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.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
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.
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