 SIMONE BARON is the picture of incandescent health and cheer. She smiles
at her husband Joachim and ruffles son Benedict’s hair. Tanning
on a picture-postcard beach, this is the quintessential German family
on vacation. Except this is no ordinary vacation, and this is no
ordinary beach. The Baron family arrived in Phuket, Thailand, on
29 December, 2004, fully aware a tsunami had pulverised the coast
on Boxing Day.
Fed a gruesome 24-hour diet of TV horror, friends did their best
to dissuade them. “They warned us of disease, dead bodies
and wreckage,” says Simone, “but we had checked and
heard that things were getting back to normal and The Chedi was
fine.”
Befuddled
TV viewers bewailing the fate of Chiang Mai, Pattaya or Bali need
only peruse a decent atlas to ascertain all's well
They made the
right choice. Asia’s holiday coast needs more travellers with
the money and the moxie to make a difference. Befuddled TV viewers
bewailing the fate of places like Chiang Mai, Pattaya, Bali and
Goa, need only peruse a decent map to ascertain all is well. Tourist
dollars offer a valuable life-sustaining injection that Asia cannot
do without. Importantly, travel dollars percolate straight into
the local economy where help is most needed, rather than vanishing
into administrative blotting paper with just a fraction of the money
reaching intended parties, as is often the case with international
aid organisations.
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The silence
that hangs over Khao Lak is overwhelming. The beaches are relentlessly
beautiful and the turquoise seas offer no hint of tragedy, until
the eye turns inland to take in vast kilometres of coast razed to
the ground, homes and hotels strewn about like matchsticks, as if
a giant hand had swept everything aside. This is a wounded wasteland
enlivened only by the drone of army lorries and lumbering earth-moving
equipment.
Just 70km south,
Phuket, which escaped largely unscathed save for the beach areas
of Patong, Kalim (whose hotels are all on the hill) and Karon, is
keenly ready for business. Along the shoreline of the plush Laguna
Phuket development, stalls selling gewgaws and T-shirts have sprung
back to life, once again obscuring the view and raising a din. Tacky
and unwelcome as they may be, the stalls and jet-skis are a sign
of hope, an indication that commerce, like water, is an unstoppable
force.
Patong Beach
displays a distinctly split personality. Along the battered shoreline
the road has been cleared and neat stacks of debris await removal.
Death stalked this shore on Boxing Day when the sea reared up and
made an unannounced call. But walk fifty metres inland and it’s
a different story. Bars, restaurants, pubs and that vital barometer
of Thai resort health, pirate DVD stalls, have made a speedy comeback.
All the clamour and clutter is there. All that’s missing is
the tourists.
Cruelly
though, it is crisis, not plodding status quo, that brings opportunity,
hope and new beginnings
The tragedy
is inescapable, the scale of the crisis immense. Cruelly though,
it is crisis – not status quo – that brings opportunity,
hope, and new beginnings. Faced with a clean slate, countries like
Thailand can now reassess and enforce master plans, and place strict
limits on development, especially in protected areas. Phi Phi, once
reserved solely for day-trippers, has long been overrun. In Patong
it is time to revitalise the promenade, segregate – or zone
– jet-skis and marginalise the mafia.
Adrian Zecha,
who started Amanresorts with the Amanpuri in Phuket, sees this as
an opportunity to turn Patong (the hapless victim of the media tsunami
blitz) into a showcase Riviera, a St Tropez of the east, with grand
piazzas, green lungs, and proper sewage treatment and disposal.
He proposes a government fund to offer soft loans to shops, hotels
and restaurants along Patong Beach Road that can then be relocated.
This gives the bay breathing space literally and figuratively. “Over
time this will lead to gentrification of the area as businesses
are forced to smarten up,” says Zecha.
It is also time
for Asia’s tourism industry to link hands on a common platform
and reorder priorities. Among the first casualties of natural disaster
and war, is travel, in particular, long-haul travel. It is time
then to rediscover Asia and – in a burst of good neighbourliness,
as indeed marketing common sense – to redirect promotional
dollars within the region to secure high-spending frequent travellers.
It is mainland visitors in Hongkong who top the per capita spending
charts, not wealthy travellers from Europe or America. It is true
that Asia has yet to discover Asia. Yet, there is no better time
than now.
There
is always hope. Take the 20-day-old baby discovered floating safely
in the Indian Ocean on a mattress, or the baby boy born in the Andamans
(aptly named Tsunami) as the flood waters peaked. Or the orphaned
East African baby hippo now adopted by a giant turtle whose maternal
instincts were aroused. Or the stray cats rescued in Phi Phi. Amidst
all the suffering, there are tales of incredible courage and kindness.
Travel
dollars offer a means of continued livelihood for many. Then, after
the mourning, there can be a morning after.
The challenge for Asia is to convert the groundswell of sympathy
that has brought the world together, into usable hard cash (in addition
to well-meant pledges) that can fuel longterm recovery after the
immediate Bandaid funds are gone. That will bring the lights - and
smiles - back to Asia's traumatised holiday coast. Then, after the
mourning, there can be a morning after. Travel dollars cannot bring
back life, but they will ensure longterm livelihood for many. And that must be the ultimate aim of concerned persons everywhere.
Spend your money where it can do the most good. Travel safe. But
do travel. It is time for the Simone Barons to stand up and be counted.
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