While the following line may possess a corny-factor rivaling the moral lessons revealed at the end of an episode of "Full House" (if you didn't watch "Full House" in the 90's, you missed out), it has to be said:
Sometimes I still pinch myself. It'll come at the most random moments: when I haggle with a store clerk at a market, realizing that I've just completed a transaction in a language that was about as familiar as Swahili one year ago. When I hop on a motorbike in the pouring rain, watching the water spray six feet in the air as we speed down the soi's towards work. When I order the spiciest dish at the street vendor and can shovel it down without breaking a sweat. That's when it comes - the urge to pinch myself and make sure that it's all real.
So I pinch.
Once.
Twice.
Three times for good luck.
Yup, still here. This is the new reality I've created for myself; one that transcends most of the boundaries of possibility that I could have conceived in the past.
Recently, I found that the best test of reality is to have someone you care about experience this new universe with you. I was lucky enough to host the wonderful Kikuye Inouye a week ago, and to share my new reality with her. The opportunity to show an old friend how I live everyday in this country solidified the fact that I am here, I am living, and I am so freaking happy about it. Plus, it gave me the chance to become a tourist again for a few days. We rode elephants, we took a cooking course, and we visited way too many temples. I even took photographs of random foliage, animals, and people - an activity I had stopped when I realized how lame one looked going on the daily commute with a camera bag around their neck. When Kikuye left to go back to Los Angeles, we both marveled at the fact that I wouldn't be going with her. While her 'escape' from reality was over, I had never left mine. Kikuye coming here was a much better reality-check than some pinch on the arm.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Barking Sub-Culture
I see them everywhere. They hang out on the streets in packs, making trouble and getting into fights for no apparent reason. They've had to beg, cheat, and steal their way through life, so there's no messing around with these guys. They don't need houses or shelter; the street is the only home they've ever known. They're a sub-culture all their own, and they aren't even human.
This is the life of the Soi Dog: the four-legged creatures that have barked, bitten, and clawed out an existence on the stuffy Bangkok streets. They crowd the narrow soi's day and night, chomping down chicken bones given to them by food vendors who take pity on their flea-bitten selves. Their hobbies include: blocking traffic by running into the busiest intersections at the busiest time of day, stopping to pee in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and mating with Soi Dog-ettes directly next to where I am trying to have lunch. They also enjoy beer hand-outs given to them by young men playing cards on the sidewalk, lunging at unsuspecting foreigners (aka myself) as they walk by, and scratching at fleas until they have bigger bald spots than the large German tourists that like to vacation in Bangkok.
Sorry if I'm coming off as an insensitive animal-hater. I assure you all, I do love all of Buddha's creatures, especially our furry canine friends. The point of this rant is to give insight into another element of street life that makes Thailand an entertaining place to live. Soi dogs can teach us all to slow down and enjoy the basic things in life: sleeping, eating, and... uh... mating. I admire them for their will to survive, by whatever means necessary. And it just wouldn't be a normal day if my motorbike taxi driver didn't have to swerve or slam on the brakes because of two fighting soi dogs that spill out into the middle of traffic. One day maybe I'll open up a home for the dogs that roam these dirty soi's. But until then... You go, Soi Dogs. You keep on hustling.
This is the life of the Soi Dog: the four-legged creatures that have barked, bitten, and clawed out an existence on the stuffy Bangkok streets. They crowd the narrow soi's day and night, chomping down chicken bones given to them by food vendors who take pity on their flea-bitten selves. Their hobbies include: blocking traffic by running into the busiest intersections at the busiest time of day, stopping to pee in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and mating with Soi Dog-ettes directly next to where I am trying to have lunch. They also enjoy beer hand-outs given to them by young men playing cards on the sidewalk, lunging at unsuspecting foreigners (aka myself) as they walk by, and scratching at fleas until they have bigger bald spots than the large German tourists that like to vacation in Bangkok.
Sorry if I'm coming off as an insensitive animal-hater. I assure you all, I do love all of Buddha's creatures, especially our furry canine friends. The point of this rant is to give insight into another element of street life that makes Thailand an entertaining place to live. Soi dogs can teach us all to slow down and enjoy the basic things in life: sleeping, eating, and... uh... mating. I admire them for their will to survive, by whatever means necessary. And it just wouldn't be a normal day if my motorbike taxi driver didn't have to swerve or slam on the brakes because of two fighting soi dogs that spill out into the middle of traffic. One day maybe I'll open up a home for the dogs that roam these dirty soi's. But until then... You go, Soi Dogs. You keep on hustling.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
The Art of Farang-ing
While life in this country can be crazy and unpredictable, there is one thing about my experiences that will always be true: I ain't from around these parts. No matter how many Thai words I learn to pronounce correctly (currently I can do about four)or how many fish ball soups I slurp down, I will never be mistaken for anything close to a local. I am and forever will be a "farang", an alien chick weaving my way through busy Bangkok streets.
At first, I felt some frustration with my foreigner status. The stares from little kids on the subway were off-putting, as was the "Welcome to Thailand, you want buy sex DVD?" line I got everyday on the walk home from my teaching course. I mean, really. Does being from a Western country automatically make me a sex-DVD sale candidate? Do I LOOK like I want to buy a sex DVD?
...Anyway. Those were the feelings of frustration I felt during my first few weeks here in the Land of Smiles. But after being here for four months, I've found that I'm pretty used to my status as an alien visiting Bangkok from outer space. In fact, I think I've grown quite attached to it. I've now realized that being a "farang" is actually extremely liberating. Look at it this way: in the eyes of the Thai's, whatever I do is weird/fascinating/hilarious, and a whole list of other adjectives. So I might as well do whatever the heck I want. Let's say I'm walking to work and I feel like singing along to a random Christmas carol that pops up on my iPod's shuffle. What do I do? I sing my freaking heart out. The people surrounding me are Buddhist and I'm blonde; for all they know today is Christmas day and I'm the next Britney Spears. Or maybe I'm at the park, and I start to feel the delirium brought on every-so-often by the Bangkok heat. Gosh, those sprinklers spraying over the lawn look pretty refreshing. Maybe I'll just take a few quick paces through them, just to avoid heat stroke. Twenty minutes later I'm soaked and playing a game of tag with a group of ten year-old Thai boys. Whatever. I'm a "farang".
So in my quest to "blend in" to the best of my ability, I've overlooked one key thing: being a foreigner in this country gives you a status of complete and utter freedom. You can sing in public, run through sprinklers, and pick your nose on a crowded metro(not that I ever do that...awkward...), and pass it off like it's just how we live in our native "Farang-Land". And the Thai's are none-the-wiser. Sometimes being an alien pays off.
At first, I felt some frustration with my foreigner status. The stares from little kids on the subway were off-putting, as was the "Welcome to Thailand, you want buy sex DVD?" line I got everyday on the walk home from my teaching course. I mean, really. Does being from a Western country automatically make me a sex-DVD sale candidate? Do I LOOK like I want to buy a sex DVD?
...Anyway. Those were the feelings of frustration I felt during my first few weeks here in the Land of Smiles. But after being here for four months, I've found that I'm pretty used to my status as an alien visiting Bangkok from outer space. In fact, I think I've grown quite attached to it. I've now realized that being a "farang" is actually extremely liberating. Look at it this way: in the eyes of the Thai's, whatever I do is weird/fascinating/hilarious, and a whole list of other adjectives. So I might as well do whatever the heck I want. Let's say I'm walking to work and I feel like singing along to a random Christmas carol that pops up on my iPod's shuffle. What do I do? I sing my freaking heart out. The people surrounding me are Buddhist and I'm blonde; for all they know today is Christmas day and I'm the next Britney Spears. Or maybe I'm at the park, and I start to feel the delirium brought on every-so-often by the Bangkok heat. Gosh, those sprinklers spraying over the lawn look pretty refreshing. Maybe I'll just take a few quick paces through them, just to avoid heat stroke. Twenty minutes later I'm soaked and playing a game of tag with a group of ten year-old Thai boys. Whatever. I'm a "farang".
So in my quest to "blend in" to the best of my ability, I've overlooked one key thing: being a foreigner in this country gives you a status of complete and utter freedom. You can sing in public, run through sprinklers, and pick your nose on a crowded metro(not that I ever do that...awkward...), and pass it off like it's just how we live in our native "Farang-Land". And the Thai's are none-the-wiser. Sometimes being an alien pays off.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
A Word on Motorbike Taxis
Like I've said before, Thailand is commonly referred to as "The Land of Smiles", based on the pleasant, 'anything-goes' attitudes of the country's population. But after countless missed collisions on the back of motorbikes, seatbelt-less cabs, and vans barreling down expressways at 150 km/hour, I propose that we toss out the "Smiles" and christen the country with a much more fitting nickname:
"The Land of Extremely Dangerous Methods of Transportation"
At the start of my commute every morning, I place my life into the hands of one of the motorbike taxi drivers who sit outside my apartment building. The Metro is a bit too far to walk to, and it's only a 75-cent ride on the back of a bike. By now I've come to recognize every different driver, so I know what the ride to the Metro will be like before I even sit down on the back of the bike. Take this morning, for instance. I walked out with relief to find the old, chubby dude who prefers an even-paced ride down the quiet backstreets, easing on the brakes at every speedbump while I sit comfortably on his spacious bike seat. Riding on the back of his bike is actually fun, and I don't feel like I'm going to go into cardiac arrest every 2.5 seconds.
So today I got lucky. Yesterday, not so much. My stomach dropped as I walked out of the building and saw him - the driver with the neon "Spiderman" gloves. This guy must be about twenty years old, and he seems to get a real kick out of scaring the living crap out of me (or any other helpless victim who is forced onto the back of his bike.) As he sped toward me in a cloud of tire-burning smoke, I took a deep breathe and took off my earrings and sunglasses, knowing that these things were bound to fly off at the extreme speeds this guy was capable of. After throwing the accessories into my purse, I hopped onto the back of the bike and assumed my usual "Dear-Buddha-Let-Me-Live" position, one hand gripping the driver's waist and the other behind me on the bike's back handle. I managed to keep my eyes open for the first few seconds of the ride, enough to watch the amused looks on the other driver's faces as we hurled towards the first speedbump in the road. I saw the chubby old man dozing off on the back of his bike, waiting for the next lucky customer. Worst. Timing. Ever.
As we flew meters in the air at every speedbump, I knew that the worst was yet to come. Unlike the dozy old man and his backstreets, this speed-demon prefers the crowded lanes of the expressway as a route to the Metro. As we slid into a three-foot wide space between two speeding buses, I had the same internal debate that I'd had so many times before in this same situation: should I just close my eyes and go with it, or is it worth an attempt to look ahead so I will at least have some warning when death becomes imminent? I decided to close my eyes, imagining that I was somewhere far away from the speeding buses, maybe sipping from a coconut on some tropical beach. I imagined the speed-induced wind sending my hair flying into my eyes as a cool ocean breeze.
The daydream granted me a momentary escape until...SCREEEEEECH! Speed Racer ground to a halt at the stairs leading up to the Metro. With a shaking hand, I reached into my wallet and pulled out a 20-baht note (still not really sure how I feel about paying somebody to almost get me killed), and slowly walked toward the train station entrance. I had survived the first half of my morning commute once again. At least this will help me kick my caffeine habit - who needs coffee when you've got a motorbike ride to wake you up every morning?
"The Land of Extremely Dangerous Methods of Transportation"
At the start of my commute every morning, I place my life into the hands of one of the motorbike taxi drivers who sit outside my apartment building. The Metro is a bit too far to walk to, and it's only a 75-cent ride on the back of a bike. By now I've come to recognize every different driver, so I know what the ride to the Metro will be like before I even sit down on the back of the bike. Take this morning, for instance. I walked out with relief to find the old, chubby dude who prefers an even-paced ride down the quiet backstreets, easing on the brakes at every speedbump while I sit comfortably on his spacious bike seat. Riding on the back of his bike is actually fun, and I don't feel like I'm going to go into cardiac arrest every 2.5 seconds.
So today I got lucky. Yesterday, not so much. My stomach dropped as I walked out of the building and saw him - the driver with the neon "Spiderman" gloves. This guy must be about twenty years old, and he seems to get a real kick out of scaring the living crap out of me (or any other helpless victim who is forced onto the back of his bike.) As he sped toward me in a cloud of tire-burning smoke, I took a deep breathe and took off my earrings and sunglasses, knowing that these things were bound to fly off at the extreme speeds this guy was capable of. After throwing the accessories into my purse, I hopped onto the back of the bike and assumed my usual "Dear-Buddha-Let-Me-Live" position, one hand gripping the driver's waist and the other behind me on the bike's back handle. I managed to keep my eyes open for the first few seconds of the ride, enough to watch the amused looks on the other driver's faces as we hurled towards the first speedbump in the road. I saw the chubby old man dozing off on the back of his bike, waiting for the next lucky customer. Worst. Timing. Ever.
As we flew meters in the air at every speedbump, I knew that the worst was yet to come. Unlike the dozy old man and his backstreets, this speed-demon prefers the crowded lanes of the expressway as a route to the Metro. As we slid into a three-foot wide space between two speeding buses, I had the same internal debate that I'd had so many times before in this same situation: should I just close my eyes and go with it, or is it worth an attempt to look ahead so I will at least have some warning when death becomes imminent? I decided to close my eyes, imagining that I was somewhere far away from the speeding buses, maybe sipping from a coconut on some tropical beach. I imagined the speed-induced wind sending my hair flying into my eyes as a cool ocean breeze.
The daydream granted me a momentary escape until...SCREEEEEECH! Speed Racer ground to a halt at the stairs leading up to the Metro. With a shaking hand, I reached into my wallet and pulled out a 20-baht note (still not really sure how I feel about paying somebody to almost get me killed), and slowly walked toward the train station entrance. I had survived the first half of my morning commute once again. At least this will help me kick my caffeine habit - who needs coffee when you've got a motorbike ride to wake you up every morning?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Golden Arches
I tried to resist it. Really, I did. But the urge was uncontrollable, as if I was being drawn in by an huge delicious magnet, composed of two all-beef patties and a tangy special sauce.
I passed under the glow of the Golden Arches like someone in a trance, with my eyes glued to the uniformed employees who stood between myself and pure burger bliss. Before the girl behind the counter could even say "Sa-wat dee ka", I had blurted out the order that had drawn me in like a moth to a flame:
A Big Mac Set and a Coke Zero. Stat.
The employee smiled and tapped on her keyboard, opening the gates to fast-food heaven with just a few swift key strokes. A skilled team of employees moved behind her, filling a plastic cup to the brim with fizzling coke, and taking a freshly wrapped burger from the kitchen window. All that was left were the fries, which soon came hot and bubbling from the glorious domain of the deep fryer. I thanked the employees with an almost-creepy level of sincerity, and asked for extra ketchup. Then I slowly took my tray to a table in the middle of the restaurant, sat down, and ripped opened up the cardboard container that housed my Big Mac.
This is one of those recurring moments from living abroad that I still don't really understand. I can count on one hand (maybe even half a hand) the amount of times I have actually had the urge to eat at McDonald's. And strangely enough, every single one of those times has occured while living in a foreign country. I can say with complete honesty that I have never once had the desire to patronize the Golden Arches while driving down the 405 in L.A. or while strolling through the Public Garden in Boston. But for whatever reason, I have had the uncontrollable urge to visit McDonald's in many of the world's most exotic cities. I remember one late night in Barcelona, when I sat eating Chicken McNuggets while facing Gaudi's great "Sagrada Familia" cathedral. I can recall trips to the McDondald's down the street from my student residence in Buenos Aires, driven by irresistable cravings for a "Pechuga Crispy" (Crispy Chicken Sandwich). And now I can add a Big Mac in Bangkok to that list of McDonald's meals enjoyed in foreign cities.
What is it that makes an expatriate McDonald's experience so damn satisfying? Maybe it's the feeling of pride that an American institution has been able to thrive so successfully throughout the international community. Maybe it's the idea that I can close my eyes for a minute and feel as though I'm sitting in my neighborhood Mickey-D's, being served by America's finest minimum-wage workers. Or maybe it's just the combination of two all-beef patties and a special sauce. Whatever it is, my trip to the Golden Arches today brought out more pride in my country than I've felt in a long time.
God Bless America, and God Bless Big Macs.
I passed under the glow of the Golden Arches like someone in a trance, with my eyes glued to the uniformed employees who stood between myself and pure burger bliss. Before the girl behind the counter could even say "Sa-wat dee ka", I had blurted out the order that had drawn me in like a moth to a flame:
A Big Mac Set and a Coke Zero. Stat.
The employee smiled and tapped on her keyboard, opening the gates to fast-food heaven with just a few swift key strokes. A skilled team of employees moved behind her, filling a plastic cup to the brim with fizzling coke, and taking a freshly wrapped burger from the kitchen window. All that was left were the fries, which soon came hot and bubbling from the glorious domain of the deep fryer. I thanked the employees with an almost-creepy level of sincerity, and asked for extra ketchup. Then I slowly took my tray to a table in the middle of the restaurant, sat down, and ripped opened up the cardboard container that housed my Big Mac.
This is one of those recurring moments from living abroad that I still don't really understand. I can count on one hand (maybe even half a hand) the amount of times I have actually had the urge to eat at McDonald's. And strangely enough, every single one of those times has occured while living in a foreign country. I can say with complete honesty that I have never once had the desire to patronize the Golden Arches while driving down the 405 in L.A. or while strolling through the Public Garden in Boston. But for whatever reason, I have had the uncontrollable urge to visit McDonald's in many of the world's most exotic cities. I remember one late night in Barcelona, when I sat eating Chicken McNuggets while facing Gaudi's great "Sagrada Familia" cathedral. I can recall trips to the McDondald's down the street from my student residence in Buenos Aires, driven by irresistable cravings for a "Pechuga Crispy" (Crispy Chicken Sandwich). And now I can add a Big Mac in Bangkok to that list of McDonald's meals enjoyed in foreign cities.
What is it that makes an expatriate McDonald's experience so damn satisfying? Maybe it's the feeling of pride that an American institution has been able to thrive so successfully throughout the international community. Maybe it's the idea that I can close my eyes for a minute and feel as though I'm sitting in my neighborhood Mickey-D's, being served by America's finest minimum-wage workers. Or maybe it's just the combination of two all-beef patties and a special sauce. Whatever it is, my trip to the Golden Arches today brought out more pride in my country than I've felt in a long time.
God Bless America, and God Bless Big Macs.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Chaos and Curfews
Well, it finally happened. The inevitable clash between soldiers and civilians, as the Thai government decided that the protests holding the heart of Bangkok hostage could go on no longer. Army tanks moved in on the Red Shirt camp Wednesday, tearing through barricades and tearing down hopes of a peaceful solution to the crisis. It seemed for a moment that the government had "won", as an official of CRES (the Center for Resolution of the Emergency Situation, set up by the government when this situation first kicked off) came onto the television and announced that the protest-clearing operation had been a success. Hundreds of disappointed protestors were rallied up and put on buses that had been arranged to take them back to the provinces from whence they came. But many did not agree to go so easily.
On the evening of Wednesday, May 19th, the Bangkok skyline was once again filled with a thick black smoke as thirty-four buildings were set aflame by angry protestors. The torched buildings included two of Bangkok's largest shopping centers, as well as many branches of the country's most prominent banks. Convenient stores were looted and shots were fired as angry mobs said a final "f**k you" to the government that they had been protesting against all this time. The hatred that was once bottled up in the city center had now spilled out across the entire capital, showing that such emotions could not be stifled by a little ol' military operation.
Couldn't the government have seen this coming? The protestors have been set up in Bangkok for two months now, standing their ground despite the multiple threats made by officials as to the consequences of their camping out. They've endured hazes of tear-gas and rounds of live ammunition, and have in many instances publicly stated their willingness to die for what they believe in. So did the CRES really think that these protestors would all line up in neat little rows and board buses to go home, like the losing team of a Little League baseball game?
The near-sighted approach of the government became apparent as the city burned out of control on Wednesday. And it wasn't just Bangkok- news reports showed angry mobs amassing in provinces all over Thailand, burning down government buildings and smashing windows in a sign that this battle is far from over. An eight o'clock PM curfew was set for the entire city of Bangkok (yes, that would be 12 million people), as well as certain provinces throughout the country. Can you imagine a major international capital with an eight o'clock bedtime? Well, I can! Today is day three of the curfew, which has been changed to 9 PM in an effort to let people at least see the sunset before shutting themselves indoors.
The damage speaks for itself. Below is a picture of CentralWorld, Southeast Asia's second-largest shopping center, located directly in the city center. It is where the middle and upper classes of Bangkok spend their weekends, blowing money on Western food and designer sunglasses. Basically, it stands for everything that the Red Shirt protestors will never have in their rural provinces. So yeah. How's that for a "f**k you"?
For more on the crisis, check out this BBC newscast. Things are definitely far from over:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8694874.stm
On the evening of Wednesday, May 19th, the Bangkok skyline was once again filled with a thick black smoke as thirty-four buildings were set aflame by angry protestors. The torched buildings included two of Bangkok's largest shopping centers, as well as many branches of the country's most prominent banks. Convenient stores were looted and shots were fired as angry mobs said a final "f**k you" to the government that they had been protesting against all this time. The hatred that was once bottled up in the city center had now spilled out across the entire capital, showing that such emotions could not be stifled by a little ol' military operation.
Couldn't the government have seen this coming? The protestors have been set up in Bangkok for two months now, standing their ground despite the multiple threats made by officials as to the consequences of their camping out. They've endured hazes of tear-gas and rounds of live ammunition, and have in many instances publicly stated their willingness to die for what they believe in. So did the CRES really think that these protestors would all line up in neat little rows and board buses to go home, like the losing team of a Little League baseball game?
The near-sighted approach of the government became apparent as the city burned out of control on Wednesday. And it wasn't just Bangkok- news reports showed angry mobs amassing in provinces all over Thailand, burning down government buildings and smashing windows in a sign that this battle is far from over. An eight o'clock PM curfew was set for the entire city of Bangkok (yes, that would be 12 million people), as well as certain provinces throughout the country. Can you imagine a major international capital with an eight o'clock bedtime? Well, I can! Today is day three of the curfew, which has been changed to 9 PM in an effort to let people at least see the sunset before shutting themselves indoors.
The damage speaks for itself. Below is a picture of CentralWorld, Southeast Asia's second-largest shopping center, located directly in the city center. It is where the middle and upper classes of Bangkok spend their weekends, blowing money on Western food and designer sunglasses. Basically, it stands for everything that the Red Shirt protestors will never have in their rural provinces. So yeah. How's that for a "f**k you"?
For more on the crisis, check out this BBC newscast. Things are definitely far from over:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8694874.stm
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
A City on Fire
It's been a whirlwind couple of days here in Bangkok. After reaching my emotional breaking point on Saturday night, I decided to re-locate to yet another part of the city, continuing my attempt to outrun the violence that has paralyzed daily life for countless Bangkok inhabitants. I called my friend Kevin, who is renting an apartment in Ladprao, a northern district of the city that has been relatively unaffected by the protests. After Kevin graciously agreed to take this refugee in for a while, I made a quick phone call to ask my boss if I could transfer temporarily to our language center's Ladprao branch. My request for a transfer was met with an enthusiastic "YES YES YES, GET THE F**K OUT OF THERE." So I once again packed up everything I own and hauled my butt uptown. On the drive up I saw the true scope of destruction throughout the city, passing blockaded expressways and black clouds of smoke billowing up from piles of burning tires. Watching a city burn is a truly horrible sight.
With every meter we drove away from the city center, I began to breathe a bit easier. By the time we exited the expressway and drove onto the soi's of Ladprao, I began to realize that it was all true: life in parts of this city was still continuing as normal. People were out on the streets, shopping and eating, acting as though they weren't living on the edge of a war zone. It was only then that I felt the effect of the last few days I had spent downtown, barricaded in my apartment against the sounds of gunfire and explosions. The sounds of a city on fire.
Sensing my overwhelming desire for a "normal" afternoon, Kevin and our friend Pete took me to a nearby park. We rented bikes for the afternoon, riding leisurely among lily-padded ponds and jogging Bangkokians. The serenity of the park felt strange after being in such a period of scared isolation, and I joked with Kevin and Pete that I was being re-introduced to society. Kevin and I ate a huge dinner (that didn't consist of instant freeze-dried noodles!) and walked home (at night!) It was truly a glorious re-introduction.
But after two days of normalcy in Ladprao, I am once again reminded of the chaos that is happening just a few kilometers away. Today I woke up to the sounds of a helicopter overhead, something that I hadn't heard since my afternoon of societal re-introduction. I checked my phone, which was waiting with a "Ladprao center closed, don't come into work today" text sent by my boss. I looked out my window and saw a huge black cloud of smoke rising from the city center, my home for the last two and a half months.
I hopped on a motorbike and rushed to the nearest internet cafe. The headlines spell out what we have all been fearing/reluctantly wanting to happen for weeks now. The army is now aggressively moving in on the protestors. Armed soldiers have torn down the barricades of bamboo and rubber tires that protected the Red Shirt encampment for months, entering into the protest area that has been deemed a "live fire zone" by the government. There are still an estimated 5,000 protestors remaining in the rally zone. Interviews with the remaining die-hards show that they expected this crackdown to take place. If they are still standing there, they are willing to die for what they believe.
Among those protestors refusing to leave are many women, children, and elderly people. These people are now directly in the line of fire. Today will prove a historically tragic date for Thailand, as the country stands to have a huge loss in life and in morale. All that the rest of us can do is stand back and watch as the army attempts to end what has gone on for far too long. The situation is lose-lose from all ends: take no action, and allow the paralysis of the city to continue. Take action, and see even more death and destruction.
My heart is breaking for this country as I watch it burn.
With every meter we drove away from the city center, I began to breathe a bit easier. By the time we exited the expressway and drove onto the soi's of Ladprao, I began to realize that it was all true: life in parts of this city was still continuing as normal. People were out on the streets, shopping and eating, acting as though they weren't living on the edge of a war zone. It was only then that I felt the effect of the last few days I had spent downtown, barricaded in my apartment against the sounds of gunfire and explosions. The sounds of a city on fire.
Sensing my overwhelming desire for a "normal" afternoon, Kevin and our friend Pete took me to a nearby park. We rented bikes for the afternoon, riding leisurely among lily-padded ponds and jogging Bangkokians. The serenity of the park felt strange after being in such a period of scared isolation, and I joked with Kevin and Pete that I was being re-introduced to society. Kevin and I ate a huge dinner (that didn't consist of instant freeze-dried noodles!) and walked home (at night!) It was truly a glorious re-introduction.
But after two days of normalcy in Ladprao, I am once again reminded of the chaos that is happening just a few kilometers away. Today I woke up to the sounds of a helicopter overhead, something that I hadn't heard since my afternoon of societal re-introduction. I checked my phone, which was waiting with a "Ladprao center closed, don't come into work today" text sent by my boss. I looked out my window and saw a huge black cloud of smoke rising from the city center, my home for the last two and a half months.
I hopped on a motorbike and rushed to the nearest internet cafe. The headlines spell out what we have all been fearing/reluctantly wanting to happen for weeks now. The army is now aggressively moving in on the protestors. Armed soldiers have torn down the barricades of bamboo and rubber tires that protected the Red Shirt encampment for months, entering into the protest area that has been deemed a "live fire zone" by the government. There are still an estimated 5,000 protestors remaining in the rally zone. Interviews with the remaining die-hards show that they expected this crackdown to take place. If they are still standing there, they are willing to die for what they believe.
Among those protestors refusing to leave are many women, children, and elderly people. These people are now directly in the line of fire. Today will prove a historically tragic date for Thailand, as the country stands to have a huge loss in life and in morale. All that the rest of us can do is stand back and watch as the army attempts to end what has gone on for far too long. The situation is lose-lose from all ends: take no action, and allow the paralysis of the city to continue. Take action, and see even more death and destruction.
My heart is breaking for this country as I watch it burn.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
(Virtual) Reality
Urban warfare. Up until now, the closest exposure I’d had to this type of situation was watching my brother play video games on our family room couch. I remember staring at the television screen as armed soldiers made their way through deserted city streets, shooting at rebels and civilians as they ran past. Convenient store shelves were turned into army barracks and taxi cabs became tanks as a city was transformed into a battle field.
I remember being annoyed with these games growing up. I’d be trying to fall asleep, but the sporadic blasts of simulated gunfire would jolt me out of unconsciousness every few minutes. Back then, all I had to do to get some peace from the sound effects was to ask my brother to turn the TV volume down. Now that I’m living through the real thing, there isn’t such an easy solution.
Seventeen people have died since Thursday here in Bangkok, and another 150 are currently injured in hospitals. All the result of real-life urban warfare that has gripped this city for nearly three days. As I happen to be living in the center of a 4-square kilometer grid of the city that has been completely shut down for entry or exit (see picture on the left- I live in the business district by the "Red Shirt Barricade" on the bottom), I am witnessing firsthand a situation that used to only exist in virtual reality. Streets are deserted, with only the occasional persistent taxi cab searching slowly down the lanes. Army personnel exponentially outnumber civilians. Stores are closed and boarded up, and scared eyes peek out from behind second-story window shades. Gun shots ring out every few minutes, some sounding closer than others. Police helicopters circle overhead, trying to keep an eye on the perimeter of the chaos. It’s pretty damn scary.
I pick up a phone call from my boss, who lives in the north of the city. Apparently, just a few miles away, life is continuing on as usual. People sit on the streets with their friends, laughing and chatting as though nothing terrible is happening at all. The grenade blasts and gunshots are just out of ear-reach, and that means everything must be fine. It’s truly incredible how the heart of a city can be caught in the grips of urban warfare, and yet life still goes on just a few metro stops away. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck in the center of a video game reality, one that can’t be changed by lowering the volume on a TV screen.
I’ve narrowed it down to two options: leave now or leave later. Either way, I’m pretty set on the leaving part. This urban warfare stuff isn’t as fun when it can’t be watched from a couch.
I remember being annoyed with these games growing up. I’d be trying to fall asleep, but the sporadic blasts of simulated gunfire would jolt me out of unconsciousness every few minutes. Back then, all I had to do to get some peace from the sound effects was to ask my brother to turn the TV volume down. Now that I’m living through the real thing, there isn’t such an easy solution.
Seventeen people have died since Thursday here in Bangkok, and another 150 are currently injured in hospitals. All the result of real-life urban warfare that has gripped this city for nearly three days. As I happen to be living in the center of a 4-square kilometer grid of the city that has been completely shut down for entry or exit (see picture on the left- I live in the business district by the "Red Shirt Barricade" on the bottom), I am witnessing firsthand a situation that used to only exist in virtual reality. Streets are deserted, with only the occasional persistent taxi cab searching slowly down the lanes. Army personnel exponentially outnumber civilians. Stores are closed and boarded up, and scared eyes peek out from behind second-story window shades. Gun shots ring out every few minutes, some sounding closer than others. Police helicopters circle overhead, trying to keep an eye on the perimeter of the chaos. It’s pretty damn scary.
I pick up a phone call from my boss, who lives in the north of the city. Apparently, just a few miles away, life is continuing on as usual. People sit on the streets with their friends, laughing and chatting as though nothing terrible is happening at all. The grenade blasts and gunshots are just out of ear-reach, and that means everything must be fine. It’s truly incredible how the heart of a city can be caught in the grips of urban warfare, and yet life still goes on just a few metro stops away. Unfortunately for me, I’m stuck in the center of a video game reality, one that can’t be changed by lowering the volume on a TV screen.
I’ve narrowed it down to two options: leave now or leave later. Either way, I’m pretty set on the leaving part. This urban warfare stuff isn’t as fun when it can’t be watched from a couch.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
A Rant on Democracy
I consider myself to be a loyal citizen of the United States. I admire the American system of government, and acknowledge the essential role that democracy has played in our nation’s centuries of success. I believe in the ideals of “every (wo)man has a voice” and “exercise your political rights” and blah blah blah.
So yeah – I love me some democracy. But if ever there was a way to make me despise the political ideals that I was raised to revere, Thailand seems to have figured it out.
Yes, I am about to say the four most unthinkable words for any loyal American citizen: I’M SICK OF DEMOCRACY. There. You all heard me. But before you report me to the Department of Homeland Security, listen to the reasoning behind these words of betrayal:
People in Thailand seem to think that the term “democracy” means that everyone is happy with government all the time. If one person is satisfied with the policies promoted by the political leaders currently in power, than the rest of society should derive the same amount of satisfaction from those same policies. The government should be expected to uphold the ideals of every single Thai citizen, no matter if they are a poor farmer in the rural Northeast or a wealthy businessman in the heart of Bangkok.
Now I have to ask: how in the world is this possible? By definition, the rural farmer will deem certain policies more or less important than the wealthy businessman, and vice versa. Just because the two men are living under the same political system does not make their political and social views in the least bit compatible. In reality, these two men are probably living in different worlds altogether. There is no way for a government to make a list of policies that will completely satisfy both of them.
But this is the beauty of democracy. By implementing a democratic system, a government is showing compromise, taking into account the differences between citizens living in different social and economic hemispheres. Indeed, the whole point of democracy is to find a middle ground between people who have little in common besides a shared citizenship and love for their country. By satisfying both men to a certain extent, the government is showing respect to differences that are bound to exist, and most likely always will.
We cannot, therefore, have democracy without compromise. Each side gives a little, and each side is able to take a little in return. Neither side will most likely feel one hundred percent satisfied – we do not exist in a state of Utopia. But each party can rest assured that their voice is being heard and respected as much as is possible, and that it will all hopefully even out in the end.
Where oh where, my dear Thailand, is this idea of compromise? Your people shout for democracy, under the false premise that democracy is a path for a government to please all citizens simultaneously. The opposing parties refuse to give the little bit that so desperately needs to be given if any sort of solution is to be reached. Any bit of ground lost by each side is deemed unacceptable, a “loss of face” that must never occur. But by being so stubborn to hang on to this misconstrued notion of democracy, hasn’t the entire nation began to “lose face” in the eyes of the international community?
Protestors sit out on trash-strewn streets waiting for a government to make promises that it does not have the ability to make. Government-supporters call on the Prime Minister to carry out measures that would prove deadly, and alienate a region of the country that cannot be ignored, no matter how poor. Threats are made, ignored, and made again. Holding on to this idea that democracy should not involve compromise is bringing Thailand dangerously close to a civil war, something that neither side wants to see come to pass.
So I’ll say it again: I’m sick of democracy. I’m sick of the system that has brought about such compromise and peaceful co-existence in the past being defamed by the words of the opposing leaders throughout this crisis. If you want democracy, Thailand, then it’s there for the taking. But you’ll have to compromise. In order to take, you must first be able to give. And if you can’t do that, it’s not democracy you’re after at all.
So yeah – I love me some democracy. But if ever there was a way to make me despise the political ideals that I was raised to revere, Thailand seems to have figured it out.
Yes, I am about to say the four most unthinkable words for any loyal American citizen: I’M SICK OF DEMOCRACY. There. You all heard me. But before you report me to the Department of Homeland Security, listen to the reasoning behind these words of betrayal:
People in Thailand seem to think that the term “democracy” means that everyone is happy with government all the time. If one person is satisfied with the policies promoted by the political leaders currently in power, than the rest of society should derive the same amount of satisfaction from those same policies. The government should be expected to uphold the ideals of every single Thai citizen, no matter if they are a poor farmer in the rural Northeast or a wealthy businessman in the heart of Bangkok.
Now I have to ask: how in the world is this possible? By definition, the rural farmer will deem certain policies more or less important than the wealthy businessman, and vice versa. Just because the two men are living under the same political system does not make their political and social views in the least bit compatible. In reality, these two men are probably living in different worlds altogether. There is no way for a government to make a list of policies that will completely satisfy both of them.
But this is the beauty of democracy. By implementing a democratic system, a government is showing compromise, taking into account the differences between citizens living in different social and economic hemispheres. Indeed, the whole point of democracy is to find a middle ground between people who have little in common besides a shared citizenship and love for their country. By satisfying both men to a certain extent, the government is showing respect to differences that are bound to exist, and most likely always will.
We cannot, therefore, have democracy without compromise. Each side gives a little, and each side is able to take a little in return. Neither side will most likely feel one hundred percent satisfied – we do not exist in a state of Utopia. But each party can rest assured that their voice is being heard and respected as much as is possible, and that it will all hopefully even out in the end.
Where oh where, my dear Thailand, is this idea of compromise? Your people shout for democracy, under the false premise that democracy is a path for a government to please all citizens simultaneously. The opposing parties refuse to give the little bit that so desperately needs to be given if any sort of solution is to be reached. Any bit of ground lost by each side is deemed unacceptable, a “loss of face” that must never occur. But by being so stubborn to hang on to this misconstrued notion of democracy, hasn’t the entire nation began to “lose face” in the eyes of the international community?
Protestors sit out on trash-strewn streets waiting for a government to make promises that it does not have the ability to make. Government-supporters call on the Prime Minister to carry out measures that would prove deadly, and alienate a region of the country that cannot be ignored, no matter how poor. Threats are made, ignored, and made again. Holding on to this idea that democracy should not involve compromise is bringing Thailand dangerously close to a civil war, something that neither side wants to see come to pass.
So I’ll say it again: I’m sick of democracy. I’m sick of the system that has brought about such compromise and peaceful co-existence in the past being defamed by the words of the opposing leaders throughout this crisis. If you want democracy, Thailand, then it’s there for the taking. But you’ll have to compromise. In order to take, you must first be able to give. And if you can’t do that, it’s not democracy you’re after at all.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Most Memorable Moment Awards
To celebrate the arbitrary two-and-a-half month mark of my time in Thailand, I have decided to begin giving special awards some of my most memorable moments thus far. The award series shall be known as the "MMM (Most Memorable Moment) Awards", and each award shall be given to the most competitive nominee in each category. Let’s begin with…
Most Ironic Robbery
My first apartment was located directly next to the main rallying site of the Red Shirt protestors. It was becoming dangerous for me to live so close to the site, so I decided to move in with a friend that had an apartment in a safer part of town. Because I was moving out two weeks early, I would be losing half a month’s rent, as I had paid up-front for all four weeks. As I was unemployed and attempting to find jobs in a mid-revolutionary job market, things were a bit tight. That half-month’s rent would have lasted me, well, half a month, and I was not going to let it go without a fight. I spent half an hour at the reception desk, crying and pleading with the poor clerk to call the landlord (who was conveniently “on holiday” in “France”), asking him to take pity on a poor single American girl who was living in a big bad revolutionary world.
After terrorizing the clerk with the idea that I would die hungry on the streets if I did not get my rent back, he finally called the boss and asked if they could work out a refund for me. No dice. I may or may not have thrown a bit of a tantrum at that point, and at least managed to get back the six-thousand baht deposit I had paid upon first moving into the building. The friendly clerk was fairly traumatized by my behavior- I guess he didn’t expect the calm American chick to go crazy on him. But he just didn’t know how bad I wanted those baht. He only calmed down when I finally agreed to leave if he gave me back my deposit, assuring that I would never, ever be back.
Fast forward to six hours later. It is seven PM and I am walking down my quiet new soi to the supermarket, where I plan on putting the cash from the deposit into the ATM before grocery shopping. I hear a motorbike speeding up behind me, but don’t think anything of it. Motorbikes in Bangkok are extremely common- terrifying for the pedestrian, but excellent when you need to get somewhere in a hurry. Suddenly, I feel a sharp tug on my bag, and before I know it, the driver of the motorbike has grabbed it straight off my arm, and is speeding up towards the corner at the end of the street. I yell and run after the dude with arms raised like a crazed Neanderthal, but soon realize that it’s no use. My purse, and the deposit that I begged and moaned to get back from the poor desk clerk, are gone. Along with my iPod, my cell phone, and any bank cards that I had brought with me to Bangkok.
All I can think of now is the terrified look on the clerk’s face when he relayed the message from his boss that I would not be getting my half-month’s rent back, and his sheer joy when I finally agreed to leave forever if I could have my deposit back. All to get it stolen just a few hours later. Karma’s a bitch.
Most Ironic Robbery
My first apartment was located directly next to the main rallying site of the Red Shirt protestors. It was becoming dangerous for me to live so close to the site, so I decided to move in with a friend that had an apartment in a safer part of town. Because I was moving out two weeks early, I would be losing half a month’s rent, as I had paid up-front for all four weeks. As I was unemployed and attempting to find jobs in a mid-revolutionary job market, things were a bit tight. That half-month’s rent would have lasted me, well, half a month, and I was not going to let it go without a fight. I spent half an hour at the reception desk, crying and pleading with the poor clerk to call the landlord (who was conveniently “on holiday” in “France”), asking him to take pity on a poor single American girl who was living in a big bad revolutionary world.
After terrorizing the clerk with the idea that I would die hungry on the streets if I did not get my rent back, he finally called the boss and asked if they could work out a refund for me. No dice. I may or may not have thrown a bit of a tantrum at that point, and at least managed to get back the six-thousand baht deposit I had paid upon first moving into the building. The friendly clerk was fairly traumatized by my behavior- I guess he didn’t expect the calm American chick to go crazy on him. But he just didn’t know how bad I wanted those baht. He only calmed down when I finally agreed to leave if he gave me back my deposit, assuring that I would never, ever be back.
Fast forward to six hours later. It is seven PM and I am walking down my quiet new soi to the supermarket, where I plan on putting the cash from the deposit into the ATM before grocery shopping. I hear a motorbike speeding up behind me, but don’t think anything of it. Motorbikes in Bangkok are extremely common- terrifying for the pedestrian, but excellent when you need to get somewhere in a hurry. Suddenly, I feel a sharp tug on my bag, and before I know it, the driver of the motorbike has grabbed it straight off my arm, and is speeding up towards the corner at the end of the street. I yell and run after the dude with arms raised like a crazed Neanderthal, but soon realize that it’s no use. My purse, and the deposit that I begged and moaned to get back from the poor desk clerk, are gone. Along with my iPod, my cell phone, and any bank cards that I had brought with me to Bangkok.
All I can think of now is the terrified look on the clerk’s face when he relayed the message from his boss that I would not be getting my half-month’s rent back, and his sheer joy when I finally agreed to leave forever if I could have my deposit back. All to get it stolen just a few hours later. Karma’s a bitch.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Waiting it Out
There’s nothing quite like a Bangkok thunderstorm. It comes on with a flash of light so piercing that the sky is momentarily filled with fluorescence, and a crack so loud that it can be felt all along the spine. The sky seems to be getting bigger, darkening, morphing into a dark grey pool of opacity. But the rain hasn’t begun just yet. If you’re lucky, you’ve already finished lunch on the street and are now safely back in your office or apartment. For those who are less fortunate and still out on the soi, may God have mercy on your soul. I watch as the first drops fall. Those caught out in the open scramble like cockroaches into whatever shelter they can find- 7/11 storefronts, BTS underpasses, make-shift aluminum sheds that were probably created for this exact purpose. They know their time is limited, and that it will be completely useless to trying to conquer the weather by walking through it.
The rain begins to fall harder, coming down in sheets that put a thin white veil over the view of buildings I can see from the window. All I can hear is the sound of pit-pat, pit-pat, with the occasional crack of lightning or boom of thunder. Nobody is out now. The storm inspires cozy thoughts- everyone banded together in their homes and businesses, waiting out the storm together. No matter how big and strong and tough we think we are, we are no match for the wrath of Mother Nature. We know our place in this particular stand-off.
So we wait out the storm. We hope it doesn’t go on too long, as we all have very important things to do. But for a moment, we are totally helpless. We can’t change the situation. We don’t shake our fists at the sky and ask why it insists on being so terribly inconvenient. We know that the storm will end eventually – they always do. We just have to wait it out.
The rain begins to fall harder, coming down in sheets that put a thin white veil over the view of buildings I can see from the window. All I can hear is the sound of pit-pat, pit-pat, with the occasional crack of lightning or boom of thunder. Nobody is out now. The storm inspires cozy thoughts- everyone banded together in their homes and businesses, waiting out the storm together. No matter how big and strong and tough we think we are, we are no match for the wrath of Mother Nature. We know our place in this particular stand-off.
So we wait out the storm. We hope it doesn’t go on too long, as we all have very important things to do. But for a moment, we are totally helpless. We can’t change the situation. We don’t shake our fists at the sky and ask why it insists on being so terribly inconvenient. We know that the storm will end eventually – they always do. We just have to wait it out.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Just a Day on the Job
Living through a revolution is a strange phenomenon. It is simultaneously the most boring and the most nerve-wracking experience imaginable. Most of one's time is time is spent shut safely and boringly indoors, with brief punctuations of panic caused by any sort of strange noise or suspicious burning smell coming from what I now call "The Outside." It is an absolutely terrible lifestyle if you value maintaining a steady heart rate most of the time.
Take yesterday-my first official day at work. Glad to get back to some sort of routine after weeks of navigating Bangkok's English-teaching job market (a ridiculously shallow process that requires you to send a "HOTT PIC" with your resumé... and I'm pretty sure sending the resumé is optional ...) I am sitting with the other teacher trainee in the staff room. Fellow Trainee and I have just enjoyed a leisurely lunch among the soldiers and barbed wire that line the street food stalls nowadays, and are awaiting instructions from our boss on how to do the next training activity. Boss-Man has been gone for a few minutes after being summoned by a front desk clerk, but this is Thailand, and having to wait around for people to do stuff or things to happen in general is pretty normal. So I'm cool. Maybe even teetering towards a state of boredom.
BAM! The door swings open and hits the wall with a smack, sending worksheets flying from desks and books tumbling from shelves. My boss darts in with a troubled look on his face. Oh boy. Here we go again.
"There may be a bit of a situation up the road," Boss-Man says, trying to keep his voice calm.
"What is it now?" Asks Fellow Trainee, shooting upright in his chair.
"There may or may not have been reports of a grenade ... andsomegunfire." Boss-Man adds, trying to tack the last few words on quickly so as not to alarm us. That's actually a pretty good tactic-by this point a grenade's not that big a deal, just spare us from the indiscriminate gunfire!
"So what should we do?" I ask, feeling the familiar pumping of blood as my heart rate begins to crank up to maximum speed.
"Well, we've sent an employee up the road to check it out ..." Says Boss-Man. Oh great. Talk about some quality employee treatment. Welcome to your new job, where they have no qualms about sending helpless reception staff into a possible war zone! Sign the employment contract now and receive a free bullet-proof vest!
"As for now, just stay put. Probably best to stay back here in the staff room. I'm going to go tell all the students not to leave the center, and I'll be back in a minute." Suuuuure. Back in a minute. See you in a couple hours, Boss-Man! If I even live that long!
... Fifty minutes later ...
"Well, false alarm!" Exalts Boss-Man, as he strolls casually back into the teaching room.
By this point, Fellow Trainee and I are looking up flights to Cambodia and debating different ways to get our stuff packed and shipped to us out of the country without having to actually go back to our apartments.
"Wait, what do you mean? We heard from the teaching assistants that there was smoke? And gunfire?!" Fellow Trainee chokes out.
"Oh yeah, not too sure actually. Some people think it was a tuk-tuk backfiring. Other people said there were some teens playing with firecrackers. Meh, what are you gonna do." Boss-Man shrugs with the casual nature of the jaded ex-pat, and settles down into his chair.
Fellow Trainee and I exchange glances. All the blood has pretty much drawn from his face, and his hands are shaking as clicks out of the "Book Now!" Page for our flight to Cambodia. We both force ourselves to look back at Boss-Man, who's waiting expectantly with the latest set of trainee handouts.
"So. Shall we continue? I think we were talking about the present continuous tense, and how to error correct a struggling speaker ..."
Heart rate settles back to normal ... Try to listen to information on present continuous tense ... and I'm back to being bored.
Just your friendly neighborhood soldiers, standing at post down my block. Passing these dudes is becoming part of the routine, and they are some of the nicest people you'll ever meet.
Take yesterday-my first official day at work. Glad to get back to some sort of routine after weeks of navigating Bangkok's English-teaching job market (a ridiculously shallow process that requires you to send a "HOTT PIC" with your resumé... and I'm pretty sure sending the resumé is optional ...) I am sitting with the other teacher trainee in the staff room. Fellow Trainee and I have just enjoyed a leisurely lunch among the soldiers and barbed wire that line the street food stalls nowadays, and are awaiting instructions from our boss on how to do the next training activity. Boss-Man has been gone for a few minutes after being summoned by a front desk clerk, but this is Thailand, and having to wait around for people to do stuff or things to happen in general is pretty normal. So I'm cool. Maybe even teetering towards a state of boredom.
BAM! The door swings open and hits the wall with a smack, sending worksheets flying from desks and books tumbling from shelves. My boss darts in with a troubled look on his face. Oh boy. Here we go again.
"There may be a bit of a situation up the road," Boss-Man says, trying to keep his voice calm.
"What is it now?" Asks Fellow Trainee, shooting upright in his chair.
"There may or may not have been reports of a grenade ... andsomegunfire." Boss-Man adds, trying to tack the last few words on quickly so as not to alarm us. That's actually a pretty good tactic-by this point a grenade's not that big a deal, just spare us from the indiscriminate gunfire!
"So what should we do?" I ask, feeling the familiar pumping of blood as my heart rate begins to crank up to maximum speed.
"Well, we've sent an employee up the road to check it out ..." Says Boss-Man. Oh great. Talk about some quality employee treatment. Welcome to your new job, where they have no qualms about sending helpless reception staff into a possible war zone! Sign the employment contract now and receive a free bullet-proof vest!
"As for now, just stay put. Probably best to stay back here in the staff room. I'm going to go tell all the students not to leave the center, and I'll be back in a minute." Suuuuure. Back in a minute. See you in a couple hours, Boss-Man! If I even live that long!
... Fifty minutes later ...
"Well, false alarm!" Exalts Boss-Man, as he strolls casually back into the teaching room.
By this point, Fellow Trainee and I are looking up flights to Cambodia and debating different ways to get our stuff packed and shipped to us out of the country without having to actually go back to our apartments.
"Wait, what do you mean? We heard from the teaching assistants that there was smoke? And gunfire?!" Fellow Trainee chokes out.
"Oh yeah, not too sure actually. Some people think it was a tuk-tuk backfiring. Other people said there were some teens playing with firecrackers. Meh, what are you gonna do." Boss-Man shrugs with the casual nature of the jaded ex-pat, and settles down into his chair.
Fellow Trainee and I exchange glances. All the blood has pretty much drawn from his face, and his hands are shaking as clicks out of the "Book Now!" Page for our flight to Cambodia. We both force ourselves to look back at Boss-Man, who's waiting expectantly with the latest set of trainee handouts.
"So. Shall we continue? I think we were talking about the present continuous tense, and how to error correct a struggling speaker ..."
Heart rate settles back to normal ... Try to listen to information on present continuous tense ... and I'm back to being bored.
Just your friendly neighborhood soldiers, standing at post down my block. Passing these dudes is becoming part of the routine, and they are some of the nicest people you'll ever meet.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
A Continued Division
Dearest Loyal Friends & Fam,
This blog entry is comin' at you from what may be the most heavily-guarded coffee shop on the planet! As I sit sipping on my "Coca Cola Light" (a revolution-interrupted job search has left me too broke to afford the usual mocha latte...but a 20-baht can of Coke still gets me unlimited WiFi access...YES), I am astounded by the irony of my current situation. On the other side of the glass windows that encase this particular air-conditioned "Coffee World" lounge are 20 Thai soldiers with loaded guns, looking simultaneously bored and anxious as they protect the hard-working bankers on their coffee breaks. And beyond these 20 soldiers are 1,500 additional troops lining the streets of Silom, the richest business district of Bangkok that I have been calling home for the last two weeks. It seems that by moving to the part of town that represents everything the protesting Red Shirts resent about the Thai economic and social order, I have actually enlisted the automatic protection of the Thai armed forces, and am probably safer than I would be living in a less-targeted part of town. A bit of an ironic deal, no?
But let me back up just a bit to explain my move to this new part of town. My old building was located in Pratunam, an area of the city connected to the Skytrain public transport system by a 20-minute walk through a central intersection known as Ratchaprasong. Now I'm all for a nice 20-minute walk every now and then. No biggie. But there was one slight problem- Ratchaprasong has been the central rallying point for the Red Shirts for four weeks now, meaning this farang had to scurry through masses of angry protestors just to be able to meet friends for dinner or go to the movies. On one particular day, I was left stranded in the Skytrain station above my exit, unable to get down because of riot fears on the streets below. Thus, I decided it was time to pack up and get the heck away from good ol' Ratchaprasong. A friend living in Silom was kind enough to take this refugee in for a few weeks, so I made the move and have been much happier over here.
Up until the last couple days, I have been able to lead a slightly more normal existence in Silom than I could in my old neighborhood. However, the recent influx of army troops on the streets is telling of the potential for some serious stuff to go down in my new neighborhood. Like I said, Silom is home to the "Old Money" of Bangkok, a section of society that is resented by the lower-class Red Shirts. Coming home from a trip to Phuket and the island of Ko Phi Phi yesterday morning, I had to work some serious charm to get the cab driver to take me to this part of Bangkok.
"Mai dai! Seu dairng!" ("Can't do it! Red Shirts!") was his argument.
"But I live there!" was mine.
So, after a brief back-and-forth, I convinced the driver to take me home. When we rounded the corner of Lumphini Park, about five minutes from my doorstep, I saw that his worries were definitely not unfounded. The Red Shirts have barricaded a major road outside Lumphini with concrete planters, and the army has taken up position on the other side of the intersection, blocking the entrance to Silom. As we rode down the street toward my house, we were greeted by huge piles of barbed wire and even more troops with their riot-shields out and ready. The Red Shirts had publicized their intent to invade this part of town, and the army has stepped up to protect the big money of BKK. And this leads me back to the present- army troops lining the streets, ready at a moment's notice to use their weapons on any Red Shirts who would be so bold as to cross into Silom. For the moment, the Red Shirts announced that they have cancelled their plan to march into the district, but what will actually happen remains to be seen.
That's all I can really say for now- we'll see. With a death toll of 25 people, and an injury count of 600, the situation over here has definitely crossed into some serious territory. The current situation in Silom represents on a small scale the greater division of the country: on one side of the road stand the impoverished people of the country, shouting over the shields of soldiers to men in suits and ties on the other side. Hopefully the line won't need to be crossed to find a resolution.
Ending on a slightly more serious note than my usual posts, I am sending my love to all of you, wherever you're reading this from. Keep watching the news and let's hope for a quick and peaceful end to this political turmoil.
-C
This blog entry is comin' at you from what may be the most heavily-guarded coffee shop on the planet! As I sit sipping on my "Coca Cola Light" (a revolution-interrupted job search has left me too broke to afford the usual mocha latte...but a 20-baht can of Coke still gets me unlimited WiFi access...YES), I am astounded by the irony of my current situation. On the other side of the glass windows that encase this particular air-conditioned "Coffee World" lounge are 20 Thai soldiers with loaded guns, looking simultaneously bored and anxious as they protect the hard-working bankers on their coffee breaks. And beyond these 20 soldiers are 1,500 additional troops lining the streets of Silom, the richest business district of Bangkok that I have been calling home for the last two weeks. It seems that by moving to the part of town that represents everything the protesting Red Shirts resent about the Thai economic and social order, I have actually enlisted the automatic protection of the Thai armed forces, and am probably safer than I would be living in a less-targeted part of town. A bit of an ironic deal, no?
But let me back up just a bit to explain my move to this new part of town. My old building was located in Pratunam, an area of the city connected to the Skytrain public transport system by a 20-minute walk through a central intersection known as Ratchaprasong. Now I'm all for a nice 20-minute walk every now and then. No biggie. But there was one slight problem- Ratchaprasong has been the central rallying point for the Red Shirts for four weeks now, meaning this farang had to scurry through masses of angry protestors just to be able to meet friends for dinner or go to the movies. On one particular day, I was left stranded in the Skytrain station above my exit, unable to get down because of riot fears on the streets below. Thus, I decided it was time to pack up and get the heck away from good ol' Ratchaprasong. A friend living in Silom was kind enough to take this refugee in for a few weeks, so I made the move and have been much happier over here.
Up until the last couple days, I have been able to lead a slightly more normal existence in Silom than I could in my old neighborhood. However, the recent influx of army troops on the streets is telling of the potential for some serious stuff to go down in my new neighborhood. Like I said, Silom is home to the "Old Money" of Bangkok, a section of society that is resented by the lower-class Red Shirts. Coming home from a trip to Phuket and the island of Ko Phi Phi yesterday morning, I had to work some serious charm to get the cab driver to take me to this part of Bangkok.
"Mai dai! Seu dairng!" ("Can't do it! Red Shirts!") was his argument.
"But I live there!" was mine.
So, after a brief back-and-forth, I convinced the driver to take me home. When we rounded the corner of Lumphini Park, about five minutes from my doorstep, I saw that his worries were definitely not unfounded. The Red Shirts have barricaded a major road outside Lumphini with concrete planters, and the army has taken up position on the other side of the intersection, blocking the entrance to Silom. As we rode down the street toward my house, we were greeted by huge piles of barbed wire and even more troops with their riot-shields out and ready. The Red Shirts had publicized their intent to invade this part of town, and the army has stepped up to protect the big money of BKK. And this leads me back to the present- army troops lining the streets, ready at a moment's notice to use their weapons on any Red Shirts who would be so bold as to cross into Silom. For the moment, the Red Shirts announced that they have cancelled their plan to march into the district, but what will actually happen remains to be seen.
That's all I can really say for now- we'll see. With a death toll of 25 people, and an injury count of 600, the situation over here has definitely crossed into some serious territory. The current situation in Silom represents on a small scale the greater division of the country: on one side of the road stand the impoverished people of the country, shouting over the shields of soldiers to men in suits and ties on the other side. Hopefully the line won't need to be crossed to find a resolution.
Ending on a slightly more serious note than my usual posts, I am sending my love to all of you, wherever you're reading this from. Keep watching the news and let's hope for a quick and peaceful end to this political turmoil.
-C
Friday, April 9, 2010
We've got ourselves a revolution
Ah, the big city on a Friday night. The lights are flashing, the music is pumpin', and people are on the move. Bangkok seems to be gearing up for another typical weekend of God-knows-what. On this particular Friday, however, things are feeling a little "off."
If you look closely, the flashing lights are actually beaming from the top of police trucks. And that music? Far from the newest Lady GaGa single, it is actually the anti-government anthem that the Red Shirt protestors have been blaring on loudspeakers for the last few weeks. As for people on the move, it isn't just a fashion coincidence that they all happend to be decked out in the same hue of crimson. Pretty sure they planned this particular fashion statement.
Because the international media seems to be squeezing Thai national headlines between ads for toilet paper and Ziploc bags, I find it my duty to let you all in on a little-known fact about this country: the sh*t has officially hit the fan. Anti-government Red Shirts have spread through the city like wildfire, and tonight is set to be the biggest demonstration yet. So instead of going out and celebrating my 23rd birthday in the city that never sleeps (except at random hours during the day-- stay tuned for a post on the art of the "spontaneous Thai nap"), I'm holed up in my room eating stale potato chips for dinner. To further illustrate what's happening in Bangkok, I'll put it into numbers (*due to laziness of this blog's author, there is no particular significance to the order of these numbers):
50,000: the approximate number of Red Shirt protestors who have gathered at the two major sit-in sites in Bangkok, cutting off a major business and shopping district and disrupting traffic flow throughout the already-congested city streets.
If you look closely, the flashing lights are actually beaming from the top of police trucks. And that music? Far from the newest Lady GaGa single, it is actually the anti-government anthem that the Red Shirt protestors have been blaring on loudspeakers for the last few weeks. As for people on the move, it isn't just a fashion coincidence that they all happend to be decked out in the same hue of crimson. Pretty sure they planned this particular fashion statement.
Because the international media seems to be squeezing Thai national headlines between ads for toilet paper and Ziploc bags, I find it my duty to let you all in on a little-known fact about this country: the sh*t has officially hit the fan. Anti-government Red Shirts have spread through the city like wildfire, and tonight is set to be the biggest demonstration yet. So instead of going out and celebrating my 23rd birthday in the city that never sleeps (except at random hours during the day-- stay tuned for a post on the art of the "spontaneous Thai nap"), I'm holed up in my room eating stale potato chips for dinner. To further illustrate what's happening in Bangkok, I'll put it into numbers (*due to laziness of this blog's author, there is no particular significance to the order of these numbers):
50,000: the approximate number of Red Shirt protestors who have gathered at the two major sit-in sites in Bangkok, cutting off a major business and shopping district and disrupting traffic flow throughout the already-congested city streets.
80,000: the number of police troops in position throughout the city, ready to take on Red Shirt protestors should things get "out of hand". (FYI: It's difficult to know whether numbers of police troops and protestors are accurate, as many sources are biased and aren't giving a clear picture of what's actually going on...)
10,000: The number of websites that have been shut down by the government, deemed to be spreading "inappropriate" matter that could lead to anti-government sentiment and demonstrations.
24: the number of Red Shirt leaders who have been issued with arrest warrants by the Thai government. More added to this list every day.
3: The number of days the city of Bangkok has been in a "state of emergency", as declared by Prime Minister Abhisit. This declaration clears the path for the government to use force to clear out the protestors should they refuse to move.
10,000: The number of websites that have been shut down by the government, deemed to be spreading "inappropriate" matter that could lead to anti-government sentiment and demonstrations.
24: the number of Red Shirt leaders who have been issued with arrest warrants by the Thai government. More added to this list every day.
3: The number of days the city of Bangkok has been in a "state of emergency", as declared by Prime Minister Abhisit. This declaration clears the path for the government to use force to clear out the protestors should they refuse to move.
24: the number of hours that the People's Television Channel ("PTV", the Red Shirt's major vein for communicating with the masses) was shut off by the government. Red Shirts protested today at ThaiCom to get the television station turned back on, which brings us to the final number of...
22: the number of people who were injured during the Red Shirt ambush of ThaiCom this afternoon. These are the first injuries reported since the beginning of the protests, and a sign that things are getting heated.
I could keep going with the whole numbers thing, but for the sake of time and my own sanity let me state the obvious: something's gotta give. The Red Shirts are pushing for a dissolution of parliament, calling for election of a new prime minister within less than two weeks. Current Prime Minister Abhisit is pushing back with circular "conferences" between himself and opposition leaders that aren't getting anyone anywhere. He is determined not to use force, which is respectable. But when one has to dodge angry protestors just to buy water at the local 7-11, you know someone at the top isn't doing their job to control a national crisis.
I know what you're thinking: things are so heated, the only way to cool them down would be a good old-fashioned water gun fight. WELL YOU'RE IN LUCK!! Because next week we celebrate Songkran, the Thai New Year, with a nation-wide WATER FIGHT! Yes, that's right, every year for a week in April, Thai's get out their super-soakers and hit the streets to raise mayhem and get totally drenched. As the Thai's are not a group to miss a good celebration, the Red Shirts are expected to take a brief hiatus from a political revolution to lightheartedly splash their neighbors and opposing forces during this popular festival. I mean, I guess it makes sense- why fight for political change when you can soak your crabby landlord with ice-cold river water?
So, to re-cap the situation: today, it's rubber bullets and tear gas. Next week: super-soakers. Who knows what the week after will bring. All I know is, I really know how to pick a city in which to build a stable existence. Right?
-C
Sunday, March 21, 2010
How 'Bout Them Red Shirts?
As we come to the end of an eventful week for Thai politics, I've gotta hand it to them- the Red Shirts officially take the cake for most bizarre demonstration tactic in recent history. And it went a little somethin' like this:
8:30 am, Tuesday morning. The leaders of the United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (aka the UDD, aka the "Red Shirts") got out their needles and their 5-liter bottles for the world's most unorthodox blood drive. Quick note: If you haven't had time to read the news or my last blogs, the Red Shirts are currently laying a non-violent seige on the city of Bangkok, in protest of Prime Minister Abhisit and his administration. So yeah. Back to this blood drive. The Red Shirt party spent 8 hours on Tuesday collecting a total of 300 liters of blood from its supporters. At 4:30 they closed up shop and proceeded to carry the blood in -- get this -- "twelve 5-liter bottles, fifty syringes, and two large buckets" to the Government House. After reciting some "spells and incantations", a barefoot Jatuporn Prompan (one of the UDD's head honcho's) splashed the blood on the ground and gates at the front of the government headquarters. About twenty minutes later, a bunch of dudes in hazmat suits and masks get out their mops and start scrubbin' away at the blood. And that's all, folks.
I know. I'm confused too. But you've gotta give them some credit - the Red Shirts certainly got our attention with this one. And it didn't stop there. Yesterday 65,000 red-clad supporters rode through the streets of Bangkok, crowded onto the back of pick-up trucks, garbage trucks, and anything else that had wheels. Here's some firsthand footage from a street near my apartment building:
Actually looks pretty fun, doesn't it? Plus they're all getting paid to protest- not a bad way to spend a Saturday. And it looks like they may be getting somewhere. Prime Minister Abhisit announced this morning that he will send members of his administration to engage in discussion with UDD (Red Shirt) leaders. Change could definitely be on this country's political horizon. And all it took were a some pick-up trucks and red t-shirts. Oh yeah- and a few thousand cc's of blood.
-C
8:30 am, Tuesday morning. The leaders of the United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (aka the UDD, aka the "Red Shirts") got out their needles and their 5-liter bottles for the world's most unorthodox blood drive. Quick note: If you haven't had time to read the news or my last blogs, the Red Shirts are currently laying a non-violent seige on the city of Bangkok, in protest of Prime Minister Abhisit and his administration. So yeah. Back to this blood drive. The Red Shirt party spent 8 hours on Tuesday collecting a total of 300 liters of blood from its supporters. At 4:30 they closed up shop and proceeded to carry the blood in -- get this -- "twelve 5-liter bottles, fifty syringes, and two large buckets" to the Government House. After reciting some "spells and incantations", a barefoot Jatuporn Prompan (one of the UDD's head honcho's) splashed the blood on the ground and gates at the front of the government headquarters. About twenty minutes later, a bunch of dudes in hazmat suits and masks get out their mops and start scrubbin' away at the blood. And that's all, folks.
I know. I'm confused too. But you've gotta give them some credit - the Red Shirts certainly got our attention with this one. And it didn't stop there. Yesterday 65,000 red-clad supporters rode through the streets of Bangkok, crowded onto the back of pick-up trucks, garbage trucks, and anything else that had wheels. Here's some firsthand footage from a street near my apartment building:
Actually looks pretty fun, doesn't it? Plus they're all getting paid to protest- not a bad way to spend a Saturday. And it looks like they may be getting somewhere. Prime Minister Abhisit announced this morning that he will send members of his administration to engage in discussion with UDD (Red Shirt) leaders. Change could definitely be on this country's political horizon. And all it took were a some pick-up trucks and red t-shirts. Oh yeah- and a few thousand cc's of blood.
-C
Monday, March 15, 2010
"Wai" Not?
Like most Asian countries, the Thai culture places a great amount of importance on showing respect. Obedience towards elders and figures of authority is expected, and questioning such people is considered a big "no-no". (Looks like the Red Shirt protestors currently trying to stage a coup d'etat didn't really get the memo on that one, eh?)
One of the most common signs of respect is the wai, formed by putting one's hands together in a prayer-like gesture and bowing slightly to the person you are addressing. Explained by the all-knowing wikipedia.com to have originated from an ancient warrior greeting, the wai has now evolved into something that serves up slightly awkward interactions throughout my daily life. I'll give you a recent, completely fictional scenario to illustrate my point:
Let's say, hypothetically, that you're buying a snack at the 7-Eleven down the street from your apartment. (Yes, the 7-Eleven. It is estimated that Thailand is home to at least 4,000 franchises of everyone's favorite "Slurpee" spot -- that's more than half the number in the entire USA. Just a little fun fact for you to impress people with...Or not.) Anyway, you've finally reached the front of an endless line, and there are tons of anxious customers behind you. (Like the walking pace, I've discovered that inexplicably slow-moving lines are a common theme here too.) You've got your iPod on blast so you don't have to listen to the Thai pop tunes booming from the store's speaker system, and are trying to figure out a way to balance three bags of random crap (the curse of the "7-Eleven snack run") while still having control of said iPod (no pockets because it's too effing hot to wear anything but a dress). Now add to that fun mix an attempt to stuff the handful of coins you got as change into your wallet, and you've got yourself a full-blown coordination catastrophe. But wait- there's more. The guy behind the counter has just wai-ed you as thanks for patronizing his 7-Eleven instead of the one located directly across the street. You don't want to be rude, but you honestly are not sure if you are physically capable of returning this graceful gesture.
"You've got to give it a try!" your cultural conscience tells you.
"Hurry up, dumb-ass!" screams everyone behind you in line. (Of course your Thai isn't yet good enough to pick up dirty insults- ignorance really can be bliss sometimes.)
Finally, determination to show respect for the Thai culture takes over, and you raise both hands to the prayer-like gesture. Because the man behind the counter is older, you remember to put your hands a little higher on your face to show respect for the age difference between you. You shut your eyes for a millisecond, bow your head every-so-slightly, and when you look up -- gone. The dude is gone! After a quick scan you realize that he's moving to the other end of the counter, looking for the bottle of vodka that the impatient man behind you is asking for.
All I have to say is WAAAIIIIII???!!!
Well, at least I (I mean, the person in this completely fiction-based scenario) tried to show some respect for an ancient cultural tradition. Whatever. Good karma.
For further research into the ancient art of wai-ing, I have included this entertaining and informative class project made by Thai students that I found on youtube. It will give you all the tips you need to know about the appropriate way to wai... and then some. Umm. Yeah.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6qHRfG6BPc
One of the most common signs of respect is the wai, formed by putting one's hands together in a prayer-like gesture and bowing slightly to the person you are addressing. Explained by the all-knowing wikipedia.com to have originated from an ancient warrior greeting, the wai has now evolved into something that serves up slightly awkward interactions throughout my daily life. I'll give you a recent, completely fictional scenario to illustrate my point:
Let's say, hypothetically, that you're buying a snack at the 7-Eleven down the street from your apartment. (Yes, the 7-Eleven. It is estimated that Thailand is home to at least 4,000 franchises of everyone's favorite "Slurpee" spot -- that's more than half the number in the entire USA. Just a little fun fact for you to impress people with...Or not.) Anyway, you've finally reached the front of an endless line, and there are tons of anxious customers behind you. (Like the walking pace, I've discovered that inexplicably slow-moving lines are a common theme here too.) You've got your iPod on blast so you don't have to listen to the Thai pop tunes booming from the store's speaker system, and are trying to figure out a way to balance three bags of random crap (the curse of the "7-Eleven snack run") while still having control of said iPod (no pockets because it's too effing hot to wear anything but a dress). Now add to that fun mix an attempt to stuff the handful of coins you got as change into your wallet, and you've got yourself a full-blown coordination catastrophe. But wait- there's more. The guy behind the counter has just wai-ed you as thanks for patronizing his 7-Eleven instead of the one located directly across the street. You don't want to be rude, but you honestly are not sure if you are physically capable of returning this graceful gesture.
"You've got to give it a try!" your cultural conscience tells you.
"Hurry up, dumb-ass!" screams everyone behind you in line. (Of course your Thai isn't yet good enough to pick up dirty insults- ignorance really can be bliss sometimes.)
Finally, determination to show respect for the Thai culture takes over, and you raise both hands to the prayer-like gesture. Because the man behind the counter is older, you remember to put your hands a little higher on your face to show respect for the age difference between you. You shut your eyes for a millisecond, bow your head every-so-slightly, and when you look up -- gone. The dude is gone! After a quick scan you realize that he's moving to the other end of the counter, looking for the bottle of vodka that the impatient man behind you is asking for.
All I have to say is WAAAIIIIII???!!!
Well, at least I (I mean, the person in this completely fiction-based scenario) tried to show some respect for an ancient cultural tradition. Whatever. Good karma.
Even good old Ronald McDonald does the wai.
For further research into the ancient art of wai-ing, I have included this entertaining and informative class project made by Thai students that I found on youtube. It will give you all the tips you need to know about the appropriate way to wai... and then some. Umm. Yeah.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6qHRfG6BPc
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thai Time
So after nearly two weeks of living in this country, I've become aware of a few undeniable truths:
1) The music sucks. I'm sorry, but when I'm relieved to hear a "Prince" song playing on the taxi radio rather than the usual nasal-voiced Thai tunes that blast in the supermarket, you know something has gone awry.
2) The people rule. Despite a few farang-haters (see last blog post), I have been greeted with nothing but kindness since I got here. I've had people walk ten blocks out of their way to show me the cheapest hotels, spend an hour trying to explain to me what "stand-by hours" mean when buying a cell phone (it means "battery life." Duh?), and use up their own cell phone minutes to call EVA Airlines and ask where the hell my black duffle bag disappeared to. Seriously. There is a reason why Thailand is known as the "Land of Smiles", and I've been lucky enough to witness it firsthand.
3) There is absolutely no rush. Ever. "Thai time", they call it. Everything, from the people walking on the sidewalk to the line at the ATM, runs at the pace of a small Southeast-Asian snail. I thought the viejos (old folk) in Spain were bad, but DAMN. The Thai's are SLOW. I just don't know how it's possible. Sometimes I'm really afraid that I'm going to end up back at my apartment because the person in front of me on the sidewalk is actually walking BACKWARDS. It actually goes against the laws of physics.
So why is "Thai time" so relevant these days? Well. Remember the non-occuring political armageddon I wrote about? The Red Shirt protest that ended up being nothing more than an endorsement for the incense and candle industry? Yeah, about that... It seems they were just running on "Thai time" as well. It is anticipated that starting around 6 am tomorrow (Friday) morning, the city of Bangkok will be filled with hundreds of thousands of Thaksin-supporting Red Shirts protesting his recent conviction. And from what I've assessed, these people are not coming to light incense. Blockades are being placed, police are on alert, and classes are being cancelled. Even the sidewalks are slowly emptying of the slow walkers I feel like pushing over every day on my way home. Something big is about to go down in this city, and we'll see if it still feels like the "Land of Smiles" after tomorrow.
So there you have it. Three undeniable truths, plus some ominous language that is intended to make you all worry terribly about me and send me care packages in the mail. But seriously. This is history in the making, people, and I'll be bringing it to you from the front lines. So can you all send some good vibes this way and let's hope that "Thai time" makes this protest into one lonely red-clad man shaking his fist at city hall? Thanks and love.
-C
1) The music sucks. I'm sorry, but when I'm relieved to hear a "Prince" song playing on the taxi radio rather than the usual nasal-voiced Thai tunes that blast in the supermarket, you know something has gone awry.
2) The people rule. Despite a few farang-haters (see last blog post), I have been greeted with nothing but kindness since I got here. I've had people walk ten blocks out of their way to show me the cheapest hotels, spend an hour trying to explain to me what "stand-by hours" mean when buying a cell phone (it means "battery life." Duh?), and use up their own cell phone minutes to call EVA Airlines and ask where the hell my black duffle bag disappeared to. Seriously. There is a reason why Thailand is known as the "Land of Smiles", and I've been lucky enough to witness it firsthand.
3) There is absolutely no rush. Ever. "Thai time", they call it. Everything, from the people walking on the sidewalk to the line at the ATM, runs at the pace of a small Southeast-Asian snail. I thought the viejos (old folk) in Spain were bad, but DAMN. The Thai's are SLOW. I just don't know how it's possible. Sometimes I'm really afraid that I'm going to end up back at my apartment because the person in front of me on the sidewalk is actually walking BACKWARDS. It actually goes against the laws of physics.
So why is "Thai time" so relevant these days? Well. Remember the non-occuring political armageddon I wrote about? The Red Shirt protest that ended up being nothing more than an endorsement for the incense and candle industry? Yeah, about that... It seems they were just running on "Thai time" as well. It is anticipated that starting around 6 am tomorrow (Friday) morning, the city of Bangkok will be filled with hundreds of thousands of Thaksin-supporting Red Shirts protesting his recent conviction. And from what I've assessed, these people are not coming to light incense. Blockades are being placed, police are on alert, and classes are being cancelled. Even the sidewalks are slowly emptying of the slow walkers I feel like pushing over every day on my way home. Something big is about to go down in this city, and we'll see if it still feels like the "Land of Smiles" after tomorrow.
So there you have it. Three undeniable truths, plus some ominous language that is intended to make you all worry terribly about me and send me care packages in the mail. But seriously. This is history in the making, people, and I'll be bringing it to you from the front lines. So can you all send some good vibes this way and let's hope that "Thai time" makes this protest into one lonely red-clad man shaking his fist at city hall? Thanks and love.
-C
Sunday, March 7, 2010
To Barter or Not to Barter?
That, my friends, is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
being charged a ridiculous amount for my iced coffee
Or to take arms against the Thai street vendor
and by opposing get back the extra 15 baht he decided to charge me today
For no apparent reason.
...Interesting how a few key word changes can alter a famous Shakespearean soliloquoy into a description of my unending sorrow at being charged arbitrary prices for Thai iced coffee. Literary blasphemy? Perhaps. A true expression of my emotional state this morning? Most definitely.
Here's how it went down:
It's 8:15 am on a Sunday. I'm standing outside the building of my CELTA course, sweating in a blouse and pants in the 95 degree heat. Because I was the lucky person who was last to sign up to observe an English class being taught (a requirement for my course), I had to drag my butt out of bed at the crack of dawn and come watch some sweaty dude teach four half-asleep students about indefinite articles on the one day I would normally get to sleep in. Guess what kind of mood I'm in.
The only thing in this world, in this universe, in this galaxy that can cheer me up right now is an iced coffee. I mean, when it comes to iced coffee, the Thai's have got it going on. Filled with about three cups of sugar and half a can of condensed milk, these things are like liquid crack, with a pretty pink straw serving as the crack pipe. But I digress...
After elbowing the other liquid crack addicts to keep my spot in "line" (basically a haphazard swarm of crazy-eyed coffee fiends), I make my way to the front. In my hand I've got the necessary currency -- a hundred-baht note, from which I will be charged the usual yee-sip (twenty) baht selling price that is not only advertised on the sign, but charged of every customer.
That is, every customer except me. After reaching out to grasp the plastic cup of perfection, I drop the bill into the coffee slinger's hand. We lock eyes in a penetrating stare for the next four seconds. Oh crap. I recognize that look.
"Yee-sip baht, chai mai?" (Twenty baht, right?) I manage to get out.
"Farang." ("Foreigner.") He spits out at me, and hands me back 65 baht in change. He then smiles and goes back to his business, leaving absolutely no room for discussion.
Ah, yes. And so the curse of the farang strikes again.
You see, when you're a white girl in Thailand, you can pretty much guarantee that there are no guarantees. Food prices vary based on the mood of the street vendor, admission fees for tourist sites seem to change with the sun's position in the sky, and taxi prices? Forget about it. There's a fee for the toll for the meter for the gas tank charge, blah blah blah blah
Basically, being a farang in this city is total B.S. And the little "political science student" voice in my head is screaming "JUSTICE! THIS WILL NOT STAND!"
But here's the thing-- when it comes down to it, is bartering with the people who seem to get off on ripping off really worth the hassle? When the currency rate is 33 baht to the dollar, and the guy working on the street corner is trying to charge me the equivalent of an extra 45 U.S. cents as a farang-fee, am I really going to fight him on it? Am I that much of a d-bag to actually stand in that iced coffee line and demand that I be given my "chump change"?
For now, at least, here's my answer: nope. I'm gonna take a chill pill and let these people rob me blind. Because with the currency rate as it is, I think I've got quite a bit of mileage left in these eyes before that happens. Who knows? Maybe the guy behind the vendor counter is using his extra farang allowance to put his kid through college. Maybe he's in debt from buying too much delicious condensed milk this month. The point is, this guy probably needs it more than I do anyway, and I'm not gonna fight over some annoying thing called "principle." Plus, I'm addicted to the iced coffee.
Reclining Buddha wouldn't yell at some dude about charging him too much for iced coffee...
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
being charged a ridiculous amount for my iced coffee
Or to take arms against the Thai street vendor
and by opposing get back the extra 15 baht he decided to charge me today
For no apparent reason.
...Interesting how a few key word changes can alter a famous Shakespearean soliloquoy into a description of my unending sorrow at being charged arbitrary prices for Thai iced coffee. Literary blasphemy? Perhaps. A true expression of my emotional state this morning? Most definitely.
Here's how it went down:
It's 8:15 am on a Sunday. I'm standing outside the building of my CELTA course, sweating in a blouse and pants in the 95 degree heat. Because I was the lucky person who was last to sign up to observe an English class being taught (a requirement for my course), I had to drag my butt out of bed at the crack of dawn and come watch some sweaty dude teach four half-asleep students about indefinite articles on the one day I would normally get to sleep in. Guess what kind of mood I'm in.
The only thing in this world, in this universe, in this galaxy that can cheer me up right now is an iced coffee. I mean, when it comes to iced coffee, the Thai's have got it going on. Filled with about three cups of sugar and half a can of condensed milk, these things are like liquid crack, with a pretty pink straw serving as the crack pipe. But I digress...
After elbowing the other liquid crack addicts to keep my spot in "line" (basically a haphazard swarm of crazy-eyed coffee fiends), I make my way to the front. In my hand I've got the necessary currency -- a hundred-baht note, from which I will be charged the usual yee-sip (twenty) baht selling price that is not only advertised on the sign, but charged of every customer.
That is, every customer except me. After reaching out to grasp the plastic cup of perfection, I drop the bill into the coffee slinger's hand. We lock eyes in a penetrating stare for the next four seconds. Oh crap. I recognize that look.
"Yee-sip baht, chai mai?" (Twenty baht, right?) I manage to get out.
"Farang." ("Foreigner.") He spits out at me, and hands me back 65 baht in change. He then smiles and goes back to his business, leaving absolutely no room for discussion.
Ah, yes. And so the curse of the farang strikes again.
You see, when you're a white girl in Thailand, you can pretty much guarantee that there are no guarantees. Food prices vary based on the mood of the street vendor, admission fees for tourist sites seem to change with the sun's position in the sky, and taxi prices? Forget about it. There's a fee for the toll for the meter for the gas tank charge, blah blah blah blah
Basically, being a farang in this city is total B.S. And the little "political science student" voice in my head is screaming "JUSTICE! THIS WILL NOT STAND!"
But here's the thing-- when it comes down to it, is bartering with the people who seem to get off on ripping off really worth the hassle? When the currency rate is 33 baht to the dollar, and the guy working on the street corner is trying to charge me the equivalent of an extra 45 U.S. cents as a farang-fee, am I really going to fight him on it? Am I that much of a d-bag to actually stand in that iced coffee line and demand that I be given my "chump change"?
For now, at least, here's my answer: nope. I'm gonna take a chill pill and let these people rob me blind. Because with the currency rate as it is, I think I've got quite a bit of mileage left in these eyes before that happens. Who knows? Maybe the guy behind the vendor counter is using his extra farang allowance to put his kid through college. Maybe he's in debt from buying too much delicious condensed milk this month. The point is, this guy probably needs it more than I do anyway, and I'm not gonna fight over some annoying thing called "principle." Plus, I'm addicted to the iced coffee.
Reclining Buddha wouldn't yell at some dude about charging him too much for iced coffee...
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
A Lot of Smoke, No Fire
I'm sure you all subscribe to the Bangkok Post's daily newsletter, but just in case you haven't renewed your subscription, I'm going to give you a little crash course in current Thai politics. Don't worry, it'll be quick and painless, and then I'll go right back to the usual ramblings about meat on a stick. Ready? Here we go:
I mean, honestly, we were afraid of people who supported this guy? He is so precious, I really just want to pinch his little cheeks.
- The Name: Thaksin Shinawatra, former Prime Minister of Thailand (2001-2006)
- The Game: Corruption of power
- The Teams: The United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship (supporters of Thaksin, also known as the "Red Shirts" because of their chosen clothing symbol) vs. the People's Alliance for Democracy (those who are anti-Thaksin, also known as the "Yellow Shirts" after their symbolic clothing article)
- What the heck is going on: On Friday, February 26th, the Thai Supreme Court ruled that former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra was guilty of using his political power to advance his business aspirations and fill his wallet. Prior to becoming Prime Minister in 2001, Thaksin was a pretty big hot-shot in the business world. Founder of ShinCorp, one of Thailand's largest telecommunications conglomerates, Mr. Shinawatra was already livin the high life when he assumed office. However, while in office, it seems that the dude got a little big for his britches and made some shady deals that ended up greatly benefiting him. It also so happens that these deals had some bad repercussions for the Thai economy, one of the reasons he was ousted in a bloodless coup in 2006.
- SEX, VIOLENCE, AND EXPLOSIONS: Or, at least, two out of the three. Just thought that might be a catchy way to keep you reading. By the way, if you are still following this, give yourself a pat on the back. Anyway, apparently Friday's ruling has been like a looming armageddon among Thai citizens for quite some time. As Thaksin-supporting "Red Shirts" were very angry about the fact that he was even on trial, citing corruption at all levels of politics, it was expected that a guilty ruling would produce mass chaos and end-of-the-world scenarios. International newspaper headlines were calling February 26th "D-Day" for the Thai political scene. The world was ending, and I was about to land in the middle of it.
- Here's why I love Thailand: Sure, a couple of home-made firework bombs were thrown onto the sidewalk at empty parts of town Friday night. Whoop-dee-doo. However, while reading a popular Thai newspaper the day after the ruling, here is what the official call to action was from the "Red Shirt" camp. Are you ready for it? It's pretty intense:
"We must light incense and burn candles in protest."
Yup. That's it. All that talk of doom and gloom, when all we had to worry about was some fragrant smoke wafting through the balmy Bangkok air.
Can we all convert to Buddhism? Like, now?
-C
I mean, honestly, we were afraid of people who supported this guy? He is so precious, I really just want to pinch his little cheeks.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Full Stomach = Happy Girl
First of all, the picture above is of the boats that idle down the Klong Saen Saep, a canal that I cross over whenever I walk to or from the city center from my apartment. I'm going to get on one ASAP.
Second, because I am truly a fat kid at heart, I must take another moment to chronicle my experiences with the food here. Unlike yesterday's lunchtime fiasco, today I met great success on the cuisine scene. Lemme break it down for all of you, as I am SURE you are DYING to hear what I put into my digestive system today.
Lunch: more meat on a stick. As to avoid disaster, this time went to a different street vendor and bought pork (moo), which is the country's number one protein. All I can say is mmmmm...oo. Get it?
Dinner: Ate at the restaurant downstairs from my FABULOUS new room.
-Fresh banana-pineapple smoothie? Check.
-Piping hot shrimp fried rice? Check.
-$2.85 check? CHECK.
Lunch: more meat on a stick. As to avoid disaster, this time went to a different street vendor and bought pork (moo), which is the country's number one protein. All I can say is mmmmm...oo. Get it?
Dinner: Ate at the restaurant downstairs from my FABULOUS new room.
-Fresh banana-pineapple smoothie? Check.
-Piping hot shrimp fried rice? Check.
-$2.85 check? CHECK.
To our right, we see a lady street vendor. Look closely and you will notice that she is putting meat on a stick onto that grill of hers. It is a phenomenon that knows no bounds in this crazy city.
Anyway... Onto other, less important moments of the day: went to my CELTA (Certificate in English Language Teaching for Adults) orientation this afternoon. I'm the youngest one in the course, but the fourteen other people in the course seem pretty cool. They were all fairly shocked I had been in Bangkok just two days (many of them have been living in Asia for years). Oh and tomorrow is my first teaching practice session, with real students taking english at my training center. Kind of scary, considering my "teaching practice" group is first dealing with "upper intermediate level" students, meaning complicated grammar. I don't think I even speak at an "upper intermediate level" of English. So we'll see how that one goes.
Lastly, after writing yesterday's blog I had my first experience riding on a tuk-tuk (crazy open air golf-cart/taxi things that squeeze through the Bangkok traffic with utter disregard for anyone's actual safety). I had a proud moment when I bartered the driver down from 100 (neung-roy) to 80 (baht-sip) baht, letting him know that my destination was glai-glai (really close by). I think homeboy was impressed with this blondie's Thai skills, although he did not show it when he almost killed both of us by nearly plowing into a huge bus while traveling in between two traffic lanes. I'm going to try to attach a video of my ride to this blog, but I am supremely technologically challenged, so if you don't see it, it wasn't meant to be.
Lastly, after writing yesterday's blog I had my first experience riding on a tuk-tuk (crazy open air golf-cart/taxi things that squeeze through the Bangkok traffic with utter disregard for anyone's actual safety). I had a proud moment when I bartered the driver down from 100 (neung-roy) to 80 (baht-sip) baht, letting him know that my destination was glai-glai (really close by). I think homeboy was impressed with this blondie's Thai skills, although he did not show it when he almost killed both of us by nearly plowing into a huge bus while traveling in between two traffic lanes. I'm going to try to attach a video of my ride to this blog, but I am supremely technologically challenged, so if you don't see it, it wasn't meant to be.
So the video wasn't uploading (typical), but here's a pic of a "Tuk-Tuk"! Now imagine that colliding with a city bus -- no bueno.
Off to sleep in a bit, as I have my first full day of CELTA tomorrow!
On agenda for next blog: there is some serious political sh*t happening over here. Will expand when I'm in less of a food coma.
Lah gorn for now,
-Char Char
On agenda for next blog: there is some serious political sh*t happening over here. Will expand when I'm in less of a food coma.
Lah gorn for now,
-Char Char
Saturday, February 27, 2010
A Productive Day
So it's only 3 pm here, and I've already accomplished quite a bit for my first full day in the city.
Among the most significant accomplishments:
- I found a place to stay for the month of my course! It's called KC Apartments, and it's basically a pretty nice hotel room for 12,000 baht/month (about $365). It's a fifteen minute walk from my course, and the people working there seem great. I checked out ten or so different buildings and it is definitely the best deal-- even staying at the hostel I'm at would be 25,000 baht/month, which is pretty ridic considering the room from my window (sorry, I'm kind of bitter)
- I mingled with the locals! Or, actually, I was approached by four rando's who were REALLY excited to speak english. One old man even took me to two of the buildings I visited looking for apartments, asking the people at the front desk for me. Another guy gave me advice on where I should look for teaching jobs, and one lady was really excited that I was from the states, as she had a T-Shirt that was from New Haven, Connecticut. So I guess none of that really counts as "mingling", but the bottom line is that the people here are incredibly friendly, and super-excited to meet "Westerners". Maybe I really will meet the Thai man of my dreams here ;)
- I sampled the local cuisine! Well... yeah, here's how it actually went down: after trekking for five hours in the 90-degree heat looking for apartments, I realized I was STARVING. I decided to be adventurous and try some of the street-side dishes that had looked so tantalizing during my walk yesterday.
Dish #1: noodles from a vendor that looked like my fave thai dish in the states. Ehhh...Not so much. They had a slimy consistency that was just awkward, and the taste reminded me a little bit of the smell of the dumpster down the block from my hostel. Not wanting to be rude, I walked three stalls down and threw them ever-so-discreetly in the trash.
Dish #2: Three stalls down by the trash can, I found the "meat on stick" dishes that had been looking interesting. Proud of myself for remembering the word for chicken (gai), I ordered up a stick. Also not a good idea. The balls were filled with rubbery pieces of fat, and the sauce I had piled on them excitedly had the tantalizing taste of sour milk. I had reached the end of the row of vendors and the last trash can and felt rude throwing the balls away in front of the lady who had cooked them, I decided to just walk away and find a trash can on the next block. Thus arises another great mystery: THERE ARE NO TRASH CANS IN BANGKOK. I literally made it the whole mile back to my hostel without finding one. Those balls were legitimately the bane of my existence for the last half hour.
Dish #3: Made it back to the hostel with dangerously low blood sugar and had a delicious plate of rice with chicken and green curry. Finally, success.
So that's been my day so far! Tomorrow is orientation for my CELTA course, so maybe I'll actually make some friends and won't write in this thing like five times a day. Love to everyone, and start making plans to visit!
-Charlotte
Among the most significant accomplishments:
- I found a place to stay for the month of my course! It's called KC Apartments, and it's basically a pretty nice hotel room for 12,000 baht/month (about $365). It's a fifteen minute walk from my course, and the people working there seem great. I checked out ten or so different buildings and it is definitely the best deal-- even staying at the hostel I'm at would be 25,000 baht/month, which is pretty ridic considering the room from my window (sorry, I'm kind of bitter)
- I mingled with the locals! Or, actually, I was approached by four rando's who were REALLY excited to speak english. One old man even took me to two of the buildings I visited looking for apartments, asking the people at the front desk for me. Another guy gave me advice on where I should look for teaching jobs, and one lady was really excited that I was from the states, as she had a T-Shirt that was from New Haven, Connecticut. So I guess none of that really counts as "mingling", but the bottom line is that the people here are incredibly friendly, and super-excited to meet "Westerners". Maybe I really will meet the Thai man of my dreams here ;)
- I sampled the local cuisine! Well... yeah, here's how it actually went down: after trekking for five hours in the 90-degree heat looking for apartments, I realized I was STARVING. I decided to be adventurous and try some of the street-side dishes that had looked so tantalizing during my walk yesterday.
Dish #1: noodles from a vendor that looked like my fave thai dish in the states. Ehhh...Not so much. They had a slimy consistency that was just awkward, and the taste reminded me a little bit of the smell of the dumpster down the block from my hostel. Not wanting to be rude, I walked three stalls down and threw them ever-so-discreetly in the trash.
Dish #2: Three stalls down by the trash can, I found the "meat on stick" dishes that had been looking interesting. Proud of myself for remembering the word for chicken (gai), I ordered up a stick. Also not a good idea. The balls were filled with rubbery pieces of fat, and the sauce I had piled on them excitedly had the tantalizing taste of sour milk. I had reached the end of the row of vendors and the last trash can and felt rude throwing the balls away in front of the lady who had cooked them, I decided to just walk away and find a trash can on the next block. Thus arises another great mystery: THERE ARE NO TRASH CANS IN BANGKOK. I literally made it the whole mile back to my hostel without finding one. Those balls were legitimately the bane of my existence for the last half hour.
Dish #3: Made it back to the hostel with dangerously low blood sugar and had a delicious plate of rice with chicken and green curry. Finally, success.
So that's been my day so far! Tomorrow is orientation for my CELTA course, so maybe I'll actually make some friends and won't write in this thing like five times a day. Love to everyone, and start making plans to visit!
-Charlotte
Friday, February 26, 2010
I'm Alive!
Yup, I somehow survived the 28 hours of travel through a zillion different time zones and have made it to good ol' Bangkok. However, as usual with any international travel, I must bring up a few different mysteries that have come up during my journey thus far:
Mystery #1: Because of the 15-hour time difference, I somehow completely missed out on the experience of Thursday, February 25th, 2010. My flight left Los Angeles on Wednesday the 24th at 10:45 pm, and arrived in Bangkok on Friday the 26th. Here's my question: what does this mean for me?! Imagine if I was to be involved in a police interrogation asking where I was Thursday the 25th, I would have absolutely no aliby! I honestly HAVE NO CLUE where I was Thursday the 25th. Just think about it. Weird.
Mystery #2: During my four-hour layover in the Taipei airport, I noticed one curious thing- there is a red "PUSH IN CASE OF EMERGENCY" button in every toilet stall. Now, I just want to know, what would qualify as a serious toilet-related emergency? And why the heck would they put that button right next to the one that actually flushes the toilet? Thank God it was marked in English, otherwise I was only a few inches away from summoning some poor airport employee to come help me wipe my butt! Sorry for the graphic nature of that last sentence...
Mystery #3: Where the hell is my black duffle bag?!?!?! Apparently there is no record of this extra bag, which holds every book I will need for my course, as well as every type of medication that I could possibly need while oer here, EVER even being put aboard a plane. Honestly, where could it be? And if it's stolen, who the hell would waste their time stealing English grammar books and anti-malaria pills?
So, those are my top three mysteries so far. Other things that may become a problem include:
-The fact that there is never any clear indicator of when you're safe to cross the street. During my walk around the city today, I just put my head down and booked it across all major intersections, praying to Buddha that I wouldn't get hit.
-The availability of tantalizing food at every street corner. I think I gained 20 pounds from just looking at the random sticks of deliciousness simmering on grills everywere.
-The view from my hostel room. (see photo attached)
To those who have taken the time to read this entry: I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! You are so speical to me and I can't wait to share more of my adventures with you.
Chok dee from Bangkok,
Char
Mystery #1: Because of the 15-hour time difference, I somehow completely missed out on the experience of Thursday, February 25th, 2010. My flight left Los Angeles on Wednesday the 24th at 10:45 pm, and arrived in Bangkok on Friday the 26th. Here's my question: what does this mean for me?! Imagine if I was to be involved in a police interrogation asking where I was Thursday the 25th, I would have absolutely no aliby! I honestly HAVE NO CLUE where I was Thursday the 25th. Just think about it. Weird.
Mystery #2: During my four-hour layover in the Taipei airport, I noticed one curious thing- there is a red "PUSH IN CASE OF EMERGENCY" button in every toilet stall. Now, I just want to know, what would qualify as a serious toilet-related emergency? And why the heck would they put that button right next to the one that actually flushes the toilet? Thank God it was marked in English, otherwise I was only a few inches away from summoning some poor airport employee to come help me wipe my butt! Sorry for the graphic nature of that last sentence...
Mystery #3: Where the hell is my black duffle bag?!?!?! Apparently there is no record of this extra bag, which holds every book I will need for my course, as well as every type of medication that I could possibly need while oer here, EVER even being put aboard a plane. Honestly, where could it be? And if it's stolen, who the hell would waste their time stealing English grammar books and anti-malaria pills?
So, those are my top three mysteries so far. Other things that may become a problem include:
-The fact that there is never any clear indicator of when you're safe to cross the street. During my walk around the city today, I just put my head down and booked it across all major intersections, praying to Buddha that I wouldn't get hit.
-The availability of tantalizing food at every street corner. I think I gained 20 pounds from just looking at the random sticks of deliciousness simmering on grills everywere.
-The view from my hostel room. (see photo attached)
To those who have taken the time to read this entry: I LOVE YOU ALL!!!! You are so speical to me and I can't wait to share more of my adventures with you.
Chok dee from Bangkok,
Char
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