Well I've certainly dropped the ball on the blogging front. I must say I'm a little hurt, it's been nearly five months since my last entry and no one has created a "Bring Back the Blog" movement, or at least sent a mildly threatening e-mail to get my lazy butt back into the Blogosphere(is that a word?)
A common trait among the "Aries" star sign is starting something you don't finish. As a proud Aries, I am going to defeat the stereotype and continue with what I started by filling you all in on the events of the last five months. As I'm sure it would bore not only myself but all of you to detail every minute of the last 140-odd days, I've put together a little "highlight reel" for your reading pleasure. Here, in no particular order of importance, are some of the memorable events of the last five months:
Highlight #1: A visit from my mother.
OK, raise your hand if you've ridden an ATV ("All-Terrain Vehicles" for those who aren't as EXTREME-ly inclined)through Cambodian rice fields with their mother?
How about getting in a fight with a Cambodian border official and giving him the international "Kiss my *ss" gesture, before jumping into a taxi with a driver that immediately stopped to fill the trunk with unidentified rectangular goods that he just HAD to deliver to his "brother" that afternoon?
Anyone raising their hands? Oh, look at that, I am!
My mother, Virginia, braved the 24-hour journey to Bangkok at the end of August, embarking on a not-so-typical mother-daughter vacation. The highlight of her visit was the five days we spent in Siem Reap, Cambodia, visiting the beautiful Angkor Wat temples. Seriously guys, put these temples on your "Must Do Before I Die" list. We spent two full days exploring the temple ruins, with a guide who was full of charm but not-so-full of English language skills. We learned the history of the temples, as well as the sad history of Cambodia. I had no idea the scale of the tragedy that the country faced until just 20 years ago, under the rule of the Khmer Rouge. We also visited a wonderful Children's Hospital opened by a Swiss Doctor that does great work for the poverty-stricken population, as 90 percent of the Cambodian population live on less than $1 US per day. Oh, yeah, and we ATV-ed through rice fields. That was pretty sweet.
I love my mother for letting me drag her across the Thai-Cambodian border on foot, and for always exceeding my curiosity of all there is to see in this world. Her visit was a trip that I'll never forget... and hopefully I'll never see that Cambodian official again. Not my most lady-like moment.
Highlight #2: The Christmas Season in a Buddhist Country
You've gotta give them credit. The Thai's do love a good celebration, and they know how to rock that holiday spirit. I first heard "Jingle Bells" in early November, while shopping in a department store. I was suddenly taken back to the States, to the snowy days leading up to Christmas break in Boston, and to the not-so-snowy Christmas mornings in Los Angeles. Humming along as I left the store, I was snapped back into reality by a little man shouting the tried-and-true:
"SEX DVD! GOOD PRICE!"
Ah, yes. I'm still in Thailand.
Christmas in Bangkok was something I was looking forward to with a bit of dreaded anticipation- it would be my first time spending it away from home. Who was going to read me "The Night Before Christmas" before bed on Christmas eve? Who was going to make me a huge Christmas breakfast? How was SANTA going to know where I LIVED? (Ok, not really on that last one, but you get my gist)
After worrying a bit, I decided I would make the most of the Christmas season. I bought a little tree, had a tree-decorating ceremony, and made mulled wine. I wore a Santa hat for a while, until I started sweating unbearably (this country and hats = no bueno). And I listened to Christmas carols on repeat for two weeks. Most importantly, I spent the day with people I truly care about. I am lucky enough to have an amazing "family" out here that helps get me through some of the toughest days. Although spending Christmas day eating pad thai and drinking "Singha" beer isn't exactly the most traditional way to do it, I had an amazing day nonetheless. And Santa even found me way out here! That guy is awesome.
Highlight(?) Number Three: A Food-Poisoned New Years
Illnesses always seem to come at the best times, don't they? I had been looking forward to a lovely four-day New Year's weekend on the beach in Hua Hin, a little beach town a few hours outside Bangkok. I arrived at the beach good to go, jumped into my bikini and ran for the sea. Twelve hours later, I was sick as a dog and running for the toilet (pardon that mental image, but I've gotta give you the full effect.) Yes, instead of champagne, I was chugging chamomile tea and electrolyte beverages at the stroke of midnight on January 1st. Instead of lying in serenity on the beach, I was thinking about the proximity of the closest public bathroom. It was a blissful 96 hours, to say the least. But there's a bright side to everything: at least I lost some weight. A good head start on that New Years Resolution!
Highlight #4: The Great Outdoors
This highlight is more a collection of experiences than one in particular. Over the last few months, some of my favorite memories have been made outside. Thailand truly is a beautiful country, with waterfall-filled forests and white sandy beaches all within a few hours of eachother. One of my favorite outdoor experiences was the long weekend leading up to Christmas. I went to a town called Kanchanaburi with my boyfriend and spent an entire day hiking up a path of seven waterfalls. After living in the concrete confines of Bangkok, it was amazing to just breathe the air and jump into the cool pools of water at the base of each waterfall. It's amazing how rejuvenating a dip into nature can be.
So that's it, folks. A taste of what I've been up to for the last five months. Some good, some not so great, but all of them totally unforgettable. Love to everyone, and can't wait to hear all of the highlights you have to share with me.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Pinch Me
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.
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.
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
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