Chocolate: the edible euphemism

In newsagents in Hong Kong condoms are sold in front of the counter in bright Durex packets of every colour, flavour and variety – a cornucopia of contraception, if you will.

This baffles me as I come from the UK, where that shelf space is usually reserved for chocolate bars; prophylactics (ahem), if they are sold at all, are shunted into some dusty corner with other embarrassing items like Tampax and Preparation H.

I wondered: is Seven 11 is a one-size-fits-all advert for these by-the-checkout goodies? And why do they display their johnnies right by the counter?

This upfront attitude to sex – even if it’s just up front of the cash register – is quite refreshing for a buttoned up Brit. There’s something in most of us Brits that makes us want to titter when we see a box of Pei Dang Vi (in Hong Kong – literally ‘Bulletproof Vest’), many of us remembering all too well those days we used to blow them up to make spermicidally-greasy balloons.

It’s quite fitting that in Hong Kong rubbers fill the role that chocolate bars do for us at home – that of the impulse counter buy. After all, of course, sex does fulfill some of the same roles as a bar of chocolate. Literally, in the famous case of Marianne Faithful and the Mars Bar.

Advertising agencies in the UK would have us believe that chocolate is an acceptable replacement for sex. Those models in chocolate ads are constantly copulating with confectionary: dribbling over Flakes, undressing – sorry, unwrapping – silky bars of Galaxy Caramel, or runinng their lips and teeth over the shell of a chocolate coated Magnum. Not to mention the fairly sinister man breaking into a woman’s flat ‘All because the lady loves…’ (a rape fantasy).

Chocolate is an edible euphemism for us Brits. We get embarrassed if sex is too in your face, while Hong Kongers don’t seem to have that problem – ‘top shelf’ mags are on the middle shelf, and our behind-the -counter goodies are right up front (confining those poor Twirls and Time Outs to the back of the shop).

I do wonder if Hong Kongers’ upfront attitude to product placement translates to real life situations. Where in the UK you might get office workers offering to buy their crush a little something extra on the chocolate run, do they here pick up love gloves instead of maltesers and head to the loo for a different kind of sugar rush? It certainly brings a new meaning to the slogan ‘Twix Fits’.

But maybe I’ve got the wrong end of the chocolate-or-latex-covered stick here? It’s easy to forget sometimes that Hong Kong is a part of China; this eye-catching display of French letters might be a ploy to promote the Chinese one-child policy? The chocolate-bar-placement in British shops is famously good at attracting the kids (good old ‘pester power’), so perhaps these displays are a bit of sex education for one and all, getting the little ‘uns used to the idea
of wearing a raincoat?

Or perhaps it’s moving the chocolate away from eye level that’s important? A way of stopping child obesity, perhaps? Good thinking Hong Kong…Maybe if the UK swapped the chocolate for condoms we’d have less fat children? And less fat children having children of their own.

We were heading to Laos’ capital city, Ventiane – the place I’d heard nothing but good things about. And we were leaving Bangkok, where sadly the sleaze machine of tourism starts to grate after just a couple of days.

Bangkok: gaudy, sweaty, busy, noisy, crazy

In contrast the city of Ventiane is soothing. Just as hot as Thailand’s megapolis, but tiny: just 200,000 residents to Bangkok’s many millions. Wide tree-lined avenues and tiny air-conned coffee shops do much to diffuse the considerable heat, while the European feel and smiley people make ferangs (Europeans) feel far more welcome than in the Thai capital.

In the first few hours we noticed a few things about Laos:

1. Self-name fever. Whether it’s Small Country Syndrome or the impact of communist rule everything is called Laos this or Laos that. Beer Laos – drink of choice – is made by the Laos Beer Company, as is the main bottled water. Most guesthouses are Laos something. Building materials are made by Laos Cement Inc and Laos Piping Inc. The main swimming pool is the ‘Laos National Federation Swimming Pool’ – even the bowling alley is Lao Bowling Centre.

2. Sense of humour. Despite the relentless self promotion everywhere, the Laos seem humble and modest. A sign on one of their main tourist attractions Patuxai (the concrete arch) reads: ‘Never completed due to the country’s turbulent history, from a closer distance it looks much less impressive, like a monster of concrete.’

3. Huge amount of development. Laos is a country flying to keep up with the rest of the world. The capital boasts a huge nummber of NGOs and development agencies: various UN agencies (anti-drugs, pro-children, pro-environment, among them), and other organisations devoted to literacy, eco-tourism and foreign aid (much of this French or American).

4. Kind people. Friendly, smiling, eager to help – one man even got up from reading the paper in the park to fix my bike chain for me. Spot anyone doing that in Lumpini, or Hyde for that matter? I don’t think so.

5. Full of sex tourists. No – number 5 is not a positive one. We were shocked to see how many people come to Ventiane for young girls and boys and those ‘somewhere in between’ (our hotel terrace was an unfortunate meeting place for ‘nightcrawlers’). Jamie was even propositioned by one young man at 11am, while that evening an older Australian man we’d been chatting to unawares asked us suddenly to pick his whore for the evening out of a line up of teenage girls. We ran swiftly.
I think I must be naive but I just don’t understand how anyone could put their sexual pleasure above the lives of others; I couldn’t get any pleasure at all knowing what my selfishness was doing to these poor girls who are dragged into Ventiane from the villages and are scared beyond belief.

I didn’t want this blog to end negatively. Ventiane is a beautiful, friendly city and a joy to walk or cycle (more on that later) around. I just hope that the rapid development of an educational infrastructure in rural parts of the country will enable the next generation of girls (and boys) of Laos to have a brighter future.

Ventiane: smaller, quieter, gentler...happier?

From time to time I egotistically have a look at what is called ‘blog stats’, just to get an idea of who, if anyone is reading the Travelog. Vain I know but, it does give me the warm fuzzies when I see that on some days up to 60 people are checking my words out. Obviously I’m not Charlie Brooker yet but it’s something.

But then you have to ask how are these people finding me? I don’t imagine for a moment that 60 family and friends are that fascinated that they’d be on there every day, and the blog clearly states that they don’t count me and the hours I spend in reverence gazing at my own output.

Sadly, my question has just been answered and the answer is not pretty. The answer, as with everything (almost) on the net, is that these admiring visitors were looking for porn. Yes, that’s right.

I know this because just under the graph of blog views (see above) is a panel called ‘Search Engline Terms’. The subline explains: ‘These are terms people used to find your blog.’ I scroll down, expecting to find, if not ‘expert travel blog’ or ‘beautiful Londoner south east Asia’ at least the words Thailand, Malaysia or Sumatra.

No. The most common ways to find me are by typing ‘girl masturbation’, ‘medieval torture’, ‘incest’ or ‘colonic irrigation’ into google.

That’s popped my bubble. Pride coming before a fall is one thing but there’s nothing like being the reading material of choice for a load of perverts.

Having said that, surely infamy is better than obscurity. And, since most of those key words would lead the pervert in question to a blog called ‘I’ll be your bruise’, which is a perfectly unsexy blog I wrote in review of a musical based on a 18th century German play, I also get a certain perverse pleasure in the thought of their disappointment!