Auld Lang Syne

One of the main explosions took place near the Skytrain station at Saphan Khwai

As many of you have no doubt heard, on New Year's Eve several coordinated bombs were detonated in Bangkok, killing two people and injuring many others. The bombs were placed at busy intersections, Skytrain platforms, and shopping mall plazas. One bomb even went off in Nonthaburi, the province where we live. After the first few blasts at 6:30 PM, all New Year's festivities were cancelled, and other undetonated bombs were found at three other locations.

The press is busy trying to guess the masterminds. Here are the three main possibilities:

1) Southern Muslim Insurgents - The bombing method fits the profile of recent bombings in the South, particularly Hat Yai. Bombs were placed in trash containers near crowded intersections. Police were quick to claim that this was not the work of Muslims extremist, however, since no Muslim terrorism has ever taken place oustide the South. Furthermore, Southern insurgents always claim responsibility for their attacks and none have done so in this case.

2) Thai Rak Thai - The political party of deposed Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. Most of the rumors circulating around Bangkok accuse Thaksin of planning this attack in order to further portray the military governmnet as incompetent. Ever since the coup the government has claimed there are Thaksin supporters hiding around every corner ready to subvert the existing order.

3) The Military Regime - It seems unthinkable that a government would use terrorist tactics on its own citizens, but my study of authoritarian governments in Southeast Asia gives me my doubts concerning the current regime. In the 1970s, the Marcos government set off several bombs in the Manila to justify his imposition of martial law. The situation for the current government is not good. They lost a lot of credibility when they mishandled the baht devaluation and the Bangkok stock market crashed. When the military took power in September, its leaders promised they would hand power back to citizen politicians within a year. But, with such threats to national security it will undoubtedly be necessary for the military regime to stay in place.

The investigation surrounding the explosion near Victory Monument.

In Other News...

Kaddi and I want to extend our fondest New Year greetings to everyone. I hope you are all enjoying 2007, but here in Thailand its the year 2550. Yes, we are now contacting you all from 543 years into the future. And let me tell you, the future is quite a place. We have escalators and moving sidewalks in our apartment so we don't have to walk anymore. Everyone has their own jetpack, so I can fly into the library everyday. Also, the world of fashion has been incredibly simplified. About 130 years ago the entire world just decided to adopt the shiny silver suit with the boots and the big V in front. People resisted for a few years, but I was all for it from the beginning - it makes my life a lot easier.

Oh, and Doug - I wanted to warn you from the future. This Thursday at 6:30 AM one of your neighbours will drive their car into you house. You will want to move all your furniture and perhaps put up a barrier in case you....oh, wait...that was last Thursday. Nevermind...

Would you like clouds with that?

A foreign language can be a fickle mistress. For whatever reason, my ability to read and speak Thai ebbs and flows like the tides of Kamala beach (although no tsunamis as of yet.) Some days I feel like Mr. Rosetta Stone, the words are easy to pronounce, the microfilms are clear and readable; and then the next day I feel illiterate and slur my words like I started drinking at eight-thirty that morning.

This process becomes even more complicated when you're dealing with an Asian language that involves tones. Asian languages must be sung, not spoken. The exact same word can have 4-5 different meaning depending on your verbal intonation. If you're not careful with Thai, the word 'new' can suddenly become 'fire' or 'wood'. At the fortieth anniversary celebration, a friend told me a story about ordering ice cream with a former Mission President. The Pres. wanted to ask for 'your big scoop' (of ice cream), but accidentally ordered 'your big butt.' Fortunately for missionaries, there is always someone around to quickly explain what you meant to say.

A few days ago I went into 7-11 for an old missionary favorite - the slurpee. It's amazing how a return to former surroundings can throw you back into old habits. In the twelve years since I left Thailand I've probably had 7 slurpees total. Now that I'm back I probably drink 3-4 a week. I suppose the weather has something to do with that. Once I had stacked as much slurpee as possible into the large cup I headed toward the counter. In Thailand they have the straws behind the counter, and they only give you a lid if you request one. After receiving my straw I proceeded to ask for a lid, but didn't quite hit the right note and instead said "Can I please have some sky?"

Now, most Thais are pleased and impressed that you're speaking their language and are quick to ignore any mistakes. They try to guess your meaning so as to spare you any embarassment. How lucky for me that this girl decided instead to treat me like I was a grade school student who had just spelled his own name with a backwards 'S'.

"It's lid" she said, "not sky. Sky and lid are very different things, you know."

I smiled with look that tried to communicate 'Thank you so much for the lesson', but really meant 'Just give me my damn slurpee, lady'. As I left the store I could hear her still laughing about it with a friend, saying 'He wanted sky with his slurpee.'

And so I took the long walk of shame that so many missionaries and immigrants have walked before me, suffering the humiliation of unsuccessfully trying to assimilate. It is the price we pay, I suppose, for the luxury of enjoying the cultural stereotypes that are so prevalent in North America. Who among us does not enjoy Apu inviting customers back to the Kwik-E-Mart with his trademark 'Thank-you, come again.' ? That day this 7-11 employee was enjoying that same joke, only this time at my expense. What can a minority do, except to silently submit to the majority's mockery, and make a mental note so as not to commit the error a second time?

(...but I'll bet that girl wasn't laughing when her shift ended and she walked outside to find her Hello-Kitty bicycle crumpled up under the wheels of a stolen taxi.)

Blue Christmas

A 301NIB Christmas Card

Merry Christmas

and Happy New Year 2007

from the (Mack) Strate family

A gift that keeps on giving

Yesteday as I headed back to the river-pier after a long day at the archives, I decided to take a short-cut through one of the markets. I wandered past the fresh vegetables, the flower vendors, the peppers drying, the seafood slowly rotting in the mid-day heat, until at the very end of the alley I saw it - a stall full of DVD's.

I immediately went over and asked if he had any titles in English. After looking me over to make sure I wasn't CIA (or worse - Disney intelligence), the elderly man lead me down a hallway and into a dimly lit room full of wall-to-wall black market DVD's. They had everything there, films that havn't even been released in the theatres yet. Because I am both a cautious consumer and a loving father, I purchased only copies of 'Open Season' and 'Happy Feet'. Each DVD was 80 baht, (or about 2.30$) and amazingly they both worked in our DVD player.

(Further proof that you don't have to be a Rock Star to risk life and limb making illegal underground contacts in developing countries and circumvent existing international copyright law.)

In Other News...

Tomorrow I go to meet with my new research assistant. Each day I print out copies of newspaper editorials that comment on the 1940-1 Franco-Thai conflict. Many of these microfilms are old, scratched, torn, faded, or otherwise illegible for someone who is not a native Thai speaker. I need someone to help re-type these articles so that I can expedite the process of reading and processing the information. I may ask an assistant to also provide summaries as well so I can quickly decide which articles I want to read first. I've been inquiring for two months now and at last I've found a qualified candidate.

There's only one problem: it's a female student. Kaddi is understandably torn, especially since she wants me to work quickly and finish quickly so that we can all go home and I can complete the dissertation. Today she proposed a compromise that I think everyone can live with. Basically, I'll hire a team of helper monkeys.

With a thousand monkeys writing at a thousand typewriters, in ten months I'll have produced the greatest dissertation the world have ever known!

"Without our traditions, life would be as shaky as..."

Recently I've been thinking about the power of religious tradition. Much of what we see here in Thailand seems incredibly strange to us. I may have already written that the kids have been fascinated by the spirit houses they see on certain street corners. In Animist tradition, there are spirits that live in the ground, the water, in the trees and the rocks. When you build a house you displace the spirit that lived in the ground, and so you build a small house for the spirit to reside in and offer it food, beverages, and incense. If you do not do this, you run the risk that the earth spirit will become angry and begin to cause you problems.

Each day on the river-taxi ride down into Bangkok we pass several Buddhist temples along the riverbank. I've noticed that when we pass these temples, certain people will turn towards it, wai the temple, and then raise their hands over their heads as if to allow the aura of the temple to wash over them. Thais believe that holy sites, and especially holy people, radiate a purity and goodness that can be absorbed based on your proximity.

These centers of holiness include temples, amulets, revered monks, ancient ruins, and of course - the king. People will line the roads and streets whenever they know that the king will be passing by. They often hold up their Buddhist amulets in the belief that as the King passes by his munificence will radiate outward and be absorbed by the amulet. From then on, that they believe that amulet will protect and enrich their lives.

In Mormonsim we don't believe in idols or amulets, or that inanimate objects have inherent spiritual qualities. But we have peculiar religious traditions nonetheless. I remember a professor at BYU telling me about a family that he hometaught, whose nine-year old boy had a leaf he had taken from the Sacred Grove. No doubt with this parents encouragement, he had the leaf framed and displayed prominently in his room. Is it not strange that such a telestial artifact would be a reminder of spiritual identity? It's a leaf from a tree, and probably not even a tree that was there when Joseph Smith was alive, since the original forest was cut down and had to be re-planted. It's more than just a connection to history and ancestors. For that boy, the leaf possesses certain inherent qualities because of its proximity to one of the most holy events in Mormonism.

Do Mormon temples or leaders also radiate purity in a similar fashion? As Latter-Day Saints we often visit or drive past temples even if we're not going in. We place them in as prominent a position as possible, often on mountainsides or hilltops, so that they can be seen by everyone -so that nothing interferes with the connection between symbol and interpreter. We all love to see the prophet, on tv is nice, but in person it feels much more powerful. And who doesn't love to tell a story about when they shook the prophets hand? I was once in a large-group meeting in the MTC in which people who had shook the prophets hands were invited to share their experiences. Is this because his purity and spiritual power is somehow passed on to us?

Mormonism and Buddhism are obviously very different religions but our common humanity leads up to develop comparable religious conceptions. Mankind has a universal desire to create tangible connections with the divine.



The money tree. Thais love to publicly donate money to worthy causes such as building a new temple. The more you donate, the greater merit you earn. Coincidentally, this is also how Andrew Carnegie tried to buy back his soul.

Portrait of a Family

In my ongoing efforts to amuse and entertain sometimes I forget to mention exactly how we are doing here in Thailand. Life here is not all riding elephants, feeding monkeys, and playing with tigers, you know. So here is a dose of realism. Four vignettes of such detail and unimaginable psychological intensity that Henry James himself would be proud.

MEG

We all enjoyed the grandparents visit, but it was perhaps the most physically taumatizing period in Meg's short six-year history. First, she lost both her front teeth. Then, she was brutally assaulted on the waterslide by her brother, who decided that walking up the slide while other kids are trying to come down was a sensible idea. Meg hit his knee with her head, giving her an enormous black eye and a bump that still hasn't gone away. I suppose we can all be grateful it wasn't one some little Swedish kids that benefitted from Jake's thoughtfulness. That, plus the incident with the soccer ball and Dolph Lundgren would be after me for sure.
















JAKE

Many of you might already be familiar with Jake's philosophy: I touch, therefore I am. He touches dials and levers in the car. He touches furniture, appliances, and electronics as we walk through department stores. He touches expensive, breakable display items at other people's houses. It's very difficult for him to see something and not touch it (but at least he's stopped putting things in his mouth). If he ever gets lost in the woods during a Scout activity, we'll just hang something sparkly on a nearby tree and in ten minutes he'll be there reaching for it.

A few days ago while at the mall at the mall with a friend, Kaddi and the kids stopped for lunch at a restaurant. The only seats available were on one end of a long table that had a few ladies sitting on the other end. As luck would have it, Jake ended sitting near the middle of the table next to someone's purse. Of course, he immediately began to touch the bag, pulling on it, fiddling with the ties or zippers, completely oblivious that the bag's owner was sitting directly across from him with a look of subdued rage on her face. After a few minutes of this, the lady could take no more. She got up from her seat, walked around the table to where Jake sat, smacked his hand, grabbed her purse, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Oh...if only I had been there to see it.

KADDI

December has been a banner month for Kaddi. It began when the 1st counselor in the Bishopric called us into the office and asked us to organize the Sacrament meeting program for Christmas Eve. That seemed a sensible idea to me, considering neither of us are particularly musical and we don't know anyone in the ward. Then the 2nd counselor paid us a visit at home to ask us to be the nursery leaders. I love to hear people talk about the nursery...Oh, what a great calling the nursery is - I wish I could be in the nursery, the luckiest people are in the nursery, Ooooh, Ooooh...those precious children. I guess that's why every Bishopric has a waiting list of people who want to be called as nursery leaders, because everyone loves it-soooo-much! Have you every tried to get anyone to replace you in the nursery? Besides, the whole reason those kids are in there in the first place is their own PARENTS don't want to deal with them. Oh, sure...we try to put a happy face on it by singing songs and playing with puzzles and handing out crackers, but let's just call it what it really is - Toddler lockdown.

It seems pretty obvious that a Bishopric surveys their ward roster, selects the most naive couple they can find (usually someone who's just moved in and is optimistic about the ward) and slams them into nursery. Although in our case I think that one day someone just informed the Bishop that we were socializing, getting to know people, and feeling better about being a half world away from everything familiar. "Oh, they are...are they? Well, we'll put a stop to that!!"

(But I'm not bitter...)

SHANE

No Christmas post is complete without a tale of a boy and his bike. We Nichadans do a lot of bicycling, and so the community has built-in bicycle lanes on boths sides of the road. In addition to the painted lines on the margins, they've also set up orange road-cones to separate traffic between cars and bicycles. It's an apartheid transit system. There's even a string that runs through each of the road cones, to prevent us 2-wheelers from associating with our 4-wheeled superiors. Once in you're in the bicycle lane, you're generally locked in until the next intersection. The consequences of crossing indiscriminately can be...severe.

Saturday after Jake's soccer game at the school, the family headed home with Meg on the back of my bicycle and Jake on the back of Kaddi's. After picking up my driver's license and heading out the school gate, I noticed there was more shade on the other side of the street and thus did the unthinkable - I tried to jay-cycle my way across the street. It could be that Meg was distracting me with one of her 64 follow-up questions on topics such as "What's the thing that goes next to the other thing?", but more likely I was just lost in my thoughts (possibly planning the next great talent show production - Mack Strate and Jazzhands: the sequel.) Whatever the topic, I was so engrossed that not only did I not realize that I had driven over the sacred string boundary that separates civilization from chaos, I kept peddling until the string was wrapped so tight around the back wheel, we would need a chainsaw to get it free. Since both ends of the string were still threaded through the orange roadcones I had made a serious mess of the day's commute. In three minutes there was bicycle traffic backed up for miles.

The pure ecstasy of trying to pull string out of a bicycle chain in 100% humidity was immeasurably enhanced by the fact that this happened right in front of the school entrance. As dozens of parents drove out of the school parking lot, they could peer through the tinted windows of their Landrovers and Lexus' to see a small family camped around an entangled child's bike by the side of the road. We must have looked like an ad for a homeless shelter. I think Meg started quoting lines from Junie B. Jones and Kaddi just stood there with a blank look on her face that said "This is quite a life I have..." I made sure to appear disgusted and shake my head at Jake every few seconds in order to confuse people into thinking that he was responsible. In such circumstances it's standard operating procedure to pin blame on the boy.

Despite my best efforts I could not get us loose. If it had been up to me, I'd still be there on the side of the road. But, as so often happens here, someone took pity on us in one of our many moments of need. One of the 147 security guards that patrol fortress Nichada came to lend a hand, detached the string from the roadcones, and eventually succeeded in freeing us. After thanking him I fled the scene of my embarassment like a fish suddenly released from a fisherman's hook and dropped back into the river. I was almost home before I realized Meg wasn't on the back of the bike.

IT'S A FESTIVUS MIRACLE!

"So this is Christmas. And what have you done?..."



Tonight Kaddi and I sat on the couch trying to watch a downloaded version of It's a Wonderful Life on a laptop screen connected to the television speakers. The movie would periodically stutter and freeze as the download progressed slowly. I ate sticky rice with mango and even with the air-conditioning on at 9PM, still sweat through my clothes. It was just like I remembered Christmas as a little boy growing up in Alberta.

Despite being in Thailand, the Strate's are trying their best to make this a Merry Christmas. We bought a tree at Carefour and some decorations. We accidentally got the blinking kind of lights, and can't seem to figure out how to stop them from blinking. As such, anytime we want to watch TV we have to unplug the Christmas lights...and then we sometimes can't plug them in again. But the biggest problem is that we don't have star for the tree. We didn't see anything appropriate at the store, and decided we might have to go without one this year.

Normally, that would be unthinkable. But not this year - not when we've already got enough Christmas decorations to make Martha Stewart eat her own pine-scented stocking carp out of envy.

A little garland, some holly, and a few...uh, blue things can brighten up the even the homeliest curtain rod.

A traditional Thai nativity set dating back to the year 165 BC. Most people don't know that there were elephants in Bethlehem that night, because Catholics edited that part out at the Council of Nicaea.

Kaddi picked up this Nativity set at Que Pasa, the local Mexican restaurant just outside Nichada. We're breaking down so many cultural barriers here we often get lost in the rubble.

Kaddi's stocking. I can't wait to see the look on her face Christmas morning when it's full of special scented candles I picked up at a local market. I got curry, dried fish, and my personal favorite: cab-driver.





Still, the cornucopia of wholesome decorating goodness felt incomplete without an appropriate ornament to put on top of the tree. For a few days I wondered if our Christmas wish would not be granted. We comforted ourselves as best we could by listening to BNL's Elf's Lament'(with Michael Buble) and of course the greatest Christmas music of all - The Muppets and John Denver: A Christmas Together.

And then, one afternoon the doorbell rang. It was the postman, and in his arms was the most beautiful Christmas decoration I had ever seen. I knew at once that this heaven-sent gift was destined to reign atop our Christmas tree....


















Who's ready for the feats of strength?

Celebrating the King's 79th birthday

His Royal Highness King Bhumipol Adulyadej turned 79 on December 5th. Here is the headline from Phuujadkuan newspaper in Bangkok. It shows Sanaam Luang (The Royal Field) filled with people wearing their yellow shirts and carrying yellow banners and torches, with the Grand Palace in the background.

The caption says "Astronauts are amazed: the colour yellow can be seen from space."

Of course, not everyone thinks the proliferation of royalism is a wonderful thing. Many government employees are forced to purchase and wear these yellow shirts to work. Even when wearing the yellow shirt is not mandatory, people in power watch to see who wears them and who doesn't. It is seen as an indication of your loyalty to the kind (and royalist politics) and can affect whether your advance in your career. My advisor at Wisconsin calls it "Yellow Fever." Even though it's not tied to militant irredentism or xenophobia - the mandatory shirts and yellow flags everywhere combined with the giant portraits of the King glowering down at you in every public space...it all reminds me of another society...back in the 1930s....if only I could remember what is was...

JAKE'S JOURNAL: If I were a snowball

If I were a snowball flying through the air, this is what I would be thinking. "Oh no, I'm a snowball flying through the air and I'm about to splay in someone's face and it's going to hurt! Oh, the horrer, the terrible horrer! Oh, here it comes. Help m...splat! .....Hello? I'm a new snowball and I'm happy to get killed just like the other one. So let us get on with the SNOWBALL KILLING FACTORY INC. Skype-out!

P.S. (If you didn't get the last part, that's because you don't have skype.)

P.P.S. (www.skype.com, you can talk to friends on the computer and you can hear them to, but you have to have a microphone.)

There was no inn at the room

Every year the Bangkok stake puts on a nativity production at the Asoke chapel called Journey to Bethlehem. Each room is decorated as a different scene from the Christmas story, with members acting as shepherds, wiseman, angels, etc. This year the event drew over three thousand people. It is the largest missionary activity in Thailand.

Some of you may remember my earlier announcement that the planning committee offered me the role of Joseph. Well...they called back a couple days later to say they decided to give the role to someone else. I won't pretend it didn't hurt. I was offered the role of the innkeeper instead. Trying desperately to cling to the spotlight, I asked if I could be Joseph's understudy. Then, if anything happened to him I could fill in. They said they'd think about it (but I don't think they did.) They didn't even give me a reason for the change, but they must have found out I punched a producer on the set of Joseph: Prophet of the Restoriation.

But, trooper that I am, I carried on in the role of the innkeeper. My 'inn' was the second last stop on the tour. As the travelers came in my daughter Naomi handed out breadsticks. Then I told my account (in English or Thai depending on the tour) of the night Jesus was born and Naomi and I sang the first verse of Away in a Manger. After the song I invited the travelers to go on to the stable behind the inn where Joseph and Mary were singing to the Christ-child.

My monologue was simple enough, but I found lots of way to keep the audience off balance. During one of the ten dress rehearsal performances both Naomi and I managed to forget the words to Away in the Manger. I was supposed to take my glasses off to ensure believability, but sometimes I forgot and left them on. During the two nights of performances there were probably 30-40 tours per night. After a while everything started to blur together. I forgot lines and made up others instead. The shepherds who guided the tours from room to room were supposed to tell me if it was an English our Thai group, but they often didn't. In a darkened room without my glasses on I couldn't always guess correctly, and so several times I started in Thai when the group was English, or vice-versa. Once I correctly started in English, but then after the song forgot what language I had been speaking and resumed the dialogue in Thai.

It was also a little unsettling to share the nativity story in front of people who had little appreciation for its sacredness. The members all came during the dress rehearsal, and for the most part behaved like they were in a church. But during actual performances the audiences behaved quite differently. Each stop on their journey provided them with some form of treat, and so by the time they arrived at the inn the children were conditioned like Pavlovian dogs to rush forward and grab as many breadsticks as possible. Then they sat and crunched those breadsticks as I talked. It sounded like someone was mixing gravel. A few times people took cel phones calls, or talked to their neighbors about the days shopping, or asked questions. Since the church building is close to a university, there were many college kids in large groups exhibiting standard frat boy behavior. My prop was a broom, and so a couple of times as the group was leaving these geniuses would throw the stub of their breadsticks on the floor and gesture for me to sweep it up. It was offensive (even for someone as callous as myself).

It was the experience of being a religious and cultural minority. After it was over I reflected on how this dramatization must have appeared to Thais who have almost no knowledge of Christianity. Christmas was introduced to Thailand largely by Japanese department store conglomerates who emphasized Santa Claus, Christmas trees, and of course - buying things. As a result, most Thais think Christmas is like their Songkhran, a festival celebrating the advent of a new calendar year. So when Thais are then guided through a series of rooms that contain a raving lunatic king, three traveling merchants, white-robed minstrels, sheep-herders, a hotel-owner, and finally a couple in a cave-like setting singing to a plastic baby that is supposed to represent the son of God...one can only wonder at their impressions. In comparison the story of Vishnu's creation of Buddha's enlightenment under the Tamarind tree seem surprisingly plausible. Only the Holy Ghost could overcome such barriers.

FLOATING MARKET: One visit and you'll be hooked

On the last day of the Grandparents visit we headed down to the Floating market, about 80 kilometers southeast of Bangkok in Samut Songkhram. On they way we passed several vendors selling salt by the side of the road. The Chao-Phrya river delta has extensive salt flats, where farmers allow the salt water to flood their land, then wait for it to evaporate and harvest the leftover salt residue.

The Floating Market is an extensive network of canals where people gather to sell their produce. Two generations ago it was strictly a market for agricultural produce, since the Samut Songkhram area of Thailand is among the most fertile regions of the country. The water from the canals periodically floods the nearby land, providing an automatic irrigation system for the fields and orchards that grow nearby. We passed orchards full of jackfruit, guava, mangoes, and many other Thai fruits that just grow naturally without planting or additional watering.

The area is now one of Thailand's most culturally distinct attractions, so if you visit today you must jostle for position among the myriads of other tourists in long boats. Along with the boats selling fruit, sticky rice with mango, coconut pancake, you must contend with vendors on the riverbanks who sell the same clothes, decorations, and knick-knacks available on the streets of Bangkok. At times one feels like a rat in a maze, but it definitely still well worth the trip.

This woman was selling coconut beverages. She takes a machete and hacks the top to a point, cuts it open, then places a straw inside for drinking. With one of these in your hands you appear to be in tropical paradise, until you take a drink.


These women use their boats to sell all manner of fruits and concoctions. They can be quite agressive, telling you to purchase from them and not from another vendor, or they may even grab your boat as you go by to get your attention. Fortunately, Morg was there to protect me.


This is 'ngau?' fruit. You peel back the red-green spindly exterior to eat the white fleshy part inside. Thai legend has it that this is the fruit Willy Wonka used to lure the Oompa-Loompa's to his chocolate factory.


Since Meg's face got so badly sunburned in Phuket, we've opted for slightly more extreme measures in sun-screen protection. She seems unconvinced, but I think it will be next year's big fashion statement.








IN OTHER NEWS...

INSECTA-SIDE DISH: Pasta was on the menu for this evening's dinner. Kaddi took the package out of the cupboard, dumped it into the boiling water, and watched in horror as several bugs floated to the surface. She was about to throw the entire contents of the pot away before I stopped her. Given the choice of pb&j (again) and buggy-pasta, I choose buggy-pasta. I tried to convince everyone else that the boiling water kills the bugs and anything else, but there were no takers. I thought it tasted fine, maybe a bit crunchier than usual, but fine.

RADIUS DOES MATTER: My parents had to be at the airpot at 6:30 AM, which means we had to leave here so early we couldn't get a van and had to take two taxis instead. I called up a driver that I use regularly, and asked a friend with another taxi to come as well. My parents and I traveled in one taxi, and the luggage was packed into another. When we arrived at the airport I went to pay the drivers, and notice the fare for one taxi was 25 baht higher than the other. I thought this odd, since taxis here run on a meter system, and we had traveled the exact same distance at the exact same time.

During the ride home back to our apartment, I asked my driver how this was possible. He told me to guess. I thought that perhaps one driver had turned his meter on while he was waiting for us to load the luggage, prematurely increasing the fare. Or perhaps that he was from another taxi company that calibrated their meters in a slightly different manner. Neither of these proved correct. He informed that the meters function exactly like odometers. They are designed to calculate distance based on the number of tire revolutions. Entrepenurial drivers often mount standard size tires on their taxis while the meters are calibrated, then switch them out for smaller radius tires - say, from 175R to 165R. The smaller tire size increases the amount of rotations and tricks the meter into thinking the car has travelled a greater distance. The cutomer travels 25 km, but pays for 30 km.

You - out there...YOU are the REAL stars!

Even as I type this post, the grandparents are winging their way across the Pacific ocean, no doubt enjoying the luxurious extra five inches of leg-room available with their economy-plus upgrade. Their return to Alberta is bad for us, but good for you, because it's time to announce the winner's of our first photo-caption contest...

301NIB would like to thank the thousands and thousands of viewers who submitted very funny captions. It was indeed a challenge to select a winner and five runners-up from such a vast ocean of emails, but our staff was up to the challenge. As we sifted through the submissions we noticed a surprising trend, almost every single one referenced my glutius maximus in some way. This is a little unusual, since it's really not my best feature (have you all forgotten about my fabulous hair?) And by the way - I was reaching for my wallet!

Fifth Runner-up:

"Krikey! I guess each fabric purchase also comes with a complimentary deep tissue massage!"

S. Irwin
Melbourne Australia

Fourth Runner-up:

"Mack Strate realizes even though he has just bought a bottle of "purified" water he will be spending the afternoon grunting at the Archives bathroom... KABLAAMO!"

Rock Star
Madison, Wisconsin

Third Runner-up:

"Shane is diappointed to learn that bottled mineral water will not cure the boils on his..."

Dr. Ian Wendt
Pullman, Washington

Second Runner-up:


"Shane's reaction to a friendly little pinch he encountered while at the market. (He seems to have forgotten his role as Ambassador from the West."

Kell-Kell
Madison, Wisconsin



First Runner-up*:



"So am I the only one who wants to squeeze this Alberta Prime Beef?"

Bill Heaven
Calgary, Alberta

*This was my personal choice for the grand prize winner (but I was over-ruled by the committee.) It reminds me of my old 'Where's the beef?' bumper sticker. Heh heh...where's the beef...

And...our Grand Prize winner:
"Hmmm, maybe if I don't make eye-contact, look slightly annoyed, AND scratch my butt, I can pick up 3 of these for the price of 1. If only shopping at Woodman's back in Madison took so much talent, they never truly appreciated my skills there. Ahhhh, Thailand, how I love thee, let me count the ways!"

Sandy Marquez
Madison, Wisconsin

It was hard to argue with a selection that managed to fit Shakespeare, Woodman's, Thailand, and my derriere, all in the same blurb? It was more a beautiful sonnet than a photo caption. This one had it all...

Congratulations to all the winners.

*301NIB prizes will only be awarded if and when they are over produced. Please allow 8 months for delivery.

Jake's Journal

My grampa and Grandma came for two weeks and a day. It was very fun. Here are the places we went. (I might not remember all the places we went so don't get mad at me.) We went to Poo-ket. There we did tons of things. Like Meg lost a tooth and we scuba dived, went to Monkey island. And dude (or dudette) let me tell you, the monkeys there are crazy, because I touched one and it tried to scratch and bite me. It was scary.



Then, when we got back to regular Thailand, we went to an elephant show. I got to take a picture with real live tigers, and that is like my dream come true!



Then we went to the elephant show. They started blowing everything up. It was awesome.



Peace out,
J-Dog

Let me go check with my manager...

Part of the fun of having my parents around is negotiating the prices for everything they want to purchase, or see, or do. They enjoy both the spectacle of watching me haggle with some vendor and feeling like they got a good price.

So, when we decided we wanted to go elephant trekking down in Phuket, it was up to me to find a travel place that could make the necessary arrangements. The travel desk in the hotel is reliable, but more expensive, so I walked out of the hotel and down the street to find a cheaper, slightly less predictable, establishment. There were at least two or three travel brokers on the little road leading to the Kamala Bay Gardens hotel, each with uniquely misspelled English names. My favorite was "Assome Travel," which I can only assume was mean to read 'Awesome Travel' (Or perhaps they just cater to Phuket's red-light district clientele).

I sat down on the faded-blue vinyl couch and began explaining exactly what I wanted: a short 30-minute tour through the jungle that would begin at precisely 8:30 the next morning. We had only one day left and we wanted to spend most of it at the beach, besides which we didn't want to be strapped to the back of an elephant under the mid-day Phuket sun. I already had a pamphlet from another establishment and suggested they arrange for us to go there, since I knew it was close to the hotel.
As soon as I was finished the performance began. These two travel 'agents' immediately began diverting me away from the place I wanted to go towards another place they recommended. The new place, they said, was much prettier, had much better jungle scenery complete with exotic flowers and animals, and was cheaper than the place I originally wanted to go. I could get an hour trek for about the same price as a half hour would cost me at the first place. I realized that they must get some type of referral fee for steering tourists towards this elephant trek establishment, but I had my doubts about the first place anyway. (How interesting could the jungle be if it was right off the main highway?) So, I threw in my lot with these two, we agreed on a price on 3800 baht, and after stressing that our trek had to take place tomorrow at 8:30 AM, I returned back to the hotel to discuss it with everyone else and get the money.

I returned to the office twenty minutes later, money in hand, to purchase my tickets. When I sat down they informed me that our arrangement had changed, I was booked for 10:30 AM instead of 8:30 AM. I responded that this wasn't acceptable. We wanted to spend the day on the beach, and were only interested in an elephant trek if it fit in our schedule. This met with some head-scratching and concerned looks. Alright, they said, we could go at 8:30 AM, but it would have to be at the location I originally suggested (the ugly one), and it would only be a half hour, and it would cost 4400 baht instead of 3800 baht.

Now, I'm used to dealing with the brazen antics of Thai snake-oil salesman, but this was amazingly bold even for them. I asked to explain why I would pay more money to spend less time visiting a less attractive site? They didn't have a good answer for this and so the price began going down. We finally agreed on a price of 3200 baht, which I felt was fair since it was 600 baht less than our original bargain, and 1200 baht less than what they wanted me to pay. I walked back to the hotel confident in the knowledge that I was not just another schmuck tourist who paid 'retail' for tour packages. Who did these guys think they were dealing with, trying to get 4400 baht out of me?

The next morning our mini-bus picked us up at the hotel and transported us to the elephant trek location. As soon as we arrived the 'tour guide' immediately steered us toward a bulletin board that listed the tour schedules. He explained that we should upgrade from a half hour to 45 minutes or an hour, since that would give us a much better chance of seeing the lush vegetation that the Phuket jungle had to offer. Apparently the sight of elephant walking out in the field and eating sugar cane captivated our party, because those who had previously only been interested in a half hour where now eager to upgrade for more time. The guide wanted 1200 baht to upgrade to 45 minutes, but we settled on one thousand (bringing the new package total to 4200 baht.) Having settled this, we set off on our excursion.

The pictures make it look far more exotic than the actual reality. Although some spots were quite picturesque, the overal tour had the feeling of wandering around someone's swampy backyard. I also began to think that the difference between the half hour tour and the 45 minute tour was that the elephants just took longer bathroom breaks. But, we were still in Phuket and trekking around on elephants, so who can complain?

When we returned to point of orgins and disembarked from the elephants, we saw that the staff had laid out pineapples for us to feed to the elephants. It was a nice way to end the tour, and the kids enjoyed watching the elephants use their trunks snatch pieces of pineapples out of their hands. Only after the fruit was all eaten up did the guide inform us that the 50 baht worth of pineapple they had laid out was now going to cost us 200 baht. It was such blatant exploitation and they did it so effortlessly that, as a former car salesman, I had to admire them.

So, once again....the negotiated tour price of 3200 baht + 1000 baht upgrade + 200 pineapple = 4400 baht. Somehow these travel office charlatans had managed to extract the exact amount they had wanted from the beginning.

As we rode back in the mini-bus, gone was my smug confidence in my street-smarts and negotiating ability. Instead, I felt like I had just paid full MSRP for a brand new KIA.

Skype-out!

The Man with the Golden Megaphone

On Wednesday we booked a tour of the Phi-Phi islands. This island group lies in between Phuket island and the mainland. It's the site of the famous James Bond movie and also Maya Beach, better known as 'The Beach'. It was quite the tour - completely with rowdy Aussies, glimmering tropical fish, and a guide who kept trying to tell lousy jokes through a blowhorn.


A shot of Jake riding up front with Tour Guide Bobby. Bobby has spent so much time with Aussi tourists that he speaks English (using Thai grammar) with an Australian accent. We couldn't understand a thing he said.

Grandma snorkeling off the coast of Phi-Phi Don island. (We're a long way from the Magrath co-op now...)

With the right motivation, Jake turned out to be a pretty good little snorkeler. We just dropped his gameboy into the water and told him he had to find it.


This is called Viking cave - probably named by all the Swedish tourists. The cave is full of swallow nests, which are harvested by people who live and work inside. Birdsnest soup is quite a delicacy in Southeast Asia. I'm not sure what it tastes like, (but the swallows themselves taste like chicken).


Looking for seashells on and island full of coral. If my dissertation doesn't pan out we plan to return here so I can fill my true calling - salvaging sunken barges for scrap iron.

"Steppin' on the beach...doodle-do-do-dooo..."

Isn't it amazing the way stereotypes sometimes DO hold up?

First: All California girls are natural-born surfers:


Second: All Canadian girls are not natural-born surfers:
Click here for a demonstration

Third: Jake likes to fall down:

The Island

We've returned from Phuket in body but our hearts are still back at Kamala Beach. It was like some beautiful movie where you're actually someone else's clone, living in paradise until the moment when your organs are harvested to improve the quality of life for your genetic twin. Unfortunately, we had to leave the tranquil blue waters of the Andaman sea and return to the industrial-sludge of the Chao Phrya river.

We picked up some bodyboards at a shop outside the hotel and the girls hit the surf. Despite her best efforts Grandma had a hard time keeping up with the California girl, but eventually she did catch a wave...(and we've got the video!)


Ten minutes after arriving on the beach Jake dug up some Scandanavian's sunglasses and wore them for the rest of the day. He had to take them off later after being attacked by a group of German women who mistook him for David Hasslehoff.


There are some who will undoubtedly remain skeptical, but I can assure you that the water at this beach really was that blue. After getting out of the water you just want to order a drink with an umbrella and start applying the aqua velva.

The view from the rocky coral cliffs of Egg island. We had to seek refuge here to escape the raucous partying of Bobby the Tour guide and about a dozen intoxicated Aussies. 

JAKE BEING JAKE

Jake was a little anxious to get down to Phuket and ride those waves, so he decided to start practicing at the airport.




I didn't hold the shot long enough to get his dismount - he landed on his head. But we think the extreme sport of escalator surfing has a strong future. We've been in contact with the X games, and there's definite interest in developing it as a competitive sport. Not that Jake would be interested...he's in it for the thrill of the surf, not the commercial stuff.

The Stockholm Syndrome

I'm sitting here in a Tailor shop/internet cafe, it's 11 AM and about 34 degrees celsius outside, but such is my commitment to this website that I'm willing to sweat it out to update our loyal viewers on our time down in Phuket. Unfortunately, pictures will have to wait until our return to Bangkok tomorrow night, but I can share an amusing anecdote with you...

We're staying on Kamala Beach at the Kamala Bay Gardens hotel on the west coast of Phuket island. We've discovered that this beach, and especially this hotel are a Scandinavian playground. There are Swedes everywhere, I think our family is the only one that does have anyone named Lars or Henrik. Last night we went to the hotel buffer for dinner, and the entertainment was 'A tribute to Disney'. I've never been to Sweden, but apparently they love watching Thais dancing around and lyp-sync-ing to Disney karaoke. Swedish culture is so fascinating to me.

So two nights ago we were in the hotel pool, which has a water slide and pool-side bar amd soccer nets on either side. Morg and Jake and I got into a physical game of pool-soccer. It got a little rowdy for a while, but we made a conscious effort avoid roughing up the Swedish kids nearby. Anyway, during one play I was tossing Morg around like the pink little water-wing he is - after dunking him under the water I turned around to fire the ball at the goal. Only after releasing the ball do I realize there's a 5-year old little Swedish girl sitting on the edge right next to the left goal post. The next few miliseconds were in slow motion, but of course the ball hit her right in the head and she fell crying into the pool.

After trying unsuccessfully to hide underwater for several seconds I went over to converse with the father who was now comforting his little girl. My heartfelt apologies were met with a 'go away' hand gesture and a look that said 'Haven't you done enough already?'

Yeah, well...what do you think will happe when you sit right next to the soccer net when people are playing for the championship of the universe? I thought Swedes were supposed to be the descendants of the Vikings. Where's the toughness that made all Europe shudder? Do you think Leaf Erickson would haver cried if he'd been hit in the head with a soccer ball? Do you think Eric the Red would have whined about someone kncking his kid into the pool? I don't know about the Swedes - all those indoor saunas and tasteful furniture has made them really soft. I'll bet that little girl wouldn't last five-minutes in a long boat out on the North sea.

They're just lucky it was a bunch of meek, mild-mannered Canadians playing in their pool. If it had been the Aussies she would be wearing an eye patch for the rest of her life.

Captioning the moments of our lives

Do you love the clever photo captions posted at 301NIB? Do you read the hilarious commentary posted on our site and find yourself giggling like a Venture Crew leader trying to tell a story about Hitler's brain? Well, now's your chance to create your own caption. Just write your own caption for the photo shown below and send it into our website. The funniest submission will appear on the website along with the photo as part of our sendoff on the Grandparent's day of departure. They will also receive a prize coveted by all mankind: a free 301NIB t-shirt!

Just write a hilarious caption for this photo...

...and send it into srstrate@gmail.com (along with a stamped, self-addressed envelope) and our 301nibstaff will evaluate and choose the winner. We will post the winning caption on Nov. 29th, along with four runners-up. Here it is, subscribers - your chance to participate in the magic and excitement that is 301NIB! So, get busy captioning...

Disclaimer: Prizes may or may not be awarded. If no subscribers participate, 301NIB reserves the right to create its own caption to be published under the names of make-believe people.

Walking the Eight Fold Path

We didn't plan anything for the first day, since we didn't know how jet-lagged the parents would be and we didn't want to overwhelm them. But thanks to a little friend called 'sleeping pills', they were both up for whatever adventure we had in store. So, I called up a contact in the transportation industry (I know a guy...) and we rented a 'rod-tuu' and we headed into Bangkok.

We wanted to start the day out by currying favor with the gods. So we headed off to the Thewet pier, bought a 20 baht bag of stale bread and fed the fish in the river. Then we had a nice lunch at 'S&P' restaurant, since the parents are only interested in 'authentic' Thai cuisine. When the van dropped us off in front of Wat Phrakaew, street vendors descended upon Morg like fisherman on a breakfast burrito. This one guy followed him for about ten minutes trying to sell a series of postcards.

The happy family in front of the golden stupa at Wat Phrakaew, the most sacred site in the Thai kingdom. The temple site has wall murals, statues, and a magnificent model of Angkor Wat, part of Thailand's attempt to solidify its claim as the true heirs to the great Khmer legacy.

After visiting the Grand Palace, we headed over to Wat Arun. The Temple of the Dawn is located on the Thon Buri side of the river, so we all piled on to the ferry. This is my favorite picture of the day, I just think it frames the water bottle so beautifully in front of the scenic backdrop.







We climbed up to the lower level of Wat Arun and admired the view. Realizing that a majority of the world's population is non-Christian can really challenge one's convictions. Here is Morg at his most introspective, pondering that great mystery of the universe - exactly how much will this vacation cost me?

Arrival Time

After a quick 26 hour flight, Grandma and Grandpa arrived at Suwannaphum international airport in Bangkok....then took another 26 hours find their luggage, getting through customers, and taking pictures of every single thing in the terminal. (Mom assures me she has some lovely photos of ceiling tiles and bathroom fixtures.) But that's one reason we love having them around, they love to see EVERYTHING!



The lovely couple in front of a statue of the guardian of Bangkok. Apparently, not even he could move them along fast enough for the airport staff.
















Their flight from Tokyo was delayed two hours, which meant I had a scant four hours to get re-acguainted with the airport. This gave me time to get a foot massage, so I was feeling quite reeeeelaxed for our happy reunion at 2 AM.









Gearing up for the taxi ride into Bangkok and then out again to Nichada Thani. We spent most of the time trying to convince Morg that we were in fact going West, not East. Even in Thailand, you can't turn off the man's travel-logue feature. He just feels the earth down in his bones.
Now that we're all here, what to do first? Wat Phrakeow? Wat Arun? Jungle tour? Floating market? The beach?


There will be time for all that, but as soon as the luggage zipped open a hockey game broke out.







Skype-out!