An Excellent Adventure

We’d been here nearly eight weeks last Wednesday when I spotted this in a local magazine: "Amazing Bangkok Cyclist runs daily organized bicycle tours of the capital. Includes bike rental, snacks, drinks, fruit, water, guide fee, boat transfers and insurance."

It was one of those sticky days when people have to change their shirt three times, and the tour was leaving in less than an hour, but I hopped off the couch nonetheless. Shortly after the group headed out, I knew it was the right choice.

We rode through back alleys, into sweaty markets, and alongside stalled traffic. Thanks to our fearless Thai guide, who stared down taxi drivers and truck drivers alike, all three of the paying customers in the group soon made it safely to a quiet temple alongside the big river, where we threw our bikes onto one of those cool long-tailed boats that ply the local waters.

Once we were on the other side, it was like a new country: jungle-y vegetation, village sounds, nothing written in English. People waved to us as we passed, and then probably wondered among themselves why we chose to be out in the afternoon heat instead of taking a siesta in a hammock under a coconut tree. Our route took us on little narrow sidewalks, raised up on stilts. Riding there required even more concentration than navigating the urban jungle we’d just come from.

A week later, I’m still revisiting that side of Bangkok in my head. I hadn’t been out of town at all, so this was just the spur I needed. The next two days found me exploring even further afield, with Jip’s blessing. If you visit us, bring bike gloves!

No Hurricanes Here

Katrina is in the headlines, which reminds me to comment on our weather.

The conventional wisdom is that Thailand has three seasons: hot, hotter, and hottest. Using that scale, it’s hotter season here. In Bangkok that means that every few days it dumps buckets of rain for about two hours in the afternoon. Nothing really stops (traffic is always at a standstill anyway); people just open umbrellas and carry on. Afterwards the air feels just a little bit fresher and there’s a nice coolness to the evening.

In between downpours, it’s just humid. Chao told me this story: apparently the ringer on his cell phone stopped working. When he took it in for repair, they told him that he wasn’t alone – dampness affects lots of phones here. The solution? Pop it in the microwave for a few seconds. Now it works fine.

The outside temperature hasn’t varied much at all since we arrived (high-80s, feels more like high-90s). Indoors, we alternate between opening the windows for a cross-breeze, and switching on ceiling fans or air conditioning. Jip’s internal thermostat hasn’t really adjusted to the new surroundings, and so she is constantly asking for adjustments: changing clothes, adding blankets (!) or whatever.

We’re looking forward to “hot” season, which should start in about a month. Meantime, we’ll enjoy the first real thunder and lightning we’ve heard for years.

What’s on the Menu

The good news is that Jip’s appetite is good and she generally likes what she eats. The bad news is that she eats the same damn thing at nearly every meal.

I’m still waiting for her to wake up and ask for something really hot and spicy. But no. Here we are in Thailand, where the cuisine varies from tangy to sweet to fiery to coco-nutty, and Jip plays it safe. Her breakfast tastes run almost exactly the same as they have for the last couple of years: oatmeal and rice soup.

Happily, her diet includes more fruit than she was eating in the States, and of greater variety. In addition to guava and papaya, she now eats lots of the huge grapefruits known as pomelos. Sometimes she has been tempted by a pink, scary-looking number known as dragon fruit (shown at right).

Alas, almost every afternoon she requests that I make her holy basil and tofu. At night it’s kale and carrots, rain or shine. Now, I admit that I do a pretty good job with these dishes (how could I not have the recipe down pat by now?), but how about some cool local seafood now and then? Instead, Jip asks for salmon.

Chao and I keep trying. He brings over new Thai delights often. We wave them under her nose. And then guess who ends up eating them?

Librarian-types Out There Might Appreciate This

On the sixth floor of a shopping mall yesterday I watched kids of all ages reading for fun. They were stretched out in many different poses; I was sipping a raspberry smoothie. We were all in a new kind of library, called TK Park (short for "Thai Knowledge?")

Some clever designer has laid out the room so that everybody fits in somewhere. There’s the “music corner,” the “book wall,” the “reading bleacher,” and a bank of computers called the “e-library.” Bright colors and lots of curved lines make the space very inviting to a young person’s eye.

Some of the kids were horizontal on huge interlocking cushions; others were fetal position, squeezed into small hexagonal cells that are suspended from the ceiling. Still others were leaning on each other, heads on each others’ shoulders.

Judging by the lack of empty seats in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, it’s a big success. The government office responsible for this brainchild calls it a place where 21st century kids can get 21st century information. Does the mall nearest you have anything similar?

Getting the Word Out

To my ears, Jip’s speech has become mumblier since we arrived. If I’m right about that, it’s probably because the nerves controlling her mouth muscles are progressively being blocked off and fewer messages are getting through.

But I could be wrong, because I’m in that stage of learning a language where everything sounds like everything else. I often have to say to Jip, “Let’s start over,” because I’m not even sure if she’s speaking English or Thai. Happily, In Thai her words still come out fairly clear – apparently one’s mother tongue originates in a different lobe of the brain. So communication between Jip and the caregivers is relatively easy (although sometimes they shoot me a look that says, “Did you catch that?”).

How about communication between the caregivers and me? When we first met, I thought things were going along wonderfully during the day shift. Then her replacement came, and Jip was taking a nap. In my best Thai, I asked the second one to wait until Jip woke up before going into the bedroom and meeting her. They both nodded, the first one grabbed the second one by the hand, and they both ran giggling into the bedroom. So much for my best Thai.

Jip doesn’t usually get too frustrated by whether people can understand her. More often, her expression says, “What’s the matter with your ears?” But I’m looking forward to a day when I can really talk about everything I’m thinking about. I wish that for Jip, too, even though two-way conversations don’t seem to be her highest priority these days.

So What Do I Do All Day?

My jobs are now chief cook, bill-payer, and husband. Soon I hope to shed the first of these titles (I now appreciate the Seattle dinner deliveries more than ever) and concentrate on the second. Jip’s food is important to her, though. It’s one of the few things she still has control over. So in the interest of not forcing too many changes at once, I’m still doing the grocery shopping and most of the meal preparation.

That still leaves time for a swim every day, playing tourist now and then, and trying to improve my Thai. (It’s pretty rusty; I last lived here in 1989.) Luckily, the pace in Thailand isn’t like America’s. What doesn’t get done today can almost always be done tomorrow. Or not.

Taking Care of Jip

Two young women each work twelve hours, six days a week. They’re clever and cheerful. Both seem to have the Thai ability to keep a spirit of fun in their days with us (in Thai the words for “work” and “party” are close). Jip likes them and vice versa.

Neither seems to mind Jip’s routines, which these days can be slow and a little strange. (Swishing her mouth for an hour before breakfast?) If there’s a spare moment, they fill it with puttering around, rearranging the piles that I seem to leave behind everywhere.

We found them through an agency that one of Jip’s friends had used for her father a few years ago. Ya is quiet in a way that fits the night shift, and has done this kind of work for ten years. Jieb is younger and gigglier, with the cell phone generation’s energy.

So we’re covered ‘round the clock, which means I can go to bed when I feel like it, and then wake up the next morning without an alarm. What a gift to have somebody else give Jip her 2am medicine! Sunday is the caregivers’ day off, just so I don’t forget how to do it.

Home Grown

The housing scene amazed me. Chao took me around his neighborhood, where we saw the whole range: tin shacks by the railroad tracks, nothing-special places where the doors were too narrow for a wheelchair, and a mini-village of three thirty-story towers with a swimming pool at the base of each one.

Then a real estate agent hooked us up with a gorgeous apartment – quiet, deep elevator, workable bathroom, the works. It’s even got a lunch counter, so Jip can wheel right up and supervise my cooking. I knew it was the place as soon as I saw a cousin of my favorite tree growing outside our window:

http://www.nps.gov/plants/alien/fact/alju1.htm

A few of our neighbors in Seattle had one, which I always coveted. The UW campus has a nice one too, near the Hub.

This apartment also has an extra bedroom! And four bathrooms! Why don’t you hop the next flight? Send me an email and I’ll send you our address.

Ain’t Seattle

Bangkok is not the nice calm Northwest. It’s the city of angels … much more like L.A. than what we’re used to. We’re talkin’ taxis and beggars and 24/7 and doormen and guys on the street with fake Rolexes. Nobody lives in little houses on the corner, surrounded by a plum tree in front and a Japanese maple in the back. But there are coffee shops everywhere, and big supermarkets featuring organic vegetables, so I guess there’s a little bit of Seattle here after all.

Hey There

Greetings from Balmy Bangkok. Our move to Thailand is going very smoothly. Jip is getting more and more used to her native land; she never asks about returning to the States.

We arrived a little over a month ago, but the pace is only now slowing enough for me to pick up the latest Harry Potter. It took a while to find good housing and good caregivers for Jip, even with lots of help from her brother Chao, who lives here in the bustling city.