Red Shirt Rally Day 37: Keeping Law and Order in Bangkok

When police commandos went to arrest the leaders of the Red Shirts at a Bangkok hotel, they observed one of them climbing out the hotel window in classic style (knotted bedsheets) and dropping to the street below.  Come on, man,  we're here to arrest you. Such disrespect for law and order. It was too humiliating for the Men in Khaki, especially since the protesters took two senior police commanders hostage. To show they are really, really, REALLY serious now, the government has appointed the army chief to head the state-of-emergency operations.

Red Shirt Rally Day 32: The Latest Twist

The Election Commission has announced that the ruling Democrat Party must be dissolved for the alleged failure to report campaign contributions from a large corporation. If the Constitution Court concurs, then Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva would be out of a job. In fact, his government could be tossed out. If so, this would be the second time it has happened to a sitting Prime Minister in the last two years. In 2008, Somchai Wongsawat lost the job after the Court ruled against his People Power Party for alleged vote buying. At the time, he was also facing a political impasse because the Yellow Shirts (the anti-government protesters of the day) were his most vocal opponents, having occupied the two airports and Government House.

After the Red Shirt protests turned deadly last weekend, the protesters have declared their demand Yubsapha! (Dissolve parliament now!) is non-negotiable. The victims of the violence are martyrs and their cause is just; they cannot waste their blood by negotiating with the government.  If the timing of the EC decision is appalling, well, it may be an indicator that the Prime Minister has lost key political support.  These events have called into question Abhisit's ability to control the situation, even to bring it to a peaceful resolution. Dissolving the Democrat Party, rather than parliament,  may even be viewed as a solution to the current impasse. If it seems extreme, well, political winds are fickle.

Red Shirt Rally Day 31: Endgame?

I want to reassure everyone that we are safe and that we are fine. The demonstrations are taking place in the shopping district of lower Sukhumvit Road where it becomes Ploenchit Road,  as well as in Old Bangkok. A friend of mine who lives in that old part of the city is supposed to fly out to the States tonight. She doesn't know whether the roads will be open.

An estimated 15 people have died in clashes on the streets between the government soldiers and the Red Shirt protesters. Hundreds have been injured.

I was here in May 1992 when soldiers fired real bullets at unarmed protesters, causing dozens of deaths. Are there parallels? Certainly. The battle lines were and are ideological. But class lines have been drawn this time around. What lessons have been learned (or not learned) since those terrible events? That is for discussion in a calmer time, for the future.

Read Shirt Rally Day 30: Attack and Counter-Attack

It has been a game of attack and retreat, counter-attack and retreat. Neither the Red Shirts nor the government will give an inch.  The government closed the Red Shirts' television station. The Red Shirts attacked the station and took it back. The government pushed the Reds out. All the fun seems to have gone out of the demonstrations, no more flag waving, clappers and drums. The Nation reports that troops have fired rubber bullets at the protesters and the protesters responded by firing real bullets, injuring several troops. Who will gain the upper hand is now deadly contested.

Red Shirt Rally Day 22: A Red Easter

If you've lived here long enough, then you've seen the temples and monuments, so there are really only two things left to do in Bangkok: eat and shop. For the last three weeks, though, most Bangkok residents have been entertaining second thoughts about shopping and eating out. It's something we're not used to doing. It's forcing us to find unfamiliar ways to entertain ourselves. Like exercising. Or cooking at home. I tell you, it's unfair. My inalienable right to shop till I drop and dine heartily at restuarants has been interrupted by the red tide of protests.

Last night we didn't go to the Easter Vigil because the Red Shirts decided yesterday to occupy the business district near the church, forcing shopping malls in the area to close down. Since superb restaurants are in the shopping malls, that ended any notion of celebrating the end of Lent with a succulent glazed ham. 

The Red Shirts repeated their blood-letting rituals and ceremoniously poured the red stuff at Government House. Afterwards, men in haz-mat suits came out to clean up. It is telling when one person's symbolic act is another's inconvenience. That has been the whole sorry consequence of the protests starting with the Yellow Shirts' infamous 2008 occupation of  Government House and the two airports.

Since both the government and the protesters have tried and failed at negotiating an end to the stalemate, there is no telling how or when the protests will end. We just might get used to not shopping and eating out whenever we feel like it. One thing is for sure, though:  we'll all be a lot healthier and richer when this rally is over.

Interlude with Wildlife

During dinner at Steak Lao, AJ casually announced that there is a skink in the kitchen at home. He said that he had heard Gigi barking like mad and later, around noon, when he went into the kitchen, he surprised it. It was black and had two vertical stripes and a very long tail. A skink is about two feet long from pointy nose to tail. It sounded like the same visitor, or a near relative at least, that came inside our house several years ago.  Feeling a large lizard in the house was not an urgent matter, AJ puttered around the house for almost an hour. Then he locked up and went to the club to workout.

I don't need to describe my reaction. Andy was puzzled, Are you angry? Not, I said irritably. AJ pointed out, reasonably, The thing is more afraid of us than we are of it.

After dinner, Andy went back to the motor show at BITEC. Like AJ, he felt this was not his area of expertise.  But how do you get a skink out of the house?  The first time, I left the front door ajar and poured flour on the door sill. Then I went away. An hour later, slither tracks in the flour told me the creature had left the premises. So, AJ and I came home to a dark house to check on the whereabouts of our house guest. AJ turned on the lights inside.  I called Gigi,  put on her leash, and led her into the house. If the skink was in the house, Gigi would be sure to let us know. That's what she must have been barking at earlier when she had flushed it out of hiding and it ran into the house. If she found it, I was hoping to stop her from killing it by controlling the leash. No dead mutilated skinks in my house. 

Gigi calmly toured the kitchen where AJ last saw the skink. She padded around the laundry area, poked her nose in the bathroom, ignored the living room, then mounted the stairs. She wandered into the bedrooms. Like taking a long pull on a mug of ice cold beer,  Gigi took a long sniff of my sweater, my pillow, the chairs where AJ and I sit, and AJ's comforter. She completely ignored anything of Andy's. Quirky dog.  I quickly realized the skink had slipped out before AJ locked up the house and went out. AJ inquired anxiously, are you sure it's gone? I said, if the skink was still in the house, Gigi wouldn't be this relaxed;  I've seen her in prey mode before. The Mutt must have a Thai ridgeback barking up her bloodline. She's a purebred soi dog. A blueblood mongrel. Silly Mutt.

Red Shirt Rally Day 20: Political Deadlock

The Bangkok Post reports that the negotiations between the government and the Red Shirt leadership is deadlocked. They agree on one thing: calling new elections. But they do not agree on the time line. The Red Shirts want parliament dissolved in 15 days; the government says that's too soon and recommends new elections in 9 months.

It's hard to say how this will all end. Time describes it as the "classic class struggle." Indeed, we are stuck in the modernist mode of viewing the world in terms of either/or and neither/nor.

Red Shirt Rally Day 17: Dialogue

On Thai TV today, the prime minister and two advisors met with the Red Shirt leadership. Though they sat two feet across a table from each other, the ideological divide is wider and deeper. It's too soon to expect any resolution but at least they are talking.

Red Shirt Rally Day 15: A Bomb Scare

We had a bomb scare this afternoon at Piyarom.

I saw two policemen casually walking towards the entrance from the lobby, just as I was going up to the Fitness Pavilion at 5:30 this afternoon. They didn't look anxious.  I shrugged it off and forgot about it as I went to do my workout. After all, it's more important to tone up the flabby bits. 

We had dinner at Yentafo in the club's shopping mall. Tried to go vegetarian--it's Lent, after all. And I only ate 1/3 cup of rice. I felt dessert was due and shared iteem boran  with Andy and AJ. This is "old-fashioned ice cream" or coconut ice cream on a sweet bun with sticky rice, peanuts, red beans, and toddy palm seeds. Afterwards, AJ and I went to Tops Supermarket to pick up some groceries and Andy went to the motor show. Religion and capitalism. Two mutually exclusive ideas though a lot of capital was made in the promotion of religion. However, politics is another flashpoint in these parts.

Andy called and said there was a bomb scare at the club.  As AJ and I drove out of the parking lot we saw two police pickup trucks parked out front that weren't there before. One of them said "bomb squad"--in Thai, so it was just as well I couldn't read it.

Andy said he had asked what it was all about. After all,  security around the club is decent. The club uses a fingerprint identification system for members, and to get into the club compound, cars have to pass through security at the gate. Andy said the club had received a bomb threat via e-mail. Can't be too serious, right? Must be a prank, right?

Red Shirt Rally Day 12: How will it end?

More important, when will it end?

There's talk now of the government sitting down at the table with the Red Shirt leadership. However, the anti-government leadership is fractured. With one radical holdout saying, no discussion, this leader is sticking to the group's original demand that the PM dissolve Parliament and call for new elections. 

One of the farang teachers wore a red t-shirt today. It was a mere fashion statement, but it goes to show how colors here can have such significance, even for the unwary. This week's Time magazine has an article explaining the color codes in Thailand. Find out why men wear pink!

Red Shirt Rally Day 9: How we braved the rally and went to Rengaya

The Red Shirts decided to have a mobile rally today. They left their "heavenly" headquarters at Phan Fa (Beyond the Sky) Bridge and drove around the city. It was as if Songkran (New Year) had come early. Pick up trucks and taxi cabs roamed the city loaded with smiling flag-waving demonstrators. There were drums, music, and tambourines; a coordinated Songkran celebration without the water. The color of the day was the ubiquitous red. It almost seemed spontaneous.

At the intersection of Rama IV and Silom this was the scene at 6 o'clock this evening. Andy parked the car in the Dusit Thani Hotel and we used the skybridge to walk over to the other side of Silom. We then walked the remaining 4 blocks to Rengaya, a Japanese yakinori (barbecue) restaurant in Thaniya Plaza in the Patpong area. It was practically empty, and so was the Plaza. The merchants in and around Bangkok must be hurting.

Tomorrow is Cheng Meng the Chinese Day of the Dead. How many of the up-country demonstrators will stay in the city now is the question. The estimates have fallen to 50,000 from 80,000 people on Day 9 of the anti-government rally. How do they know this? The Nation  newspaper helpfully reports that crowd size is calculated by the number of square meters multiplied by 4--apparently that's how many Thai people can fit into one square meter, assuming they are standing up, of course.

Red Shirt Rally Day 5: Bloody Wednesday

There was blood spilled on Bangkok sidewalks today.

The anti-government Red Shirts collected blood donated by the protesters. Then they poured it on the sidewalk outside the Democrat Party headquarters. If this sounds like voodoo, well, it is.  To understand this ceremonious blood-letting is to understand the kind of magic the Red Shirts were trying to invoke, and the motivation behind it.

It is a kind of magical thinking, the magical thinking of the desperate and the disenfranchised who want the power of instant redress, to force regret from the lips of their enemies, and to return honor to their names. Yet, it seems such a criminal waste, all that blood. Blood is life, after all, and blood transfusions saved Titi's life even though they couldn't cure his cancer.

The protesters pouring away their blood is a symbolic act. It doesn't mean disregard for life but certainly they have made a graphic point that the government, at the very least, belittled and disregarded their voices. Could they have accomplished their aims in some less graphic manner? Could there have been a win-win outcome for both government and anti-government forces? Both sides need to sit down at a table and talk about their differences. There are bound to be some commonalities.

Red Shirt Rally Day 4: Bizarre Newsbytes

How does a protest move through the traffic-choked streets of Bangkok?

Slowly.

Is it still a protest if you're stuck in traffic? 

According to The Nation the Red Shirts have issued a dramatic ultimatum. Dissolve the House or blood will be spilled. They meant it they would collect blood from protesters and on Tuesday, pour it in front of Democrat Party Headquarters, Government House, and the Prime Minister's residence.   

Red Shirt Rally Day 3: The Red Tide

The Red Shirts are comin'.

For days, the newspapers published routes to avoid. I stocked up the pantry and filled up the car with gas. 

Last night Andy and I ventured out to Wat Tat Thong, between Sukhumvit 71 and 63,  for a funeral.  On the way, Andy tuned in to the Thai traffic station jaw saw roi, where people can call in traffic reports. One man reported that over 100 cars blocked the Bangna-Srinakarin intersection.

The Red Shirts are here.

An English-language newspaper reported this morning that 80,000 demonstrators flooded Rajdamnern Avenue, where many government buildings are located. The Red Shirt leadership says they are prepared to stay seven days. Four days at least. It's like having unwelcome guests in your house. You can't tell them to get out because you're too polite to say so. 

Go home. Please. Somebody, turn out the lights when you leave.

Red Shirt Rally Day 2: Hype and Disillusionment

Anticipation is sometimes bigger than the event itself.

Yesterday's pro-Thaksin Red Shirt rally fizzled out. According to the newspapers, less than 7,000 people, far less than the anticipated number of demonstrators came to Bangkok. From an office tower on Silom Road that overlooks Lumpini Park, a witness said the police in the park outnumbered the Red Shirts.

All I know is that traffic was good since a lot of people stayed off the roads. Pundits say this (non)event  is a simple test of Thaksin's rallying power. He's fond of portraying himself as the self-made anti-elitist, despite his family background and his billions. Unfortunately, it's a tad awkward to hold a rally for democracy so close to a court conviction for abuse of power. However, those in the know are warning that this is all a prelude to the "real rally" on Sunday.

In other words, don't count the old boy out. Yet.

Red Shirt Rally Day 1: While the citizens were marching for democracy

Today, there is no school. Today my baking obsession converges with Lent and a political rally. It's Friday and I'd like to observe Lent by being virtuously vegetarian. Meanwhile, the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship or UDD, alias the Red Shirts, have made other plans for this day without consulting the residents of Bangkok,  but which involve us nevertheless.  They are converging on the city from the provinces to protest the Supreme Court's judgment against Thaksin. Late last month, the Court ruled that half of his fortune was ill-gotten profit while he was prime minister. Because of the rallies, school has been cancelled. I'm also homebound. For a change, the protesters are actually going to be marching through my end of Sukhumvit Road so the danger of violence along the route is very real. As Lent now coincides with the exercise of the democratic right to assemble,  I baked this variation on Stilton Bacon Scones, UDDerly Scrumptious Scones for Lent. (Forgive the bad pun.)

This digital recipe card customized with Smilebox

Spaghetti Coup d'État

Living in Thailand, an essential survival skill is adaptability. A case in point is my first coup d'état. It was February 1991 and Chatchai was just overthrown. I ran out of cooking gas and the shops weren't selling any, apparently on the principle that housewives might be tempted to make bombs out of fish sauce. My mother-in-law said starchily, you should have stocked up. The minute I knew it was a coup, I sent the driver to the gas station to fill up the gas tank. Oh, well, I said, meekly,  can I borrow your electric skillet? I managed to survive that coup and two more coups after that. In the process I learned that a cook needs to be nimble. A good lesson learned regardless of the political situation.

It's March 2010, 19 years after my first coup,  and 16 prime ministers later, and I'm facing another domestic crisis. In the stores, sugar is fast disappearing from the shelves, a sure sign, not of a coup to come, but of a price hike in the making. (In the background, the Red Shirts are waiting to assemble this weekend.) I have stocked 3 kg of superfine sugar in my pantry so I can keep baking for Cake Mondays. With a sugar shortage looming, I will have to hunt for low-sugar recipes.  Adding to the kitchen challenges is the heat of the Thai summer. It was  93 degrees today, and I'm crazy to cook in a hot kitchen. Anyway, come heat or sugar shortage, we must eat. For dinner, today, I made our favorite marinara sauce--with two adjustments. The guys balk at anything meatless so I added meatballs and sausages to the sauce. But cooking it requires about 25 minutes of standing in front of a hot stove (and oven while the meatballs were baking). If you can't stand the heat...!

 

Making the marinara sauce begins with cooking onions, tomatoes, and garlic (I never do what the recipe says with garlic. I use a free hand.). While it was cooking, I made the meatballs. I seasoned 1/2 pound ground chicken with a tablespoon of Italian seasoning and about 1/4 cup of Parmesan cheese.  I scooped the meat onto a tray sprayed with cooking oil and popped the meatballs in a 400˚F oven.

 

The meatballs took about 10 minutes to cook up. Meanwhile, I set a griddle on the stove and grilled the sausages. I used garlic and pepper sausage since I couldn't find sweet Italian sausages in casings. In Bangkok, one must improvise or dinner doesn't make it to the table.

 

Glen gave me this Braun blender when I moved to Illinois and it has been an essential part of my kitchen equipment ever since.  It still works fine attached to the Franzus converter that I got when we came to Thailand in 1989. I added the reserved tomatoes and processed the sauce in eight two-second bursts to make it chunky. 

 

I returned the sauce to the skillet and added the meatballs and sliced sausages.

And there you have it!  Spaghetti with marinara sauce, meatballs, and sausage.

This recipe for marinara sauce came from ATK. It cooks up in less than 30 minutes but tastes like it's been cooking all day!

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Domestic Bliss and Other Torments

Dear Ones:

After a month away it's been a sweet homecoming. The humidity greeted us with a soft wet kiss when we emerged from the terminal building at Suvarnabhumi. Of course, we immediately cranked up the air conditioner and praised the powers that be (EGAT) for a steady supply of electricity. Coming home has also been fraught with (un)foreseen expenses. Since AJ is taking a year off from Hunter College, we signed him up for health insurance as well as got him a one-year membership at our health club. It was cheaper than paying by the day. Gigi was glad to see us. The Silly Mutt agreed that AJ was worth a second sniff. And with that, his acceptance in the household was cemented; she no longer barks at him. As we went about our errands picking up the threads of our former routines, emergencies always happen, especially when you have somewhere else to be.

Yesterday morning, AJ and I were going out to the doctor's so I wanted to prepare a light breakfast for him and clean up a few things in the kitchen. I touched the kitchen faucet lever. The whole apparatus came off in my hand!

Water gushed in a great arc out of the wall missing the sink and spewing onto the kitchen floor, flowing out into the dining room and through the living room right out the front door. I looked under the arc of water, under the sink, to find the shut off valve. There wasn't any. I panicked and rushed out to the soi to try and shut off the main. But there were too many valves. Finally, I did what I should have done at first. I phoned Andy. He said to shut off the pump. I rushed back inside to do as he said. The deluge immediately dried up. That done, he directed me to the shut off valve; it was next to the washing machine. In a previous Letter from Thailand, you may remember that this isn't the first time the faucet broke off from the wall. Lesson learned at the time: never trust Thai plumbing. I vaguely remembered Andy telling me then that he had installed a valve. I had always assumed it was under the kitchen sink. 'Nother lesson learned: Always get visual confirmation.

I put rugs around the breakfront and the piano to protect the two most valuable pieces of furniture from water damage. Then AJ and I left the house to keep that doctor's appointment. Clean up would have to come later. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the open gate. I had forgotten to shut it when I came back in. Where was Gigi? I called her. Much to my relief, she trotted inside when she heard her name. One thing I've never been able to do is to teach the Silly Mutt to stay inside even though the gate is wide open.

The happy postscript to this is that Andy found a plumber who installed a new faucet--wouldn't you know it, it's the same model. More Adventures in Thailand for sure. Andy called me at the doctor's to tell me it was all done and that he had even mopped up the floors. He's such a sweetheart!

But this is Thailand and the adventures continue. Today I went to renew my driver's license. It was the usual bureaucratic tangle lasting three and a half hours.

First I had to produce my passport and my work permit as well as copies of said documents. I was given a number and directed to... watch a video. It was all in Thai, which wasn't helpful at all. As I watched the video, it dawned on me that I had to take a test for color blindness, reaction time, peripheral vision, and depth perception. My number was called. I was given back my papers and directed to this little room where I joined a long line of applicants to take the tests. As we shuffled from station to station, a functionary would sign our papers. At the last station, the papers got the Official Stamp of Approval an impressive four times. I was told to go back to the first window.

Behind the counter of the window, I joined a group of Asians and farangs watching a video on the rules of the road. I could barely hear the soundtrack, but it was in English and so were the subtitles. I realized we must be the Non-Thai Group. I had missed the first six parts (there were sixteen parts altogether) but it didn't seem to matter. After about 30 minutes, we started getting bored. I wondered if the Thai had to endure a similar video torment. If anybody needed to watch this it's the Thai for they are among the worst drivers in the world. The video went on for another 20 minutes. Surely there was going to be a test! There wasn't. Unaccountably, the farangs were disappointed. Ridiculous, they muttered. What was that for? I thought, did you really want to take a test?

I was given back my papers. My attendance at the video was duly noted. I was assigned a new number, and told to go wait at another window where I eventually got my new license. Getting it was the anti-climax. Like Christmas, the anticipation is always better than the holiday. My number was 128. When I sat down the number counter read: 96. By the time the counter read 128 I felt sorry for the poor man in front of me. He was holding a ticket that said 197. Lesson learned: Bureaucracy will get to you eventually.

Walk good,
Jo Anne

Kanchanaburi Diary

Monday, February 23, 2009
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
Day 1 Week Without Walls

The morning was hot and still; summer had come early. It was the start of our Week Without Walls trip with the Middle School students. Six teachers were their chaperones. We packed them into two buses and headed off down the highway towards Kanchanaburi in western Thailand. It being the dry season it hasn’t rained since last October. All around us the fields and the hills are yellow and brown and thirsty.

Meandering through the province is the River Kwae [kway], mispronounced “kwai” in the movie The Bridge On the River Kwai. Kanchanaburi is best known to World War II history buffs as the site of the memorial for the Burma-Siam Railway, also known as the Death Railway. At the Hellfire Pass Museum we learned about the human cost. About 60,000 Prisoners of War, mostly from Britain and Australia were involved in building the Railway. Of that number 16,000 died, mostly of malnutrition and disease. Trying to grasp the inhumanity of war was difficult for my seventh grade ESL students. Here are excerpts from their Kanchanaburi Journals.

Tom:
They died because they did more work and they eat two times a day. They worked everyday [so] they finish in 20 months. Before they finish, many, many people died.

Pop:
Today at Hellfire Pass Museum I see many pictures of many thin men. They died because of sickness, not enough food, and they got tortured to death. They have to work 18 hours a day.

What is less well-known, probably because their stories haven’t yet been told, is that there were 200,000 Asian laborers here that the Japanese army conscripted to work on the railroad. Called Romusha, they were supposed to be paid for their work but few were paid at all. Some 90,000 Romusha died building the Railway. Robert's dad once told me his brother had come to work on the Railway. Afterwards, he never saw or heard from him again. In stark terms, a quarter of the Romusha and the soldiers died.

Nicky:
Many Asian [workers] and Allied [soldiers] died. I learn how the war started and what damage the Japanese did.

Boss:
That tells me to be better because if I don’t try to work hard I will be a person who have a lot of problems.

Blaming the Japanese is understandable. But many Buddhists here believe that when bad things happen to you it is because of your past actions, either in this life or another. So the victim is never entirely blameless. It is a concept alien to Westerners used to the idea of laying blame and accepting responsibility.

As we walked down to the rail bed in the hot afternoon sun, we stumbled over the uneven white stones and the stubborn remnants of railroad ties. Hellfire Pass is surrounded by parched hills, the trees as brittle as sun-bleached bones. Through the silence of the hills and the still air clinging to the cut rock, we can almost hear the faint chink of metal on rock, and the thin distant cries of the men that worked here in 1942-43. In the hazy daylight the place is hallowed, a sacred place of memory. Always sensitive to atmospheres, the students automatically lowered their voices. The keepers of memory had beaten back the jungle from the track, but in the middle of the rail bed grew a tall saprok tree, an Indian olive, its thin canopy in the dazzling sky, its roots high enough to form an arch. Nicha climbs in and poses for her picture. Did one of the Romusha or a POW ever find shelter beneath the roots of a saprok? Past and present seem to come together in this place.

That evening we watched The Bridge on the River Kwai in the Sai Yoke conference room. The kids, who are used to the fast pace and movement of music videos, think Kung Fu Panda is a cool movie. To them, this was a boring war movie with no action. They were restless, like a head of steam building with nowhere to go. Some fell asleep, others talked in low voices. Being language learners, much of the dialogue was incomprehensible, even with subtitles. As young as they are, the concept that war overturns principles and corrupts a person's moral judgment was beyond their understanding. At 9:30, we switched off the DVD and said it was bedtime. They cheered for their release, as any prisoner would.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
Day 2 Week Without Walls

Middle School students have a lot of energy. They do not waste it, nor do they hoard it. Living in the moment, they embrace activity. The Ninja Camp, an obstacle course, is perfect for these tween-agers. There was a truly surreal moment when 12 kids in a tub paddled around the corner of the water course warbling Christmas Carols, the only English songs they knew. The most amazing thing was watching them being forced by each obstacle to work together--they had to, in order to succeed. If only I could build that into my lessons...

Boss:
It made me know that we have our team but [if] we don’t help each other, [then] somebody will fall down into the water. And if we don’t think what we gonna do [then] we will fall too.

In the afternoon, we took a ride on the track that had originally been laid by the prisoners and the laborers for the Burma-Siam Railway. It no longer goes from Bangkok to Rangoon but at Namtok we picked it up. The train rattled out of the steep green River Kwae valley and up into the hot dry Central Plains. The farmers grow tapioca there. They are funny looking skinny bowlegged stalks with a green hat of leaves on top. The drought had seared the landscape. Everyone felt thirsty just looking at it.

That afternoon, the train was filled with 48 middle school students and their teachers, plus a group of depressed red-faced farang tourists looking hot and disappointed. The train was a very basic affair, with no amenities. That is, no air conditioning. The heat poured in the windows. Walking up and down the aisles, vendors sold snacks and refreshments. The kids scooped up the water and the soda as soon as the bucket appeared filled with cold drinks.

The buses were waiting at Thakilen station for us. The kids streamed off the train and headed for the air-conditioned buses the way water runs downhill. Mars, our Supremissima (logistics is her specialty), made everyone—regardless of how hot, tired, and sweaty—get off the bus for a head count. She announced, We are NOT coming back for anyone! Satisfied that we had not misplaced a single precious person, she allowed the students to re-board the buses. There was a good deal of grumbling as we headed back to the hotel.

We had dinner on the patio that the sun had baked all day. The tiles radiated heat in the still evening air. The electric fans stirred the heavy stillness. Incredibly, we had scheduled a campfire on a boiling night to sing songs and play games for one hour. We slapped on insect repellent but no self-respecting mosquito would go near that blazing fire. It amazes me how cheerfully the Thai go on with life and fun when all around them, life is cranky because of the heat.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
Day 3 Week Without Walls

Traditionally, the Week Without Walls includes a stint of community service. Today, the students planted trees. The hotel provided a truck that took us up the hill to a field. We were given trowels, watering cans, and treelings to plant. It was too simple. The kids had to do more than just dig, insert plant in hole, cover hole with dirt, then water. We teachers decided that they had to do more than that. To do community service, one must break a sweat. We decided the kids would pick up trash at the Erawan Falls today.

Boss:
If we don't have enough trees in our world everybody will be so hot.

The Erawan Falls are the source of the Kwae Yai [Big Kwae] which joins the Kwae Noi [Small Kwae] at the town of Kanchanaburi. The entire hike is about 1.7 km from the base of the falls to the top. The Falls have seven levels, each one more difficult to get to than the last, allowing for a crude track and stairs in various stages of disrepair. As it has been everyday since we got here, the air was breathless and heavy with the heat. We looked forward to refreshing dips in the cool blue water.

Nicky:
It was very fun to run with my friend. We race each other to climb to the next level.

To preserve the environment, we weren’t allowed to take any food with us past level two. We were allowed to take bottles of water, though, provided we left a Baht 10 deposit at the ranger’s station for each bottle we took up to the Falls. We quickly ate a picnic lunch at stage two, which we decided was our base camp, then hurried off to begin our hike. Our students, used to having maids and mothers pick up after them, left the remnants of their picnic where they ate, much to the annoyance of the teachers.

Tom:
Me and Boss went to [level] seven. It is the top one.

On the way back down, we had the kids pick up trash along the pathways. Despite the ban on food, there was still a good amount of trash to be collected; for example: drinking straws, candy wrappers, the cellophane seals of water bottles, and water bottle caps. Unfortunately, since the students hadn’t done a good job of cleaning up their picnic site; it was raided by a monkey troop. The monkeys brazenly ripped open the potato chips, ate the fried chicken with gusto, and treated themselves to fruit for dessert. They ignored the humans who tried to shoo them away and generally behaved like ill-mannered guests at a dinner party. It was absurdly human-like behavior and quite unnerving.

Boss:
When we go up [the Falls] if we don't help each other [then] somebody will get very hurt. And it made me know about how to help one another. Like when somebody can't go up on the high rock I help them.

After dinner that evening, the students entertained themselves and us with Thai karaoke songs. Most of the teachers didn’t understand a word but the students sang and waved and swayed with the music, all happy to be in the moment among friends. They were free to speak Thai, with no admonitions for once to "Speak English!" That left most teachers and the few Japanese and Korean students looking on quizzically. It was a glimpse into teen culture, exclusive and exclusionary, even for a teen.

Thursday, February 26, 2008
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
Day 4, Week Without Walls

Instead of boarding a bus today, we walked down to the edge of the Kwae Noi, the small green river that flows through the trees outside my window. There we boarded two pontoon rafts that were tied up to the pier. Two long-tailed boats towed us out into the channel where we chugged upriver to the Lawa Cave. The trip up-river was cool and refreshing. Even this close to the river, I noticed some bamboo were dead. Pinky, our hotel guide, said that it was the end of their life cycle. Every 60 years they flower and die. I saw a beautiful tree with pink flowers that leaned far over, as if drinking deeply from the river. It is called pak goom and it is a local delicacy. The leaves are first steeped in water to release their sour flavor. The sour water is mixed with pounded chilies to make a paste that is eaten with rice.

Nicky:
I have an accident in the cave. Somebody told me to walk fast so I fell down.

We docked at a rickety pontoon pier that reminded me of the "fatal rafts" at the Ninja Camp. I half-expected to be dumped into the river at any moment. We climbed a steep flight of steps to the landing stage where there was a shop to buy water, snacks, and souvenirs. The students milled around the counter getting their water. After a few minutes, we herded them up another steep flight of steps to the cave. It was dimly lighted inside, and the gravel floor was uneven and slippery. It smelled strongly of ammonia from bat excrement. Pinky bumped her head on a low-hanging stalactite. Nicky slipped and bruised his right arm, which he played for all the sympathy he could get. Curiously, it never bothered him during mealtimes but he groaned gustily when writing his daily reflection.

After lunch, we set off for Phu Tha Khien School on the grounds of a temple about 5 minutes from the hotel. Their head teacher told us that the children are also international students because they are not Thai. Phu Tha Khien is a pre-school for the local community of Mon and Burmese. Ironically, our kids call themselves international but most of them do speak Thai. We brought games to play with the children and afterwards, donated them to the school. The children sang for us.

Boss:
I like this week the most. I learn how to be a team. But when we play football we are not a team.


Then it was on to another school, Phu Toei, where most of the hotel staff children attend. We brought books and school supplies for them. The children here ranged in age from kindergarten to age 12. We broke up into small groups to play games with the children. Our middle school boys said their boys were really good at soccer. They received quite a drubbing; 4-0.


Talent show night. The kids entertained us with a northeastern folk dance, reader’s theater, an anti-fashion show, and dances from their favorite pop music videos. Even my boys were persuaded to dance. The best part was the eighth grade Thai class's performance of Romeo and Juliet using a script they wrote themselves. Of course, it was a chance for the eighth graders to play dress up. The girls wore heels and party frocks. The boys wore suits. The nice thing is that everyone knows the story of Romeo and Juliet. The star- crossed lovers have been at cross-purposes for centuries but I believe none have been at cross-cultural purposes until tonight. The eighth graders brought the Bard to Kanchanaburi.

In the introduction, the narrator modestly protested the play would not be exciting. It was not to be. When Juliet found out she was going to be married off to “Count Paris” she bawled and sniveled loudly. Her tears couldn’t move a crocodile much less her parents. So Juliet tried a new strategy. She told her mother she was in love with someone else. After expressing some concern about her daughter’s poor choice in men, Mom assured Juliet that she would speak to Dad. Whereupon Juliet said gratefully, “Thanks, Mom!” as if she had just received a big raise in her allowance. But, failing to get out of the arranged marriage, Juliet turned to another adult, a priest, for help. Feeling sorry for her, he gave her a vial of medicine that would mimic death. She said, “Do I eat it?” (In Thai the expression khin ya literally means “eat medicine.”). “No, drink it,” said the priest. It was a deft piece of code-switching. Juliet obediently took her medicine.

Thinking Juliet was dead, poor Romeo killed himself. Then Juliet of course, woke up. After expressing a little dismay at finding her lover dead, she looked around quickly, produced a knife out of thin air, and stabbed herself (pook!). For the finale, the polite narrator entered stage left to read her speech. She scanned the stage for an available remote microphone. Unfortunately, Romeo and Juliet’s corpses were lying on top of both microphones. Suddenly, they rose from the dead and gave up their mikes. To rebuke us for laughing so much, their teacher plaintively observed afterward that the play was meant to be serious. She thought it was a tragedy. I confess I thought it was comedy. It turned out the satire was entirely accidental.

For our contribution to the talent or lack thereof, we teachers did a dance to the Thai pop tune “Playgirl” that includes the silly chorus, “yay, yay, yay, YAY!” We’d only rehearsed for 15 minutes before the show. We were awful. But that was whole idea.

Friday, February 27, 2009
Between Kanchanaburi and Bangkok, Thailand
Day 5 Week Without Walls

Pop: It is so fun.

We were hoping to squeeze in a visit to the Prommit Film Studios for a tour of the set of the epic movie The Legend of King Naresuan. It was not possible. We had so much to do after breakfast--room inspection, check out, picture taking, packing up the buses, and the inevitable head count--that we got to the studio too late for the tour. We had to be back in Bangkok at 2:30 so that students could catch the school buses. It was a pity but time is not negotiable, as Mars likes to remind us. We ate a pack lunch on board so we wouldn’t have to stop. We arrived at RIST at exactly 2:30 p.m. The kids greeted their friends who were left behind at school, then wandered off to be claimed by their parents or to board the Also Inevitable Bus. Relieved and feeling anti-climactic as well, the teachers wandered away too. The Week Without Walls was over.

Interlude: Amazing Thailand

Dear Ones:

Early Monday afternoon the electricity went out. This is not a frequent occurrence but when it does happen, it usually comes back on in a few minutes. Rarely does it take more than an hour. After an hour, the early afternoon heat was becoming unbearable. AJ and I decided to seek heat relief at the Seacon Square Cineplex. So we hopped in the car and took off down the street towards the wat, the temple at the end of Soi 93. As we approached we saw a tangle of wires, a light pole, and two transformers blocking the street. Parked across from the 7-11 was a big cement mixer-truck. AJ said, I bet that's what caused our power outage. We had to turn around and take another route to Seacon where we saw Madagascar 2, not exactly high culture, but we weren't looking for anything too educational either.

It was late in the afternoon when we got home to feed Gigi. It was getting dark but there was still no electricity. Since the pump wasn't working we had no water pressure. No bathing, no cooking. I fed Gigi and left her munching her dinner in the evening shadows. We went to the Club to have showers and dinner. After dinner, I bought two bags of ice at the supermarket to stuff in the freezer.

As we approached the turn into our cul-de-sac, we could see strong spotlights at the end of the street where the repair crews were still working. But the whole cul-de-sac was eerily quiet and dark. Usually you see lights and hear the sounds of television and voices talking. This time, I was truly glad to have Gigi to watch the house. Her bark is always worse, but no one knows this. Unfortunately, the cool weather we had enjoyed for so many days has dissipated and the mosquitoes who enjoy the cooler weather as much as we do were out looking for a blood meal. I could see it would be like that sweltering summer night in New York City when our a/c broke down. But this is Thailand. Hotels aren't that expensive here and thanks to the PAD for chasing away the tourists, the hotel occupancy rate is down too.

AJ and I packed up our jammies and toothbrushes, got back in the car, and drove to the Dusit Princess near Seacon Square. We just parked at the front door, walked up to the front desk, and checked in. It was that easy. We got a comfortable double room with twin beds, a/c, cable tv and buffet breakfast the next day.

All this time we had no information on the progress of the repairs, no report on what caused the power outage, or when power would be restored. It turned out AJ was right about the cause. Somehow, the low-slung power lines got tangled up on the cement mixer. According to the Bangkok Post, eight power poles were pulled down. That was an exaggeration. The newspaper carried a photograph of what happens in the narrow streets of Bangkok when moving force meets stationary object: something's got to give. It said vaguely that the power outage lasted "several hours" when AJ and I know for a fact that it lasted at least 8 hours and certainly more. Amazingly, no one was hurt or killed.

*****

So Tuesday evening, AJ and I were settled back in our house, thankful for the gods of electric light (and bless the crew of the MEA) when we heard the most fearsome commotion. The front door rattled and shook. At first, I thought someone was trying to break in. But why didn't Gigi bark? AJ and I approached the door wondering what to do. Then AJ said, I can smell Gigi, and I could hear her whining too. I opened the door; Gigi was in quite a state. Her tongue was hanging out and she was panting heavily. She had broken a dew claw and rubbed off a patch of fur on a hind paw. Then I heard a distant bang and a whistle: fireworks. Gigi is afraid of loud noises like exploding fireworks and thunder. I was so mad when saw the damage. She had gnawed and scratched the door. And I had to hose off her yucky slobber too. I reclaimed the door as "mine" then I took her out for a walk/run in the empty cul-de-sac so she could get rid of her nervous energy. In due course she relieved herself of all her pent up feelings. Silly Mutt.

On this New Year's Eve, AJ and I wish everyone health and happiness.

Walk good,

Jo Anne