Out of the Kitchen

The solution to the problem of what to do about the puppet prime minister was very Thai. The Christian Science Monitor’s headline may have said it best:

As a TV chef, Thai P.M. cooked his own goose: Prime Minister Samak was forced to quit Tuesday, after a court ruled he'd broken the law by hosting two TV cooking shows while in office.

The story went on to say that “Mr. Samak's fiery rhetoric on TV and in office has often landed him in hot water. But it may be his fiery curries that finally burned him.”

Moonlighting seems to me a pretty minor charge against a high government official, but it has the advantage of allowing a face saving exit, always an important consideration here. Samak apparently is accused of more serious offenses, but they will probably now be forgotten in exchange for his going quietly.

The quest for Thai-style democracy appears not to be any closer to its goal, however. Politicians chose a brother-in-law of Thaksin Shinawatra as the new prime minister. In response, protesters announced they’d be stepping up their efforts to prevent “Thaksinocracy.” Most of them represent the country’s elite and so would have the country move away from a one-man one-vote voting system, which favors the relatively less educated folks upcountry.

Those people waiting for the king to step in probably will be disappointed. He seems to want to stay out of this particular kitchen.

Queen's Birthday Present

Last month, to honor the queen on her 76th birthday, ethnic Chinese Thais invited 11,111 monks to receive alms along a main street through the center of Bangkok’s Chinatown.

Evidently if one is good, 11,111 is better. Remarkable photographs of the event have been making the rounds. Anything like this happen lately in the major metropolitan area where you live?

Golden Rule

In a conversation with my Thai language teacher, somehow the subject of the Golden Rule came up. She argued that it was a foreign concept, not relevant in Thailand.

I asked a few friends at work what they thought about the idea that people should treat others as they would like to be treated. One guy, thinking of the recent protests, said bluntly, “Thailand doesn’t have golden rule. We’re too used to iron rule.”

Thailand Takes to the Streets

Speaking of uniting and dividing, the political tug of war in Bangkok has ramped up. While the protesters’ goals remain vague, their numbers and volume grow day by day. They have occupied (and done their laundry outside) the prime minister’s office for the last week or so. Yet nearly every Thai who talks to me about the protests feels embarrassed by them.

Passions, in other words, are hardly running high. Emotions flare occasionally, but most of the protest moves happen slowly. My safety isn’t an issue. Unless one tries hard to join the front lines, the biggest danger on the streets (and sidewalks) here remains the unpredictable driving of motorcyclists.

I used to think that no matter which faction emerged strongest, life for the average person here wouldn’t change appreciably. But the recent headlines have been terrible for tourism. We heard stories and saw evidence of the effect on that major part of the Thai economy last week when my office held a retreat at a nearly empty beach resort a few hours from the capital.

My guess is that politicians, some of whom own hotels and feel the economic pressure, will soon find a uniquely Thai fix to this round of problems.

Trip Report, Part 2

The cool innovations I heard about in the U.S. were mostly new ways that Americans, consummate joiners that we are, have figured out to hook up with the like-minded. For better or worse, networking really is boldly going where no network has gone before.

So many people mentioned facebook in casual conversation that I began to suspect I was about the least hip person on the planet because I hadn’t signed up. That suspicion was confirmed when I got an invitation to join from my nearly 80-year-old uncle.

Websites like caringbridge.org and patientslikeme.com sent their founders to the health communication conference I attended in Atlanta. The connections people make with these tools help them heal.

So if my impression is correct that the country needs to pull out of a slump, then, as the saying goes, we have the technology. Whether its uses will ultimately unite or divide is another question.

Trip Report

America seemed a nice place to visit, but after three years away, I didn’t need to live there. It wasn’t that I felt out of place or even turned off. I found lots to like—the comparatively cool weather was great for sleeping and running, my teams won both of the professional baseball games I got to see. I was even pleasantly surprised a few times—not one of my nine flights was late or cancelled.

But the country seemed a little down on its luck. Fraying at the edges. Not as bold and bright as I remembered. Sort of gray.

Occasionally somebody I met with would mention some cool innovation, and I'd be filled with that sense of the youthful cutting edge that I took for granted when we lived there.

Maybe I’d still feel that if we still lived there. It’s possible that I’ve changed, not the country. It’s possible.

Thaksin Bails

In the latest chapter of the long political saga here, former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra apparently decided last week that corruption charges against him were getting a bit too warm, so he and his family headed for England. His wife had recently been sentenced to three years in jail for tax evasion.

Orderly street protests continue, but are now held outside the British Embassy (“Return Thaksin Home!”) rather than near the current prime minister’s office. Some people say the real issue is what kind of democracy the country wants. Lots of versions have been tried in Thailand, from business-friendly to king-friendly to army-friendly, but none have really stuck.

Welcome Back

Jip seemed fine with my being gone. I spoke to her on the phone every day, and found her either upbeat or a little bit bored (a first—she generally expands her activities to fill the time she has). She asked me to arrange visits from friends, which delighted me.

Last year her reaction to a long trip I made was very different. Her sense then was that she had no time for anything but making sure the caregivers followed the schedule. She also may have wondered whether or not I would really return. We hadn’t been apart that long for many years.

This time she was nonchalant when I walked in from the airport, as if I’d hardly been away at all. The caregivers, on the other hand, excitedly (and alas, correctly) pointed out that I had enjoyed a few extra helpings of home cooking while in the U.S. “Khun John grew breasts!” cried one. “His are bigger than Khun Jip’s!”

Dixie on My Mind

I’ve been in the States for two weeks. Day after tomorrow, I’ll return to Bangkok. I spent time with friends and family in Seattle and the Midwest before arriving in Atlanta to attend a CDC conference.

This city is new to me, so my antennae are up and my first impressions are doing battle with my stereotypes. Nothing so far has made me feel I’m in the South especially, but then again what I don’t know about the South could fill lots of blog entries.

Outside the South, do young black men ask legal advice of white tourists from Thailand as they exit the train together? I have no idea. But there we were, taking the elevated in from the airport. Dude wondered about the limits on free speech.

“Can they lock you up for talking smack on the train?”

He was earnest and polite. Maybe he picked me to ask because, dragging luggage, I might have been neutral, or at least unlikely to cross paths with either party again.

He told me he’d been innocently flirting (“I mean, what do you expect, her just sitting there with her stuff all hanging out?”), when out of nowhere another woman passenger, apparently a friend of the first, turned two’s-company into three’s-a-crowd.

“They’re both talking about how if they snitch to some Jane Wayne, my ass gonna be locked up. Can they do that?”

I wish I could say I helped him out. He wasn’t just making conversation—he really wanted to know. I mumbled something about the Golden Rule. He looked up, saw his bus coming, and apologized for not being able to talk longer.

Where’s the Beef?

On my way to the U.S., I changed planes in Tokyo. I overheard a family of Japanese-Americans that was returning home after spending a few weeks visiting the eldest generation. The two teenagers weren’t much interested in the home cooking their parents had brought on board with them. Perhaps they’d had their fill of Japanese cuisine.

Dad: Anybody want some shrimp?
Teen: No thanks, I like my food a little more pumped up with hormones.

Can Go Home Again

I wish somebody had taken a photo of this scene: Jip’s mom blessing Jip’s grandma by pouring water on grandma’s wrists. Behind mom, a long line of us touched each other lightly on the back, symbolizing our participation in the blessing. Forming the chain were Jip’s brothers and their wives, and me and Jip.

Jip couldn’t see her linked-up family, but she knew exactly what was going on when I reached over to touch her at the end of the ceremony honoring the fourth anniversary of her dad’s death. Lots of neighbors looked on in main room of the family home, as did five monks, who had just finished chanting and were about to begin eating the meal that the guests had spent much of the previous day preparing for them.

Last year Jip waited until it was too late to say that she wanted to go down to the village for this annual event. I felt badly telling her that she’d have to wait until another time. Then mom surprised me this year when I phoned to say that both of us would be coming. She said it sounded like a lot of bother to bring Jip, and that she wasn’t planning anything too special anyway.

We insisted, explaining that Jip hadn’t really hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, because we were in Seattle when the real funeral took place. I think everyone was glad we came. It meant that the merit making took place at home instead of at the temple, which translated into more work for mom. But surrounded by her whole family, the smile on her face was just as broad as the one on Jip’s.

Opening Act

At the large Thai Cultural Center auditorium, the twenty or so German musicians who make up the visiting Bach Orchestra of the Leipzig Gewandhaus took their places on stage. All but the harpsichordist were standing.

As the conductor signaled he was ready to begin, I readied myself for the opening notes. But instead of the Brandenburg Concertos, what came our way was a local tune, the song that honors the royal family here.

I should have expected it—like the playing of the national anthem before a sporting event in the U.S., this tradition is common in Thailand. Furthermore, this concert was put on in honor of the king’s sister, who had been a patron of classical music in the country before she died earlier this year.

Partly because it caught me off guard, and partly because the instruments weren’t the ones that usually play this song, it took me a second to recognize it. And then another second to figure out that I too should be standing. But it took no time at all to know that this rendition of it was the most beautiful I’d heard.

The cellos and double bass gave it a weight that made it extra respectful. You didn’t have to be Thai to feel your chest puff out or your eyes get a little moist. The Bach that followed was nice too, but I went home thinking that the highlight of the evening was the opening act.

Surprise Spotlight

I was surprised to pass a slick poster advertising a Disability Film Festival, to be held at a fancy Bangkok hotel. Who would turn up at an event like that?

Turns out that lots of people would, about half of them in wheelchairs. I arrived midway through the second day of this Friday-Saturday event, to find the 34^th floor packed with displays, volunteers, brochures, private luncheons, and, oh yes, even a movie or two.

Maybe somebody with deep pockets has a family member who can’t walk, or maybe somebody needed to make some merit. Doesn’t matter why it happened… it was great to see the spotlight shining on an issue that doesn’t normally get lots of attention here.

I went home with lots of swag and a few contacts. Perhaps some day Jip and I can attend events like that one together.

Three Years On

On this day in 2005, Jip and I arrived in Thailand to start this chapter of our lives. Returning here still seems like the best decision we could have made.

Jip’s moods and overall health have plateaued instead of continuing downhill as I feared they might. She has surprised me recently with how many activities are back on her list again. I often read aloud to her for about twenty minutes before bedtime—two years ago she would have said it took too much effort to listen. At the end of this month we’re going down to her village for the fifth anniversary of Jip’s dad’s passing. Last year she didn’t want to go, so I went alone and represented her.

Consistent, experienced care providers make all the difference. The current team of three women has been together nearly a year. They like Jip and they like each other. Jip can worry about other things besides whether or not her caregivers knows what they’re doing. I’m riding this wave of stability, knowing that it won’t last. In early August I’ll visit the U.S. for a couple weeks.

All this relatively good news is built on the foundation of Jip having had no major loss of physical function or cognitive ability, which also amazes me. We’d been warned for years that heat would be a problem if we ever moved back to the tropics, but the weather doesn’t seem to have led to her disease getting worse.

Well, maybe a little worse. She’s definitely still got spasticity problems … now in one arm as well as the legs. But luckily with round-the-clock care she’s always able to convince somebody to help her “de-stiff” her limbs, so the discomfort doesn’t last too long.

My brain and body are also doing pretty well. I get enough exercise, I finish the book club book before the book club meeting, and I get out of town on a regular basis. None of those things was true for me in Seattle just before we moved.