Familiar and First

Ma and Pa are visiting from the States. Thanksgiving is a nice time to be together for me—I first set foot in Thailand 20 years ago, almost to the day. I remember calling home from the Bangkok central post office (back then making international phone calls was a big deal), reporting that I had arrived, had celebrated Turkey Day with some other Americans, and had found a job, all in the space of a week.

This year we marked the holiday overlooking the Mekong River. Jip passed on the chance to do some touring along the Lao and Cambodian borders, but she gave the three of us her blessing as we headed off for nine days away—the longest time she and I have been apart for several years.

On the first morning I went for a run on a small road near our hotel. The cooking fire smells, and the kids heading to the river with their little baskets full of toothpaste and soap, and the rooster soundtrack—all those things took me back twenty years, to life at the Cambodian border, where Jip and I met.

But I also experienced a first. As I ran between two villages, I caught up with an unaccompanied herd of cows, trotting along the road with their cowbells in full swing. They seemed surprised but not alarmed that their party had suddenly grown by one, and so I jogged along in the middle of the pack, feeling like I was in Pamplona, keeping an eye out for lunging horns, enjoying the music, very thankful to be on the road, out of the big city for a while, surrounded by family.

Running Around Town

My running partner and I no longer have a weekly rendezvous, now that Jip and I have moved to another part of town, but we still motivate each other by email. Recently he and I and 10,000 of our closest friends ran a 10K race in honor of UN Day.

Road races Thai style turn out to be well-organized affairs, starting at the coolest times of day and ending with free rice soup for everyone. The gun went off for this one at 6am. I had no idea beforehand about what my finishing time would be. When I train these days, I only pay attention to minutes, not distance. I’m also not used to keeping track of my splits in kilometers. I’d assumed that the rising sun and my advancing age would mean I would fade fairly quickly.

But when I got home I did some calculations and figured out that my pace was faster than I’ve run in about twenty years. I give credit to Dan, who claims his time was a personal record. Our results either mean that our partnership is working magic, or that somebody measured the course wrong.

As a warmup for the 10K, about three weeks earlier I ran without Dan in the annual Bangkok midnight run. I was drawn to it because it was short, and because it supports a good cause, an AIDS hospice at an upcountry temple. A few days beforehand, I headed out around 11pm for a training run, telling myself that I needed to understand real time conditions.

The night watchman at our place thought I was nuts, but it was fun to see who else was up and around at that hour. No other runners crossed my path, but more people than I expected were walking and playing and cleaning up around the streets. Back at the apartment, I figured I’d take a dip rather than wake Jip with the shower. Trouble was, all the lights were off at the pool. I wasn’t sure where the edge left off and the water began.

You guessed it. Big splash. Soaked shoes. Giggles from the watchman.

Dan asked, when I told him the story, if I had thought I was preparing for a midnight triathlon instead of a simple road race.

Loy Krathong with Jip

Loyal readers will recall that Jip doesn’t care much for the annual holiday honoring the river goddess, and so it was with low expectations that I proposed that the two of us float our krathong at the little lake down the lane. Sure enough, her first instinct was to scoff and wonder what part of no I didn’t understand.

Yet I persisted and was glad of it. When I came home from the market armed with banana leaves and toothpicks, she started to come around. I told her I would build the krathong myself (biodegradable, no styrofoam), and that after launching it we wouldn’t even have to wait around to see it capsize…a quick, five-minute ritual. OK, said Jip, but the lake was still out of the question. She suggested the bathtub.


We compromised on a little fountain right inside the entrance to our apartment. It was lovely. You’ll have to take my word that the spot of light at right is the candle in the middle of a very professional-looking boat made from banana leaves. (I’m a better krathong builder than photographer.)

Speaking of water craft, I was recruited as bow man for CDC’s entry in the annual embassy Loy Krathong boat race. We didn’t win, but neither did we sink, and several people commented on our excellent paddling form.

Sundays with the Vets

Soccer season started up again here. Thinking it best not to wait until the team captain took me aside and asked about my retirement plans, I voluntarily scratched myself from the lineup of the British Club’s Casuals team and instead joined its Veterans’ League squad.

For us older gents, team size, game length, field measurement, and net width are all scaled back. We also play less often: one Sunday a month, all afternoon, tournament style. There’s some down time between matches, which is nice for socializing. Everything gets organized by an exuberant Turk; a French team apparently always brings the sandwiches; the Germans pick up the beverages; while us Brits provide the witty repartee.


It’s not the World Cup, to be sure. Some guys look exhausted after the first half a game. But for me it’s great simply to be out there, chatting about Chelsea and Liverpool and the know-nothing refs, getting a little exercise and a lot of sun, knowing that Jip is getting good care from somebody else. It’s been a while since I’ve had a two-day weekend.

Full Squad

It seems that the hunt for a third caregiver is finally over, more than a month after it began. Ya, our rock, who’s taken care of Jip nearly since the day we arrived, happened to talk on the phone with her cousin. They both hail from a province in the north that has been underwater for much of the rainy season.

The worst flooding in several years has meant that jobs are harder to come by up there, so the cousin was happy to return to the big city. She’s worked here in the past, for the same agency that sent us Ya. Jip gets along with her quite well. In fact Jip is already muttering about how Ya could learn a thing or two from her cousin’s technique.

Meanwhile, I’ve reflected on the conversation I had with the woman in our office, about whether or not I was thinking enough of Jip’s needs. I conclude that she was projecting a little bit—she may have noticed her kids at home acting out whenever she gets busy with adult concerns.

Nonetheless, I think she is right to suggest that I watch out for things that may be going on with me whenever I see that Jip is unhappy. After all, the monks here say that peace in the world will begin first in the hearts and minds of each of us. Re-learning that lesson from an unexpected teacher reminded me that wisdom comes in many guises.