It's wafer thin
I think that the time has come for me to write a book. No, it's not
My Life as an Expatriate Housewife or
TESOL Exposed. Our experiences here may make for passable weblog fodder, but I doubt they would generate a manuscript worth publishing. Rather the book that I'm need to write and hopefully make my fortune with is
The Yunnan Diet.
Soon after we arrived here I noticed a small problem with my pants. They kept slipping down. At first I thought it was due to walking around with a phrasebook and cmaera in my pockets. (Two somewhat bulky items I had never carried with me in the States.) However, I also wondered if maybe i was losing a little weight. I had gotten a lot of exercise in the preceding month packing up our possessions and cleaning the house. So I drilled a new hole in my belt and tightened it a bit. Voila! The pants stayed up. I was quite happy. Anyway, the months have passed and I'm now on my fourth hole. I'm even happier. Other people, however, are concerned.
I don't know why, but suddenly people seem to be commenting on my weight loss. I had three comments today. We met with Rich, our bilingual "boss", who was in town for a breif visit. We were tagging along with him as he visited with some folks in town. These are people we know by sight but with whom we are unable to communicate. Rich conveyed that they had noticed I had lost weight over the months and were concerned that I was well. Then, over lunch, Rich reported that he had met with Thad earlier and Thad had commented on my weight, asking if we were having problems eating the cafeteria food. Finally, we had invited our neighbors, Joan and Michael over for tea this evening. Joan also mentioned that I had shown a noticable weight loss. I'm taking this as a sign that I need to write a diet book to document my success in losing weight and so rake in a lot of money to send my kids through college... or buy a new Mac with some software written in this century. One of the two.
Of course, for you faithful few readers of this drivel, I can give you the secret lowdown of
The Yunnan Diet. (Oh, wait, I should ™ that.) (Can I ™ that? Or do I need to ® that first?) Anyway, the secret lowdown on
The Yunnan Diet™®©$£¥:
- Put a lot of peppers in the food so you can't eat so much.
- Sell your car so you have to walk to the store.
- Get a small refrigerator and kitchen so you have to shop every day.
Follow this regimen and you, too, can have people think that something's wrong with you.
A long time ago...
We relaxed and watched a movie yesterday, giving the kids their first taste of
Star Wars. This may seem puzzling to those who know of my affinity for science fiction. Why haven't I've shown it to them before now? The short answer is that they take after their mother and have shown little interest in comics and none in science fiction. (Now Buster Keaton movies are another story....) Anyway, the movie was a hit, of course, and Ga Dai expressed her interest by heading over to the
Internet Movie Database to read all the trivia and goofs entries. (She also had to make a
blog entry about it.)
As for Yau Neih and I, I don't think either of us have seen the film in 20 years. Yau Neih thought the movie held up pretty well. What most caught her attention was how archetypical the main characters were. (Nice to see that all those post-graduate courses didn't go to waste.) As for me, I enjoyed the film, too. I was a bit surprised that the old special effects didn't look too bad. (Of course, I used to watch
Dr. Who and
Blake's 7 without flinching.) What did surprise me was how little I liked the writing and acting. Either I've gotten too critical in my old age or fading memory had recalled the film as being better written than it was. Most of the characters came off as rather two-dimensional. Mark Hamill was particularly annoying as I felt he played the whining farm-boy a bit too broadly.
Oh, well. It was fun couple of hours and a delight to hear the kids chatter on about the film afterwards. The only drawback is that I now have to wait until we're in the States to show them the
best of the subsequent
Wars films...
Right to loaf?
There has also been another entry in the saga of the pig bread in these past weeks. As you may recall, it all started with our neighbor Joan's
attempt to have whole wheat bread baked for her. As each batch of bread is consumed, it seems like we have to face another quest to find a baker. Our latest batch ran out last month,
rather inconveniently. Because of the imminent Thailand excursion, we didn't rush out to get some more bread, but rather waited until after the holiday.
Anyway, a couple weeks ago now, we attempted to seek out yet another supplier for our pig bread. We first went to the bakery that baked up a batch
back in October. They had told us, back in January, that they were too busy at the time and that we should come back later. "About March" they said. Well, we suspected that they were just saying "no" in that polite, non-confrontational Chinese way. Since we were not entirely sure, and since we are stubborn Americans, we went back to see how busy they were in February. This time they were a bit more direct. No way, José. Dejected, we decided that we needed to once again involve Thad. We asked him if he knew of another bakery we could try. He came up with an idea and one day we all piled in his car to continue our quest.
The place he wanted to try wasn't a retail bakery, but rather one that served a local cafeteria. Where this cafeteria was, I don't know. The one here at the college is closed for the season, so we couldn't ask them. Anyway, we walk up to this rather plain looking building, a typical concrete building with a big metal garage door. A metal table stretched most of the way across the entrance. There wasn't much to be seen behind it--a work table and some boxes. What seemed to be the oven was off to the side. On the front table were some bags of rolls. Thad talked to the woman behind the table and she called the person he wanted to speak with. Soon another woman came out and they began the discussion.
Even without translation, it was obvious that she was not eager to be our baker. At one point she even offered each of us a roll in an attempt to get us to settle for their regular fare. The rolls were tasty, but sweet, as are the typical Chinese breads. We politely explained that it wouldn't satisfy our Western tastebuds. We were quite ready to thank her for her time and leave, but Thad wasn't ready to give upthe fight. He continued to badger her until she agreed to bake us up two batches of bread according to our recipe--enough to tide us until the college cafeteria reopened. It was a bit awkward, but we accepted her offer.
A couple of days later, we went over to pick up the bread. (Thad was busy, so we were had to walk.) Our benefactor was nowhere to be found, but we had three bags of bread awaiting us. The loaves were quite flat and looked somewhat unappetizing. (But I had a sneaking hunch that the bread would taste just fine.) They only charged us 30
kwai, which was much cheaper than the cafeteria had charged. Still, we were less than happy with the transaction. The bread didn't look so good and they had been baked under duress. As we walked home, we talked about the possibility of giving up on the bread thing or maybe breaking down and buying a little oven. The problem with the latter course is that an oven is only part of the equation. We'd also need to buy baking pans and all the ingrediants needed to bake something.
As we turned the corner on the road outside campus, Thad pulled up on his motorcycle. (He had picked up his son from middle school.)(My folks never picked me up from school on a motorcycle--though I did get picked up from kindergarten in a hippie car.) He asked if we had fetched the bread and we said that we had. He then offered to
buy us an oven, so that we could bake our own bread. Obviously he, too, was tiring of the eternel bread quest. We declined his offer, pointing out the drawbacks we had been discussing. Even if we had an oven, we'd still need to go hunting for yeast, flour, etc. We might as well keep on hunting for a local baker. Anyway, Thad kind of took our "no", at least for the moment. Past experience, however, would indicate that we hadn't heard the last of it.
So, to end this installment, we got home, tried the bread, and proved my sneaking hunch correct. The bread is quite good, kind of a cross between a croissant and a hunk of french bread. As such, it won't last forever and, even if we try and get that second baking, we'll still be facing a decision of what to do next. The oven can be tempting, but our cafeteria should be opening next week. (I would hope, anyway.) Guess we'll just have to stick around and see what happens next.
Taste and see
So, what have I been doing in the past three weeks while reminiscing about Thailand? Not much, actually. One event, which Ga Dai has already
posted about, is that we shared a bit of our childhood with our kinder. One day over dinner, Yau Neih and I mentioned the Pepsi Challenge.* The kids, of course, wanted to know what that was all about so we explained it. Yau Neih recounted how she had taken the official Pepsi Challenge and had chosen Coca-Cola. I recounted how my brother and I attempted to do a home made version of the Challenge and how the little twerp spoiled my chance to prove my educated tastebuds by filling one of the cups with a mixture of Coke
and Pepsi. (Why my dear and now-bigger-than-me brother chose to enact that innovation is beyond my understanding. In fact, many of my brother's actions were beyond my understanding. This occasionally holds true today. However, it's far less annoying now.)
Where was I? Oh, yes. Telling ancient tales to the children. They were quite intrigued by the thought of participating in the Challenge so, a few days later, I picked up a half liter each of Coke and Pepsi. Yau Neih administered the Challenge, as she has had professional experience and had nothing better to do. The results? Ga Dai affirmed her paternal heritage by preferring Pepsi and Siu Wan sided with her mother by choosing Coke. Now the kids amuse themselves by staging mock arguments over which soft drink is better. sigh.... Sometimes the past should stay dead.
___
*I'd put in a Wikipedia link for the Pepsi Challenge for you young'uns who've never heard of it, but Wikipedia is blocked and I don't feel like jumping through hoops to get a url for you. So do your own research. Ask your parents or something.
Who let the dogs out?
Coming back from Thailand was a bit interesting. We arrived back in Kunming on Sunday evening--the first day in the Year of the Dog. We got a taxi and checked into our hotel okay, but we had never seen Kunming so quiet. It was like Seattle on a Sunday morning. Crossing the street was no longer an adventure. Almost all of the shops were closed, though thankfully Carrefour's was forcing their employees to work. We checked into the hotel and were somewhat at a loss for something to do. Not that we really wanted much to do. We were kind of fatigued and ended up eating mini-bar ramen and potato chips for supper. It had to be one of the worst meals I've had in China.
As near as I can figure, the New Year's/Spring Festival celebration was akin to a U.S. Christmas or Thanksgiving. Folks are inside with friends or family. A few people might be out strolling, but business, for the most part, has stopped. (Of course, to do a serious comparison is beyond me because I'm usually spending Christmas and Thanksgiving inside with my friends and family.) People did cut loose with the fireworks, however. Our hotel parking lot was almost deserted but was carpeted with firework debris. After dark, we could hear and see all sorts of fireworks going off. It sounded very much like the first Fourth of July I spent in Chicago, which I recalled sounded like a war zone. (Come to think of it, the next morning the streets in my neighborhood also were littered with fireworks debris. Nothing like Kunming, though.)
All in all, it was unusual to be left out of the party, so to speak. I don't think I've felt anything like that since high school, but of course, back then I had teen angst to complicate things. This time I just shrugged my shoulders and looked forward to going home.
The next day we had half a day to kill before our flight home. Most places were still closed up, including our first choice for lunch. We dined at the nearest place that was open and then discovered a Western warehouse store. We've avoided such places in the States (the mind rebels at the thought of needing a membership card just to shop or get a lower price) but here we signed right up for the right to be a Metro customer. It was actually a nice source of all sorts of imported goodies. We didn't find a real potato masher, but we found something that would serve, as well as a couple other commodities.
Our flight home was uneventful. We had one moment of despair when we discovered that there weren't enough taxis to go around. I think our airport handles four flights a day. Every morning and afternoon, the plane comes in from Kunming, drops off passengers, picks up passengers, and heads back. When we first arrived, we were picked up by some college folks. We followed about four taxis that couldn't find a fare. This time we saw two taxis departing, each with customers. Fortunately there's a bus that heads back into town and we were able to catch that before it left. Like Kunming, everything was closed. We came home to a deserted campus and a cold apartment. Fortunately, however, our favorite barbecue place was open and we were able to have a delightful dinner.
All in all, 'twas an interesting holiday. Next time I think we'll do a bit better, maybe even extend our time away from home. Time will tell...
Tourista report
Sheesh! I better wind up this Thailand thing already. It's been three weeks since we left. Anyway, here's some tidbits that didn't quite fit in anywhere else:
--When leaving Kunming
for Thailand, I felt like an extra in
The Ten Commandments. When we got to the international terminal there was a long line of foreigners--mostly Anglo--waiting to go through customs/immigration/whatever you call it. I don't think I've seen that high of a percentage of white faces in an airport for years. Makes me wonder if that's one reason the Spring Festival is such a big deal in China. "The
laowai are leaving--let's party!"
--In Thailand you can buy Pepsi in glass bottles, a thing I haven't seen for many years. Now if only my Dad were there, we could've had a proper "Pepsi break."
--Nancy Chandler's
Map of Chiang Mai is way cool. I'd recommend that someone do a similar map for Seattle, but I suspect that this is one of those things that just can't be duplicated well.
--I really hate haggling. It's worse than tipping.
License to boogie
We interrupt this belated account of last month's activities to bring you some breaking news.
We are now duly licensed dancers with the... um, well, you know,
the street dancers. (I haven't translated the tag yet, so I don't if there's an official name.) If you'll
recall, I mentioned that after an unwanted Christmas break, we had to track down our local street dancers to a new park in town. I recounted how they seemed to be licensed, with every one wearing an I.D. tag. It made us a tad paranoid at the time. But when we mentioned it to Thad, he said it was probably just an internal thing. So about once a week we've sauntered over to the park and have always been invited to join the circle. (It did seem that other folks--without tags--have been shooed away, but that could just be an imaginative misinterpretation on my part.) It's been nice.
Anyway, last night we wandered over to the park and, as is our custom, we stood outside the circle and watched the dance in progress. A gent sitting on a planter next to us immediately motioned for us to go join in. We smiled and declined--like I said, it's our habit not to jump in on a dance in progress. We also tend to wait for an invitation from someone in the circle. (So when the cops come we have someone to point at.) Tonight, however, one of the dance leaders in the
center of the circle invited us in. So we obviously had no excuse. We danced a couple of tunes in the outer circle until we happened to see one of our friends. We then stuck close to her for most of the rest of the evening. (I got lost once, toward the end. The circles sometimes "jump tracks" and I let people cut in line or even force me into another circle.
Chaka raka de.) Towards the end, however, someone from the center of the circle came toward us--in mid-song--and draped an official I.D. over our necks. They really like us!
I have to admit, I have sort of coveted those I.D.'s. I don't know why, since the nametags in China have sort of creeped me out. It seems everybody who works behind a counter here has a tag and it seems that every tag is simply a number. (Of course, I do admit that if there's Chinese characters on a tag, I couldn't tell if it was someone's name or a biohazard warning.) The dancer I.D. is similar, with a number and the ever present red star stamp. There is a space for our name and a poor quality picture of some people dancing, though, so maybe that makes up for it. Or maybe it's just the thought as being accepted. Or maybe it's just scoring a unique souvenir. Whatever the reason, we were quite pleased to be tagged. I just hope that this doesn't mean that we have to attend club business meetings....
Update 2/22/06: Despite the fact that I have more important tasks awaiting me, I managed to use my English-Chinese dictionary to translate my tag. The name of the street dancing organization is "Facing Deep Blue City Ethnic New Art Hit Song Team". I think I'll keep calling them the street dancers....
The visit (part three)
Okay, so we've had a good lunch and we're finally going to get to meet Bang-On, our Compassion kid. We pile into the rental van and head out to the countryside. Now, I have to confess, I had a rather warped pre-conception of what this would all be like. Compassion helps poor kids, right? And Thailand is a tropical country, yes? So I had this mental picture--formed in the days before I started living in the developing world--that the project was situated up in the hills, surrounded by rain forest. We would undoubtedly have to travel up-river by canoe to reach her home. Instead I was riding on a road across the open plain in an air-conditioned van. We finally pulled up to... a high school. A regular old high school, with a gym and soccer field. Not quite what I expected, but at that particular moment, I really wasn't thinking about my expectations. The moment had arrived to meet the child.
We clambered out of the van and headed towards the administration offices, eliciting stares from the students who were hanging around outside. They were seated at picnic tables lined up across from the building. The kids were all in uniform, looking like a bunch of boy and girl scouts. (Actually, I think that's what they were.) Yau Neih said that she had seen Bang-On sitting at one of the picnic tables, though she may have been mistaken. I recalled that I had seen a young woman who resembled Bang-On back at the mall in Chiang Mai a couple days before. I suppose it really didn't matter. We walked into the building and took a seat in the hallway. The Compassion folks went to the office and started things rolling. I soon heard an announcement over the P.A. and could recognize Bang-On's name. (I also discovered that I had been mispronouncing her last name for the past twelve years. Oh, well...) We then were introduced to an English speaking gent who introduced himself as Bang-On's teacher. We made some small talk and at last we could see Bang-On herself come into the building.
If this were a movie, the music would swell and the pace of the picture would slow considerably. The actors would be gushing out emotional energy and the sensitive patrons would start to get misty-eyed. My reaction was not quite cinematic. It was more of a rerun of how I felt at the project office. Say hello with a big smile and then wonder what the heck I should say next. I mean, Bang-On was like this picture, come to life. A person with whom we had a relationship and yet really didn't know at all. And then you had all these folks from the project and the school standing around, taking pictures and just kind of joining in on the moment. It almost felt like we were on stage. But despite my lack of center, it was a good moment. A gift that I appreciated, even if I didn't quite understand.
Anyway, that's what was happening inside my head. Outside, Bang-On greeted us and we greeted her. We were ushered into her teacher's office and sat down on the couch. We asked about her family, especially her older brother, who used to write her letters for her when we first started sponsoring her. Of course, this fond memory of ours was something that she probably didn't even recall. (Kids just don't have the same appreciation of history as us older folks. ;-) ) We asked her about school and what her plans were. We were pleased to hear that she was planning on going to college, to study travel or tourism or something like that. (When trying to communicate through a language barrier, we tend not to press for details.)
After a while, then, we were given the chance to visit Bang-On's home. There was another scramble for the van and our entourage headed out. Again there was no need to hack our way through the underbrush or ford any streams. We followed the paved country road 'til we got to a small wooden house. Like many of the buildings in Thailand, it was built up on stilts. There was also a shed or two next to the house, and some trees scattered about. We weren't really given a grand tour. We did meet Bang-On's mother and a set of grandparents, which, of course, beats seeing a bunch of buildings. And we did go up into the house itself. It seemed to be an open structure with curtains used to make rooms. There was a nice wooden china cabinet that seemed to hold most of their stuff. My preconceptions were again shattered when I saw a refrigerator and computer along one wall. It then dawned on me that I should be expecting such signs of a modern lifestyle. After all, isn't the whole purpose of the Compassion program to help folks get themselves out of poverty? So my surprise was replaced by a feeling of... I don't know... joy sounds a bit too extreme. Maybe delight. Delight that Bang-On's family were doing well and that we've had the honor of playing a small part in that.
While we were in the house, we had another heart strings moment. Bang-On showed us a picture of ourselves that we had sent her a few years back. It was nicely framed and all that. Not for the first time I was wishing that we had planned this trip back in the States. I would have loved to have brought along some of her old pictures and letters, or at least brought a uniquely American souvenier. We did bring a few gifts--all made and purchased in China--and they were quite appreciated. We also received gifts in return. Yau Neih received a scarf that Bang-On had crocheted herself. I was given a length of plaid cloth, which the project director promptly showed me could be used as a turban, a kilt, a neckcloth or a few other things. The girls were given a colorful throw pillow, which Bang-On's grandmother had made.
For these presentations, we had moved outside to a sheltered wooden platform where we were given oranges and water. We were told that the family often slept out there when the weather got "warm" enough. (For us, it seemed like summertime with temps in the low seventies.) It was a perfect afternoon for setting a spell, but, alas, our translator reminded us that we had a long drive ahead of us. Way too soon we had to pose for a final picture and climb back into the van. (Actually, Bang-On had to run into the house and grab one more little gift for Siu Wan. She's so darn cute, you know.)
The trip back was as pleasant as the trip out. We had to drop Tong, our translator, off at his home on the way. Before then, we made a pit stop at a 7-11. He again asked us if we wanted anything and we again said no. So he bought us a bunch of soda, chips and cookies. I think I need to hire him for every road trip we take. Anyway, we bade him farewell and settled in for the rest of the journey. We were treated to a beautiful sunset and a nice dinner at a Thai truck stop. It was around ten when we rolled into Chiang Mai and wearily made our way up to bed.
Road trip! (part two)
Thursday morning arrived and the trip to visit our Compassion child, Bang-On, finally began. The restaurant designated for our hotel-provided breakfast didn't open until six, so rather than rushing to eat and get ready, we opted to prepare our breakfast the night before. Dunkin Donuts and milk from 7-11--how Thai can you get? (Actually Yau Neih did slip down and got a quick helping of eggs.) So when 6:30 arrived, we were down in the lobby awaiting our ride.
The van arrived and we were introduced to our translator/guide Tong and the driver, whose name I promptly forgot. (I really should take some self-improvement course to help me hear and remember names.) We piled in and hit the road, watching the sun rise over Thailand. I was starting to get excited about it all. One thing I failed to mention about this trip was that I had approached it somewhat dispassionately. Yeah, I knew it was a nice thing, to visit the kid and all. But for myself, I really wasn't excited or nervous about seeing her. I don't know if I was so caught up in the business of it or what. But anyway, as the van drew nearer to our destination, the anticipation of it all grew. When we finally arrived, I was quite nervous and excited.
But I get ahead of myself. Despite my own mental workings, the trip itself was oddly uneventful. This section of Thailand lacks some of the gorgeous mountain vistas that we have in Yunnan. After an hour or so we seemed to climb up into some mountains and then onto a flat plain. Except for the occasional shrine on the edge of someone's property, it really seemed akin to taking a drive through rural Illinois. After a couple of hours, we stopped for a bathroom break and breakfast. Tong asked us if we wanted anything, but we declined. He went and bought us some cookies anyway. I had to restrain myself from gobbling them down by myself. They were sort of like a sweet rice cake laced with caramel. It's a treat for which I shall be searching for back in the States, let me tell you.
Anyway, the uneventful, comfortable ride took a bit longer than the planned five and a half hours. I think we arrived at the project around 12:30. We piled out of the van and were taken to the office of the local project. We were greeted by the office staff and invited to sit down. They offered us some tea (or was it hot water? My memory already fades!) and then we sat and stared at each other for the moment. As has happened many times before, the ice breaking question seemed to be "Why doesn't your younger daughter look like you?" The conversation went on awkwardly from there. I felt at a loss, trying to think of something to add. I would have been quite interested to learn all sorts of things about the project, but had no specific question which I wanted to ask. So I just sat, smiling and dumbstruck, wondering when the dramatic moment would arrive and Bang-On would be ushered into our presence.
She wasn't. After about 15 minutes or so, somebody probably said, "Hey, why don't we eat?" So we got up, put on our shoes and piled into the van. We made our way to a nice little restaurant--what I would term an Asian diner--and were served a nice lunch. It finally dawned on me that we would be eating first and visiting later. Oh, well. There's a time to visit and a time to eat. Our hosts were very kind, serving a peppered and unpeppered version of the soup and main entree. I accidentally took the peppered version of the entree, which wasn't overly spicy at all. (Yau Neih had tried the soup and apparently that one
was overly spicy.) When all had had their fill, we then got up and were finally going to go meet our child.
Change of plans (part one)
The highlight of our trip had nothing to do with the conference or even Chiang Mai. Instead it was a day trip out to the countryside to see Bang-On, a kid we've been sponsoring for years. In the days of my youth I fell for the "only $20 a month" pitch and signed up with
Compassion International. We've actually sponsored a handful of kids over the years, as kids have come and gone through the program. We've tried to write the kids letters on a regular basis, but actually visiting a child seemed a bit too much. (Of course, that's just my own reticence to splurging for a vacation. If I'm not visiting family or adopting a daughter, I have a hard time justifying the expense of a big trip to myself.) So as we started on this China venture and suffered the attendant drop in income, the thought of visiting Bang-On was one of the last things on our mind.
Anyway, I forget when we first heard about the trip to Thailand, but I do recall thinking something like, "Hmmm, Thailand. That's where Bang-On lives." But I didn't pursue it. After all, Thailand's a big country and I had no clue where in the country we were going to be. Then late last year we got more details about the conference, including the location. I booted up the ol' World Book atlas and discovered that we were going to be less than 200 miles away. Heck, I've driven farther for Thanksgiving dinner! So the thought of traveling to see Bang-On suddenly became very real.
We contacted Compassion back in the States and they were very helpful as far as explaining the whole process. So we filled out the request and they did the rest. (Well we did have to read and sign a couple of forms. Basically a list of "thou shalt nots" when visiting the child.) Thankfully we had no responsibilities waiting here in China, so we could extend our trip to accomodate. It all came to gether beautifully. The local office for Compassion was also in Chiang Mai, so I figured it would be a simple matter to roll into town and find out when they were going to pick us up.
Heh. That's what I thought, anyway. Our trip began and we flew to Kunming. That afternoon--a Saturday--we stopped in the hotel business office to check our e-mail. Among the new messages was one from Compassion. It was just to confirm that we were really going to show up. Seems like the Thailand office had tried to e-mail us and the mail got lost in the ether. But the kicker was that the Thailand office wanted to confirm that we had made plans to get to the city nearest Bang-On's home.
I took that news rather well. I figured, "Oh, well, both the U.S. and Thailand offices are closed for the weekend. Guess it's Monday's problem." Unfortunately, Monday's problem wormed its way back to my conscious mind on Sunday afternoon, so by the time Monday morning arrived, I was quite anxious to get things straightened out. I managed to wait until 9:05 am before I called the Chiang Mai office. Nobody answered, so I gave them another ten minutes. Again, no answer, so I tried the cel number of the contact person. She answered the phone, thankfully. She wasn't in her office--it sounded more like a train station or something--but she said she'd get back to me when she was in a better position to talk. So I waited. I was scheduled to hook up with our colleague Rich, so we could take our respective children out to do something fun. I was ready to kiss his feet when he offered to take the whole gang by himself while I waited by the phone. (I was able to return the favor on Wednesday, when he had business to attend to.) A bit later I got a call from a second Compassion person--the one who usually handles such details. She was quite willing to help me secure transport to where we needed to go. She got some information from me and went forth to take care of business.
So for the next couple of days we played phone tag as plans were made and changed. (Actually, it was more like phone hide-and-go-seek, since I was the one who was never home.) Our first plan was to grab a train at 9:15 Wednesday night which would arrive at the destination city at 5:00 am. The project staff would then pick us up and we'd have breakfast and a morning meeting. A day later the plan changed. They couldn't get tickets for the 9:15, so they were going to try an earlier train that would get us in at 2:00 am. I was content to hang in the train station until a reasonable hour, but they offered to have a staff member pick us up and let us nap in their office. Anyway, that was the Tuesday morning plan. Tuesday afternoon I got another call. Somehow the earlier train wasn't suitable for a family of four, so they decided that we would rent a van and drive to the project. We needed to be ready at 6:00 am Thursday morning for a four hour ride. It was a much more appealing proposition, much as I love train rides. But it didn't end there. Wednesday the plan was finalized. We could sleep in an extra half hour, but the trip would take five and a half hours. Not a bad deal.
(Disclaimer: Lest my flippant recounting of the final preparations give the wrong impression, I think the Compassion Thailand folks did a great job of getting my incompetent butt over to where we needed to be. I'm embarrassed that I made them go through such hoops to make our visit possible.)
Anyway, more later....
Looking back at Thailand
Okay, let's try this again. I've been trying to think about
something to say about Thailand, but the words haven't come. For some reason, China has been easier to document. Maybe because it's because this corner of China is less Westernized and the comparisons are easier to make. Or maybe it's that Thailand is something in the middle between Chinese and U.S. culture. Who knows?
In talking to some of our fellow expatriates here, we've heard Thailand described almost as a Western outpost--the place to get Western groceries, medical care, etc. (Of course, they're talking about Bangkok and Chaing Mai--not some podunk hill village.) This turned out to be pretty much true. A lot of folks spoke English and we stayed at hotel that was right next to a mall. Of course, we were unable to resist the temptation and dined at Sizzler, Pizza Hut, Baskin-Robbins and Dunkin Donuts. We resisted KFC because we had dined at one in Kunming. On the other hand, even in the mall, there was a floor that was filled with little stalls, much as we've experienced here in China at the local markets.
Outside the mall, life was a tad less Western. Traffic was almost as hectic as that in China. I started calling it "libertarian traffic": a minimal amount of laws which requires drivers and pedestrians to watch out for themselves. The city of Chiang Mai itself was interesting. There's an "old town" section which is surrounded by crumbling brick walls and a moat. It was kind of odd to think that a century or two ago those walls might have been intact with guards patrolling them to keep the city safe. I haven't encountered such historical places here in China. I think the ol' hometown is too rural to have any lasting history and we've never been to the historical parts of Kunming. (hmmmm. Time to start another "to-do" list.) One evening we went over to the "Night Market", a big building filled with market stalls. The sidewalks in the area, too, were taken up by booths--whether they were regulated or just squatters, I do not know.
I guess the things that were truly unique--that made the place "Thailand" for me--were those little touches that were neither American or Chinese. The first I noticed was the general decor. Maybe it's just because we were staying in a nice hotel, but it seemed like folks had taken the time to add a little embellishment to the surroundings. After months in the land of stone and concrete, I was especially impressed with some of the woodwork I saw. Another contrast that came to mind was the space given to religion in the country. In China, you can see a temple here and there or a little shrine tucked into the corner of a store, and in the U.S., our practice is generally to keep our devotional items neatly at home. In Chiang Mai, many places had a little shrine sitting out in a corner of their property. And the wats, or temples, especially were prominent, offering the most ornate decorations. (Which, of course, made them tourist attractions.) Finally, the royal family in Thailand is nigh omnipresent in Chiang Mai. There are pictures of the king on the money, and there's posters of him on street corners and in front of buildings. When we went to the movies, we even had to stand for a minute while a little film clip gave honor to him. Now, from what I've heard, the king of Thailand is a pretty cool dude, so I don't begrudge him the respect. Still, I can't imagine someone trying to show such honor to the President back in America.
Anyway, such were my first impressions of Thailand, lame as they may be.
Go Hawkses!
Yeah, I know, I should have written something about the Seahawks being in the Super Bowl, like I did with the White Sox being in the World Series. Guess that just shows where my loyalties lie. I
am trying to monitor the score, for what it's worth. (The Steelers are ahead, 7 to 3) I have noticed that following a baseball game via an online scoreboard is a lot more interesting than following a football game.
Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.
Oops. I scold the child for not backing up her template and then when I have a problem with mine, I discover that I had failed to make a backup. Naughty me. Anyway, the problem was that for some odd reason the template had been hacked off in mid-sentence. My only solution was to reload the unmodified template from Blogger. But when I did that, I got intrigued by some of the other templates and thought I'd change things. Hope y'all like it.
Thailand
My excursion to Kunming was enjoyable. My excursion to Chiang Mai was less so. At least not in the beginning. Kunming is familiar ground. I had traveled there before and had been in the general vacinity of all the places wherein we had to run errands. When our trip turned Thailand bound, however, I had to get out of the comfort zone and things got a wee more stressful.
Ach, I started writing out an account of the trip, but it sounded too much like a whine-fest. You don't want to read a whine-fest. The gist of the problem is that I ventured into unfamiliar territory with nary a guide book or even a map to help me out and that I had to spend the first three days of the trip wrangling and amusing children while my wife and her colleagues were having conferences. I had some fun, but not enough to soothe my frustrations. It reminded me of some of the business trips I took back in my A/V days. I was excited to travel to different places, but I was too busy and/or tired to really enjoy the place I was visiting.
Ironically enough, I'd head back to Chaing Mai in a minute. I've gotten my bearings somewhat and have identified a few parts I'd like to explore. Next time, I'm sure I'd do better. Plus I still have 65 baht, mostly in coins, which I need to spend.
For the birds
Oh, one thing I forgot to mention about Kunming: Apparently Kunming has been the winter destination for Siberian gulls for about 20 years now. (Where they wintered before then, I don't know. Maybe Myanmar became too expensive.) I knew about that, but I was not prepared to see the crowd of birds that were hanging out in Green lake Park. We had ventured to that neighborhood looking for a camera store. (Remind me to do a battery post some day.) We saw the birds across the street and moseyed on over. It was kind of wild. There were hundreds of birds bobbing in the lagoon and another group flying around the edge, along the sidewalk. The fence around the lagoon was packed with people, tossing food to the birds. It was somewhat surreal. I tried to capture it with my camera but it was really a video moment.
Ghost of Christmas past
Our trip started out with a day in Kunming, the capital city of Yunnan province. It was a really enjoyable day for me. I was reminded of my younger days when I was living in the Chicago suburbs and got to head into the city. It always had an aura of excitement: there were all the different buildings and people bustling around. Quite a variety of things to see. I felt that same thrill spending the day in Kunming. The energy of the city surrounded me as we ran our errands.
But another odd thing about our day in Kunming was that it felt just like Christmas shopping. The weather was chilly, feeling just like winter.* We were out shopping for those foreign things that we just can't get back in town, so of course that lent a "holiday air". Most everything was festooned with New Year's decorations. But what really made it "Christmas-y" were the crowds. Carrefore's--Kunming's answer to Fred Meyer--was a zoo. Traffic was backed up onto the street as cars queued up to get into the parking lot. The aisles in the store were crowded with people and all those extra merchandise displays. And the store clerks, dressed in festive finery, all had that wearied look of one trying to maintain a semblance of order against the onslaught of chaos. All in all, when the day was over, I felt like I had just been out doing the seasonal shopping. And here I thought that I had dodged that bullet.
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*excursus: Having been born and raised in the midwest U.S., each season has its own feel that is embedded in my brain. Seattle uses the same words for its seasons, but they just don't feel the same. The town we're in here in Yunnan feels a bit closer to Chicago, but their "winter" actually feels closer to a midwest autumn. Anyway, our day in Kunming felt very much like "winter" to me.
