Thanks All Around

Okay, I know what I said about this good-luck-and-protection game. But, I do believe in the power of thank-you.


With great humility for our very good fortune these past few years in Chiang Mai, the Wee Family today offered its thanks in the traditional Thai way. We carefully arranged our nine types of fruits (a lucky number) and offered them up to Dr. Shivaka, the Father of Thai massage, with sincere thanks for a very successful run at teaching massage and spreading the good work (through nearly 300 students) to 38 countries in the world.


And, we gave nine more beautiful fruits to the spirits who dwell in the little spirit house just inside the front gate. Without their kind protection, our luck in family and business might have been quite different (and given that the lights here sometimes switch on and off without our intervention, thanks are a very good idea).


Of course, we could not leave this ancient city which is the heart of the original Lanna Kingdom without offering our sincere thanks to the Three Kings, who in their lifetimes unified a group of city-states into the Kingdom that we know today. As you may recall, the Three Kings have listened closely to Amnat's prayers for good luck on a couple of important days (like the day before Little was born and the day before the big visa interview). He wanted to be sure to show his gratitude. How, you ask? We made them lunch!


Sure, nine fruits, but also a chicken and some Mirinda (freakishly bright fizzy stuff the likes of which the Kings surely never experienced in corporeal form). We placed our thank-you picnic at the feet of the Kings in the local square then waited a decent interval (while they ate) before leaving our flower garlands behind and taking the little lunch back down the street. We gave the (lucky) chicken to our friend Jomsi, who chopped it up nicely, and we've been snacking on fruit all afternoon (oh, and the prison guards got some too).


So, having made the rounds with gratitude and thanks, tomorrow we head to the airport for a week in Khlong Lodt village and a monk's ordination ceremony (more on that later, for sure) before we take the big flight off to L.A.

Good-bye, Thailand. Hello, USA!

Green Mango

(Okay, you know the packing for the big move is finished, when I have time for THREE posts in one night.)


It's green mango season, and we are flush. This year, for the first time in a long time, all the mango trees in our neighborhood are fruiting. Why? Those lovely bees who swarmed and landed in our garden a few months ago. They've been busy, and we are reaping the reward.

You're right. Why would you eat them green, when they are nectar-of-the-gods ripe? Critters. Every living thing will get to them ahead of you, so we happily buy our ripened (and surely heavily sprayed) ones at the market, and pucker up on the crunchy "organic" ones from home.

(Amnat keeps giving them to our students and saying "no chemical," something he's learned from me; but last week, one of them said, 'except the ones that fall with the rain.' Where did all that smog go, anyway?) We do our best.

Buddhist Bling

Thai people like amulets. They like them a lot. They wear them for (I know you know already) good-luck-and-protection. Men wear them. Women wear them. School children wear them. Even babies wear them (as well as bells on their ankles, but that's another story). My husband wears one. I even have one. I don't wear mine much. It means a lot to me, because it was given to me by Pichest, my massage teacher; but (shhhh... don't tell anyone) I don't believe that it actually protects me. This is where my Thai friends and I part company.


Lately I've noticed a new trend in the wearing of amulets, which I would characterize as Buddhist bling. Usually, a serviceable amulet is about the size of a good ole American quarter. Ladies often have more delicate dime-sized ones. And, Pichest advised me to keep my amulet inside my shirt. It's not fashion, after all, it's protection, damn it. But, Buddhist bling is big. Really big. And, it's always outside the shirt. And this is why....

The King has one. We didn't know this until recently, but apparently (and how we know this I cannot imagine) his amulet is very powerful. You see, he was in a hospital and a nurse tried to administer an injection. The needle would not enter his skin. (Serious protection.) She asked him to remove his amulet (affording her a view of it), and was then able to finish her work.

Word got out. It's a good one. It comes from a particular temple, made by the monks there and prayed over to imbue it with special power. Everyone wants one just like it. Thai people are running, not walking, to the amulet vendors in such numbers that several elderly people have died in the crush and the price of these amulets has jumped from 10 baht to 2,000.

So, today my friend Jo comes to visit, and he's all aflutter because HE'S GOT ONE. And, he bought it from a monk, no less. A monk who (bought low) and verifies that additional prayer has fortified it's power.


Imagine this encased in glass in a stainless steel locket and hanging around your neck on an amulet chain. It's about the size of your stomach (the organ, that is) before lunch. And, when one of these comes walking at you up the street, you just can't miss it. AND, you know the guy (usually) who's wearing it survived the stampede to lay down his 2,000 baht (significantly more than half of my mother-in-law's monthly wage). Bling.

How do I know all this, you ask? Why, Jo told me. Jo who speaks about as much English as I speak Thai, but we muddle through. I missed some of the finer points, but I get the message. Buy one of these and you get RICH. Jo's friend has one, and he found 5,000 baht laying on the street at the local market. Since Jo has had his, his little massage shop has generated revenue every day.

Curious. A Buddhist amulet made by monks at a very important temple in the Kingdom, and it brings you... money? Not enlightenment. Not freedom from suffering. Not good health. Not even love. It brings cold, hard cash. And, who are those people stampeding to get one? The hopeful poor.

Rain, Merciful Rain

As you may recall (or may have heard in the news), we in Chiang Mai have been living under a smog blanket for quite some time. For the past few months, I've been feeling it thicken, and thicken, and thicken while we've waited for the rains that inevitably begin to fall in April. Mind you, it hadn't rained a single drop since mid-November. Oh sure, last week during the Songkran Festival (some day I'll tell you about it), a few pitying drops fell. Just enough to whet our appetites.

And, then Wednesday it happened. Rain. Great gusts of wind and drenching sheets of stormy rain.


We rushed around pushing the windows shut and feeling the over-spray on our faces and arms. Our neighbor's kitchen gutter finally filled the dish pan out back. And, when it was all over about twenty minutes later, we could see clearly, for the first time in months, the outline of Doi Suthep, the mountain behind the house. There have been many days recently when the mountain wasn't even there. And, this morning, as Little and I walked back from the coffee shop, I could see not only the outline of the mountain, but individual trees and the red roof and shining gold pagoda of the temple near the peak. Ah, fresh air.

Progress

As you know, Little and I are in the habit of perambulating within the walls of our fair moated city on a daily basis. The little stroller has gone from portable bed (for a sleepy newborn) to barcolounger on wheels from which he can survey his kingdom and his people. And, survey he does, spinning his little head left and right and craning his neck around to catch all the details. The kingdom is so damned interesting that you've just got to lean forward and hold onto the rail to urge the rolling barcolounger (and the servant who's pushing it) on.


As you also know, the coffee shop is a favorite destination for the little prince and me. From the shop, we can see the passing push carts, tuk-tuks, truck taxis, motorbikes, and cars and the mish-mash of tourists and Thais taking good care of them.


On a recent visit, just about the time that Little was beginning to comprehend the meaning of wave-bye-bye, something happened which again highlighted the contrasts and odd juxtapositions of this place. He peered across the street and lifted a hand to silently wave-bye-bye to the little boy and his mum who live across the street.


I've been wanting to tell you about this little boy for some time, because his name is Gress. Well, that's actually his nickname. His full name is Progress, and he is the little brother of Gram. Oh, you're way ahead of me. Yes, short for Program. And, what to do parents do? They run a dusty, dark internet shop opposite our little latte heaven. And, Gram spends his days (long twelve-hour working days) in the arms of his mother on the sidewalk or in the shop. The names, while incomprehensible to me, represent their parents' wish to bring good luck to these little boys. The irony of this is not lost on me. Gram and Gress are growing up in a poorly lit, unventilated shop at the edge of a busy, sooty street where backpackers need to check their e-mail.

We've tried to strike up an interaction with Gress a few times, but nothing comes of it. He's the same age as Little, but a bit bleary, often recovering from a chest cold (no kidding). As he is carried most of the day, he is a bit passive (try carrying Little for more than fifteen minutes and you've got a bucking bronco in your arms). The pathos of Gress is palpable.

On the day that Little tried to engage Gress from across a busy street (I still can't believe he did it), Gress's mom saw Little waving and looked a bit stunned.

Comparisons between babies are inevitable, but comparisons between lifestyles and the opportunities they afford can be harsh. Not that I know what I'm doing raising this little boy. My biggest fear is that we're somehow hindering his natural (and fascinating) ability to learn. And, while he is as much Thai as he is American, we have decided to raise him largely in the West where he'll have much more opportunity... to progress.

Recycle Men

They are everywhere, all the time. It's the only way anything gets recycled, and it probably works better than any mandatory municipal program.


I find these guys fascinating. Their bikes and motorcycles are clever examples of make-do engineering. And, if you think New Englanders are frugal, you should hang out with some Thai people. Given that almost nothing gets thrown away to begin with, it's amazing that these guys find anything worth putting back in circulation.

It's Hot!

A perfect day for red and green Fanta popsicles. What? You've never HAD red and green Fanta popsicles! I don't believe (as my husband would say).

Lucky Day

It's turns out that Friday the 13th is a lucky day, after all. My grandfather, Jimmy (after whom we named Little) used to think it was a very unlucky day. When he was young, he broke his arm hand-cranking a car on Friday the 13th. The engine took and kicked the hand crank, giving him a good whack. But, today three generations later, little Jimmy K. learned to crawl.


In the end, it was just a matter of getting the rear end in gear.


If Grampa were here, he'd be tickled (and he'd be on the floor giving Jimmy big elephant kisses on his wee belly and filling our little Thai house with hilarious giggles).

Fruit Stand

So, I'm thinkin' that shopping at the local IGA in Red Hook isn't going to look much like this...


and, I can't remember the last time they had a special on dragon fruit...


and, there won't be any banana trees growing in the yard,


(but there will be red wine, chocolate, and raspberries!)

Home(s)

When you leave a place, especially a place that has been home, you leave a lot behind. Of course, I don't mean things. Things don't amount to much. What you leave behind are people. I've been spending the past couple of years trying not to dwell on that. As the Cowboy Junkies say, "It don't pay to think too much 'bout all the things you leave behind."

For the last couple of weeks, knowing that I'll be back home soon, I've been letting my mind go to all the places I haven't been able to for a long time. Of course, my sleeping mind has been taking me there all along. Dream, after dream, after dream I've been in some version of Tivoli on Mikee's little bakery porch. Before I moved to Thailand, I spent a lot of time sitting on that porch (in all weather) drinking coffee and talking to friends, some close friends and some porch-friends that I rarely saw otherwise.

I have a couple of porch-friends here too, but it's different. I don't speak enough Thai to really get anything going, but I get friendly nods from a half-dozen shopkeepers, neighbors, and of course, the prison guards every time I go out. (I never told you about the prison? I'll have to some day.)

Just today, something switched in my head. I started to see around me what I'll pine for when we leave here. (Humans, they're always wantin' somethin' that's just outta reach.)


We've been joking for a long time with Nok (sister-in-law extraordinaire) that she's small enough to put into a suitcase and carry back to the U.S. We will be leaving her behind in Chiang Mai for now, and I'm frankly not sure how she and Jimmy will handle the separation. I will miss her (largely) silent companionship and her willingness to try just about anything I can come up with (even wearing a bathing suit, heaven forbid!).


She has been my voice, when I just can't figure out what to say, or when I say it (in Thai) and no one gets it. (And, yes, the fruit guy DOES have a radio with speakers strung up under the handles of his hand truck - fruit AND free entertainment!)


Before I get myself back onto Mikee's porch, we have a few stops to make. First in Thailand. We're going back to Amnat's village, where my life in Thailand began a couple of years ago. The little house in the fruit orchard was transformed into a wedding party then. This time, we are going for an ordination ceremony. Amnat's cousin Jack will ordain as a monk. The little village will be buzzing, as it did for us and our wedding, and the good people of Khlong Lodt will be the last faces I see before flying home.



And, oh boy, I can't wait to see the faces of the people I've left behind. Some day soon, I'll be there trying not to think too much about what we're leaving here.

Sunday Morning

For the past year or so, Sunday morning around our little house has meant a roll in the stroller over to the Irish Pub. Not very Thai, but then again, neither am I.


We love the fresh baked bread, and the baker has really taken a shine to Little. He often gets a hot slice of fresh-from-the-oven. (Luckily, it's bigger than his whole head, and Mum gets to eat most of it!)


We'll miss the Irish Pub and things like fresh, young coconut when we head to the USA, but can you say, "fresh raspberries," "tree-ripened peaches," and "crisp Paula Red apples"??? (We can't wait.)

Bye-Bye, Indeed

I've been very quiet about it, but something big has been brewing for the wee family for some months now; and it's FINALLY here! Yes, three one-way tickets to the USA. The visa came through! Wave bye-bye, indeed!


We won't be going by tuk-tuk or by samlor. This will be that big ol' jet plane to L.A..

Just as Little has mastered the art of the Royal Wave (you know, the back of the hand extended to his public), we're going to be asking him to do it a lot. We're saying a big Bye-Bye to Chiang Mai, the city where we've lived for over two years and heading to the other side of the planet. My husband likes to joke that I'm coming home with two very nice Thai souvenirs from this particular trip (a new husband AND a new baby, if you've not been reading closely).

With only two more weeks in the city and a week in the village where we were married, I'm thinking about all the pictures untaken and stories unwritten (but there is a backlog of about 7,000 photos, so don't panic). More soon, surely.

Bye-Bye

Lest this little accomplishment go unnoticed, I should add that "wave bye-bye" is our newest addition to the list of makes-us-giggle.


My friend Jennifer-Pheonix-Aroha smartly noticed recently that this little blog is an odd kind of baby book. Exactly. I just have to figure out how to keep it forever. Suggestions?

Slitherin' Fool

For the last three weeks or so, our house has been on red alert. Why, you ask? Because Little has gone mobile! He's a slitherin' fool. Not what you'd really call it crawling. More like slitherin' with great purpose in the direction of anything really interesting (to a 9-month-old). Dirty slippers, electrical wires, fans. Stuff you really don't want to see him get to.


For weeks we watched as he tried to move forward, but those damn legs (and cute little feet) just wouldn't get outta the way.


Then, one leg broke free, leaving one lonely little foot pinned under the weight of his little round belly.


Finally, the legs synchronized, which left the belly in full contact with the floor. And, this is where it has stayed.

But, it hasn't kept him from making headway. I should say it's not really slitherin'. It's more like... well, it's exactly like this. Imagine you're caught in a burning building. You drop to the floor to crawl out. As you point your nose to the exit, you realize (oh, shit!) your left leg is broken. With great effort, you throw both elbows forward and drag yourself to the exit, pushing with the toes of your one good leg and dragging the other like dead wood. Oh, and you're drooling profusely (must be the heat of the fire, or something). The spit-polished trail you're leaving on the floor will surely help the fireman track you, if you can't haul yourself out. That's it. That's it exactly.

It's the cutest thing we've ever seen (if a bit humbling at the weekly Tumble Tots program).