My post from 15 years ago. We’d been cruising our yacht, Xena, around Thailand, having just done the King’s Cup regatta, in December 2010. With friends from Oz, Barry and Theresa.
“So what brought you to Phuket”, I asked Pieter, the septuagenarian Dutchman we were chatting with at the Yacht Haven dockside.
He thinks a bit, rubs his chin and teeth, and says “Freedom”.What sort of freedom did he have here in Thailand that he didn’t have in Holland?, I asked.He pointed to his ochre-red shorts, sun-faded, and said that’s all he wore during the day. As night fell he put on a shirt. When he rode his motorbike, he was helmetless. That sort of freedom, he said. To be oneself, and not mollycoddled by a Nanny-state bureaucracy, or stifled by peer pressure to dress this way or that.We knew what he meant, having just been to the Similan Islands and climbed Sail Rock, which would give palpitations to the Occupational Health and Safety bureaucrats. Indeed, it would not be allowed without a “proper” path and fences around the precipitous drops.Instead, in free Thailand, there’s a rickety path, occasional wooden steps, ropes studded with rusting nails, and the top is a clear vertiginous rock, the edge of which I couldn’t even go near. But if I’d wanted to, I could’ve. It's your own responsibility; you look after yourself.This brought to mind another Freedom connection…
Spoiler: it’s the inverse connection between the percent of people in a country who follow Islam and that country’s Freedom Index.





