Bedtime Story

The story I’ve been reading aloud to Jip for several months now is a Thai classic known as Four Reigns. She read this historical novel on her own many years ago, but doesn’t remember much beyond the broad outlines. Most nights it holds her attention for about twenty minutes.

The main character is a girl, Phloi, who is raised in the palace and lives to see four different Thai rulers. Whenever Phloi wrestles with sudden change—an unexpected death, an arranged marriage, a revealed secret—Jip pricks up her ears and asks that we read a little further.

We’re roughly halfway through the book. Despite a few anxious moments, so far Phloi has managed to handle all the challenges thrown her way. Like Jip, she understands the Buddhist teachings about impermanence, and remains optimistic. No matter what comes up in the rest of the story, I have no doubt that we shall overcome.

Forty-Five Week Funeral

Just when you think political squabbling will send Thailand into a death spiral, along comes a reminder that the country can in fact unite. This weekend’s cremation of the king’s older sister, an event that involved more than eleven months of preparation, slowed things down and made everybody proud to be part of a country with a distinctive culture.

TV channels showed nonstop footage of the parade and pomp, gluing lots of people to their sets and leaving the streets quiet. Protestors too seem to have taken a break, in order to watch the tunics and the trumpeters.

I caught only a few minutes of the broadcasts, while eating a late breakfast in a restaurant. Reports I read in newspapers today told of the king lighting the funeral pyre, accompanied by traditional funeral songs, while the nation collectively hushed.

Thaksin Loses British Visa, Divorces

The tale of Thailand’s most influential expatriate took two weird twists recently. After leaving on a short trip from England, his home in exile, Thaksin learned that his British visa had been revoked. A few days later, he and his wife announced their divorce after 32 years of marriage.

Of course it’s never wise to assume we understand what’s going on in somebody else’s relationship, but speculation is widespread here that the couple split up only to unfreeze as many of their assets as possible.

The anti-Thaksin protestors who continue to occupy government buildings around Bangkok are unlikely to feel much sympathy for his recent life changes.

Obama Victory in Bangkok, Part 2

Despite getting calls from Brits quoting Churchill—“Americans can be counted on to do the right thing, after they have exhausted all the other possibilities”—I’m still floating from the results of the election. It’s so nice to celebrate something political. After several years of crazy leadership we now have a chance to do a few things right. I wish the same outcome for Thailand.

But don’t think it’s all gonna suddenly get better overnight. Time to roll up your sleeves, folks. Everybody pitches in now. No fair sitting back and saying that he’ll take care of everything.

Obama Victory in Bangkok

We can all throw back our shoulders now and walk down the streets without feeling somehow ashamed of being American. Tear off those Canadian flags we sewed on our backpacks!

On Wednesday morning here, just before the polls closed Tuesday evening in the U.S., I joined about 200 other Yanks at a restaurant to watch the countdown on TV.

A big cheer went up at 8pm California time, when CNN’s high-tech graphics flashed that the long campaign was over. Some people started ordering drinks right away. Others slipped off to a late but guilt-free arrival at work, knowing that nobody at their offices would have been doing anything besides monitoring the results anyway.

I happened to have an errand to run at the train station. The place seemed quieter than usual when I walked in to the huge open waiting room. But the number of people waiting for trains looked normal. Then I noticed the huge screen above the ticket windows and saw that Obama was giving his victory speech.

Probably his words were lost on the majority of the passengers. (Who can understand public address systems in train stations anyway? The words are always unintelligible, even when they’re in your own language.) But the crowd seemed riveted nonetheless. This victory truly is a victory for the world.

The Basics

Somehow during today’s Thai lesson we got onto the subject of essential needs. I knew the words for things like air, water, food, sleep, and warmth. But my vocabulary got stuck as I moved up the hierarchy that I remembered from psychology class—things like security, stability, stimulation, and so on.

My teacher said students here learn in school from an early age that the big four are food, clothing, shelter, and medicine. That last one interested me because I’ve often felt that the average Thai is very quick to reach for a pill. Rather than wait out a headache or a fever, lots of people here pop something at the first sign of discomfort.

Another thing about medicine in Thailand is that very few drugs require a prescription, so people self diagnose, or they buy what their friend recommends. Antibiotic misuse is a big problem, according to my public health colleagues—something like half of the people who take them don’t finish the course, meaning that bugs get resistant pretty fast.

So when my teacher listed medicine as one of the basics, I wondered if that status also trivializes it in this culture. By definition things that are essential can’t be overly strong or difficult to get. Even the word for drug in Thai can be mild—it forms the root of words like toothpaste and mosquito repellent.

Jip's Birthday Party

The whole country takes the day off on Jip’s birthday. (OK, so she’s not really the reason for the national holiday, but we like to pretend.)

It’s easy for her friends to drop by because they’re not at work. But before this year, Jip always vetoed the idea of having people over. This year she suggested it herself.

Five nursing school classmates showed up in the early afternoon, when Jip is usually chipper. She then surprised us all by kicking everyone out of her room after just 15 minutes.

So the gang and I went to the kitchen and ate the goodies they brought. When we checked in with Jip a little while later, she was grinning and asking us where we’d been. Before long the whole group was belting out popular tunes from back in the day.

Jip’s caregivers watched in amazement from the sidelines. “I don’t know any of those songs,” said one. “I think they were popular before I was even born.”

Thaksin Charged

A couple days ago Thaksin got two years in jail for violating conflict of interest rules while prime minister. He will likely never serve this time, but the verdict is splitting the country even further.

Being sentenced in absentia likely means that he’ll either decide to truly drop politics and stay away from Thailand for good, or that he’ll try to increase his power base so that he can return to dropped charges. His detractors hope for the former, his supporters the latter, and therein lies the rub.

Baseball Blues

The state of affairs in Thailand wasn’t the most discouraging headline I read during my time in the U.S. My beloved Chicago Cubs win that prize, alas.

The Cubbies just rolled over and died in the first round of the playoffs. This happens from time to time in baseball. Teams that dominate in the regular season forget how to win when they reach the postseason. As people have been saying about the economy lately, past performance is no guarantee of future results.

Yet despite the disappointment of watching the lads flame out, I’m still grateful to them and to Lou Piniella for giving me lots to smile about this year. Maybe the biggest smile of all came when I called Jip from Philadelphia and casually mentioned that the Cubs were finished for the year. I didn’t expect her to have much reaction.

To my surprise she immediately blurted out, “Oh no! Sweet Lou!” I didn’t know she knew the Cub manager’s name, let alone his nickname.

Climbing the Fence

While I was in the U.S., the political situation in Bangkok deteriorated. Ten days ago, violence broke out and parliament members were trapped inside their own building. The new prime minister had to climb a fence to escape protesters. The best version of events I read was also the most sobering I’ve read in some time. “Many dangers lie ahead,” it said.

Sure enough, a few days ago, gunfire broke out at the Cambodian border between Thai and Cambodian soldiers. On the surface it’s an international incident, but surely the issue of who controls the land around an ancient temple would never have come this far without politicians needing something to distract their constituents from the discouraging domestic scene.

And yesterday the Army chief hinted that the current prime minister must go. Who would step in wasn’t clear. It’s a shame to see people building (or climbing) fences. What the country needs more are bridges.

Crown Thy Good with Brotherhood

Plenty of people have left their birthplace and found plenty of happiness somewhere else. You can also just get so used to the ways things are elsewhere that home begins to feel foreign.

Jip’s and my version of that classic story is still evolving. Mostly we just wake up each day and accept that we live where we live. We try to be grateful, to not take much for granted.

Yet here in the States for a couple weeks, with no agenda other than hanging out with family and friends, I must say I’m surrounded by delights. Let me count a few:

a reunion or two with old mentors…

a multigenerational family birthday party…

a several-hour stroll along the edge of a favorite lake…

a Cambodian/Vietnamese meal on a street named for Martin Luther King…

a peek inside the wooden boat my brother is restoring for a round-the-world sail…

an autumn evening among evergreens, watching 10-year-old girls practice soccer, capped with goat cheese pizza at the regular neighborhood joint…

a wedding down by San Francisco Bay, full of good cookies, great dancing, and lifetime pals…

I could go on. My point is that these things can’t happen in Thailand. I’ve not saying they should. The reason they’re delights is because they don’t. Special moments wouldn’t be special if they weren’t also rare. America looked pretty beautiful this time around.

Flipped Script

Just a few weeks ago, during my other trip to the U.S. this year, I’d felt that the country seemed a little threadbare, maybe even coming apart at the seams. But this time I’ve been in Philadelphia, which struck me as vibrant and unified.

It helped that I had a guide, my sister, who knew the backstory about the public art, private grants, and civic pride we kept encountering as we walked around. In fact she set me straight at one point when my cynicism about politics got a little excessive.

We passed an empty lot near her place. She mentioned that somebody wanted to put up a convenience store there, but needed a zoning variance. Thinking of Bangkok, I made a remark along the lines of “that variance will depend on who knows/sleeps with/pays whom.”

Her answer was along the lines of “Excuse me, mister, but I happen to be a volunteer member of the community zoning board, and in this town it’s us—the neighbors—who call the shots.”

Later she introduced me to the city-wide mosaic museum known as the Philadelphia Magic Gardens. This series of folk art installations, funded and fought for by everyone from bigtime lawyers to passersby, really does radiate the spirit of brotherly love.

Bright and Early

The first thing out of your mouth on the first day of the month should be the word for a certain long-eared, bushy-tailed mammal, at least according to a tradition I grew up with. Jip picked up this habit from my family, and delights in beating me to the punch nearly every month.

Yesterday I planned to wake up extra early to catch a flight to the States. I asked Jip’s caregiver to make sure I didn’t sleep through the alarm. (Jip’s legs need massaging at around 3am every day, in order for her to be able to sleep the second half of the night.)

When I walked in the room to say goodbye, I hadn’t spoken to Jip yet that day. She looked especially alert, as though she had something on her mind. She heard footsteps, and raised her eyebrows at her caregiver, as if to ask, “Is that John?” When I mumbled, still groggy, that yes it was me, Jip rubbed her hands together and shouted, “RABBIT!” Three o’clock in the friggin’ morning.

Fast Lane

Jip hasn’t been outside Thailand since we returned here more than three years ago. At that time I thought she’d never use her passport again. But she announced recently that we should make sure all her travel documents were up to date.

We don’t have any solid plans to take a trip. She was simply thinking about an open invitation we have to visit Australia, where several old friends of ours are living. It’s another measure of how stable her condition has become that she would consider taking on the challenges of an international journey.

I was happy about the idea of renewing her passport, but nervous about the process itself. I expected several long queues, based on my experiences at the Thai government office that handles foreigners’ visas.

No sweat. Three employees collaborated on the paperwork and the photography, not even flinching when they realized Jip couldn’t see, stand, or sign. The whole thing took less time than it took a taxi to drive there. Maybe sometime in 2009 we’ll go down under.