Myanmar - Ancient Civilisations are always Complicated

Read this blog at your own peril... it is a history lesson... I think it's great... odds are, you'll find it resembling a high-school textbook.

Joye and I are recovering from minor health issues... so our adventuring around Yangon has been at a sedate pace. Today's outing has been limited to a visit to the National Museum... where we attempted to cover Myanmar History 101. There is a lot to cover... staring with prehistoric bones that have yet to be finally dated... but are pointing to humanoids living in the area over a million years ago. Java Man and Peking Man were around in the very early days... but the Myanmar archaeologists are confident that their find will pre-date these finds.

But history of homosapians is complicated by the usual dimensions of race, ethnic groups, waves of invasions and the British.

The earliest archaeological evidence suggests that cultures existed in Burma as early as 11,000 BC. In what looks like remarkable symmetry, Burma's Stone Age existed at a time that parallels the lower and middle Paleolithic experience in Europe. No one bought civilisation to Myanmar... they invented their own. About 1500 BC, people in the region were turning copper into bronze, growing rice, and domesticating chickens and pigs; they were among the first people in the world to do so. By 500 BC, iron-working settlements emerged in an area south of present-day Mandalay. Bronze-decorated coffins and burial sites filled with earthenware remains have been excavated. Archaeological evidence at Samon Valley south of Mandalay suggests rice growing settlements that traded with China between 500 BC and 200 AD. We are taught that the fertile triangle of Persia is the home of Palaeolithic civilisation... perhaps, Myanmar could mount a competing claim.

History really got going when the Tibeto-Burman-speaking Pyu entered the Irrawaddy valley, in the 2nd century BC, and went on to found city states. The Pyu were the earliest inhabitants of Burma for whom records are extensive. During this period, Burma was part of an overland trade route from China to India. Trade with India brought Buddhism from southern India. By the 4th century, many in the Irrawaddy valley had converted to Buddhism. In March 638, the Pyu of Sri Ksetra launched a new calendar that later became the Burmese calendar.

Pya had a long-lasting civilization extending over nearly a millennium to early 9th century until a new group of "swift horsemen" from the north, the Mranma, (Burmans) entered the upper Irrawaddy valley. How many times have horses interrupted the course of human history!

The Pyu gradually were absorbed into the expanding Burman kingdom of Pagan in the next four centuries. The Pyu language still existed until the late 12th century. By the 13th century, the Pyu had assumed the Burman ethnicity. The histories/legends of the Pyu were also incorporated into those of the Burmans.

As early as 6th century, another people called the Mon began to enter the present-day Lower Burma from modern-day Thailand. By the mid 9th century, the Mon had founded at least two small kingdoms (or large city-states) centered around Pegu and Thaton. The kingdoms prospered from trade. The Kingdom of Thaton is widely considered to be the fabled kingdom of Suvarnabhumi (or Golden Land), referred to by the tradesmen of the Indian Ocean.

During the hundred years up to 1750, warring between princely states had Myanmar running around in circles... a bit like the dark-ages in Europe. Perhaps, this time, we cannot blame the little ice age for the misery Myanmar tribes inflicted on each other. From 1750, the Burmese tribes gained the ascendancy... successfully took on Thailand territory... and had a go at China. While the Burmese tribes were busy with their international adventures, the Mon tribes re-established their control over historic areas.

The advantage of lying on an important trade route is that you can generate wealth... the disadvantage is that you are continually the target for invasion and plunder. Myanmar has accumulated 17 ethnic groups that currently make up the nation... some groups have historians still scratching their heads wondering where they came from. The number of wars fought per hectare... on Myanmar soil... probably rates a place in the Guinness Book of Records. Everyone has had a go... even the Australians in an indirect way... courtesy of being prisoner of war inmates in Japanese railway building gangs.

The British added some stability to the war fields. They assumed control in 1886... although hostilities continued until 1890. The Suez Canal had been opened... and the demand for Burmese rice increased rapidly. Vast tracts of land were opened up for cultivation. However, in order to prepare the new land for cultivation, farmers were forced to borrow money from Indian moneylenders called chettiars at high interest rates and were often foreclosed on and evicted, losing land and livestock.

Most of the jobs also went to indentured Indian labourers, and whole villages became outlawed as they resorted to 'dacoity' (armed robbery). While the Burmese economy grew, all the power and wealth remained in the hands of several British firms, Anglo-Burmese and migrants from India. The civil service was largely staffed by the Anglo-Burmese community and Indians, and Burmese were excluded almost entirely from military service. Though the country prospered, the Burmese people failed to reap the rewards. (See George Orwell's novel Burmese Days for a fictional account of the British in Burma.) Throughout colonial rule through to the mid-1960s, the Anglo-Burmese were to dominate the country, causing discontent among the local populace.

The status of Burma during WWII is a complete book on its own. The Japanese manipulated Burmese politicians with promises of independence from Britain. After the war, on 27 January 1947, Aung San and the British Prime Minister Clement Attlee signed an agreement in London guaranteeing Burma's independence within a year.

A general election was held in April 1947. On 19 July 1947, a gang of armed paramilitaries broke into the Secretariat Building in downtown Rangoon and assassinated Aung San and six of his cabinet ministers.

Many mysteries still surround the assassination. There were rumours of a conspiracy involving the British—a variation on this theory was given new life in an influential, but sensationalist, documentary broadcast by the BBC on the 50th anniversary of the assassination in 1997.

Myanmar has earned is nationhood the hard way over milleniums of struggle. Australia freed itself from British domination with relative ease compared with all that Myanmar had to endure.

Myanmar - What's it Like

Do you want to know what the nation of Myanmar is like... that's the old Burma for those of us still living under the British Empire.

Well, it's nothing like you thought it would be.

You probably thought that since the coup d'état imposed military rule in 1962... there would be police informants hiding behind every bush... police and military swaggering down every street... indiscriminating detention faced on each corner. Joye and I are naive in such matters... we could see none of it. We saw citizens confidently going about their daily business... looking relaxed... looking well-fed... being courteous and energetic. I have no doubt that Myanmar citizens crave greater individual freedoms... all I'm saying is that today, they didn't look angry or fed-up.

You probably thought that a country with a GDP per capital of just $1,000 would have beggars on the street... children in rags... hunger driving desperate behaviour. I have to admit to being completely mysterfied by what we saw on the street. $1, 000 per annum is $2.75 per day. All the people we saw on the street looked like they had a comfortable night's sleep... had washed and groomed themselves... dressed in clean clothes... and satisfied any hunger pains. You can't do that on $2.75 per day. Perhaps the capital Yangon is treated as a privileged area... and real poverty lies outside the capital. We'll see.

Yangon is clean... very clean... without an observable team of street cleaners. We did not see citizens dropping waste paper or plastic on the street... very little spitting. We have seen no stay dogs, cats, pigs, cattle or water buffalo. We did see some street vendors with pet roosters each participating in a perpetual cock-a-doodle-do knockout... bringing some rural noises to downtown alleyways.

The traffic is quite different compared to India. Motorbikes are forbidden from Yangon... leaving automobiles to drive in accordance with strict road rules. Public transport is extensive... provided by utility vehicles with bench seating in the tray to seat a dozen or so commuters. Even bicycles are absent... although there are still a few on the roads.

One day (in recent history) the government decided that cars should change from driving on the left-hand side of the road... to the right. There are some vehicles with steering wheels on the left side... but the majority of vehicles have their steering wheel on the right side. Initially, we thought that taxis were expensive... it cost kt4,500 to get a ride downtown... even after adjusting for yesterday's inflation, that's still a big number. But the exchange rate is roughly kt1,000 for each $1...so you need to take a big pile of notes with you, everytime you step on the street.

I'm forming the opinion that the British did a far better job at colonial rule in Burma than it did in Delhi. Their colonial buildings are still being used today... streets are well laid out and street drainage is much more effective. Some of the colonial buildings have been let deteriorate... some are being renovated... but most are still being used.

You probably want some pictures and colour that are uniquely 'Yangonish'. Of course there are the Buddhist temples... golden domes shining in the tropical sun... but you expected that. How about the street vendors sitting with their manual typewriters... willing to fill in any government form that you may need. How about the street vendor next door with a photocopying machine that can duplicate the typed document you have just paid for... these street vendors think of everything. How about the fellow touting for business at the door of the government building... offering (at a price) to show you the right queue to join for you to present your form.

Street vendors often had 'line' phones booked up to their store. We have yet to figure out why a vendor offering a cup of tea would need two telephones on his table... perhaps it is a status thing. Feature mobile phone (the ones you are throwing away) are the hot items in street technology. The yuppies are around flashing their 'smart phones', but the up-and-coming cool guy will be standing idly on the street corner... smiling lovingly at his feature phone... Nokia ain't dead yet.

The markets here are civilised. The vendors do not harass potential purchasers. You are free to inspect and feel the goods without having to hear why the garment in your hand is much better than the one on display next door.

We meet with the seven other participants in our tour tomorrow night... when we will have the opportunity to ply countless questions to our tour leader... who can hopefully explain the riddle within the mystery that appears as the paradox of Yangon.

Incredible India - Way Ahead

Today is our last in India... we are staying in New Delhi... Connaught Place... one of the up-market shopping areas. Our travel agent chose this hotel... probably thinking we may need shelter from the 'real' India. Although we are enjoying the quietness and cleanliness of the hotel... we would prefer to be downtown in Old Delhi... with its heaving mass of humanity... spicy smells... vivid colours... and boundless energy.

Today, Connaught Place was the starting point for an anti-government protest... that had the permits required to march up the street to Parliament House. I think very few people turned up... no special police presence... the only excitement came from local ladies trying to find space on the suburban buses. (Given my experience with the Amalfi Coast scrums... I was tempted to offer advice to some ladies on how to improve their scrumming techniques... but thought better of it.)

As you know, India is the world's largest democracy... and undoubtedly the most complicated. Just to recall... there are 520 historic princely states that have significance in how people identify themselves... this is overplayed with the complexity of the old caste system... it's being replaced by the 'class' system. You have three or four major religions... the divisions within the one religion are usually more important than the differences between the major religions. Within one religion (Hindu) you have 3 million gods worshipped with a high degree of fanaticism. You have multiple languages... and the accents within any one language means people from different countries have difficulty communicating. Within each of the 26 official states, you will have up to 3 different scripts for writing. Fortunately, there is only one official currency... although at the tollway booths on the highways, we did see lollies being used as the preferred currency for small change. Anyone who claims to know India will acknowledge that it is impossible to know how it works... but it works... in a fashion... Indian style.

In Australia, when we spot something not quite right with our society we say, "Why doesn't the Government do something about fixing it?" We all think we could do a better job than 'that lot in Canberra'! I suspect none of us would want to be a politician in India... you'd be on a hiding to nothing. The fact that anything works is a miracle.. a mystery.

On our tour bus, we played a game... how would you spend $1 million to most benefit the community we were passing? There were lots of imaginative suggestions...

:-/ Kerbing and Guttering... feeding into reticulated water storage

:-/ Solar photo voltaic panels with batteries to replace wood burning

:-/ R&D into affordable stoves that require less fuel

:-/ Funding to complete abandoned civic projects

:-/ Better controls to catch those kids who are slipping through the government's excellent programs for child education

:-/ Housing projects buit under the elevated highways that by-pass a lot of villages

:-/ Investment in factories to compete with China in the component manufacturing export trade

Our guide listened patiently to all our suggestions....then pointed out that for every initiative there would be unexpected consequences... and in a democracy... government cannot ignore unexpected consequences.
It is tempting to conclude there is no use trying... the problem is just too complicated. Still, you can't help feeling that India is achieving a critical mass that will... quite soon... unlease growth comparable to the Chinese experience. China has achieved an early start by authoritarian rule... ignoring individual rights and smashing communities that represented the soul for most people living in those communities. Draconian! India has not chosen that path... it has chosen to remain a democracy... a much slower path to wealth.

So, you be the judge... should India sacrifice a generation to provide accelerated growth for younger generations?
My opinion... for what it is worth... its that India offers a unique insight into an alternative set of values that may... one day... prove vital to civilisations throughout the world... in living in a world with populations that stretch resources beyond the riches currently enjoyed in current Western civilisations.

Incredible India - Historic Perspective

Without the little ice age, India would have been a very different country.

Those of you following the climate change debate will be aware that Earth experienced a drop in temperatures during the period from the 16th to the 19th centuries. In Europe that bought a change in power... where the church was able to comfort a distressed community with explanations as to why life was so hard. It gave rise to the most northerly nations focusing their resources on military adventures to capture lands to the south... where food was more plentiful.

In India, similar dynamics were at work. Genghis Kahn had organised his conquests during a benign warm period... but with the little ice age, his descendants needed to make alternative arrangements. So it happened that Barbur... the founder of the Moghul Empire... left his cold starving homeland in Uzbekistan... swept through modern Afghanistan... and won some important battles, in what is now, Northern India. Because of traditions passed down from Ghengis Kahn, Barbur knew how to organise an army with superior mobility and tactics for fast and furious engagement of isolated forces. He entered India at a time when Princely States were in a constant state of struggle. Now, there are 28 states in India... but in Barbur's times there were 20 principalities within each state... for those of you who are mathematically challenged... that means 560 principalities. Barbur had no difficulty playing one principality off against the other. He had no problem establishing a foothold for his dynasty in Northern India.

Barbur was very smart... and established the custom of marrying into the major religious groups... as a means of 'currying' favour with the major population groups. Barbur was a Muslim... but made a Hindi wife his favourite. As well as a Muslim wife... he took a third wife from the Catholic faith... acknowledging the power of the East India Company in the Bombay region. This practice was continued by his descendants.

The Princely States refused to consolidate into an effective opposing force... so the biggest risks faced by the Moghul rulers was from Moghul relatives... palace intrigue... sons killing fathers... all of that exciting uncertainty.

Barbur delivered a successor (Humayum) who was a dud... at least at the beginning of his rule. He was overthrown by other family members... but managed to regain the throne to die in state... and have a marvellous Mausoleum constructed in Delhi... not that he deserved it. I only mention it because it is one of the 'must see' sites in Delhi.

The Moghuls were the Romans of India. They applied a demanding... but fair... taxation system on the agricultural based economy... and used the revenue to build magnificent courts and palaces. Unlike the Romans, they seem to have spent little effort in benefiting the people of low-birth. That is why the Romans remain the premier conquerors of all time... let's hear it for the Romans! Hip hip... Oh forget it.

Let's skip a couple of generation until we come to Shah Jehan (1627)... under him, Mughal art and architecture reached their zenith; constructed the Taj Mahal, Jama Masjid, Red Fort, Jahangir mausoleum, and Shalimar Gardens in Lahore. He was deposed by his son Aurangzeb.

While India was at the pinnacle of Moghuls sophistication... European peasants were not faring very well... famines, hypothermia, bread riots, and the rise of despotic leaders brutalizing an increasingly despirited peasantry. In the late seventeenth century, agriculture had dropped off so dramatically, "Alpine villagers lived on bread made from ground nutshells mixed with barley and oat flour."

Historian Wolfgang Behringer has linked intensive witch-hunting episodes in Europe to agricultural failures during the Little Ice Age. Epidemics added to the curse of the dark ages in Europe.

While the Moghuls were building an empire... down south, the East India Company was simply plundering... with a bit of rape and pillage thrown in to spice things up. Those of you wanting to defend British ethics can attempt to distinguish British actions from those of the East India Company behaviour. But, there is no doubt that Britain benefitted from the bad behaviour of the Company. Even when Britain took responsibility for Indian involvement... things did not improve greatly. We, in Australia, sometimes think we were poorly treated by our colonial matters. We got it pretty easy compared to what the Indians had to put up with.

Eventually, the Hindi forces organised themselves sufficiently to persuade the Moghuls to leave... which offered the British an ideal opportunity to take over... without too much messy military action. So started the saddest period of Indian history. While the Moghuls simplified Indian politics from 500 Princely states into 28 states.... British... perhaps inadvertently... consolidated India into one nation. That is to their credit. But the riches of Victorian Britian were funded to a very large extent... from the exploitation of India.

One final word on the Moghuls... they introduced Persian art and culture to India... they brought religious tolerance... they brought grandeur that showed India what it could become.
They did some good... probably more good than the British did in their 200 years of (attempted) rule.

Incredible India - Mogols were A Laugh a Minute

Indian mythology seems to focus on showing the frailties of the Mogols ... and showing how the serving classes were smarter than their rulers... the same is probably true today. Here are a couple of short stories told by guides over the last two weeks.

Who is who
The first story is short... and makes you think about primary responsibilities. The largest fort in Rajastan is Chittorgarh... surrounded by territory keenly contested by the Mogols and the ancient Indian rulers. This first story belongs in mythology... no dates... and the main characters were first cousins to the gods. The king died young... leaving an infant male heir to inherit the crown. A Head Council was appointed amongst the cousins of the late king to conduct kingly duties while the infant king reached maturity. The appointed Head liked the job so much, he decided to murder the infant king... to continue his period of power. His dastardly plot to murder the infant king became known to the nanny (of lowly birth) who was the wet nurse to the infant king. On the planned night of the murder, she substituted her own child for the infant king. The murderers assassinated the baby in the king's cradle
... well satisfied with their night's work. The murderers... including the Head Council... were arrested... the nanny was treated as a hero... and the true prince grew to become a long-lived successful king.

This story raises some interesting ethical points.

First, was the nanny telling the truth? Did she allow the real king to be killed so that her baby could become king? Even if the court knew the nanny to be lying, would the court support the false story... as the most convenient option to run with?

Second, should the Nanny be admired? Shouldn't her first responsibility be to the welfare of her own baby?

The Tragedy of Beauty
The second story is filled with plots and counterplots. My granddaughter may enjoy this story... but be warned... it does not have a happy ending.

The Queen of Chittorgarh (Padmini) was the most beautiful lady in the kingdom. The sultan of Delhi (Ala-ud-din) heard of Padmini's beauty... and besieged her Palace. He demanded that the local king (Ratan Singh) show him Padmini... or else he would destroy the Palace. To avoid a calamity, Padmini agreed to be seen by Ala-ud-din.. on the condition that he not look at her directly... but only see her in a mirror.

So it came to pass that Ala-ud-din was allowed to stand in a palace room and look into a mirror to see the Queen standing by the lake. (Today, we saw the room and the mirror). Ala-ud-din was captivated by the beauty of the Queen... and even more determined to take Padmini to be his wife. As Ratan Singh escorted Ala-ud-din from the Palace, the invading king captured the local king... and held him to ransom... to be released only upon Padmini being given to him.

(This is a complicated sorry... are you with me so far?)

When news of the hostage and ransom reached the Palace, Padmini formed a plan. She dressed up 300 soldiers in ladies' clothing to appear to be maid servants to the Queen. The king's brother dressed up to appear to be Padmini. They meakly progressed outside the Palace and asked to see Ratan Singh before leaving with Ala-ud-din... a request that was granted. Once in the presence of Ratan Singh, the soldiers threw off their disguise... rescued Ratan Singh and fought their way back into the castle.

Now here is the sad part. The Ala-ud-din attacked the Palace and burned it to the ground. In the ensuing fire... the beautiful queen was killed.

I'm not sure what lessons in ethics can be gained from this operatic tragedy... the best that comes to mind is... don't be beautiful... it causes problems.

Incredible India - Incredible Guide

We are nearing the end of our Incredible India tour... and still, each day is saturating us with new people, smells, sounds and taste. This morning we are staying in a small 17th century fort in a small agricultural village... some 60 klms south of Jaipur.

We awakened to find ourselves surrounded by temples... one is traditional Hindi... one is of the Jain faith (a sect of Hindi)... and one is of the Sikh faith. The Muslims started the day at 5:50 with the call to prayer... but on the hour they were silent in their prayers... leaving the airwaves free for the Hindi worshippers. I have been surprised at the level of enthusiasm displayed in Hindi worship... today, it was the three temples having a shout-out to have their chants heard above the others.

The Sikhs are at a disadvantage... there are no Sikh worshippers living in the village. However, the village is very important to the Sikhs because one of their nine prophets wrote some holy text while in the village... and the Jaipur Sikhs have built a temple to commemorate the event. This temple is used by Pilgrims and travellers... under the guidance of an 80 year old priest... with one of the finest faces you could hope to see... uncut hair and beard... aging lines bringing character to his face... hinting at the wisdom he has accumulated in his long life.

It is now 7:45 am and all the worshipping has completed... peace! The men are bringing their herds of goats out of the enclosure to be taken to pasture... the same routine followed every day. On bright sunny warm days like today, the shepherd's life has some appeal. When scorching hot... or cold and raining... the romance would quickly fade. We have seen shepherds watching their herd of goats... along the roadway... leaning on their staff and talking into their mobile phone... progress unfolds in unexpected steps. Motorbikes and mobile phones are the technologies having most impact in the villages.

Our Peregrine guide is a mystery. He shares ownership with his brother in a farm of 100 hectares in Rajasthan. He went to a good school and seems to be part of a network amongst the wealthy and privileged... he probably belongs to a top rating caste... we have seen a couple of people attempt to touch his feet... as a form of greeting. At each location we have visited, our guide is welcomed by the hotel owners as a long-lost brother... I suspect he is related to half of them. I suspect he has designed the tour format we are following... and taken it to Peregrine as some type of franchised business opportunity... who knows. He has no difficulty in dealing with conflicting requests from his bus load of tourists... he clearly has a background where his instructions are obeyed... and his tour group is used to doing what they are told... with some notable exceptions.

Our guide maintains our affections by giving us food treats during the days of long drives... but more importantly, keeps our spirits high with a liberal supply of rum and coke. Yesterday was a long day for driving... he was topping-up our glasses at 10:30 AM. The combination of alcohol... close proximity of the people on the bus... and some stretches of road with repetitive scenery... has lead to periods of community singing... excessive chattering... and telling tales of heroic deeds. We usually arrive at our next camp without suffering boredom or pains... unaware of the long period of the drive... all very happy. The only cost is a hangover in the evenings after our long journey.

Bus dynamics are always interesting. We have the essential 'princess' who is always last on the bus... who needs the best seat so that she can stretch out her sore leg... who keeps us waiting at every check point. From experience, we have learned that every group must have a princess... and this knowledge helps reduce the frustration level. Our leader has been saintly in providing the extra attention demanded by our princess. However, after dinner last night, he showed some fraility... in reacting to a criticism from the princess... let's hope he manages to last out one more day. Knowing our leader is struggling to remain saintly in the face of extra demands of the princess somehow makes it easier for the rest of us to handle. I'm sure we have all been much more companionable with each other as a method of coping with the princess.

Update
We have arrived back at Delhi at the completion of the tour... we have a final dinner tonight... where we will all promise to stay in touch... and have a reunion in 12 months time... you have all been through similar shows of group love and affection. No one remembers to set the date or location of the reunion... and the good intentions become overwhelmed with the complexities of our daily lives. Perhaps this group will follow through... our Surrey Walking Ladies group kept faith with a most enjoyable reunion.

This tour has been magnificent... primarily because of the opportunity to see village life at such short distance. This last 14 days have thrown up such wonderful stories... that we must share before they are forgotten.

Incredible India - Opium and the Vishnois Tribe

Today, we had a Jeep safari... riding out from Jodhpor... to visit some hamlets... and meet some of the colourful people in the region. The Jeep was of WWII heritage... plenty of play in the steerage... clutch was no substitute for crunching the gears... and the horn had to be 'hot wired' each time you wanted to give verbal communication to other drivers... we didn't make much use of the horn.

The morning was full of interest... we visited a Muslim family who specialised in pottery... and our final stop was at a family of rug weavers... more importantly, the householder has organised a cooperative of cottages by providing the marketing and export expertise for home weaved rugs. But the most intriguing stop was at a compound run by Vishnois people... who consume a drink based on Opium.

The government allows this ethnic group to continue their customs of drinking Opium. It is consumed only by the men... and addiction is a problem. Upon arrival, we were struck by the tidyness of the compound... it had all been recently swept... no dogs or cows hanging around... all the rubbish piled up out of sight. The family consisted of the landowner and wife, two sons and their wives. While we were there, the daughters-in-law were doing all the work. This tribe is noted for protecting their land... allowing no hunting or tree cutting... they are vegetarian... and make meals from the seeds of acacia trees and other available legumes.

The householder came out with his Opium drinking gear... laid out a mat and started a ritual to bless the equipment. The Opium is purchased in a satchel... soaked in water... and filtered through cotton cloth. The householder rinsed his hands with water... then poured the mixture into his cupped hand. Our guide and the other driver then sipped the drink from the owner's hand... while holding one hand above their head. The unusual ritual displays respect for the householder.

We were then invited to cup our hand... into which the owner poured some drink... I guess he knew from previous experience that not many tourists would risk the health exposure of drinking from his hand... we had not washed our own hand... so the less risky format still gave bacteria an easy ride to the stomach. We were told by nurses in our group that the Opium concentration offered to us... and taking the substance into the stomach... meant that very little opiate would enter our bloodstream.

After our token sip, the locals got stuck into more serious consumption. Those drinking included both our drivers... a circumstance that did not escape the notice of our group. When the householder wanted a drink, our driver would rinse his hands and provide the owner with his hand for a cup. The owner had the appearance of someone who had engaged in this practice quite often. The trio took another satchel and drank another serving.

At our final stop (at the rug weaver), our guide (who was driving for today) had a snooze in the shade... and set his phone alarm for 20 minutes... so was on his feet at the time of our departure. We all jumped into the Jeep and headed back to town. Our driver turned on the radio so we could hear some Hindi music... but the volume was too loud. The volume dial was located in the glove box... and the glove box was locked. Our driver forgot he was driving... pulled the keys of of the ignition... to unlock the glove box... who would have thought? In focusing on the glove box, he took his eye off the road... and sent us heading towards the gutter! We screeched to a stop... as much as an old Jeep can screech ... and looked at the surprised expression on the face of our driver. Our unflappable friend completed the task of adjusting the volume of the radio... and checked with us that the volume was to our liking... before recommencing of journey back into town.

We were all relieved to arrive safely back in the hotel.

Just a word of advice from experience. Next time you are visiting an Opium den... ask your driver to avoid supping from the second satchel... and don't let him take the keys of of the ignition while the vehicle is in motion... even if the volume control of the radio is locked inside the glove box.

Incredible India - Mountains and its People

Yesterday, we took the mountain road from Bijaipur to Dera Khairwa and saw another face of Indian people. The mountains are part of an extremely old range... so were not offering towering heights or dramatic valleys. A large part of India belongs to the ancient continent of Gondwanaland... of which Australia was a part... and the mountains looked like the low ranges we see on the west coast of our country. Fascination did not come from the landscape... but once again came from the people.

Let's go on a travelogue along one out the most 'remote' parts of Rajasthan. Remote is a relative term... During our 5 hour drive, we passed villages accommodating at least 250,000... but for India... that is remote.

Our first 'stumbled upon' feature was a market being used by the nomadic people to rebalance their sheep and goat herds as they progressed towards their winter pastures. At the top of a steep climb, we looked down on a large field... almost hidden from view... to see about 20 men with brightly covered turbans ... and any other couple of hundred animals being mustered in a sales-yard fashion. No village was in sight... the nomads had chosen a location to do their commerce without interruption. I was surprised to see the numbers of nomads. They are quickly reducing in numbers... but there are still plenty of them. In the countryside, the bright coloured turbans of the men make them easily identifiable. They tie their turbans in a different fashion to other people... much more flamboyant!

We passed a couple of water-wells where oxen were being used to lift water up 50 meters from the well to the irrigation canals. Rajasthan has received good rains this year... and the level of the watertable has risen... the lakes appear to be nearly full... and the crops look green and healthy. Our driver found one well located where he could safely get off the narrow road... and we all (8 of us) clammered down the slope to the well and introduced ourselves to the landowner. He was only too happy to give us our photo opportunity. It was surprising how much water the string of buckets could lift in a short time. The holy cows doing the heavy lifting had plenty of time to contemplate things spiritual and mystic... as they went round-and-round. I find it confusing how a Holy animal can be pushed to do demeaning work... or left to eat cardboard to survive in its declining years... but there are lots of circumstances in India that are difficult to understand. This farmer lives off a small plot of land that is growing wheat. He needed to tend the crop carefully to get enough food for the summer.

Our next point of interest was passing the local women on the road carrying bundles of sticks on their heads. Men cut down dead limbs or fallen trees... the women carry the sticks long distances into the next village and sell their load... door-to-door. A load of sticks usually sells for 100 rupees... about $2... not bad for a day's work. Some of the men climbing trees to cut branches carried chainsaws... and some of the trees had been denuded within an inch of their lives. I assume the men doing the trimming are experienced and leave enough leaf for the tree to survive.

Our scheduled stop for the morning was a magnificent temple belonging to the Jain sect of the Hindu religion. The temple is located in an area abundant in marble... and the architect took full advantage of the resource. Each column... each surface... has been intricately carved. Non-practicing Jains were not allowed into the inner sanctuary that houses the particular god for the temple. Excuse my not remembering which god it was... there are 3 million of them and the more popular gods have nick-names and different regional names.

You may wonder how gods come into being. We had an example shown to us today. At a corner of the road, we came across crowds of people milling around a tiny structure. Our guide invited us to get out of the bus for a look. The people were stopping to gain good luck from a shrine built by a father to his son... only some 20 years ago. The son was riding a motorbike that crashed into a lorry... resulting in his death. The police tidied up the crash scene and took the bike back to the police station. Mysteriously, the bike disappeared... only to be discovered back at the crash site. The police again took the bike back to the station... only to have it mysteriously return to the cash site. It was left there. One night shortly thereafter, a lorry driver had a flat tyre at that same crash site. He had no money to buy a new tyre. Out of the dark, a young man emerged offering to loan the money to the lorry driver, saying "After your trip return here to repay the money. If I am not here, repay the money to my father"... and he gave him the address. After the trip the lorry driver came to the father's house to repay the money." How could you borrow money from my son... he has been recently killed at a road accident just out of town ". The father was amazed to learn of the incident... and erected the small shrine on that site. Many people now claim to see premonitions when driving past. Thousands of believers visit the site each week... hoping to gain good fortune for themselves and relatives who have recently deceased. In a couple of decades, this young man may well become another of the 3 million gods.

Another 'stumbled-upon' event was passing a nomadic clan moving house to their winter pastures. They will stay there until the first of the monsoonal rains... when they will make the reverse trip to their summer pastures. Chickens, baby goats, tents... all their belongings were stacked up on the camel wagons. The young children were herding the goats and sheep along the road. It looked like a tough life.

The place we slept last night was in a village unaccustomed to tourists. We were welcomed like royalty as we wandered around the village at sunset. Usually it is only the kids who ask to have their photos taken... but in this village, all the folks wanted to be in the picture. We managed to get some special shots of the older citizens with faces marked with many years of scorching summers... their faces seemed to tell the stories.

Incredible India - Population

Incredible India... no less incredible because of the population density. We are in Rajastan... that has a population exceeding 66 million. Geographically, Rajastan is about the same size as New South Wales... and (as you know) NSW has population of approximately 7 million people... Rajastan has roughly ten times the density of people compared to NSW.

So, in Australia, when you expect to see one person getting out of a car, in Rajastan you will see 10. If you expect to see two people sitting in a van... here, you will see 20. When you expect to see a team of 5 people filling a hole in the road, Rajastan will provide will provide 50...you get the drift.

This numeric relationship was reinforced this afternoon. We had left for our day's outing with my hotel room key in my pocket. As a result, our room was not serviced. Upon our return, we realised our mistake and asked for the service. Instead of one person coming to tidy or room, we had a team of five come to the room... one with a mop... one with a duster... one with a towel to look at the bathroom... one with clean bed linen... and of course a supervisor. Indian industry at its best!

At the risk of stereotyping, here is advice for those of you thinking of employing an Indian for your business or home services.

Employment Recommendations
Child Care
As a general rule, Indian parents show skills that are 'above average'. Children appear to be happy and well behaved... compared with other national communities.

Gardeners
We have seen iridescent green fields in the middle of barren country. We have seen men and women searching for weeds... crouched so close to the ground they appear to be using magnifying glasses in their search. We have seen women standing in the fields ready to chase away any bird that even thinks about landing near the crop. We have seen farmers gazing over their crop with a satisfied look... this has been a good year for rain in Rajastan.

Motor Vehicle Drivers
In impossible conditions, Indian drivers get through traffic jams... swerve around potholes... avoid wayward cattle... and still keep to their timetable. Most of the vehicles show signs of damage... but I think most of the damage was done in World War One. Drivers of new cars cope with chaos with gleaming duco intact.

Employment that is Not Recommended:
Municipal Town Planner
The availability of public toilets, parks, car parks, level streets, kerb and guttering... is somewhat limited in India.

Municipal Garbage Collection
Smaller villages may be the exception... but city folk drop their plastic bag full of garbage anywhere on the street. The cows head straight for new drop-offs... and eat anything that is green. We have seen cows eating cardboard. After the cows have had a go... the pigs roll up to recycle the protein garbage. After the pigs, the dogs will have a sniff. After dark, the rest is left for the rats. I suspect the staple diet for the dogs are rats.

After a few days, the pile of rubbish is reduced to plastics, bones and metal. The general practice appears to be... leave the residue on the street to be covered by the next layer of rubbish.
As you would expect, Indian men have prime responsibility for World peace... a responsibility taken very seriously... with hours spent in group analysis over a cup of tea... and interdispursed with a game of cards every now and then. These men can be idling away time standing next to piles of plastic. Ten minutes labour would make a tremendous difference to the health and appearance of the street. India needs a version of Ian Kiernan to get everyone to pick-up after themselves.

Police Road Officers
Indians have no experience in this profession... we have not seen any to date. We watched today when army officers became gridlocked in a traffic jam. They abandoned their vehicle, walked to the front of the gridlock and started pointing with their batons. The locals did not take the slightest bit of notice... and kept waiting for the next guy to concede ground to clear the bottleneck. Eventually, traffic flowed again... through the magic of Indian problem solving... no one took control... everyone conceded just a tiny little bit of ground... the problem took far too long to solve... but everyone went away feeling satisfied that their rights and status had been observed.

But the overwhelming advice is... employ an Indian because they are fun people... ready to laugh at your lame jokes... and skilled at making you laugh.

Incredible India - Maharajah and Good Politics

We are on a group tour... so we cannot schedule sufficient personal time to properly document all that is happening.
Village India is an eye-opener! Peregrine (our tour organiser) has done a great job (so far) in contrasting the dynamics of village life with that in the cities. Our guide (Shailendra) owns a farm in Rajastan... so is quite familiar with seeing behind the obvious behaviours of village life and can explain to us what is happening.

With little control over our time, some of these reports will be brief... an example of which is today's meager effort.

Large parts of Rajastan were conquered by the Mongol empire that entered India from Afghanistan in the 10th century. What followed was a century of continuous conflict as the Mongols took over the separate Indian states... one by one. The Mongols had no particular military advantage... they won power by better politics... playing off the divided quarrelling Indian states... one against the other. During this period, each state focused on defense... built themselves new huge castles located on hillsides that offered excellent defense.

In those days, labour was cheap... life was cheap. Labourers building castles worked just for board and keep... goodness knows how workers' wives and children got by. The Mongols used excellent political skills in designing their buildings... as well as other aspects of occupation. The first Maharajah out of Afghanistan was a Muslim... and he had three wives... one a Muslim, one a Hindu and one a Christian... thereby uniting nearly all of India under his rule. This practice of multi-denominational wives was followed by his sons and many of the Hindu Maharajah in other states. The first Maharaja built separate wings within his Palace for each of his wives and used different architectural styles within separate wings to reflect the religion of the occupying Queen. India gained is own unique architectural style by taking the best from the Mongols (dominated by Persian motifs), old Indian styles and the more recently introduced styles of architecture from the Portuguese (in Goa - southern India).

We saw a deserted Palace at Fatehpur Sikri that was built in just four years... and occupied for just four years. The Maharaja was not the most frugal of rulers when it came to his own comfort. He walked away from his multimillion dollar castle because climate change had wiped out his water supply... and because his strongest enemy had built a huge castle two or three day's march away. He wasn't concerned about his financial loss... he marched down to Agra and built a bigger and better Palace there.

There were many amusing aspects to the palaces of the first Maharaja... but one of the best was the snakes and ladders game he used to select the concubine with whom he would spend the day. One of his three queens would have the task of selecting a dozen of the prettiest girls from the harem. She and the Maharaja would sit on a raised dias in the middle of a square. The square had tiles set out in a pattern... most tiles were unmarked... but some were marked with a cross. The competing concubines started at the corners of the square. The Queen would roll one dice.. and the Maharaja would roll another ... the total of the two numbers shown on the dice indicated the dancing path to be taken by the concubine. If her progress resulted in her ending on a tile marked with a cross... she would no longer be able to participate in the game. The last concubine in the game ended up spending time with the Maharaja. Of course, all this dancing took toll of one's freshness... so the Maharaja had two baths built in the entrance to his private quarters... each bath filled with rose water... one bath for the Queens to use whenever they visited him... and one for the concubines. So, next time you pay snakes and ladders... remember the origins of the game... and if that thought makes you hot and sweaty... go take a bath in rose water.

Incredible India - Incredible any Time... any Where

You can travel most places on Earth without having your basic values being challenged... but a few days in India will have you questioning every concepts of happiness... law and order... modesty and faith. And when you think you have it all figured out... another circumstance will confront your senses to have you scratching your head and starting once again to try to make sense of it all.

Let's take a few alternative theories that our early Indian experience suggests:

Happiness
Let's test this hypothesis... Indian people are happier than Australians.  Take a simple measure of happiness... the count of people with smiles on their faces. The tourist hotspots of India collect many people who are not representative of the country. The street merchants... the beggars... the tuktuk drivers... are often people in transition who have abandoned traditional practices in search of some 'get-rich-quick' opportunity. Generally, they are as confused as the tourists in understanding what is going on.

Those of you who have toured the villages still unspoilt by tourism will see a lot of physical hardship... but you will also have seen a lot of happy people. Last night... on the way back from visiting the old palace at Karauli, we were sitting on a cart pulled by a camel. We were brushing past people... close to their place of work... close to the doors of their houses. Nearly every eye we made contact with, offered us some type of welcome... the kids waving with excitement... the young men giving us a nod. We were adding to the congestion of their narrow streets... and we were expecting some signs of exasperation... not a bit of it... they were happy to have us visit.

From my untrained observations, Indian villages don't have great variations in wealth between its citizens... all the rich people go to the cities. Perhaps, villages are happier because the large majority of village folk experience similar levels of wealth... we may despair at how little they have... but they are happy because they see life treating them fairly... and they feel connected to their community. Perhaps, Australia would be a happier place with a reduction in difference between the incomes of the rich and poor.

Law and Order
We have driven for two days... covered about 600 klms. In that time, we have seen one police car... and it was in a garage having tyres replaced. We have been driving 6 hours each day on roads that appear to be completely chaotic. Pigs, cattle and dogs wandering across national highways... holding up peak hour traffic... oncoming traffic swerving into our lane to overtake, or avoid a pot-hole... broken down vehicles left in the middle of the road... and from the size of the camp built by the vehicle's driver... the accident must have happened a week ago. Animals, pedestrians, bicycles, motorbikes, car and trucks of all sizes share a congested roadway... that is little more than a perpetual string of potholes, incomplete bridges, no lane markings and no signs to help drivers navigate the complex network of roads.

Lack of policing, lack of good infrastructure, poor vehicles, over-congestion of roads, half the drivers appearing to be under-aged.... gives everyone an excuse to do whatever they would like to do on the road. And yet, the fatality rate per capita on Indian roads compares favourably with Australia's experience. People expect ridiculous circumstances to confront them at any moment... and take appropriate precautions.

We saw one-thousand near accidents... but only one minor event. Watching the road ahead, I saw the sacred cows crossing the road. A swarm of motorbikes peeled their way around the obstacle. One of the cows lost concentration... and suddenly turned back. There was a screech brakes from the bike most affected by the cow's erratic behaviour. Rather than hit the sacred cow, he slid his bike onto the road... and just as he was coming to a stop, the bike hit a pothole that caused the rider to be thrown in the air... and he landed on his shoulder. The cow was untouched... the herd continued meandering across the road. The man stood up and started to wipe the dust of the road off his clothes. Every vehicle (including our bus) stopped... to check the welfare of the rider... to take his bike off the road... and to take him to the next village. No sirens... no flashing lights... no ambulance... no insurance paperwork. That is how India works!

Arguably, civilisation does not need complex laws... battalions of police to apply the law... bevies of lawyers to argue the law... and hundreds of politicians to plug the holes in existing laws. Arguably, there are alternatives to our litigious way of relating the person to their community.

Faith and Welfare
Last night we attended the 5.30 pm service at the Hindu temple at the old palace in Karauli. This service is held eight times each day... every day... because this temple is a special place of pilgrimage. The purpose of the service is to rejoice in the blessings given by the god... the son of Krishna.

The locals flooded into the temple... started singing... some prostrating themselves on the floor... singing and waving their arms in hypnotic ecstasy. After a while, the clergy came out and threw holy water in the direction of the congregation. A number of hymns were sung... a number of different parts of the temple were used for different parts of the service... all this happening without leadership from the clergy or anyone in the congregation. After a time, the men sat down for a breather... while the women sat in a circle and sang more holy songs... all with no visible leadership. We were invited to join in the celebrations... but joining in would have made us look more silly... so we opted to just gork.

In incredible India, I found the enthusiasm of the congregation incredible! Such energy... such happiness... such lack of self-awareness... such devotion. I guess Christian services may have had the same energy before  becoming laden with ritual and hierarchy. Religion for these Hindi was all about showing their gods how they felt... not about listening to a cleric tell them how to behave.

One last comment. We are seeing India before cigarettes and before carbohydrates. Some 5% of the men smoke... we have yet to see a woman smoking. Only some 5% of the population are overweight... we have yet to see an obese person. No doubt, in another decade, this favourable health issue may have changed.

Delhi - So Complicated

We have been in Delhi for 24 hours... so feel unable to offer any insights into the confusing mass of humanity we see outside the hotel window. I'm sure the locals, familiar with the customs, can see order and structure in the street activity. They can identify the different castes... know who has right-of-way... know when to take risks... know when to stop for a chat... and where you can trust the street food. Hopefully, we will acquire those skills and interpret what is happening on the street.

Our hotel is away from the tourist area of Delhi... right next to a busy street market specialising in garments of all types... for locals who do not have high income. Winter is approaching... and the fastest moving sales items are jackets. A couple of traders have had bus boxes of jackets placed on the street... cut them open... so the locals can rifle through the pile to find the item that best suits them. The quality would not be to your liking... but the prices are very low. At the other end of the price spectrum... you can acquire the garb of a maharishi... gold braiding enough to make you blind... epaulettes to make a weakling have shoulders like a wrestler... just the thing to make you stand out from the crowd next time you are shopping at Chastwood Chase.

From what we have seen to date, Delhi is a male dominated society. Driving in from the airport yesterday, we saw no female drivers... and next to no female passengers. We were pleased with our decision to forego the pleasures of driving in India... the roads are more chaotic than Rome... but somehow, less terrifying. Most of the vehicles were old enough to vote... but newer vehicles displayed dent-free duco... amazing but true.
The fastest lane of motor traffic was the footpath... at one point there were lane markings on the road... we counted 4 lanes... and at that time the cars were 8 abreast.
At first, we interpreted the incessant honking of horns as displays of frustration. But I'm sure the trained ear can interpret more meaning from the cacophony. Many of the honks are saying, "be aware that I'm moving into your personal space". We also heard one short toot that was saying, "Thank you" for creating space. We saw people using the footings of bridge pylons as beds... with cars on the lower roads honking away only inches from their head. We saw the side of the road being used as one continuous public toilet. We saw street vendors offering many types of goods for purchase... and our driver quickly locking the doors upon their first appearance. This is one aspect of India... not its most glamorous... but an aspect not to be missed... a picture of people living with poor infrastructure... yet, getting on with their lives... managing to find things to smile about... showing respect and tolerance for each other.

Walking through the markets... the safest place was down the middle of the street. The sidewalk was full of holes to provide permanent access to utility services... and blocked by vendors who thought it unnecessary to acquire a shop from which to run their business. Those who did invest in real shops all thought it necessary to employ a guard for their premises... usually, a man of such small size that he was most useful in opening the door for possible purchasers... the guard is probably a family relative who is having difficulty in finding alternative employment. The person who looks most unhappy is usually the business owner. Our experience was that sales staff were courteous and helpful. When we had decided upon a purchase, we were directed to the owner to make the payment. This person invariably portrayed the air of someone who was terribly busy... too busy to be interrupted by a nuisance customer wanting to make a payment. I guess that a proprietor would hate to be seen by his neighbouring trader to be over-kean in collecting money.... it may appear to be a sign of desperation... and once seen as desperate, you lose negotiating power. I suspect it takes years of practice to perfect such an indolent air.

We have had our briefing for the 14-day tour. The guide looks to be good... a critical component for happy group tours.

Queen Victoria knew how to exercise power

A couple or days ago, we toured Royal Albert Hall in London... venue for the annual performance of the 'Proms'... and other forms of entertainment. Royal Albert Hall is a trust that has the Queen as patron... but receives no money from her or the government. The building has quality construction... but today, looks like it could do with a stream clean and fresh upholstery.

As usual, the history of the building is fascinating... showing how royalty manipulated government through skilful use of the press... even in the 19th century.

Some spare money became available following the success of the international exhibition that Britain staged in 1844. The industrial revolution had sparked a big investment in research and development... churning out such marvels as washing machines... even vacuum cleaners. Everyone wanted to have a look at the new contraptions... they even had an alarm clock bed... one that sounded an alarm at your selected waking hour... and if you failed to arise upon the sounding of the alarm... the bed tilted to an angle that rolled you out... an inv entive lot... these Victorians.

You will be aware that Britain showed its leadership in matters technical by staging its exhibition in a Crystal Palace... a glass house far bigger than any previously built. In spite of dire predictions that it would collapse in the wind... or a hail storm... the building did its job... grabbed all the headlines and doubled the expected number of attendees. Prices were set low to attract a big crowd... and all the stars were aligned... locals queued up... the continental brigade was out in force... some 6 million people went through the turnstiles. The organisers had so much money left at the end of the exhibition... they didn't know what to do with it.

First, they moved the Crystal Palace from Hyde Park to an area in South London... and created a new suburb called Crystal Palace. The building was destroyed by fire some 60 years later. (Interestingly, an entrepreneur has recently presented drawings to the Lord Mayor for the reconstruction of the building at Crystal Palace.)

The balance of the profits was invested to benefit the ongoing vigour of research and development in London. Land was purchased next to the Hyde Park site and plans were developed to locate many of the professional institutes at that location. Tragedy struck the nation with the unexpected death of the Consort, Albert. The Queen went into mourning from which she never recovered. She asked that a memorial be constructed to 'Berty' close to the exhibition site... and parliament approved the work.

At the end of the planning phase for the new R&D park, it was time to lay the foundation stone... a stone inscribed with appropriate words indicating the government's commitment to ongoing R&D. Queen Victoria made herself available to lay the commemorative stone. One the day her empirical presence added lustre to the occasion... following the script she pulled the cord to expose the important stone... and expressing her pleasure to be there. Then, she departed from the script and sent the government into a spin. She said that Albert had played a key role in the success of the Exhibition and that she would like the building on the site of the stone to reflect his support for the performing arts. What the Queen and Empress (of India) wants... she gets.
The architects worked overtime designing the building that now occupies the site. They had 6 million bricks in the construction (one for each attendee to the exhibition) and 6 thousands 'A's (A for Albert... get it... get it) built into the decorative features... and to show enduring love of the Monarch threw in a couple of thousand 'V's (V for Victoria... oh, forget it). They had the hand railings on stairwells lowered to best fit the vertically challenged Victoria. They took only 4 years to complete the construction.
Also, progress on building the Albert Memorial was going well... by the time the Hall was ready to open, they had completed the structure for the memorial... even had a plaster cast of the statue... but were still awaiting the final bronze piece.

Come the day of the Hall's opening, Victoria was in fine fettle... the plaster cast statue of Albert was covered with cloth... some newspapers speculated that seeing the image of Albert would have proved too upsetting for the mourning monarch... officials said it was covered because it was not the finished product.

Anyone can apply to hire the Albert Hall... at a price. New model cars have had their marketing launch staged on its floor. The day we toured the building, debutantes from London's Russian community were rehearsing their presentation dances in the hope of catching the eye of some eligible young Russian batchelor. When we left them they were practising their pirouettes to the music of Swan Lake... but their footwork had a resemblance to Goslings.

Quiz time! Who has performed at the Royal Albert Hall most frequently? Did you say Eric Clapham? Well done... he has held centre stage 27 times. The Beatles have appeared 3 times... the Rolling Stones, twice... all the big names.

One last interesting fact. To help finance the building, patrons were offered boxes at a price of £1,000... that entitled you to view performances for the next 999 years. One of the boxes was recently offered for resale and attracted a price of £1.2 million.

Romans Short-Changed Britain

We've trudged up and down Britain looking for decent acquaducts... even an amphitheatre would do... well, how about an ordinary theatre... surely the Romans would have provided them with a theatre... even a small one. Nothing! You would think the Romans were in Britain for a holiday. They ruled this place for over 300 years... you would have thought they could have built something decent.

The current English want to make excuses for the 'slight' they have suffered at the hands of the Romans. The English say, "Look at the lovely baths in Bath... look at the settlement in Corbridge... look at Hadrian's wall." To be realistic, these structures would not have made the tourist brochures in continental towns... you look at them... they don't quicken the pulse... they don't catch the breath... they are second rate attempts from the 'B' team of Roman conquerors. You can see better in French Roman settlements that were ranked as no more than hill forts.

The English need to face it... the Romans didn't rank England important enough to make their usual signature buildings of Roman domination.

Why didn't Rome bother to apply their usual energy to leave their mark? Talking with English friends, here are some of their speculations.

Too Cold
In true British fashion, some of my friends have blamed the weather. They say it rains all the time so there is no need for acquaducts. It is too cold for outdoors entertainment... so building amphitheatres is wasteful... the Brits wouldn't have turned up to watch the gladiators... they organise better fights between themselves every weekend. The Brits can't understand the Italian sense of humour... so wouldn't have bothered to attend their theatre. The Romans looked at the weather and said... "We'll be out of here as soon as possible... give it another couple of years... then, back to some warm Mediterranean sunshine."

French Administration
Most of the army and support staff used to rule Britain were not recuited from Italy... but were Gaul, Franks and Visigoths from France and Germany. English friends speculate that these invaders had not read the 'Conquerors Textbook' and couldn't be bothered putting in the usual infrastructure.

Too Quarrelsome
Some English friends have speculated that the Brits showed themselves to be too unreliable to look after long-term infrastructure investments. Alliances between British tribes and between the Brits and Romans were not observed... too much treachery... too much betrayal. The Brits gained more enjoyment from a fight than from homely comforts. The Romans had a phobia about the way the Brits used chariots in their warfare. Chariot speed gave the Brits an advantage in geurilla war tactics. Romans built lots of roads in Britain to move large numbers of soldiers quickly... but still felt at a disadvantage to the chariots. Emperor Claudius even brought elephants with him in his attempt to quell the bothersome forrest dwellers... this must have caused the Brits some disadvantage... it's hard to fight at your best when you are rolling around with laughter.

The English Chanel
All the initial invasions suffered from Roman's lack of skill in handling the ferocity of the Northern seas. The greatest of all emperors... our good friend Julius... embarked on two occasions... and had to abandon his conquest. This history may have influenced the attitudes of subsequent emporers towards investing resources in England. They wanted the tin... the gold.. and the furs England had to offer... but making it a home for true Italians... allowing Brits to be Roman citizens... never!

When the weather cycle started to cool... when grapes could no longer be grown in the mid-lands... the Romans packed their bags and let the Brits run their own show.
The 'dark ages' in Britain were not so dark. Sure, they stepped up the rate of tribal warfare... the Danes and the Vikings stepped up their conquest efforts... but Britain developed its rural economy and enjoyed gradual development for many years over a wide area of Britain.

Captain Cook - A Self-Made Man

Today we visited the Museum for Captain Cook in Whitby. The tourist season in Whitby closed a couple of weeks ago... as did the museum. As with many of the signs in country towns saying ’closed'... 'closed' does not always mean 'closed'.

We went to the Tourist Information Centre and pleaded our sorry story of how we had travelled all the way from Australia to see our Captain Cook...  and our life would cease to have meaning if we could not pay our respects to the great man in his home town. "Well", said Wendy... our new best friend from the tourist information centre, "I can telephone Peter, who has the keys to the museum... he may be able to let you in... but you will have to do all the talking with him... you won't get too far if I do the talking". Peter was putty in the hands of Joye's verbal pleading. "Of course I'll come down and open up for you", said Peter... "Just give me five minutes."

In just five minutes we were receiving Peter's well rehearsed presentation on the life of Captain James Cook. I'm afraid I am going to have to retract some information in yesterday's blog... the holder of the keys to the Captain Cook Museum corrected me when I asked for his confirmation that the Australian government purchased its replica of the Endeavour from Whitby's shipyard. "The replica Endeavour was launched at Fremantle... but on its maiden voyage... it sailed into Whitby harbour to the roars of acclamation from every citizen of Whitby lining the harbour foreshores." I asked if Cook had a hand in selecting Whitby as the shipyard for building all the ships used in Cook's three voyages. "The contract for the building of the Endeavour was settled before Cook was appointed to lead the expedition", said Peter. "Whitby was the centre for building wide bodied cargo boats... and the Admiralty wanted an expedition to last for two years and carry supplies for that period (including live stock)... so Whitby was the natural builder to be approached."

I wasn't doing too well in impressing Peter with my knowledge of Captain Cook... but like a losing gambler I threw the dice once more... trying to redeem my previous losses. I asked if Cook recruited many of his crew from the sailors of Whitby. "No", said Peter, "Recruitment of sailors was conducted in London... and Cook was personally involved in selecting only the senior crew members." I didn't ask Peter any more leading questions after that.

James Cook owes the Quaker religious sect considerable gratitude for getting him started in his career. His father took his family down from Scotland (near Edinburgh) seeking employment. His father settled in a Quaker community... who paid for James to be educated up to the age of seven. Thereafter, he was apprenticed to a Quaker grocer who taught James all his onions.

After some years, James realised that he didn't like onions and asked his father for a different apprenticeship. This was quite a gamble for James... junior apprentices don't get paid... get all the menial tasks... have no status. Nonetheless, in becoming an apprentice to the Quaker John Walker... a merchant ship owner... James landed on his feet. He was housed in the attic of a 3-storey house overlooking the harbour... with half a dozen other lads... and worked as cabin boys on the cargo ships carrying coal from Newcastle to London.

Learning how to sail flat bottomed boats in open water was one of the skills that ultimately resulted in the Admiralty choosing a peasant's son from Whitby to lead the most exciting adventure of the 18th century.

The relationship between merchant ship owner... John Walker... and James became most valuable. For James, friendship with his master resulted in the housekeeper giving James a table and chair for the attic... and a supply of candle wax... so that James could study the books on shipping bought home by Master Walker. In the noisy attic... shared with 6 other boys... by candlelight... James took an interest in navigation.

When France and England found something new to fight about, James offered his services to the Royal Navy... on this occasion, the fight was about French colonies in Newfoundland. Once more James had to retreat to the bottom most rung of the naval hierarchy to secure a position... but because of his extensive experience in merchant shipping... he progressed rapidly through the navy ranks.

While in Canada, he served under a ship's captain who had a modern time piece. You will be familiar with the number of ships wrecked... and the resulting loss of life... caused by sailors' inability to correctly measure 'longitude'... which needs accurate time keeping. Because sailors did not know their correct longitude... their maps were inaccurate... and rocks in the sea kept jumping up in places where they did not belong. This captain had the best time piece in the world... and had developed a 'flat table method' of measuring latitude... so, he had the best equipment and had developed a superior process of making other measurements. Cook immediately saw the importance of this man's innovations and started to apply them with gusto! The mapping made by Cook of the Newfoundland seaboard saved many Canadian lives and are still considered accurate enough for use today. There is a plaque in Whitby from the Canadians expressing their gratitude to Cook. By the time Cook return from his Canadian service, he had the reputation as being the navy's best cartographer.

The rest of Cook's story matches all we learned in primary school. When the eclipse of Venus had to be timed at a location that had been accurately located... "who you gonna call"... a captain who can handle a large flat bottomed boat... a captain who knows his longitude... who could that be other than our own James Cook. There was debate in the Admiralty... concern expressed about the lack of good breeding in the Cook family tree... but the glamour boys of the fleet didn't really want the gig... two years away from the London clubs... going to the southern hemisphere full of savages... and the ship on offer was uglier than an overweight washerwoman! So James got the gig.

The only smart 'blue blood' around was Joseph Banks! He handed over to the Admiralty some serious money to be given room on the Endeavour for himself and his entourage. Banks added scientific credence to the voyage... and made the London community hungry for every bit of information on southern hemisphere discoveries.

I asked Peter... the key keeper... if James had an influential patron who pushed his name forward in the ultra competitive world of naval politics. "No", said Peter, "James advanced on the basis of his raw talent... in being an expert in the areas where the Admiralty needed expertise."

Regarding the death of James Cook in the Hawaiian Islands... Peter the key keeper... would not be drawn on James' state of mind at that time. He acknowledged that Cook died attempting to manage tribal conflict... an area where he had extensive experience... and had shown considerable skill. Peter did point out that some of the diary entries from James immediately before his death indicated a person different from the astute captain making journal entries up until that time.

"We will never know" was Peter's concluding comment.

Henry VIII - the Destroyer

We are at Whitby... a town on the Yorkshire Moors overlooking the North Sea... an historic fishing village with close connections to Australia through Captain James Cook. He was born in a village down the coast a little bit... but came to Whitby to undertake his apprenticeship and form a base for his career in coastal shipping... living here for over a decade. All the ships used in Cook's adventures were constructed at Whitby... probably many of the sailors for those ships were recruited from this town (although we have not had confirmation of this).
When Australia wanted a replica of the Endeavour built, they came again to Whitby. A statue of James stands on the headland overlooking the harbour... in pride of place. The town has a Captain Cook Museum... and we plan to head that way first thing tomorrow.

Whitby's association with Captain Cook forms a nice backdrop to the town... but the relationship is straightforward... no intrigue or loose ends there.

What does raise lots of questions is the gigantic ruins of the Abbey that dominate the northern headlands... the other side of the harbour from Captain Cook. Why was it built? ... why was it destroyed? ... and what would UK be like if the Dissolution (orchestrated by Henry VIII) had been better directed?

I find it difficult to appreciate the religious fervour that swept western Europe (and the UK) in the 11th and 12th centuries. Major landholders gave their most prized tracts of land to the Church of Rome... not just a few people... everyone of wealth competed with each other to be the most generous. Now, the church did indulge in some suspect selling practices... they allocated bits of real estate in heaven in exchange for real estate on Earth... without full disclosure. I suspect the seat on the left-hand side of God was sold to more than one individual... imagine the confusion and displays of ill-temper that would occur on Judgement Day... "Show me your seat allocation pass!" would be a frequent cry. "The Pope gave me his word... I don't need a pass!" would be the popular refrain. The rudeness would make the 1st Class Cabin of Qantas look like a Boy Scout Jamboree.

Just before Henry VIII undertook the Dissolution, monastic orders owned two-fifths of all land in the UK. Within the city of London, they owned double that. Monasteries had a monopoly on nearly every educated brain in the land... the best and brightest (both male and female) sought employment in a monastic order. Many of the Abbeys, Convents and Friaries conducted their business with better management practices than other commercial enterprises in the land.

Henry probably had a point in opposing all this wealth... all this industry being done for the benefit of a self-perpetuating... self-selected group who pretended to have a monopoly on rights to enter the kingdom of heaven. Henry saw himself as a much more worthy beneficiary... and who could blame him?

But the way Henry stole property from the monastic orders shows how short sighted he was. He, and his good mate Thomas Cromwell (no relative of Oliver) listed 625 monastic institutions to be dissolved... 625! Before today, I had thought that these Monasteries and Abbeys were quaint little country churches with a farm attached... perhaps a string of houses for clerics and laypeople. But the dimension of Henry's destruction hit home today... when the size of Whitby Abbey was seen. It looks bigger than Westminster Cathedral... Notre Dame (Paris)... Alhambra (Granada)... and yet you had not heard of Whitby Abbey... right?

I have no doubt that, in its day, Whitby Abbey had rich decorations... icons carrying the important stories of its time... manuscripts that would provide a record of culture at that time. All of this has disappeared... maybe taken into the houses of the wealthy nobility... but lost through careless maintenance.

Multiply Whitby Abbey by 625 and you get a glimpse at the true cost of Henry's ego trip. I despaired at the way the church in Italy and Spain took money from the poor... and poured it into palatial cathedrals. In England, the church did the same exploitation of the poor... but then some clown destroyed all the buildings. Which is worse?

England fell behind Europe after Henry's reign... both militarily and economically. Arguably, England suffered because management skills developed in the monastic institutions were scattered in the wind... lost as an economic advantage... not to be recovered for centuries. If Henry had been as smart as Captain Cook... he could have... should have... taken ownership of the resources and applied them to continue their productivity to his benefit.

To just destroy a business because you don't like the owner seems particularly dumb... moronic!