaksin won for two reasons: first, he made grand promises and second, his opponent, Chuan, was stuck with the charge that he had sold the country out to the IMF and foreign business interests. A good dose of populism won the day. But his victory was remarkable in one telling respect: for the first time in Thai political history a party won (almost) a majority of seats in the lower House of Representatives. While Thaksin decided to form a coalition he had no need to do this. And a few months after the election a minor party, Seritham, with 14 MPs, merged with Thai Rak Thai to give Thaksin an absolute majority. Here was a man with an unprecedented mandate to rule.

Thaksin won the election by promising the world – or at least rather more than the dour Chuan could manage. Fed up with 3½ years of belt tightening, the electorate grabbed at Thaksin’s pledge to grant one million baht (US$23,200) to each of Thailand’s 70,000 villages, a debt moratorium for poorer farmers, cheap medical care, and more. But Thaksin was more than just a populist prime minister; he brought to Thai politics a business sense honed whilst managing one of the country’s most successful companies. Rather than handing out bottles of fish sauce and ฿฿100 notes to poor farmers in a crass attempt to buy their support he employed pollsters and consultants to judge the mood of the electorate. Moreover, he delivered on his promises: the debt moratorium was introduced in July 2001 and in October 2001 health care became available to all Thais at a standard rate of ฿฿30 per visit.

This is a very rare event indeed for travellers, but if you are unlucky (or careless) enough to be bitten by a venomous snake, spider, scorpion or sea creature, try to identify the culprit, without putting yourself in further danger (do not try to catch a live snake).

Snake bites in particular are very frightening, but in fact rarely poisonous – even venomous snakes bite without injecting venom. Victims should be taken to a hospital or a doctor without delay. It is not advised for travellers to carry snake bite anti-venom as it can do more harm than good in inexperienced hands. Reassure and comfort the victim frequently. Immobilize the limb with a bandage or a splint and get the patient to lie still with the affected area below the heart. Do not slash the bite area and try to suck out the poison. This also does more harm than good. You should only apply a tourniquet if you know how to do so; do not attempt this unless you are experienced.

Diarrhoea can refer either to loose stools or an increased frequency of bowel movement, both of which can be a nuisance. Symptoms should be relatively short-lived but if they persist beyond 2 weeks specialist medical attention should be sought. Also seek medical help if there is blood in the stools and/or fever.

Adults can use an anti-diarrhoeal medication such as loperamide to control the symptoms but only for up to 24 hrs. In addition keep well hydrated by drinking plenty of fluids and eat bland foods. Oral rehydration sachets taken after each loose stool are a useful way to keep hydrated. These should always be used when treating children and the elderly.

Bacterial traveller’s diarrhoea is the most common form. Ciproxin (Ciprofloxacin) is a useful antibiotic and can be obtained by private prescription in the UK. You need to take one 500 mg tablet when the diarrhoea starts. If there are so signs of improvement after 24 hrs the diarrhoea is likely to be viral and not bacterial. If it is due to other organisms such as those causing giardia or amoebic dysentery, different antibiotics will be required.

Remember that it is risky to buy medicine, and in particular anti-malarials, in some developing countries. These may be sub- standard or part of a trade in counterfeit drugs.

Malaria can cause death within 24 hrs and can start as something just resembling an attack of flu. You may feel tired, lethargic, headachy, feverish; more seriously you may develop fits, followed by coma and then death. Have a low index of suspicion because it is very easy to write off vague symptoms, which may actually be malaria. If you have a temperature, visit a doctor as soon as you can and ask for a malaria test. On your return home, if you suffer any of these symptoms, have a test as soon as possible. Even if a previous test proved negative, this could save your life.

Treatment is with drugs and may be oral or into a vein depending on the seriousness of the infection. Remember ABCD: Awareness (of whether the disease is present in the area you are travelling in); Bite avoidance, Chemoprohylaxis; Diagnosis.

If you plan to dive make sure that you are fit do so. The British Sub-Aqua Club (BSAC), Telford’s Quay, South Pier Rd, Ellesmere Port, Cheshire CH65 4FL, UK, T0151-350 6200, F0151-350 6215, http://www.bsac.com, can put you in touch with doctors who will carry out medical examinations. Check that any dive company you use are reputable and have appropriate certification from BSAC or Professional Association of Diving Instructors (PADI), Unit 7, St Philips Central, Albert Rd, St Philips, Bristol, BS2 OTD, T0117-300 7234, http://www.padi.com.

No vaccinations are specifically required for Thailand unless coming from an infected area, but tuberculosis, rabies, Japanese B encephalitis and hepatitis B are commonly recommended. The final decision, however, should be based on a consultation with your GP or travel clinic. You should also confirm that your primary courses and boosters are up to date (diphtheria, tetanus, poliomyelitis, hepatitis A, typhoid).

For up-to-the- minute exchange rates visit http://www.xe.com.