Life After the Revolutions

A few photos from recent events:

Double Revolution

The ouster of the prime minister is still the main topic of conversation, but already the excitement is dying down. One camp seems to see the coup as a pre-emptive strike that averted lots of trouble. In other words, the sense of normalcy we feel shouldn’t be surprising—indeed, it was the goal of the planners.

Another group is disappointed that a political impasse should be broken this way in a democracy. In other words, things may be quiet now, but the root causes of the prevailing low confidence in the country’s direction can’t be addressed by a military takeover—trouble has simply been swept under the rug, according to this view.

In addition to this week’s government turnover, Jip and I are experiencing a revolution of our own at home. The first caregiver we hired, over a year ago, has given notice. I managed to get a couple of replacement candidates to come over fairly quickly, and they’ve both been apprenticing the past few days.

One of them in particular has a great sense of humor and lots of confidence. I haven’t heard Jip giggle as much in one day as I did yesterday afternoon, as I sat in another room and listened to the banter between her, the new caregiver, and the one who’s decided to move on. All three of them played off each other, cracking jokes and keeping the mood very light.

Thais in general think of work as a social activity. I’m hoping to restructure the caregiving schedule so that we end up with three women instead of two, and that their shifts overlap more often than they have in the past. I would also like to retire from my 24-hour Sunday shift, and from grocery shopping responsibilities. If things work out the way I’m expecting, this week’s laughter will echo for a long time.

Around the Water Cooler

Lots to talk about at work yesterday, mostly of the “where were you when you first heard?” variety. The consensus reaction to the headlines, among the Thais in our office, seemed to be “What took them so long? This should have happened months ago.”

Of course my colleagues aren’t necessarily a representative slice of the population. Educated Bangkok people may not feel the same way as the farmers and fishermen, whose numbers far outweigh the city dwellers, but whose opinions may not count as much.

I passed a few other government ministries on the way to mine, and noticed soldiers outside the entrances to each. But the Ministry of Public Health was “guarded” only by the usual traffic cops. Nothing like a coup to let you know how you rate, I guess.

Coup Day Two

Yesterday was a great day to do errands. Everything felt normal except the small number of people out and about. At a restaurant I popped into for lunch, the staff appeared so glad to have a customer that their attentiveness began to get a bit oppressive. I nearly had to swat them away. The only soldier I saw all day was looking lonely as he sat outside a building that houses the company founded by the former prime minister.

This morning I tried to go for a run at a park where I’ve seen soldiers playing soccer in the past. At the entrance gate I was turned away, even though cars were allowed to drive through. The government ministries are all open again, so I’ll be going back to work.

Far be it from me to speculate about the subtleties of Thai politics, and how this regime change will play out. It may even be harder to get good information here than it is elsewhere, because the local news sources are likely not as complete as those outside the country.

I don’t feel the sense of discouragement that we used to have twenty years ago, working in the refugee camps, when we were told by officials that the camps were closed but given no details about the reasons. Sometimes we could hear the booming of shells in the distance, but otherwise we had very little idea about was really going on.

In Bangkok today and yesterday it was the absence of noise that was unusual. My gut tells me that in the long run, any disruptions caused by the birth of a new government will be felt much more by a small handful of VIPs than by common folk.

No Biggie

At our new apartment we can almost set our clock by the sound of a sala-pao seller, who plies his doughy buns in the street below our window at shortly past 6:30 every morning. Today was no exception, which let me know that things would be business as usual, in spite of the sudden change in government here about nine hours ago.

I first learned of events after returning home around 10 from my usual Tuesday night soccer game. Chao, who works evenings as an editor for the country’s biggest-circulation newspaper, texted me a two-word message, which sent me scurrying to the Internet for details. At that time there weren’t many, as the soon-to-be-former prime minister was still planning to speak before the U.N. General Assembly.

After midnight my boss called a couple of times, first to say that the U.S. embassy would be closed Wednesday (and thus a day off for us too), and then again to report that the ambassador had judged the takeover to be so peaceful that we wouldn’t be getting a holiday after all.

As it turns out, Thai government offices are shuttered, including the Ministry of Public Health, where my office is based, so I’ll be working from home today. Report from our balcony: SkyTrain running normally, highway traffic lighter than usual, no sign of tanks anywhere!

Jip's Night Out

You first have to know how ornery Jip can get these days over the small stuff, in order to appreciate my joy at seeing her guffaw last night at her brother’s wedding reception. We were surrounded by party noises and strange smells that normally would have caused her to complain, but at this event her radar was apparently turned off, or at least disabled by the nice welcome she received from family and friends.

Her uncle, a jolly fellow whom we haven’t seen for several years, sought Jip out amidst the crowd at the restaurant, and soon had her in stitches. On hearing his voice, she initially put her hands together at eye level in a traditional Thai wai, or greeting of respect. I hadn’t seen her do that for anyone else throughout the fifteen-plus months we’ve been in the country.

He waved away such formality by urging her to reach out and feel his belly, which has expanded a little during his retirement. The two of them then traded news of various cousins, leading Jip to bust up over private jokes that I couldn’t follow. Soon Lek’s father came around to say hello—Jip had never met him, but was pleased to be introduced, because I had brought back such a nice report about the welcome he gave us all at the wedding in the countryside last month.

Each time that I thought to myself that perhaps we had overstayed—as when a waitress dropped a tray, or when someone suggested that we move indoors and away from the river, to where we could hear the live band—Jip took things in stride and simply smiled, rather than wrinkling up her forehead in the expression that I’ve come to recognize as the precursor to a mood swing.

Right up until the time we left by taxi for the short ride to the party, I half expected Jip to say that she had changed her mind and wasn’t interested. But apparently her feelings for Chao and Lek carried the day, or at least overrode the concern she had expressed earlier in the day that “people will be drinking beer there!”

In the end we hung out for about twice as long as I had expected we would. Jip was fawned over by Lek’s sisters and by her niece. Nothing seemed to rattle her, not even when, on the way home, our taxi driver reached over to reline her seat and it zipped backward much faster than anyone expected. She just laughed again, and I remembered how sweet it is to hear that sound.

High-end Living

Now that we’ve been here a few days, it seems like a really good deal. Once again we’re living pretty large. I had missed some of the details initially, while I was focused on door widths, waling around with a tape measure. But now I see how well everything works in this place, how luxurious it is, and what a nice view it has.

It seems that the previous owner of this place had been a wealthy retired businessman. He apparently had some stiff limbs, which explains the multiple bathtubs; and a fondness for video, thus the windowless in-home theater room, complete with padded walls. But he also must have been a bit paranoid … would you believe there are hidden cameras and bulletproof glass?

So at best we’re well protected, and at worse we’re under constant surveillance. The main thing for me is that Jip hasn’t said anything negative. At our old place she had a few pet peeves that she couldn’t let go of; now, she either hasn’t had time to invent any complaints, or the air and the lack of construction noise at night truly are better.

Why not come see for yourself?

Apartment Hunting

The deal here is you have to live nearby where you work. Bangkok traffic is so unforgiving that any other arrangement is a recipe for stress.

Yet Jip and I have a few unusual housing requirements, which turned out to be hard to meet near the Ministry of Public Health. Our specs include wide doors and deep elevators. The standard measurements here are often too tight for a wheelchair, except in a few buildings that maybe were constructed with foreigners in mind.

We also wanted a three bedroom place, because it has worked well this past year to have a room for the caregivers to call their own, even if they don’t sleep there. But Thai families don’t usually get that much privacy and personal space, so apartments that roomy are rare where I was first looking.

The real estate agent who helped us a year ago said he didn’t know that end of town very well. My online searches didn’t generate many leads. So I switched game plans and started looking on my own in a neighborhood halfway between our old apartment and my work. I just walked around in larger and larger circles until I saw a sign announcing an apartment for rent.

At first glance the place didn’t seem too special or fancy, but the rooms were big enough and the street was quiet. I called the agent again to ask him to negotiate for me (with housing, as with vegetables, the first price is not the final price here). To my surprise, he agreed to coach me, but nothing more. He said he had a good feeling about the landlady, and that I might do better on my own than he could do.

I felt like a kid who gets told that he has to start doing some chores around the house. I was so nervous about blowing it that I wrote out a whole script before I called to bargain. Just as I’d been coached, I told her not to decide right away, but instead to take a day or two to think about my offer. Amazingly, she called me back and agreed to the 20% cut I’d proposed.

New Digs

We’ve been busy moving to a new part of town, setting up new routines and phone numbers and Internet access and so on. In a way it feels as though we’ve finally moved to Thailand.

Our old place was surrounded by lots of conveniences that made it a perfect place to land when we were fresh from the States. But those same amenities sometimes made me feel as if we could have been anywhere in the world: the international signage, the English-speaking pharmacists, the five-star hotels.

The new neighborhood has a bit more Thai soul. On our first day here I saw monks making their morning rounds, and I thought “Oh, yeah—I almost forgot they did that in this country.” Nearly everyone in our new apartment building is Thai.

Glittery coffee shops and fitness centers are still within walking distance, but along the way I now have the option of buying veggies and fruit from sidewalk vendors instead of supermarkets. And I never see those short-term couples anymore that were so common in our old neighborhood: older Western men and Thai women, separated by about forty years, holding hands but somehow not on the same planet.