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.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Thursday, November 16, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Hmmm
On the afternoon before the book club party, just after I start in on a project with a tight deadline at work, and just before the bosses drop by unexpectedly to negotiate next year’s contract with me, the phone rings and it’s Noi, the new kid. She wants me to know that she has quit the caregiver agency.
It turns out that Jip was her first and last placement. According to the rules of the agency, because Noi didn’t complete a full month on the job, she gets nothing. Can I help? she asks. I tell her to hang on while I go find somebody who can translate for us on the phone. I want to make sure I understand this right.
A woman I don’t know especially well is standing in the hall, and she says she can try. Her English isn’t the best in the office, but it’s lots better than my Thai. She talks to Noi for a minute and confirms the agency policy. I ask her to tell Noi that I’ll call the agency and explain that her work was fine but that she just wasn’t a perfect match for Jip.
After the woman hangs up, she asks about why I decided not to keep Noi. I tell her about a few of my worries. She asks if Jip gets frustrated with other people too. I say yes, sure. I don’t go into great detail. She says, “John, I think you should also examine yourself.”
I look puzzled. For one thing, I’m not sure if her words came out the way she meant, given that her English isn’t perfect. For another thing, this kind of advice is not very Thai. Being blunt here is rare. But she continues and I know I’ve heard her exactly the way she intended. She says, “John, I’ve been watching the email. You are involved in more and more of the work around here. I think you are thinking about other things when you are at home and not thinking about your wife.”
Whoa. I say, “Could be.”
I’ve got a book club party to go home and cook for.
She says, “Not ‘could be,’ John. Sure.”
We talk for a few more minutes, but we don’t really need to say any more.
It turns out that Jip was her first and last placement. According to the rules of the agency, because Noi didn’t complete a full month on the job, she gets nothing. Can I help? she asks. I tell her to hang on while I go find somebody who can translate for us on the phone. I want to make sure I understand this right.
A woman I don’t know especially well is standing in the hall, and she says she can try. Her English isn’t the best in the office, but it’s lots better than my Thai. She talks to Noi for a minute and confirms the agency policy. I ask her to tell Noi that I’ll call the agency and explain that her work was fine but that she just wasn’t a perfect match for Jip.
After the woman hangs up, she asks about why I decided not to keep Noi. I tell her about a few of my worries. She asks if Jip gets frustrated with other people too. I say yes, sure. I don’t go into great detail. She says, “John, I think you should also examine yourself.”
I look puzzled. For one thing, I’m not sure if her words came out the way she meant, given that her English isn’t perfect. For another thing, this kind of advice is not very Thai. Being blunt here is rare. But she continues and I know I’ve heard her exactly the way she intended. She says, “John, I’ve been watching the email. You are involved in more and more of the work around here. I think you are thinking about other things when you are at home and not thinking about your wife.”
Whoa. I say, “Could be.”
I’ve got a book club party to go home and cook for.
She says, “Not ‘could be,’ John. Sure.”
We talk for a few more minutes, but we don’t really need to say any more.
Hosting
Meanwhile, I was getting ready to host the monthly meeting of the embassy book club. During the eight or nine months I’ve been attending this group, I’ve found most of the dozen or so regulars to be vocal, serious about finishing the books, and very generous with their hospitality. Finally it was my turn to put on the pre-discussion dinner and tidy up the apartment and find enough chairs and that sort of thing.
Keep in mind that with few exceptions, Jip and I don’t entertain. For about the past five years, it’s been overwhelming for Jip to be around lots of people at once. She can’t always tell who is speaking. She doesn’t pick up on the body language. If too many voices bounce around a room at the same time, she has been known to get a little freaked out.
So here in Bangkok we don’t own many plates, glasses, or spoons. Put it this way: if we let dishes pile up in the sink after breakfast, there aren’t enough clean ones left for lunch. Before this club meeting, I loaded up on plasticware from the local supermarket. Then I tried to prepare Jip for the event by talking about the guests (she knew nobody) and the menu (spaghetti). Pretty soon it was clear that I was more nervous about it than she was. A friend suggested that we both might relax if one or two folks from the group met Jip ahead of time, so at least some people would be familiar at the party.
That idea worked slick. Sam and Lesley, who hosted a few months back and live nearby, came over for ten minutes on a Sunday afternoon. A few days later, when the doorbell started to ring, Jip asked, “Is that Sam? Where’s Lesley?” She did her exercise routine as usual, on the rug in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people who paused, mid-appetizer, to admire her yoga abilities. When I asked her if the crowd was bugging her, she grinned and said, “Crowd? What crowd?”
Keep in mind that with few exceptions, Jip and I don’t entertain. For about the past five years, it’s been overwhelming for Jip to be around lots of people at once. She can’t always tell who is speaking. She doesn’t pick up on the body language. If too many voices bounce around a room at the same time, she has been known to get a little freaked out.
So here in Bangkok we don’t own many plates, glasses, or spoons. Put it this way: if we let dishes pile up in the sink after breakfast, there aren’t enough clean ones left for lunch. Before this club meeting, I loaded up on plasticware from the local supermarket. Then I tried to prepare Jip for the event by talking about the guests (she knew nobody) and the menu (spaghetti). Pretty soon it was clear that I was more nervous about it than she was. A friend suggested that we both might relax if one or two folks from the group met Jip ahead of time, so at least some people would be familiar at the party.
That idea worked slick. Sam and Lesley, who hosted a few months back and live nearby, came over for ten minutes on a Sunday afternoon. A few days later, when the doorbell started to ring, Jip asked, “Is that Sam? Where’s Lesley?” She did her exercise routine as usual, on the rug in the middle of the living room, surrounded by people who paused, mid-appetizer, to admire her yoga abilities. When I asked her if the crowd was bugging her, she grinned and said, “Crowd? What crowd?”
And Then There Were Two
Last week started out with me telling the new kid she didn’t need to come back. She wasn’t working out, and even though things could have been lots worse, my gut told me they weren’t likely to get better quickly. I decided to nip it in the bud rather than bring about change by wishing, which I find never works.
So we’re back to two caregivers. One, Puang, has worked about a month with Jip, but it feels like we’ve known her for life. She’s funny and wise and knows just when to push and when to joke. The other, Ya, has been with Jip since the beginning, about fifteen months already. The recent staff turnover has brought her out of her shell a little bit. It seems like she enjoys being the experienced elder.
Until we find a replacement for Noi, the new kid, I’m not as free as I’d hoped to be. Still, letting her go was the right thing for the long term. Jip never said she was unhappy with her, but Jip’s words are no longer always a reliable gauge of how she’s feeling. She’s likely to criticize and praise the same caregiver on the same day.
Her actions usually tell a clearer story. Sometimes recently, Jip has done what we all do when under stress—resorted to strategies that we tried in earlier stages of life. She’ll plug her ears rather than discuss an unpleasant situation, or she’ll bang her fists in frustration if things aren’t going the way she’s used to. I noticed her doing things like that after the new kid’s shift was over. Since the kid has been gone, that stuff has been rarer.
So we’re back to two caregivers. One, Puang, has worked about a month with Jip, but it feels like we’ve known her for life. She’s funny and wise and knows just when to push and when to joke. The other, Ya, has been with Jip since the beginning, about fifteen months already. The recent staff turnover has brought her out of her shell a little bit. It seems like she enjoys being the experienced elder.
Until we find a replacement for Noi, the new kid, I’m not as free as I’d hoped to be. Still, letting her go was the right thing for the long term. Jip never said she was unhappy with her, but Jip’s words are no longer always a reliable gauge of how she’s feeling. She’s likely to criticize and praise the same caregiver on the same day.
Her actions usually tell a clearer story. Sometimes recently, Jip has done what we all do when under stress—resorted to strategies that we tried in earlier stages of life. She’ll plug her ears rather than discuss an unpleasant situation, or she’ll bang her fists in frustration if things aren’t going the way she’s used to. I noticed her doing things like that after the new kid’s shift was over. Since the kid has been gone, that stuff has been rarer.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Fewer Blues
This week we didn’t have another Stormy Monday. Tuesday wasn’t just as bad, Wednesday wasn’t even worse, and Thursday wasn’t awful sad. Since the time last week when Jip threatened to take a vow of silence, we haven’t had to welcome and train a new caregiver. Maybe the fifth try was the charm.
It comes back to me now that when we first came to town, we also had a period of revolving door hiring. So I shouldn’t complain too much this time … except that I no longer can devote all day to finding and coaching people like I could then. And the candidates who bailed out a year ago did so after their first day. This round, they’ve gone through three or four days of tutoring before vanishing.
The newest member of our three-person team shows up 45 minutes early every day and seems eager to learn. Jip described her at first as “a good kid.” Time will tell if she or the other newcomer will ever be as good as the woman who decided, after a year of working with Jip, to go back to school. It takes a while to figure out all the tricks of the trade.
Last Saturday I went out to play. Maybe this Sunday I’ll kneel down and pray.
It comes back to me now that when we first came to town, we also had a period of revolving door hiring. So I shouldn’t complain too much this time … except that I no longer can devote all day to finding and coaching people like I could then. And the candidates who bailed out a year ago did so after their first day. This round, they’ve gone through three or four days of tutoring before vanishing.
The newest member of our three-person team shows up 45 minutes early every day and seems eager to learn. Jip described her at first as “a good kid.” Time will tell if she or the other newcomer will ever be as good as the woman who decided, after a year of working with Jip, to go back to school. It takes a while to figure out all the tricks of the trade.
Last Saturday I went out to play. Maybe this Sunday I’ll kneel down and pray.
Monday, October 02, 2006
How Was Your Monday?
• Had a few false starts in our quest to expand staff and create seamless care for Jip, but by the weekend I figured the new group had come together nicely,
• got my hopes up during my usual 24-hour solo Sunday shift, thinking it was the last one I’d do for a while,
• then Jip was awake more than usual during the night,
• the new caregiver showed up half an hour late in the morning, sounding like the routine was still a little fuzzy in her mind,
• no problem, I said, because the other newcomer should be here any minute, you two can help each other fill in what you don’t recall,
• except that the other newcomer didn’t come, sounding a little sheepish on the phone when I reached her,
• perhaps because she remembered my telling her that if she saw any problems with the job that I wanted to know as soon as she knew so that I could plan,
• but in fact she had tried to let me know early, in the classic indirect way, by phoning experienced caregiver number one to say she was worried about back pain,
• unfortunately caregiver number one figured she’d wait until the morning to phone me, but then slept in, since she’s not working until Monday evening,
• so I got the message direct from the source,
• leaving me two choices,
• take the day off to help out around the edges,
• or come home to find her and Jip both raving,
• the boss was OK with my proposal to telecommute today
• which would have worked fine
• if only the construction noise hadn’t started on the floor below us
• or if only the monsoon hadn’t arrived the moment I hung out the laundry to dry
• or if only the agency hadn’t called to say they were sending over the fifth new person in ten days for training because the back pain was looking like a permanent concern,
• at which point Jip screamed that she didn’t want to talk to anyone except me from now on because she was sick of having to be nice to all these unfamiliar voices…
• got my hopes up during my usual 24-hour solo Sunday shift, thinking it was the last one I’d do for a while,
• then Jip was awake more than usual during the night,
• the new caregiver showed up half an hour late in the morning, sounding like the routine was still a little fuzzy in her mind,
• no problem, I said, because the other newcomer should be here any minute, you two can help each other fill in what you don’t recall,
• except that the other newcomer didn’t come, sounding a little sheepish on the phone when I reached her,
• perhaps because she remembered my telling her that if she saw any problems with the job that I wanted to know as soon as she knew so that I could plan,
• but in fact she had tried to let me know early, in the classic indirect way, by phoning experienced caregiver number one to say she was worried about back pain,
• unfortunately caregiver number one figured she’d wait until the morning to phone me, but then slept in, since she’s not working until Monday evening,
• so I got the message direct from the source,
• leaving me two choices,
• take the day off to help out around the edges,
• or come home to find her and Jip both raving,
• the boss was OK with my proposal to telecommute today
• which would have worked fine
• if only the construction noise hadn’t started on the floor below us
• or if only the monsoon hadn’t arrived the moment I hung out the laundry to dry
• or if only the agency hadn’t called to say they were sending over the fifth new person in ten days for training because the back pain was looking like a permanent concern,
• at which point Jip screamed that she didn’t want to talk to anyone except me from now on because she was sick of having to be nice to all these unfamiliar voices…
Friday, September 29, 2006
Sunday, September 24, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, September 22, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
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.
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.
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