system, I could obtain no
reliable information as to what connections I could make at the Siamese
frontier or when I would reach Bangkok. And the only guide book on Siam
which I could discover--quite an excellent little volume, by the
way--was published by the Imperial Japanese Railways!

The Siamese are by no means opposed to foreigners visiting their
country, and they would welcome the development of its resources by
foreign capital, but, owing to the insularity, indifference, timidity
and pride which are inherent in the Siamese character, they have taken
no steps to bring their country to the attention of the outside world.
When one notes the energetic advertising campaigns which are being
conducted by the governments of Japan, China, Java, and even
Indo-China, where the visitor is confronted at every turn by
advertisements urging him to "Spend the Week-End at Kamakura," "Go to
the Great Wall," "Don't Miss Boroboedor and Djokjakarta," "Take
Advantage of the Special Fares to the Ruins of Angkor," you wonder why
Siam, which has so much that is novel and picturesque to offer, makes
no effort to swell its revenues by encouraging the tourist industry.
That the royal prince who is the Minister of Communications recently
made a tour of the United States for the purpose of studying American
railway methods suggests, however, that the Land of the White Elephant
is planning to get its share of tourist travel in the future.

I might as well admit frankly that my first impressions of the Siamese
capital were extremely disappointing. I didn't expect to be conveyed to
my hotel atop a white elephant, through streets lined with salaaming
natives, but neither did I expect to make a wild dash through
thoroughfares as crowded with traffic as Fifth Avenue, in a vehicle
which unmistakably owed its paternity to Mr. Henry Ford, or to be
bruskly halted at busy street crossings by the upraised hand of a
helmeted and white-gloved traffic policeman. Nor, upon my arrival at
the hotel--there is only one in Bangkok deserving of the name--did I
expect to find on the breakfast table a breakfast food manufactured in
Battle Creek, or beside my bed an electric fan made in New Britain,
Connecticut, or behind the desk a very wide awake American youth--the
son, I learned later, of one of the American advisers to the Siamese
Government--who eagerly inquired whether I had brought any American
newspapers with me and whether I thought the pennant would be w