Traffic has been backed up at an intersection near our place recently, thanks to a demonstration staged by farmers. I’m not clear about the precise complaint, but they’re determined to get results. They have camped on the sidewalk for a couple weeks straight.
Unlike protests of the past six months here, this struggle doesn’t make headlines, and the protestors don’t all dress alike. Yellow-shirted and red-shirted groups have made themselves scarce since Songkran. I’ve seen a few white t-shirts walking around with the words “Stop Hurting Thailand” printed in the colors of the flag.
Even though this motto may speak for the silent majority, by itself it won’t take care of the country’s troubles. The same words and design are posted on a big sign inside the Thai military barracks where I sometimes run, so already they appear to have been embraced by a faction that is associated with the status quo.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
A Full Day, Part 3
The kids’ bedtimes were approaching, so we said goodbye on the street. My phone rang again. Two other friends wondered which showing of Star Trek 2009 I wanted to meet them at. The movie is showing at dozens of theaters in Bangkok.
But when we met at the theater, Nick said we should choose another screen because the 8:00 show at that place was only for the luxury seats, which cost more than five times as much. We ran into the same problem at the 8:30 down the street. Happily, that part of Bangkok is so packed with malls that we were able to find a 9:00 show for 100 baht ($2.85).
My expectations for the movie were low. I’ve never been a Trekkie (I’m told that Trekker is actually the more respectful term). But I have to say it was pretty great. I’m kind of a sucker for any plot with a time warp in it.
Jip waited up for me. She nearly always does. Even when I tell her I’ll be home late and that she should feel free to fall asleep, she often wills herself to stay awake. When she hears my voice, she reports the latest news from the domestic front. In this case there weren’t many new headlines. She simply wanted to ask me what was the name of that baby who came to visit.
But when we met at the theater, Nick said we should choose another screen because the 8:00 show at that place was only for the luxury seats, which cost more than five times as much. We ran into the same problem at the 8:30 down the street. Happily, that part of Bangkok is so packed with malls that we were able to find a 9:00 show for 100 baht ($2.85).
My expectations for the movie were low. I’ve never been a Trekkie (I’m told that Trekker is actually the more respectful term). But I have to say it was pretty great. I’m kind of a sucker for any plot with a time warp in it.
Jip waited up for me. She nearly always does. Even when I tell her I’ll be home late and that she should feel free to fall asleep, she often wills herself to stay awake. When she hears my voice, she reports the latest news from the domestic front. In this case there weren’t many new headlines. She simply wanted to ask me what was the name of that baby who came to visit.
A Full Day, Part 2
Patama and Noi had to go. I ate breakfast. Jip’s caregiver made her some lunch. A few minutes later, Jip’s accupressurist/masseuse arrived. The phone rang. It was an American couple I know. They and their two young children are thinking of moving to our neighborhood from across town. We had already spoken about their coming by for a swim and maybe a meal at one of the nearby eateries. They were cruising our street, not sure of our exact address.
Thomas, aged four, headed straight in to the bedroom. He asked, “Why does that guy in the bed have that thing on his belly? What’s that stuff inside it?” He had been fooled by Jip’s short haircut. The thing on her belly was Jip’s urine bag, which normally sits under her shirt like a belt, but at that time was exposed while the accupressurist worked on her lower back.
The parents followed behind slowly. Before long the conversation turned to the daughter, Sophia (aged “zero,” according to her brother). Sophia had been in great spirits all afternoon. In the pool she had kicked up a storm. Later, on a carpet, she showed off the muscles that should have her crawling before this month is over. (She was born last August.)
The baby continued to gurgle happily while Jip asked about her. Jip likes kids. As a health educator in the refugee camps, Jip midwifed countless Cambodian babies. She eagerly accepted the offer to hold Sophia, and instantly declared that the girl felt to her to be about two years old. We decided that Jip’s sense of kids’ age was based on the Cambodian refugee children’s growth rates, rather than that of American expat kids.
The five of us went out for a meal on the corner. It was simple fare, but the dad was nearly squealing with excitement because that kind of storefront place is rarer in his part of Bangkok than in ours. He was even more delighted when the (tiny) bill arrived.
Thomas, aged four, headed straight in to the bedroom. He asked, “Why does that guy in the bed have that thing on his belly? What’s that stuff inside it?” He had been fooled by Jip’s short haircut. The thing on her belly was Jip’s urine bag, which normally sits under her shirt like a belt, but at that time was exposed while the accupressurist worked on her lower back.
The parents followed behind slowly. Before long the conversation turned to the daughter, Sophia (aged “zero,” according to her brother). Sophia had been in great spirits all afternoon. In the pool she had kicked up a storm. Later, on a carpet, she showed off the muscles that should have her crawling before this month is over. (She was born last August.)
The baby continued to gurgle happily while Jip asked about her. Jip likes kids. As a health educator in the refugee camps, Jip midwifed countless Cambodian babies. She eagerly accepted the offer to hold Sophia, and instantly declared that the girl felt to her to be about two years old. We decided that Jip’s sense of kids’ age was based on the Cambodian refugee children’s growth rates, rather than that of American expat kids.The five of us went out for a meal on the corner. It was simple fare, but the dad was nearly squealing with excitement because that kind of storefront place is rarer in his part of Bangkok than in ours. He was even more delighted when the (tiny) bill arrived.
A Full Day, Part 1
Yesterday began for me with a run in the neighborhood. I didn’t get out the door early enough. The heat slowed me down. I took a shortcut, circling back home 15 minutes sooner than I had expected to be done.
Two friends from work had called the night before, wondering if they could come over at 9 in the morning to read to Jip in English. Jip was pleased at the idea, even though she hadn’t met Patama and Noi before.
Before I left for my run, I sent my friends a text message, suggesting they delay by an hour. I didn’t think Jip would be ready. But when I got back I found she had hurried through breakfast because she was excited about the visitors. I wished I hadn’t sent the text.
Jip went ahead with her routine: toothbrushing, toileting, showering. The sweating from my run wouldn’t stop. I changed shirts three times. A friend from Chicago and I skyped, after not talking for over a year. We cut off the conversation when the doorbell rang.
Patama and Noi had been shopping. They brought bags of fruit. We chatted while Jip finished her shower. Sounds from the next room, a hard-edged banter with the caregiver, told me her mood had soured.
Jip lives pretty much in the present moment. So perhaps she was irritated by the caregiver’s efforts to move things along because of the guests. Or maybe the caregiver had gotten a phone call and had chosen to talk rather than explain she was working.
Whatever the reason, Jip was no longer interested in being read to. She wanted to dry off from her shower. I suggested she could wrap herself in a towel and say hello. She said, “no guests.” I knew from experience that those words really meant “there’s too much going on, I can’t process all of this at once.”
The visitors and I hung around in the kitchen, eating the fruit, until Jip was dressed. It was about 11:30. Jip asked my friends where they had graduated from. This question is common enough among Thais who meet each other for the first time. It helps establish where everybody fits in the social scheme of things. For Jip it’s also a way of determining who else she might know in common. Historically only a handful of schools in Thailand have offered nursing or medical degrees. Not surprisingly, they discovered three or four points of connection.
Two friends from work had called the night before, wondering if they could come over at 9 in the morning to read to Jip in English. Jip was pleased at the idea, even though she hadn’t met Patama and Noi before.
Before I left for my run, I sent my friends a text message, suggesting they delay by an hour. I didn’t think Jip would be ready. But when I got back I found she had hurried through breakfast because she was excited about the visitors. I wished I hadn’t sent the text.
Jip went ahead with her routine: toothbrushing, toileting, showering. The sweating from my run wouldn’t stop. I changed shirts three times. A friend from Chicago and I skyped, after not talking for over a year. We cut off the conversation when the doorbell rang.
Patama and Noi had been shopping. They brought bags of fruit. We chatted while Jip finished her shower. Sounds from the next room, a hard-edged banter with the caregiver, told me her mood had soured.
Jip lives pretty much in the present moment. So perhaps she was irritated by the caregiver’s efforts to move things along because of the guests. Or maybe the caregiver had gotten a phone call and had chosen to talk rather than explain she was working.
Whatever the reason, Jip was no longer interested in being read to. She wanted to dry off from her shower. I suggested she could wrap herself in a towel and say hello. She said, “no guests.” I knew from experience that those words really meant “there’s too much going on, I can’t process all of this at once.”
The visitors and I hung around in the kitchen, eating the fruit, until Jip was dressed. It was about 11:30. Jip asked my friends where they had graduated from. This question is common enough among Thais who meet each other for the first time. It helps establish where everybody fits in the social scheme of things. For Jip it’s also a way of determining who else she might know in common. Historically only a handful of schools in Thailand have offered nursing or medical degrees. Not surprisingly, they discovered three or four points of connection.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
H1N1 Comes to Thailand
The prime minister announced today Thailand’s first two cases of what’s being called here “New-DNA Flu 2009.” Both people already had recovered and gone home from the hospital. Lab results had just confirmed their strain matched the new human/pig/bird virus that has kept us quite busy at work these past two weeks.
H1N1’s arrival in Southeast Asia was inevitable, but politicians had been crossing their fingers that the country could dodge it. Nobody wants to give tourists another reason to stay away. Meanwhile, as we enter the time when seasonal flu usually peaks in Thailand, the scientists at my office are on the lookout for signs that New-DNA Flu 2009 has mixed with its cousin and reassorted to create a new-new strain.
H1N1’s arrival in Southeast Asia was inevitable, but politicians had been crossing their fingers that the country could dodge it. Nobody wants to give tourists another reason to stay away. Meanwhile, as we enter the time when seasonal flu usually peaks in Thailand, the scientists at my office are on the lookout for signs that New-DNA Flu 2009 has mixed with its cousin and reassorted to create a new-new strain.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Visakha Bucha
Today Thailand celebrates Visakha Bucha, the day when, as the story goes, Buddha was born, reached enlightenment, and passed away. The common thread to these events being impermanence, they are marked with candles, flowers, and incense—things that wither quickly.
At one temple I walked past today, worshippers blessed the central chedi using an ingenious pulley system. From a distance, it appeared that a large bird was flying over and over again to the top of the pagoda. (You might spot the bird just above the telephone wires in this fuzzy picture taken with my phone’s camera.)
Ducking through a gate for a closer look, I saw that the bird was made of metal. On a rope attached to the pulley, the bird trailed a bucket of water, which tipped its contents upon reaching the summit. Kids eagerly re-filled the bucket each time the bird
returned to earth, while their parents made merit with each “flight” by pushing small bills into a donation box.
I happen to be in Chiang Mai, taking advantage of the three-day weekend, the full moon, and the chance to catch up with some people I haven’t seen for too long. Nobody I know here wanted to join in the most devout observation of the day, a 10-kilometer climb up the side of the city’s famous mountain, starting at sunset and arriving at a classic monastery around 3 in the morning.
So I saved that stroll for another year, and instead met a friend just after dark for three circuits around Wat Suan Dok. We had lots of company there, of all ages. A sermon was being broadcast through loudspeakers, bells were jingling, and kids
were respectfully tapping at gongs. Yet the overall mood seemed to be one of silent reflection.
My friend pointed out that people in Bangkok don’t take time to celebrate Visakha Bucha. Perhaps they get stuck in traffic.
At one temple I walked past today, worshippers blessed the central chedi using an ingenious pulley system. From a distance, it appeared that a large bird was flying over and over again to the top of the pagoda. (You might spot the bird just above the telephone wires in this fuzzy picture taken with my phone’s camera.)Ducking through a gate for a closer look, I saw that the bird was made of metal. On a rope attached to the pulley, the bird trailed a bucket of water, which tipped its contents upon reaching the summit. Kids eagerly re-filled the bucket each time the bird
returned to earth, while their parents made merit with each “flight” by pushing small bills into a donation box.I happen to be in Chiang Mai, taking advantage of the three-day weekend, the full moon, and the chance to catch up with some people I haven’t seen for too long. Nobody I know here wanted to join in the most devout observation of the day, a 10-kilometer climb up the side of the city’s famous mountain, starting at sunset and arriving at a classic monastery around 3 in the morning.
So I saved that stroll for another year, and instead met a friend just after dark for three circuits around Wat Suan Dok. We had lots of company there, of all ages. A sermon was being broadcast through loudspeakers, bells were jingling, and kids
were respectfully tapping at gongs. Yet the overall mood seemed to be one of silent reflection.My friend pointed out that people in Bangkok don’t take time to celebrate Visakha Bucha. Perhaps they get stuck in traffic.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Respect for Caregivers
It’s been exactly a year since I last took a turn on the exhausting daytime caregiving shift. I’m still in awe of these women’s energy. I’m talking not only about the three women who continue to show up day after day and cheerfully meet Jip’s needs, but also about Jip herself, who goes nonstop from dawn to way past dusk.
Yesterday was Thailand’s (and most of the world’s) Labor Day. It’s not a national holiday, but everyone in this class-conscious society understands who should get the day off and who shouldn’t. At our household the understanding is that I’ll take care of Jip on May 1st unless somebody really wants the overtime. Last year that meant a 24-hour shift; this year I was relieved at 8pm.
And I needed relief. Jip kept me hopping with explanations of new techniques that the caregivers have perfected. I thought I had kept up with these breakthroughs simply by being around during the day on weekends, but of course it’s one thing to watch and another thing to do. We fell behind schedule and stayed there as Jip busily brushed, flossed, lathered, and dried her way through the morning and deep into the afternoon.
We skipped the resting time that normally follows lunch, mostly because lunch didn’t happen until nearly 4pm. When the night caregiver showed up to find that we still hadn’t completed Jip’s exercises, she just smiled and got ready to take over. Jip praised my efforts and said she was renewing my contract. I was just glad I had the weekend to recover.
Yesterday was Thailand’s (and most of the world’s) Labor Day. It’s not a national holiday, but everyone in this class-conscious society understands who should get the day off and who shouldn’t. At our household the understanding is that I’ll take care of Jip on May 1st unless somebody really wants the overtime. Last year that meant a 24-hour shift; this year I was relieved at 8pm.
And I needed relief. Jip kept me hopping with explanations of new techniques that the caregivers have perfected. I thought I had kept up with these breakthroughs simply by being around during the day on weekends, but of course it’s one thing to watch and another thing to do. We fell behind schedule and stayed there as Jip busily brushed, flossed, lathered, and dried her way through the morning and deep into the afternoon.
We skipped the resting time that normally follows lunch, mostly because lunch didn’t happen until nearly 4pm. When the night caregiver showed up to find that we still hadn’t completed Jip’s exercises, she just smiled and got ready to take over. Jip praised my efforts and said she was renewing my contract. I was just glad I had the weekend to recover.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Strunk and White Anniversary
The Elements of Style has reached its 50th birthday. Last week a friend sent an e-mail followed by one of those quotes that people sometimes use as signatures after their messages. Hers said,
I smiled at the quote, having come of age with Strunk and White, and having given away dozens of copies to young writers when I was teaching school.
But now I find that to my dismay that not everybody puts the little book on quite such a high pedestal as I have been used to doing. Or perhaps that the world has moved on.
The guest bloggers in a New York Times piece marking the anniversary say that The Elements of Style takes its own rules too seriously, and foists on readers the idea that there is such a thing as the one best style.
I continue to defend the book, especially for happy young readers, who often don’t know enough writing rules to be able to break them on purpose. For such writers Strunk and White serve as a sort of home base. Comfort food.
What Dorothy Parker probably knew and these bloggers have apparently forgotten is that we all start off wanting to be told what to do. After we finish going through puberty, or worshipping our coach/scoutmaster/pastor, or skimming the Lonely Planet Guide to whatever country we’re planning to visit, then we slowly branch out on our own. If our independence leads to mixed results, we can always return to our mentors.
“If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they're happy." -- Dorothy Parker
I smiled at the quote, having come of age with Strunk and White, and having given away dozens of copies to young writers when I was teaching school.
But now I find that to my dismay that not everybody puts the little book on quite such a high pedestal as I have been used to doing. Or perhaps that the world has moved on.The guest bloggers in a New York Times piece marking the anniversary say that The Elements of Style takes its own rules too seriously, and foists on readers the idea that there is such a thing as the one best style.
I continue to defend the book, especially for happy young readers, who often don’t know enough writing rules to be able to break them on purpose. For such writers Strunk and White serve as a sort of home base. Comfort food.
What Dorothy Parker probably knew and these bloggers have apparently forgotten is that we all start off wanting to be told what to do. After we finish going through puberty, or worshipping our coach/scoutmaster/pastor, or skimming the Lonely Planet Guide to whatever country we’re planning to visit, then we slowly branch out on our own. If our independence leads to mixed results, we can always return to our mentors.
Friday, April 24, 2009
State of Emergency Lifted
Today the Thai government announced an end to the 12-day ban on large gatherings, and to the detention of people suspected of inciting last week’s protests. The opposition had compared the prime minister’s tactics to those of Thailand’s nastier neighbors. The country’s former standing as a rising star in Asia has been tarnished more than ever.
In the past week several people have e-mailed me to ask what’s really going on with all the red and yellow shirts. Or as Jip says, why can’t people just start wearing orange and move on? I came across an analysis of the situation, written several weeks ago by a Thai academic. The writer oversimplifies the many-layered problems here, and below I’ve condensed his words further because some of what he wrote is already dated. But at least he offers a foundation for understanding the current stalemate:
We are faced with at least two major conflicts:
Conflict of goals: One side (Red shirt) wants a strong government that can deliver on policy promises; the other side (Yellow shirt) wants a weak government, because they think government is corrupt.
Conflict of means: One side (Red) believes that political conflict should be decided by election. The other side (Yellow) believes that the elections themselves are corrupted by money and by local influence.
… The Red is made up of rural-lower class, peasants and others who have benefited from the populist policies of the governments. The Yellow is urban-middle class who dislikes government corruption and doesn’t need the populist policies, but wants fairer deals in business and economics.
… The most recent election resulted in roughly 14-16 million for the Thaksin/Red side, 10-12 million for the Democrat Party/Yellow side. Red is popular in the North (Thaksin's area) and Northeast (poor and in need of development), while Yellow is popular in Bangkok and the South (high political awareness and the traditional Democrat's stronghold).
His sobering conclusion:
What these conditions imply is that violence could spread and civil war is not out of the question. Normally what evolves is either conflict between two groups of people and then the state machine intervenes, or conflict between two sides of the military and the people intervene. This time, however, people are divided and the state apparatus is also divided, therefore the prognosis is potentially quite dangerous.
In the past week several people have e-mailed me to ask what’s really going on with all the red and yellow shirts. Or as Jip says, why can’t people just start wearing orange and move on? I came across an analysis of the situation, written several weeks ago by a Thai academic. The writer oversimplifies the many-layered problems here, and below I’ve condensed his words further because some of what he wrote is already dated. But at least he offers a foundation for understanding the current stalemate:
We are faced with at least two major conflicts:
Conflict of goals: One side (Red shirt) wants a strong government that can deliver on policy promises; the other side (Yellow shirt) wants a weak government, because they think government is corrupt.
Conflict of means: One side (Red) believes that political conflict should be decided by election. The other side (Yellow) believes that the elections themselves are corrupted by money and by local influence.
… The Red is made up of rural-lower class, peasants and others who have benefited from the populist policies of the governments. The Yellow is urban-middle class who dislikes government corruption and doesn’t need the populist policies, but wants fairer deals in business and economics.
… The most recent election resulted in roughly 14-16 million for the Thaksin/Red side, 10-12 million for the Democrat Party/Yellow side. Red is popular in the North (Thaksin's area) and Northeast (poor and in need of development), while Yellow is popular in Bangkok and the South (high political awareness and the traditional Democrat's stronghold).
His sobering conclusion:
What these conditions imply is that violence could spread and civil war is not out of the question. Normally what evolves is either conflict between two groups of people and then the state machine intervenes, or conflict between two sides of the military and the people intervene. This time, however, people are divided and the state apparatus is also divided, therefore the prognosis is potentially quite dangerous.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Australian Inspection Tour
My trip down under succeeded as a scouting mission. The only downside was watching Thailand fall apart all week. Our good friend Margot happily helped me think through whether it would make sense for Jip to make the journey to Perth some day.
Jip’s favorite foods are available there. Handicap access isn’t an issue. It should be easy to find a time when the weather will cooperate. I even know now where we could hire local caregivers who speak Thai.
So that left the question of what would we do in Australia that Jip would enjoy, and that would be any different from the full and unvarying Bangkok routine that Jip would probably insist on following? Well, during this past week Margot and I beach walked, bird watched, crab netted, wine tasted, and souvenir shopped.
At a small island not far from Perth, people are visitors, birds are permanent residents, and the hourly boat can easily handle wheelchairs. Margot and I walked above the island’s beaches along a wooden boardwalk that passes right next to nests made by gulls, terns, pelicans, and even penguins. Jip would love that place.
In an estuary near Margot’s place we waded knee-deep and netted lots of crabs. Jip could sit on the dock and listen to us squeal each time we pulled one out of the water.
If Jip went to Australia we’d most likely skip the wine tasting and the souvenir shopping. We might not have time for those things anyway. Her routine would take up most of the morning. Margot, who is 80 but has more energy than most people half her age, goes to bed right after dinner (“I like my sleep”).
Looks like all Jip and I need to do is book tickets.
Jip’s favorite foods are available there. Handicap access isn’t an issue. It should be easy to find a time when the weather will cooperate. I even know now where we could hire local caregivers who speak Thai.
So that left the question of what would we do in Australia that Jip would enjoy, and that would be any different from the full and unvarying Bangkok routine that Jip would probably insist on following? Well, during this past week Margot and I beach walked, bird watched, crab netted, wine tasted, and souvenir shopped.
At a small island not far from Perth, people are visitors, birds are permanent residents, and the hourly boat can easily handle wheelchairs. Margot and I walked above the island’s beaches along a wooden boardwalk that passes right next to nests made by gulls, terns, pelicans, and even penguins. Jip would love that place.In an estuary near Margot’s place we waded knee-deep and netted lots of crabs. Jip could sit on the dock and listen to us squeal each time we pulled one out of the water.
If Jip went to Australia we’d most likely skip the wine tasting and the souvenir shopping. We might not have time for those things anyway. Her routine would take up most of the morning. Margot, who is 80 but has more energy than most people half her age, goes to bed right after dinner (“I like my sleep”).
Looks like all Jip and I need to do is book tickets.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Quieter?
Back in Bangkok after a week in Australia, I find that the government has extended the state of emergency declared last weekend. Early Friday morning, a machine gun ambush left in intensive care the guy who founded the yellow shirt movement (the group that shut down two governments and two airports in the last few years). This guy and his followers played no role in the most recent protests.
I had thought things might be quieter than this. My neighbors had e-mailed me, saying that the city seemed deserted. Indeed, last week’s roadblocks are gone, as are the soldiers brought in to break them up.
Clearly the standoff between Thailand’s competing factions is far from over. Lots of rural and urban poor, led from abroad by Thaksin, still resent the way that the middle class, military, and monarchists and managed to take over last December without a vote. A year before that, candidates favored by today’s red shirts had handily won an election.
Among the demands of the red shirts, who suspended their street protests Tuesday, is the prosecution of the ambushed yellow shirt leader for his role in the airport closures.
Jip’s caregivers laughingly reported that they had heard the sounds of the demonstrations from our balcony, and that when their shifts were over they had had no choice but to return home by taxi—buses weren’t running for a few days. The guard downstairs was maybe a bit more candid when I asked him how he’d been lately. “Songkran was no fun this year,” he said.
I had thought things might be quieter than this. My neighbors had e-mailed me, saying that the city seemed deserted. Indeed, last week’s roadblocks are gone, as are the soldiers brought in to break them up.
Clearly the standoff between Thailand’s competing factions is far from over. Lots of rural and urban poor, led from abroad by Thaksin, still resent the way that the middle class, military, and monarchists and managed to take over last December without a vote. A year before that, candidates favored by today’s red shirts had handily won an election.
Among the demands of the red shirts, who suspended their street protests Tuesday, is the prosecution of the ambushed yellow shirt leader for his role in the airport closures.
Jip’s caregivers laughingly reported that they had heard the sounds of the demonstrations from our balcony, and that when their shifts were over they had had no choice but to return home by taxi—buses weren’t running for a few days. The guard downstairs was maybe a bit more candid when I asked him how he’d been lately. “Songkran was no fun this year,” he said.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Bangkok Viewed from Down Under
Distressing images from Thailand continue to lead the evening news in Australia. The stories here focus on the midair u-turn made by Australia’s prime minister when he learned en route that the summit meeting he planned to attend had been canceled.
What I see, looking at the TV footage, is that the latest clashes between protesters and army happened just a few minutes from our place. Even though Jip and her caregivers assure me that they’re not affected, it’s difficult to watch these events from afar.
Perth is lovely, and our good friend has been a great host for the past few days. Yet in many ways I'd rather be back in Thailand at the moment.
What I see, looking at the TV footage, is that the latest clashes between protesters and army happened just a few minutes from our place. Even though Jip and her caregivers assure me that they’re not affected, it’s difficult to watch these events from afar.
Perth is lovely, and our good friend has been a great host for the past few days. Yet in many ways I'd rather be back in Thailand at the moment.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Big Face Loss
The Thai government suffered a major embarrassment this weekend when protesters shut 
down a summit meeting that was to have gathered leaders from around the region. This meeting had already been canceled once before out of the fear that it would be interrupted.
Three nights ago, the same group of demonstrators, most commonly called the red shirts, blocked key intersections around town, snarling traffic for hours. I got several phone calls at work from people who urged me to avoid my usual route home. They said the mob wasn’t violent, just inconvenient. After staying at the office a little later than usual, I took an alternate way and found the streets nearly empty. Word had gotten around.
The stated goal of the protesters is the “return of democracy to the people.” That phrase seems to really mean the return of former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who has been living in exile since being ousted in a coup over two and a half years ago. He visited Thailand briefly last year, but took off again when it seemed the courts were about to find him guilty on corruption charges. For the past few days he has been rallying his supporters via videophone.
On Friday afternoon I headed from work to the airport for a previously scheduled vacation in Perth, Australia. Our office was among the few that didn’t have the day off. Thursday evening, thinking it could encourage people to celebrate rather than protest, the government had declared that Thai New Year would start one day earlier than planned.
Many roads remain blocked, but highways to the airport were clear. I confess that while waiting in a slow check-in line, I glanced around now and then to be sure there were no red shirts preparing to shut down outgoing flights. (The yellow shirts, supporters of the current government, did just that about four months ago.)
But it appears the red shirts had their sights set on the summit meeting rather than the airport. Watching the news here in Australia, I feel discouraged that Thailand remains so divided and directionless regarding its political future. Both groups of protesters during the past six months have been good at talking about what they don’t want, but it’s unclear to me what they do want, other than simply to hold power.
down a summit meeting that was to have gathered leaders from around the region. This meeting had already been canceled once before out of the fear that it would be interrupted.Three nights ago, the same group of demonstrators, most commonly called the red shirts, blocked key intersections around town, snarling traffic for hours. I got several phone calls at work from people who urged me to avoid my usual route home. They said the mob wasn’t violent, just inconvenient. After staying at the office a little later than usual, I took an alternate way and found the streets nearly empty. Word had gotten around.
The stated goal of the protesters is the “return of democracy to the people.” That phrase seems to really mean the return of former prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, who has been living in exile since being ousted in a coup over two and a half years ago. He visited Thailand briefly last year, but took off again when it seemed the courts were about to find him guilty on corruption charges. For the past few days he has been rallying his supporters via videophone.
On Friday afternoon I headed from work to the airport for a previously scheduled vacation in Perth, Australia. Our office was among the few that didn’t have the day off. Thursday evening, thinking it could encourage people to celebrate rather than protest, the government had declared that Thai New Year would start one day earlier than planned.
Many roads remain blocked, but highways to the airport were clear. I confess that while waiting in a slow check-in line, I glanced around now and then to be sure there were no red shirts preparing to shut down outgoing flights. (The yellow shirts, supporters of the current government, did just that about four months ago.)
But it appears the red shirts had their sights set on the summit meeting rather than the airport. Watching the news here in Australia, I feel discouraged that Thailand remains so divided and directionless regarding its political future. Both groups of protesters during the past six months have been good at talking about what they don’t want, but it’s unclear to me what they do want, other than simply to hold power.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Reason Number 788 Why We’ve Got a Pretty Sweet Deal Going Here
I’ve been sent to the provinces for work reasons twice in the past two weeks. My job description rarely includes responsibilities outside Bangkok: in three years, I can count the number of trips on one hand.
Each time, I’ve had a spare hour or two between meetings, or while waiting for transportation back to the big city. My hosts could have found me a quiet corner where I could do some reading or plug in a laptop computer. But they never have.
Instead, they’ve always steered me to nearby massage shops. Further proof that this country has its priorities in the right order.
Each time, I’ve had a spare hour or two between meetings, or while waiting for transportation back to the big city. My hosts could have found me a quiet corner where I could do some reading or plug in a laptop computer. But they never have.
Instead, they’ve always steered me to nearby massage shops. Further proof that this country has its priorities in the right order.
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