Burma Blues

Burma, Thailand’s neighbor to the west, had a mixed week last week. Details about the “saffron revolution” are widely available. Look over this respected local source of Burma news, as well as coverage by the BBC, and The Economist.

The story is worth following and responding to. This century, unlike the last one, isn’t America’s. New superpowers are rising, and it’s instructive to watch how those countries will handle bullies like the ones currently in charge of Burma.

It doesn’t hurt to offer a few suggestions to the regional powers. Check out this petition, among many others making the rounds.

Thailand’s response to this past week’s events is also important. Historically, the leadership here has been reluctant to criticize a major business partner (nearly half of Burma’s exports end up in Thailand). But goods aren’t the only things that find their way across the border. Untreated diseases, drugs, and hundreds of thousands of migrants and refugees give the Thai government countless reasons to get more involved in its neighbor’s business than it has in the past.

Boe Grows Up Down Under

Jip’s niece Boe, whom I’ve known since she was hardly half my height, graduated from college last year. Since then she’s been stuck in a job as a clerk at a Bangkok shipping company.

A few weeks ago she got herself a special visa to New Zealand, known as the working holiday visa. It’s designed for twenty-somethings, to help them enter a country they might not normally be able to visit easily, with the idea that they’ll spend a year doing two or three short working stints, interspersed with travel. I think it’s perfect for her.

Her parents and grandma probably feel a little more hesitant than I do, seeing as she is an only child and an only grandchild. She’s left Thailand only once before, a quick trip to Korea.

The first few email messages from her sound upbeat. After two weeks with the Kiwis, she seems to be enjoying the adjustment. She misses Thai food, but otherwise she’s not homesick. If anyone knows somebody there Boe could share housing with some day—empty nesters with a spare room, or a young single—drop me a line.

Blast from the Past #2

Ya, Waew, and Jieb called me by speaker phone this morning, while I was at work. These are the women who took care of Jip the longest since our arrival in Bangkok. They’d gotten together on a rare simultaneous day off from their new jobs.

Our conversation delighted me, and not just because I could report to them that Jip’s routines have been pretty stable for several weeks now. I was pleased that they had wanted to check in at all. Their only reason for calling was to ask how we are doing, what’s new at our apartment, and so on.

Hearing from them confirmed what I know but sometimes forget—that we’re pretty fun people to work for. People miss us after they’ve moved on.

Blast from the Past

I had a bit of business in the town where Jip and I met way back when. It wasn’t urgent, but I enjoy any excuse to revisit the Cambodian border. I phoned a guy I’ve talked to maybe three times in the last 20 years, just to see if he wanted to make a day trip with me. He also worked there then, and I know he shares my nostalgic tendencies.

Before I could even voice my invitation, he said, “Dude, how you getting to the reunion this afternoon? You’re welcome to drive along with us.” Reunion?

Turned out that the former chief of the UN unit that oversaw the refugee camps was briefly back in Bangkok, and for only the second time ever, a get-together of old border hands had hastily been planned. Word hadn’t reached me, but the gods must have meant me to attend, considering the coincidence.

Although not many faces were familiar, striking up conversations was easy. The degrees of separation among people associated with the UN Border Relief Operation, as it was known, are generally three or less. Names and acronyms and exaggerations flowed freely.

We used to joke with each other in those days that we were “ruined for life.” In other words, having been touched by the refugees and their stories, we couldn’t look at our own lives and countries the same way again. We meant the phrase as a positive thing.

Indeed, nearly everyone I spoke with at the reunion had sought further ways to ruin themselves. Among the non-Thai at the event, many had continued to live and work in SE Asia after the camps closed, rather than return to Europe or the States or wherever. It seemed that none of us were strangers, even if we’d never met before.

Wat Phra Buddha Bat

During Labor Day Weekend I spun up to Saraburi Province, about two hours north of Bangkok, to check out one of Thailand’s oldest and most important temples. I expected to find tradition, housed amidst crumbling walls. Instead, the place brims with young energy, and it gleams. How hip is it? The temple’s website address is featured on the entrance sign.

Read all the details of this quick excursion at hipbelt, holybasil’s sister site devoted just to travel.