Author: A.T.

Recently I described “spiders,” traded on the New York Stock Exchange (symbol: SPY). Basically, spiders are synthetic securities that represent your interest in one-tenth of the value of the Standard & Poor’s 500 Index. They’re a way to do just what you would do with an index fund, only a little easier (just call your broker to buy or sell), with a few other minor advantages and disadvantages.

“Spiders look interesting to me as an alternative to Vanguard’s index fund. What’s not clear to me is dividends — do spiders also have dividend income or just capital appreciation?” — Jim Taylor

Yes, Spiders pass through dividends.

“You mention Forbes regarding Spiders. Are those of us who invested in things like the Vanguard version of the S&P 500 in grave danger of being whacked with capital gains taxes if we hold tight and the thundering herd sells?” — AASLCS

Interesting point. Index funds are very “tax efficient” because typically they just buy and hold. If the stocks in the index go up, there’s no tax on the appreciation because they don’t sell. Yes, some shareholders are redeeming shares, but more, typically, are buying new ones, so net-net, Vanguard and the other index funds haven’t had to sell to meet redemptions.

But what if more people redeem their shares than buy new ones, as may have been happening during the recent market downturn? The fund would then have to sell a little stock — or a loot if the redemptions were severe — and thus realize capital gains if, as has been the case recently, the stocks they hold are a lot higher than they were when purchased. Those capital gains then get passed on as a tax liability to the mutual fund shareholders.

It’s important to say that this is not likely to amount to a whole lot of taxes for most people. It’s no reason to bail out of index funds. On the other hand, Spiders would seem to have an advantage in this regard, because someone else’s selling won’t trigger realized capital gains — only your own. You have more control over the tax consequences. So unless I’m missing something here, that’s an advantage of Spiders I hadn’t thought of.

“I have a Ceres IRA account. I enjoy investing my IRA $ in individual stocks, but right now I want to be out of the stock market completely. As you know, uninvested Ceres money only earns around 3% in their cash account. Is there an equity-type vehicle I can purchase through my Ceres account that acts more like a money market fund and less like a stock? I’m looking for something to purchase through my Ceres account that is very liquid, has low volatility, and offers a virtually guaranteed 5% – 6% return. Then when Money Magazine’s monthly stock prediction improves from its current “down arrow” rating, I’ll start buying normal stocks once again.” — David Matt

Can’t you buy Treasuries through Ceres? Maybe 2-3-year notes? But unless the amount you’re talking about is large, I wouldn’t put too much time into trying to get 2% more (which after tax would amount to even less).

Also, have you looked into REITs (real estate investment trusts)? They’re hardly risk-free; but real estate may be closer to its recent bottom than to some future top, and many of these stocks yield 6% or more. It’s a good area for you to research.

“I found your junk mail story [about the Discover Card checks] amusing, but for a different reason. For the last eight months or so I have been getting an interest-free loan from my credit card companies due to these convenience checks. As it happens, two companies (Chase and First USA) sent me these junk-mail convenience checks, but WITHOUT a transaction fee and with the usual grace period. I had to read the small print multiple times, but there was no catch! Well, I had about six of these checks from each credit card company, so I’ve actually been paying one credit card with another using these checks, and accumulating the money in a Money Market account. A few months ago, I even made some short-term equity investments with this money, and I still can’t figure out how these banks are making any money.” — Daniel Roitman

They’re not — with smart cookies like you.

Does everyone see the opportunity here? If a credit card company sends you some checks it encourages you to use “just like real ones,” there are usually two catches. The first, as with the Discover offer I wrote about, is that it costs something to use them — so the banks make money if you do. In the case of the Discover offer, there was a 2.5% fee even if you paid your balance in full on time. Not so, apparently, with the checks Daniel was sent.

What Chase and First USA (and all the other credit card companies) hope is that you won’t pay your credit card balance within the grace period. In which case, everything starts accruing interest — the money you wrote those checks for, plus all your other charges, even if you normally pay those on time. So that’s the second catch.

But in Daniel’s case, let’s say he has a high credit line and wrote one of these Chase Manhattan Visa credit card checks to his own money market account, for $5,000. He deposits this $5,000 in the money market and it begins earning 5%, or whatever. Then, when he gets his credit card bill, with this $5,000 charge reflected on it, he uses one of the checks from his First USA credit card to pay off his bill in full within the grace period. So that $5,000 is still sitting in the money market account earning interest. Now, a couple of weeks later his First USA credit card bill arrives, reflecting the $5,000 he used to pay off Chase. He uses a second Chase check to pay off First USA.

Eventually, when the checks run out, he withdraws the $5,000 — which may now be $5,150 with interest — and pays off his credit card.

This is quite different from kiting checks, which is illegal. A check kiter is someone who writes a check with insufficient funds — but keeps it from bouncing by depositing a check from another account with insufficient funds — and keeps moving them around hoping that, because of the delay in clearing, none of them will bounce.

Here, Chase and First USA were apparently enticing cardholders to borrow more by running an interest-free “sale.” They are gambling that most people won’t pay their balances in full within the grace period (even if you’re just $5 shy, interest accrues on everything, plus everything new that you charge).

I’m not suggesting you risk getting all tangled up with this just to beat the card companies out of a few dollars in interest. But when the checks they send are truly free of transaction fees and interest if paid off within the grace period — and if you’re sure you will pay off the balance on time — then congratulations: you’ve been offered a short-term, interest-free loan.

(One friend of mine has been doing something similar with the Visa card America Online offers. He has a $17,000 credit line and got some of these checks. After checking to be sure there was truly no fee or interest, he wrote himself a $17,000 check which he put to work earning interest in his money market account and pocketed $170 worth of free time on AOL, taking care to pay off the $17,000 credit card balance within the grace period. So in his case, it was an interest-free loan and almost six months’ free time on AOL.)

Be certain to haul out your magnifying glass and read every iota of fine print in these offers before attempting something like this. You don’t want to start borrowing at 18% accidentally, and you don’t want to get into a billing dispute even if you would eventually win — it’s not worth the hassle.

Please don’t focus on the fact that this is a cheap lawyer joke. (Or the fact that this is tax day — file form 4868 with a check approximating the tax you owe to get an automatic penalty-free extension to August 15.) Focus, instead, on the fact that this is the 300th daily comment I’ve written and yet up until now, as best I can remember — and despite the scads of them that various of you have sent me — I have not yet recirculated a single cheap lawyer joke.

In part this is because many of my best friends are lawyers. In part it is because even many lawyers who are not my friends do fine, honest, necessary work.

Still, at $295 an hour — and given the occasional unctuous, greedy snake that manages now and then to slither under the Bar — perhaps a little ribbing every 300th comment or so comes with the territory.

To wit:

Three lawyers and three MBAs are traveling by train to a conference. At the station, the three MBAs each buy tickets and watch as the three lawyers buy only a single ticket.

“How are three people going to travel on only one ticket?” asks an MBA.

“Watch and you’ll see,” answers a lawyer.

They all board the train. The MBAs take their respective seats, but all three lawyers cram into a restroom and close the door behind them. Shortly after the train has departed, the conductor comes around collecting tickets. He knocks on the restroom door and says, “Ticket, please.”

The door opens just a crack, and a single arm emerges with a ticket in hand. The conductor takes it and moves on.

The MBAs saw this, and agreed it was quite a clever idea. So, after the conference, the MBAs decide to copy the lawyers on the return trip and save some money (being clever with money, and all that). When they get to the station, they buy a single ticket for the return trip. To their astonishment, the lawyers don’t buy a ticket at all.

“How are you going to travel without a ticket?” says one perplexed MBA.

“Watch and you’ll see,” answers a lawyer.

When they board the train, the three MBAs cram into a restroom, and the three lawyers cram into another one nearby. The train departs.

Shortly afterward, one of the lawyers leaves his restroom and walks over to the restroom where the MBAs are hiding. He knocks on the door and says, “Ticket, please.”

Oh, wait. That’s not the joke I meant to recirculate. This is the one:

One day, a man was walking along the beach and came across an odd-looking bottle. Not being one to ignore tradition, he rubbed it and, much to his surprise, a Genie actually appeared.

“For releasing me from the bottle, I will grant you three wishes,” said the Genie. The man was ecstatic. “But there’s a catch,” the Genie continued. “What catch?” asked the man, eyeing the Genie suspiciously. The Genie replied, “For each of your wishes, every lawyer in the world will receive DOUBLE what you asked for.”

“Hey, I can live with that! No problem!” replied the elated man. “What is your first wish?” asked the Genie.

“Well, I’ve always wanted a Ferrari!” POOF! A Ferrari appeared in front of the man. “Now, every lawyer in the world has been given TWO Ferraris,” said the Genie.

“What is your next wish?”

“I could really use a million dollars…” replied the man, and POOF! One million dollars appeared at his feet. “Now, every lawyer in the world is TWO million dollars richer,” the Genie reminded the man.

“Well, that’s okay, as long as I’ve got MY million,” replied the man.

“And what is your final wish?” asked the Genie.

The man thought long and hard, and finally said, “Well, you know, I’ve always wanted to donate a kidney….”

Apologies: to those of you who are lawyers, related to lawyers, or aspiring lawyers; to those of you who have already heard these; and to whoever actually hatched them in the first place (like most Internet ephemera, these two have been floating around unsigned).

“I am looking into buying a share in a company that wants to drill a gas well in NY State. I was wondering if you had any experience with this and might point out some things I should look at closely. I plan on putting their prospectus in front of my lawyer and my broker, and doing a little investigation on my own. I can afford the $5000 a share as high risk capital, but I don’t want to throw money away. They only need $100,000 to start drilling and they have $20,000 already. If you could spare me a few minutes, please let me know what your thoughts are.” — Paul Fischer

Well, Paul, I fear it’s not a lawyer or a broker you need to consult so much as a geologist. My guess is that if these folks have no money, there’s a reason. And if they’re trying to raise it from people with no experience in this, there’s a reason for that, too. It may not be that they’re crooks or anything but well-meaning. But why go with unproven rookies? (I am assuming they are unproven rookies, or they would have $100,000 of their own, or prior investors eager to back them for more.) If this were an exciting speculation, wouldn’t someone closer to the situation have grabbed the deal for him/herself? Of course, I know NOTHING about this deal. But sometimes that’s an advantage.

Our filming complete in Bangkok, we flew to Singapore. The thing is, once you get to this part of the world, 14 hours’ flight time from Los Angeles, everything else is just a hop — Taipei, Tokyo, Ho Chi Minh City, Manila, Madras, Kuala Lampur, Vientiene (the capital of Laos! Why doesn’t anyone remember Laos?), Singapore. With another week, I could have seen it all. (Or, like the CEO of a small cellular phone company I met on the flight back, you could spend an entire month in New Delhi, racking up a $1,000-a-day phone and fax bill, negotiating a contract to provide cellular phone service.) But I didn’t have another week; I had to be back in Spokane five days after I left Los Angeles. I was taking the Instant in-depth tour.

Singapore is extraordinary. Think Pasadena, but with scores of magnificent skyscrapers, all seemingly built in the last three years. This little city-state, at the tip of Malaysia, has 2.3 million people (and a government policy encouraging childbirth to reach its goal of 4 million). There were more supertankers milling around its magnificent harbor than — well, it looked like some sort of naval armada.

Normally, I try to spend at least 24 hours in any new country I am studying in depth, but Singapore being a very small place, and I having a flight to catch in the morning, had to settle for 17. The drive in from the modern, pleasant airport, with its stunning mini-aquaria, almost makes you forget what you’re told as you land — that anyone entering Singapore with drugs to sell will be put to death (regardless of nationality, and after just a few days — these courts are not clogged). It’s as if you were driving the entire way through a botanical garden, or at least an arboretum, with not so much as a single billboard. Yes, to your right, there is an endless procession of condo high-rises. But they are almost uniformly handsome and clean. No traffic. No graffiti. No pollution.

Not being much for themes like “strict” or “severe,” I was looking for reasons to dislike Singapore. The one I heard over and over from friends of mine who knew it well was, simply: it’s boring! But you can hardly beat the way it looks or the view from your hotel room. Our Indian restaurant overlooking the water, nestled amongst the skyscrapers of downtown Singapore, was excellent.

And then, walking back to the hotel, we passed Raffles, one of the most famous hotels in the world, named after Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, who acquired Singapore for the British East India Company in 1819. Home of the Singapore sling (a drink, given the faster pace of life, now pre-mixed and simply poured from a container at the bar), Raffles Hotel was initially surrounded by jungle. Today by tall buildings. We had our drink, listened to good live jazz. Back to the hotel, e-mail, check my answering machine halfway around the world (crystal clear connection, because all that really has to happen when I punch in the right series of numbers is for the signal to go through the maze of wires at the hotel through the underground conduits in Singapore to a switching station and up via some sort of microwave maybe through clouds and maybe raindrops and wind to a satellite which beams it to another satellite and then another perhaps, which beams it down someplace over the U.S. and then across a lot of phone wires to South Florida, and then to the local switching station, to the box on the pole out back of my house, over the wire that runs through that tree I need to trim, in the hole they drilled in the concrete, around above the door molding, and so forth, to the Panasonic answering machine on my desk, which clicks on and tells me I’m not home) and then to sleep and Spokane via a change of planes in Tokyo (Japan! an hour in Japan! enjoyed it, felt there was more to see) and Seattle. Downtown Spokane has a really nice riverfront park, and a waterfall that was raging to beat the band, what with all the snow this winter.

And home.

Over the past few days, if you’ve just joined us, I’ve been pointing out the sights of my in-depth, five-day tour of Beijing, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore and Tokyo, en route to Spokane (which itself has an amazing waterfall and beautiful downtown riverfront park). You missed Beijing and Hong Kong already, although I basically did, too, and are joining us as we leave the Golden Buddha, which for centuries appeared to be made of concrete, until somebody dropped it in 1955 and found it was actually made of gold. A sort of giant The Maltese Falcon tale in reverse.

From the Golden Buddha, we vanned on over to the Reclining Buddha, in Bangkok’s largest (I assume) of 400-odd temples. This temple is more like a university campus of temples and shrines and living quarters for the monks and even a “traditional massage school.” There are some 95 pyramid-like “pagodas” dotted between the buildings, all, like the buildings, adorned in colorful tile and cut glass, each home to the ashes of ten prominent families.

(Cremation is the disposition of choice in Thailand — next to the Golden Buddha yesterday was one of the city’s primary and most sacred crematoria. The King himself had a half-page ad in the Bangkok Post inviting residents to the cremation ceremony of a prominent citizen over which he would be presiding a week or two hence.)

Unlike the Alamo or the Golden Buddha, as described yesterday, the sweep of this place was more appropriate. And there, in the center, was a huge building housing the Reclining Buddha — also gold, but gold leaf, which is quite a different thing.

Are you still holding in your mind Wednesday’s image of that Boeing 747, a huge six-story building reclining on its side? I’ve been asking you to hold that image all this time simply to say this: I could be way off here, but I think the two were about the same size. And without in any way intending to demean the majesty and significance of the Buddha, I would point out that the Boeing can fly. So each is, in its way, rather awesome. The Buddha, for its spiritual significance; the Boeing, for what it says about the power of science and human ingenuity.

The almost carnival-like atmosphere at the Golden Buddha was replaced by a more contemplative, cathedral-like setting for the Reclining Buddha. There were no 10-baht fortune-telling machines.

There were, instead, 108 cast-iron (bronze?) pots, suspended at thigh level from 108 short posts, perhaps two feet apart, against the wall, running the length of the Reclining Buddha. For luck, one was invited to pay respects to the Buddha by dropping a coin into each of the 108 pots. As at the Golden Buddha, I was astonished by the low prices — I was able to buy 108 one-baht coins for just 20 baht — except that, as with the lotus bulbs or gold leaf from yesterday, I was not buying 108 baht for 20 baht, but, rather, renting them. A few minutes later, beginning at his head, and with a pleasing plink in each pot, I had recycled my 108 baht and reached the Buddha’s ornate sole.

There were other highlights — this was still just the first afternoon of the first of three days. That night, falling asleep in my bird’s nest soup, I was taken to dinner by a prominent member of one of the three richest families in Thailand. Seems he is a Managing Your Money user from way back (I no longer have anything to do with that software) who still uses it to manage his portfolio, as do I (version 12, DOS). The difference is that he would have two or three extra zeroes after each of his entries.

His stately, quiet wife was with us, and a French/British physicist who has a book forthcoming on the subject of atomic anomalies. That gave me a chance to say my Einstein thing. (“In most of nature, everything is gradual. A bell curve. If Bell hadn’t invented the telephone, there was a guy at the patent office about twelve minutes later. But Einstein was like a complete discontinuity — off the charts — from another planet. If he hadn’t existed, would we ever have figured out all this stuff?” This is my Einstein thing. Our physicist dinner companion replied that, in his opinion, I was right. We would have invented these things without Einstein, but it would have taken another 50 years. Hence, no atom bomb in World War II and a thousand other history-changing differences.)

Near the end of the dinner I summoned the courage to ask how my Thai hosts and this physicist knew each other. It seems he and the wife were classmates — she got her Ph.D. in physics the same time he did. Thailand has long had an enlightened view of women, and we decided that its ability and willingness to harness their talents is one of the reasons for Thailand’s economic success.

And then I went to sleep.

I will spare you the two interesting days that followed, a few moments of which intrepid viewers may see on PBS in the fall. Let me just say that if you visit Thailand and money is no object, you want to stay at the Oriental (about $300 a night). Otherwise, because of the recent overbuilding, your travel agent should be able to find you some excellent, modern, luxury high-rise rooms for $100 a night or less. (And you can still have iced tea at the Oriental overlooking the river and the pool. Dress nicely.)

On to Singapore, Tokyo, Seattle, Spokane and home. I think I can do that all tomorrow.

Our first afternoon in Bangkok, an exercise in staying awake in between Melatonin flashes, involved an uneventful cab ride from the airport and then a city tour.

First stop: the Golden Buddha, which — first impressions being what they are — I think was not the best idea. The idea of the Golden Buddha, like the idea of the Alamo, is super. Five and a half tons of 14 karat gold would be worth a look even if it weren’t hundreds of years old and cast in the form of a giant, radiant Buddha. That’s about $35 million worth at current prices, if I have my numbers right. But like the Alamo, which I’m told is now sandwiched between a drugstore and a pawn shop — or two neighbors not much more glamorous anyway — so is the Golden Buddha similarly situated. The acres of lawns and raked gravel that should be leading up to it from all sides are, instead, a few narrow crowded streets with honking and parking and tourists.

No guards that I could see, but one would be hard-pressed to filch the five-and-a-half ton Golden Buddha. (In America, I fear, you would have needed guards to protect it from hacksaws. Not here.) Instead, it was surrounded by Buddhists come to pay respects, and tourists, who were encouraged to buy lotus bulbs and incense sticks to do likewise.

These items were very cheap. There are about 25 baht to the dollar, and these beautiful bulbs and incense sticks were only 20 baht — all the remarkable for the three tiny squares of ultra-thin gold leaf that came with the lotus bulb and incense sticks. “Wow!” I couldn’t help thinking. How are the monks going to make any money providing all this for 20 baht?

But jet-lagged as I was, I eventually realized they were not so dumb after all (bald, to be sure, but not brainless). Because here was the drill: you’d lay the lotus bulb before the Buddha, meaning that you had effectively rented that bulb for five or ten minutes (at some point, it would be recycled back downstairs to the vendor’s booth), and you would stick the gold leaf onto a nearby Buddha provided for the purpose — gold leaf is so thin and malleable, it basically just sticks onto the Buddha. So that, too, is recycled. Perhaps the incense sticks, too; I’m not sure.

Next to the little Buddha provided to stick on the gold leaf were a row of slot machines. In these you would insert 10 baht, watch little Christmas-tree lights light up sequentially in rapid succession running around a track, each with a number. Where it stopped indicated the number the Buddha had selected for you. You would then take a slip of paper from a cubby-hole bearing that number, and that would be guidance from the Buddha. “When in Bangkok . . .” being my philosophy (and being a fast man with 10 baht), I was soon drawing a pink slip from cubby-hole 24, as the Buddha had instructed.

“A fool and his 10 baht are quickly parted,” I thought it might say or, more realistically, some vaguely upbeat and reassuring message along the lines of the fortunes that follow a good sweet-and-sour chicken and some leechee nuts (which are not nuts, by the way, and you should try them, chilled, though I digress). But no. Here’s what the Buddha had to tell me, in Thai (a 44-letter alphabet from the Sanskrit) and in English and in Chinese (I am assuming it said the same in all three and so quote only the English): “Just like a small boat rowing upstream amidst a strom.” I paused momentarily to wonder whether there might be some brighter explanation here than the obvious one — could the Buddha for my 10 baht really be predicting a strom? Perhaps in Thai strom means “shower of flowers and candy.” But as I read on, I decided strom was probably not even a misprint, but short for “maelstrom.”

The Buddha continued: “Encountering hardship in virtually all directions. [Oh, thanks a lot.] But should best be heading south or west. [After Bangkok we would be headed south to Singapore, then east to the U.S.] Patient not likely to be recovering. [Geez!] Unlikely to get any support. [Thanks.] No lucks. [Agh!] Missing articles will not be reclaimed. [The week before, on a trip to Seattle, I had lost the pocket watch my dad had given me 20 years before on the occasion of my 30th birthday. I had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get United Airlines to let me post a reward for its return.] Legal case in your favor. [Ah, well, that was something.]”

Can you imagine? Welcome to Bangkok.

Still, I will say I gained respect for the Buddha. He called them as he saw them — you have to admire that — and he somehow knew about my watch and about a “legal case” I plan to tell you about one of these days.

But guess what? When I got back to Seattle at the end of my five-day, in-depth tour of Beijing, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Singapore, and Tokyo (rushing to make a speaking engagement in Spokane), the taxi company (that had been willing to allow me to post a reward) found my pocket watch! “Missing articles will not be reclaimed?” It’s in my pocket! Of course, the Buddha could be referring to something else.

Anyway, although I did worry that the atmosphere surrounding the Golden Buddha was insufficiently contemplative and respectful, I decided it was, like Davy Crockett at the Alamo, too good a story not to like. Here it is:

Apparently, when the Golden Buddha was in jeopardy of capture by some marauding invaders, hundreds of years ago, it was covered in concrete (or some similar substance) to disguise its value — who would go to the trouble of heisting a Concrete Buddha? — and, according to the story, as generation blended into generation, somehow the Thai people forgot. Or maybe a few people remembered, but everyone else was by then saying, “Oh, sure, sure” — since what were the chances this enormous six or eight ton Buddha (with the concrete) could have had a solid gold core?

So there they were in 1955, we were told, moving the Concrete Buddha from Sukothai or Ahutiya or some similar previous Thai capital, to Bangkok, when it dropped, and a piece of the concrete broke off, revealing . . . well, isn’t that a wonderful story?

Meanwhile, I hope you are still holding yesterday’s image of that Boeing 747, a huge six-story building reclining on its side.

Tomorrow: Boeing, Bangkok, Buddha – Part III

Space in Hong Kong is at a premium. The airport, with its single runway, is no exception. (Forget about trying to land your G-4 here. There are barely enough landing slots for the 747s, let alone corporate jets. Go land in Macao and take the ferry over to Hong Kong.) As a result, as our bus passed jet after jet, cargo plane after cargo plane, skid after skid of who-knows-what (silk? microchips?) lined up on the tarmac, it appeared we were driving to Bangkok. And then, finally, we reached the stairs leading up to our jumbo.

Given jet bridges, one rarely sees a 747 from the ground, close up. The overall impression is of a six-story building lying on its side — two stories tall even in recline — that could not possibly fly.

Hold that image.

We board the flight and watch more Seinfeld and Ellen reruns. A fine breakfast later we are in Bangkok, capital of the Kingdom of Thailand. The King no longer has direct power, but a lot of influence and a lot of Mercedes. (The plural of Mercedes, I have decided, like moose, is Mercedes.) He is in his 51st year on the throne. Later that day, the King and I get to cross paths. Our van is held up at an intersection as the King whizzes by in his caramel-color Rolls Royce, preceded and followed by a string of red Mercedes.

Here’s what I want to tell you about Thailand: it is a wonderful country, filled with bright, warm people. (And free luggage carts at the airport.)

About the size of France, with a population of 60 million, it is one of the developing nations that, despite its current real estate glut and other economic indigestion, is a wonderful success story. The per capita income has risen from $84 a year in 1961 to around $3,000 a year today. There’s a huge gap between the rich and poor — 20,000 families have net worths in excess of $3 million, and a few have world-class fortunes. But widespread misery and starvation are not part of the Thai landscape.

If you have enough frequent flier miles, visit. I can’t believe I waited so long. Bangkok is, it’s true, home to more than its share of pollution, traffic and HIV infection. But then again, so is New York. (It’s also hot most of the year — New York in August.) And the image this conjures is unfair. The pollution for a few days is no big deal — my eyes saw it but didn’t feel it. And as for traffic, in an air-conditioned cab or van, all very cheap by U.S. standards, what’s the rush?

Do you picture mobs of sweaty people leading water buffalo through congested streets? Picture skyscrapers instead, construction cranes, and the juxtaposition of modern office towers and shacks (but each shack with its little doll-house like Buddhist temple); three-wheeled “tuk-tuk” taxis here and there, but mostly modern taxis and European and Japanese vehicles. One feels safe, one is not assaulted by beggars or peddlers, one is struck by the vitality of the place, the friendliness of the people. (One should not, however, drink the water.)

Before long, I was placing my palms together in front of my face and bowing my head just as they were. It’s a lovely gesture of mutual respect, and seems to be delivered not peremptorily, but with a sweet smile. We should consider adopting it ourselves. Oprah could start this trend. Get Rosie and Jay in on it, and we would be transformed.

Anyway, I hope you’re still holding the image of that 747, the huge building reclining on its side.

Come back tomorrow for more. Or just cut to the chase and buy a few shares in the Thai Fund, or something similar, if you are a long-term investor whose assets are too heavily concentrated in U.S. equities. Thai stocks have had quite a setback in the last year or so; yet there’s a reasonable chance the country’s amazing growth will continue — growing more than twice as fast as the U.S.

(The problem is, perhaps recognizing all this, the Thai Fund currently trades at a fairly hefty premium to its net asset value — which means you pay $1.15 for $1 worth of assets. That’s a very steep handicap I make it a rule never to accept — I only buy closed-end funds at a discount. So I haven’t bought those shares myself. [Symbol: TTF on the New York Stock Exchange.] But I have my eye on them.)

Or buy shares in a company called Asia Fiber, if your broker has an Asian connection. It makes nylon fabric — the black fabric of your umbrella may have been made in the factory we visited, or the cover for your tennis racket. What I like about it is that when Mark Mobius started buying it for his various mutual funds seven years ago, the stock was five or six times as high as it is today. By now, his funds own 12% of the company. This doesn’t mean it will go up. (And if your browser doesn’t register italics for some reason, that last sentence was italicized.) But if it went down or disappeared, you would at least have the satisfaction of knowing you had done much less badly with it than famed investment manager Dr. Mobius (whose fame, let me be clear, is well deserved, which is why we had flown half way around the world to follow him around with a film crew). Full disclosure: I’ve bought a little myself.

Tomorrow: Boeing, Bangkok, Buddha – Part II

I really debated admitting this, because I’m supposed to be Mr. Been There, Done That, or at least Mr. Worldly or at least someone who’s ventured beyond Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. But the truth is, despite trips to Sydney, Australia, and Sydney, Ohio; Provincetown, Massachusetts, and Cape Town, South Africa; Poland, Maine, and Moscow, Russia, . . . I have never been to Moscow, Idaho. No wait. That’s not the confession. This is: In addition to never having been to Moscow, Idaho, until last month I had also never been to Asia.

And now here I was, fresh from the Marco Polo Lounge at the Los Angeles International Airport, setting sail at 600 miles per hour and 39,500 feet for a five-day, in-depth tour of the inscrutable continent, beginning with Beijing.

“If I had jumped out of the plane two hours ago,” I told a friend excitedly, “I would have landed– splat — in Tiananman Square.”

Can you imagine? We had been flying over China. Over Beijing. (This was, unfortunately, all time permitted me to see of China.) And then over the mountains and suddenly into Hong Kong, where nice apartments, defying all predictions of collapse in the face of the Communist takeover July 1, routinely fetch millions of dollars, up sharply in the recent past.

Flying in on Cathay Pacific in business class, I had my own personal TV, watched my own personal Ellen and Seinfeld reruns, and had a bewildering choice of movies, languages and subtitles. You want to see a Korean film with Italian subtitles? Mel Gibson speaking Thai? The choice isn’t quite that all-inclusive, but one does get a sense of the potential babble.

Emerging from which are some standards. English. (We are so fortunate not to have to learn Chinese or Thai to catch up with the rest of the world.) Americana. (In Bangkok, there will be a shrine and a McDonald’s side-by-side — their shrine and ours.) Windows 95. (Bill Gates is featured just as prominently in the Bangkok Post as in the LA Times.)

With 100 days to go before the historic changeover, it was a particularly exciting time to visit Hong Kong. Being on a tight schedule — I had to be in Spokane five days later — I had only 75 minutes to size up this extraordinary place. And as I have the capacity to get lost in the shower, let alone Hong Kong’s Kai Tek Airport, I decided it would be best to go straight to Gate 17 and spend my historic 75 minutes there, drinking in the culture and waiting for the flight to Bangkok.

There, directly across from the gate, was a warren of pay phones — I’m in Hong Kong! I have to call somebody! — but they all required phone cards, and it was 6:45 in the morning, Hong Kong time, which is to say 5:45 the night before of the day before on the East Coast (which, combined with the prevailing winds, makes the flight to Asia two days long, and the flight back instantaneous).

In short, I am completely confused, but clinging to the certain knowledge that I am at Gate 17, as I am supposed to be — that’s the main thing I have focused on — and that I have no phone card. (Credit cards, sure; but Hong Kong phone cards?) Not to worry. Next to the several pay phones is a simple white wall phone with a choice of eight buttons. Hertz, Avis, I guess, as I move closer, but no! The first button is for AT&T Direct. Push that one button, and you’re back home. There’s the familiar . . . what is that sound? . . . the request for an area code and phone number . . . that sound again prompting you for your card number . . . and moments later it is as if your loved one is next door. Certainly clearer than if he or she is, say, downstairs or out by the car. (“What was that honey? I can’t hear you.”)

Peck a few keys on a phone by Gate 17 and, seconds later, a 12,000-mile gap is bridged, clear as a Bell. What a world, for those of us fortunate enough to be in the flying/computing/credit-granted part of it.

Tomorrow: The Saga Continues