New Arrivals

Some of you probably already know there will soon be a new addition to our 301NIB family. We have post-poned making an official post on the blog because we wanted to be completely certain. These first few months can be a little nerve-racking, but I think we are both now confident enough to share the good news with everyone. We are very proud and exited to proclaim that:


My friend Joel has started a new blog.

In actuality, he has had a blog for some time now, which he has used to document his family's adventures here in the land of smiles. He simply chose to keep it secret from me until now. It seems that when first met as fellow graduate students (and fellow Fellows) he didn't realize that I was THE 'Mack Strate' of 301nightsinbangkok fame. Naturally, once he learned the truth he was quite reluctant to divulge the address of his own site, which looked quite modest in comparison to the worldwide success of 301NIB. After several counseling sessions he is no longer as intimidated by the Mack Strate mystique, and is prepared to share his site with the world.

Anyone interested in knowing who else (besides the Strate's) would be crazy enough to bring their family to Thailand to do research should check out:

One Year in Thailand

I heartily recommend a recent webvideo entitled Are you bored of reading blogs?, no doubt inspired by our own recent blockbuster, Pursuit of Happiness. The opening scene, in particular, makes an impressive attempt to attain a 301NIB level of goofiness (but sadly, falls just short).

Oh, there is one other thing...

We learned a few weeks ago that we're going to have a baby. To be more specific, Kaddi will have a baby, but I like to think that it's a team effort. Our doctor at Bumrungraad hospital says the due date is December 17th, just one day prior to Rachy-Rach's own birthday. Rachel is a third child, and this will be our third child. The similarities so far have me a little concerned.

This news brings with it a whole new set of challenges. For example, we have to pick a name for the baby. Normally, this is difficult enough. But within Kaddi's family picking baby names is like walking through a minefield. Each of the siblings has laid claim to certain names, and once a name has been staked out, the consequences for poaching can be...severe. Imagine my surprise to learn that my favorite girl's name, Madison, has actually been off the market since 1982.

Because I am by nature a thoughtful, considerate, person who cherishes the feelings of others and would never do anything to create controversy within my circle of inlaws, I've suggested to Kaddi that give our new baby a Thai name. It seems a fitting tribute given the location of the baby's conception.

If it's girl, I suggest: Sukhanit, Junjaree, Siwilai, Indira, Nuchida or Thirarat.

If it's a boy: Thongchai (my advisor), Charnvit, Sarawut, Somchay, Chaloemchay, or Arun.

I also felt strongly about naming our next son after my Stake YM President, Chaloemporn. Kaddi immediately vetoed this idea because she didn't want our son to have a name that ended in 'porn'.

(She may have a point there.)

The Pursuit of Happiness

Inspired by Will Smith's touching story of how a homeless man filled the empty space in his soul by becoming a stockbroker, we decided to take our video camera and explore that eternal question:

What makes us happy?



Some of you may still be wondering: What makes Kaddi happy? I can think of at least three things...

1) This video is now completed.

2) She didn't have to be IN the video.

3) We have exactly two months left in Thailand.

Stream of Consciousness

I hope he had Geico
Besides being the favorite hunting ground for several colonies of ants, our apartment here at Danicha is also the refuge of a few gecko lizards. Every once in a while one might jump off the coffee table and scare Kaddi half to death while she's sweeping, but generally speaking we seem to coexist quite peacefully. I like having them around because they eat bugs and only come out at night. We even had a favorite lizard who preferred hunting in our bathroom. He was easy to remember because he had a gimpy hind-leg. We called him, "Gimpy." Whenever we got up to use the bathroom at night we'd see him climbing the walls. He'd scamper around the light fixtures, hiding in cracks, or in the cupboards. Such a playful little rascal! Unfortunately, one of Gimpy's other favorite hiding spots was under the bathmat. One day as Kaddi was sweeping the bathroom she found Gimpy....or as we now refer to him...'Flatty.' Thus ended the days of Gimpy the Gecko.


Baptism by cultural immersion
Two weeks ago we had the homecoming program for a missionary returning from Guatemala. Determined to follow standard missionary protocol, he gets up to speak and the very first words out of his mouth are:

"It's going to be quite difficult for me to make it through this talk in English, but I'll do the best I can."

(At this point everyone turned around to see who could be groaning so loudly in the back of the chapel.)

Look, I get that every missionary is out to prove that they've changed. They want to show they were good missionaries who took their calling seriously. Nobody will argue that returning to civilian life is uncomfortable. My parents made me go to a family reunion full of big, loud, obnoxious white people the day after I got home - where my Grandma probably tried to feed me prairie oysters. I may have look out of place, but I didn't stand around saying 'I'm sorry...what did you say? Does anyone here speak Thai?'

I remember speaking at my own homecoming. After two years of speaking a lot of Thai, I admit I had trouble remembering a few formal words, but I think I managed to get my point across just fine. I'm willing to grant it might be different for Latin America (was it, Rock Star?), since they have a lot of Latino companions and Spanish is so much easier to speak than Asian languages. But really, can't we drop the pretense about being SO IMMERSED in the language and culture that coming back home is like returning to a foreign country?

If you have trouble speaking English after only two years away from home, you probably didn't speak it that well in the first place.


Confess, stay-at-home-mom!
Finally, there's been some wild accusations thrown about lately concerning 301NIB by a website that I think should remain anonymous . These rumors allege that certain people at 301NIB did willfully and knowingly engage in underhanded tactics in order to obtain a top ranking in the list of links on other websites.

Although our attorneys have advised us to neither confirm nor deny these allegations, we know that our readers already see the truth. Our blog has been consistently placed at the top of every rankings system because our commitment to excellence in political commentary, travel writing, and mild profanity. Those who would propagate such malicious falsehoods will soon feel the full wrath of the cyber-powerhouse that is 301NIB.

The Start of Something Fresh

Up here inside the cement walls of the colonial city, we hunger for entertainment. There's nothing good on tv, our only friends live way down in the city, and there's really not much nearby to visit. So, we tried to make our own fun.

Last week Kaddi and I created a new sensation called Guess that fan speed! It's a two player game. Player two turns on the fan, and player one tries to guess the setting without looking at the buttons. It has been hours of fun. The formula is still not perfect, of course. Since our fan has only three speeds neither Kaddi nor I have ever guessed wrong. I even turned the fan off once, just to get in her head. It didn't work.

At last, our entertainment famine has ended thanks to the appearance of a new blog created by wiffle-ball enthusiast and eighties hip-hop icon Doug E. Fresh. Still in its infancy, this blog started off strong with a light-hearted and poetic tale of home invasion during the holidays. If you're in the mood for a little 'smashy-smashy', check out:

Infidels of Van Steyn Court

Kill Kirby Vol. 2

After realizing we'd bought the wrong game, I was furious with myself for not checking inside the box while we were still at the mall. But when I examined the cartridge, it was clearly marked 'Kirby: Nightmare in Dreamland.' Since the game had obviously been mislabeled, the only way to detect the error would have been to insert it into the Gameboy before we bought it(something we will be doing before any future electronics purchases. It was terrible to see the disappointment on Jake's face. I knew that a good father would do everything he could to right this wrong. (I also knew there was a Dairy Queen right next to the gameboy kiosk.)

Since all business transactions here are fraught with an air of semi-legality, Kaddi assumed that the vendor had intended to rip us off and our money wasa gone. That would be true with the street-side stalls. If you buy something, don't bother getting a receipt, because the store won't be there in four hours. But this video games stand was a permanent fixture. I had seen it many times before and I knew it wasn't going anywhere. I also know that it would be foolish for any vendor to get into a disagreement with a farang. Farangs have money, powerful connections, and the police almost always take their side. I doubted whether I'd have any trouble when I went back to demand satisfaction.

So, a few days later I got in another taxi and headed over to the theater. Instead of the man who had sold us the game, a woman was now behind the counter. I placed 'Kirby' into the Gameboy and demonstrated the problem. Of course, she did not have another copy of Kirby, so she offered to exchange it for whatever game they had on display. But only Kirby would make a boy like Jake truly happy, so I asked for my 590 baht back (the listed price). Thai merchants hate to give refunds, so at this point she called up the owner of the store to consult him. She looked throught the sales records and asked me "Are you sure you paid 590 for that game?" I simply held up the box and said 'Look, there's the price right there on the sticker.' Now she was in a bit of a bind. She knew that I probably paid 500, but didn't want to risk calling my bluff. I could be the rare idiot that came to Bangkok and paid full price.

Finally, she handed over the 590 baht and conceded round two to Mack Strate. If I had a conscience I may have felt a little dishonest about taking an inflated refund. But that's the way the game shakes down here in Thailand. Vendors have to learn there's a price to be paid when they can't deliver the goods. I gorged myself at DQ and returned home to assure Jake that his money was safe, but without the game. Even after two trips to the mall, that prissy little pink blob continued to elude me.

Two weeks after this whole fiasco began I once again showed up at the Major Hollywood Cineplex for the third and final installment of the Kirby saga. Since my last visit the two clerks had obviously uncovered my duplicity. When I stepped up to the counter she immediately confronted me:

"Hey, you paid 500 for that game but told me you paid 590."

I quickly replied:

"You're damn right I did. I've already spent more on taxis coming here than this game is worth."

Not exactly the the most culturally sensitive answer, but I was annoyed. They never apologized for making me come back three times but now expected me to feel guilty about my own slight of hand? Miraculously, they had a new Kirby in stock, I tested it, bought it for the orginal price, and departed without another word. On the way home in a taxi I savored the sweet taste of victory.

It tasted like Oreo blizzard.

Playing the market

On the rare day that it's not too hot for physical exertion, I like to walk from the river pier to the Archives. I recently found a nice shortcut that takes me through the Samsen flower market (which has no flowers). I decided to put together a highlight reel of my daily commute to help people understand why Kaddi will not eat Thai food. Everything that you'll see here is minutes away from being fried in a wok and placed on my plate.

As the footage itself weren't raw enough, I threw in a little cultural music to give the video a distinctively Mack Strate groove. The resulting production is so gritty, so real, you'll swear you can actually smell the funk.

(It smells like dried fish.)

Jean-Marie Francois Du Shaino

It's no secret within our marriage that I do not have a stellar record when it comes to celebrating special days. Birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's Day, Mother's Day...I've even botched a Christmas or two. So as this Mother's Day drew closer, it filled me with a sense of impending doom.

After analyzing the problem at length, I realized it was not that I don't care. It's not even that I'm lazy (always a factor). It's more that I don't set a realistic goal, start planning early, and then quietly endure to the end. A classic blunder is to try and keep everything a secret intead of enlisted Kaddi's help and advice on the things I can't do. Another is that I can tend to get too excited and can sometimes ruin the entire production out of childish enthusiasm. (There was also an...incident...involving last Mother's Day and a certain Howie Mandel game show, about which those who participated are sworn to secrecy.)

Since we are in Thailand this year, I decided early on to play it safe. Kaddi has often talked about wanting to enjoy breakfast in bed. But I'm a Fulbright scholar, not a French chef. For eleven years the mystery of how to make pancakes, waffles, French toast...really, anything where you have to do more than empty a box into boiling water - has eluded me. This year I decided that no sacrifice was too great for a wife who has lived the past few months in Thailand. I summoned up all my courage, got out a pencil and a notebook, sat down at the table, and asked Kaddi to teach me how to make French Toast.

It was then that I learned one of life's immutable secrets: French Toast is nothing more than bread soaked in egg batter and placed in a frying pan. How is it that I can recite the basic tenets of the Equal Rights Ammendment but I didn't know this?

So the next morning I woke early and began preparing breakfast. Meg was indispensable in the process (it's not hard to get her excited about French Toast). She knew that the egg batter should have cinnamon in it, and that Mom doesn't drink regular milk in Thailand, but that chocolate milk is okay. Jake's contribution involved crawling out of his own bed and into ours. I think Kaddi was excited about the breakfast, but even more excited about the prospect of future possibilities of having me make a French Toast breakfast for the kids while she sleeps in.

Curse my pursuit of culinary excellence!

So, you been farmin' long?

The archives were closed AGAIN yesterday, due to another holiday associated with monarchy. I hope you all had a pleasant and prosperous 'Ploughing Day.'

This ancient Brahmin rite has been celebrated in many ways in Thailand over the years with Buddhist elements added in the Rama IV era (1868-1910). The Royal plowing ceremony marks the beginning of the rice-planting season. This ceremony was discontinued after the Thai military deposed the monarchy in 1932, but in the 1950s efforts to revive the role of monarchy led to its reintroduction.

The modern one-day version of the ceremony (and reintroduction of the ploughing itself) dates from 1960. The actions of the oxen pulling the plough are said to foretell a good or bad growing season. In recent times large crowds gather at Sanam Luang (The royal field across from Wat Prakaew) to witness the event and collect the seeds used in the ceremony.

Kill Kirby Vol. 1

A few weeks ago some friends from our ward asked Jake to feed, walk, and otherwise care for their two dogs while they were out of town. When they returned they paid him quite generously for his efforts. (Why they paid him I'll never know, since it was Kaddi and I who took him over there, unlocked the doors, made sure the lights and air-conditioning were turned off and on, and grabbed the dogs out from under the couches after the kids let them run wild around the house.) There was never any doubt as to how he would use the money. You'd have an easier time convincing an addict not to spend his money on crack than in talking Jake out of purchasing a videogame. Each day I when I get home I half-expect to hear stories about how he stole money out of Kaddi's purse or knocked over a liquor store.

Thus began the ultimate quest to find the perfect video game. Jake may be obsessive when it comes to his Gameboy, but like his mother he's a discriminating consumer. He wanted Kirby: Nightmare in Dreamland and it didn't matter how long he had to wait or how many stores we had to visit - it would be his. After weeks of fruitless searching, we accidentally found Nintendo's holy grail at a mall kiosk while waiting for Spiderman 3. It was price-marked at 590 Baht, but the retailer instantly lowered it to 500. Before I could continue negotiating Jake had handed over his money. We still got a bargain. If the vendor had looked the boy over carefully and noticed him developing the shakes and breaking out into a cold sweat the minute he saw Kirby, he could have easily doubled the price and we would have had to pay it. Better that than spending three times as much in taxi fares to search out other locations.

And so the family settled in to watch Spiderman take on three villains and still find time for a romantic storyline, Jake got his beloved cartridge, and I got a large Oreo Blizzard on the way out - all was right with the world. That is, until that night when I was sitting at the table translating some newspaper documents and looked up to see Jake standing in front of me. Normally when the boy gets a new game he disappears down into the recesses of his room and is not heard from until Kaddi and I draw straws to decide who will don the goalie mask and kevlar vest before trying to wrestle the video console out of his grasp. Yet we'd been home only for a few minutes, and yet here he was above ground. His face was ashen white, his eyes were glazed over. He quietly placed his Gameboy, Kirby lodged securely in its respective slot, on the table and turned the screen towards me so I could see the game's title page.

Instead of the obnoxious little pink blob that is the delight of Kirby fans everywhere, this screen was a wash of black and white creatures. I looked down at the game title:

March of the Penguins

I looked back at Jake. His voiced wavered but he managed to say, "Well...I guess my money's gone." And with his eyes full of tears he headed back downstairs to his room.

(To Be Continued...)

Bangkok Stake Youth Conference 2007

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