So you see - We're just like you.

Here at 301NIB we get letters from all over the world telling us how amazing Thailand looks, and how much they would like to live here so they could enjoy our an exotic lifestyle. The truth is that, by showing only the highlights, the website tends to make things look more exciting than they really are. Not everyday is full of breathtaking events such as getting dehydrated at the Tallest Buddhist Monument in the world, or burning out your retinas by staring at a salt pyramid. Mack Strate may be an international hip-hop superstar and internet phenomenon, but most days we still do the same mundane errands and tasks as every other family. The only difference is that, in Thailand, sometimes a routine activity can turn into a lesson in long-suffering. For example...

Last Saturday it was my job to put gas in the three-wheeled scooter we've been borrowing from a friend. Since there are no gas-stations or other useful (but unsightly) establishments here in 'ex-pat fantasyland', I had to ride the scooter outside the walls of our theme-park into Real Thailand. This involved risking both my safety and my masculinity as I drove safety-scooter down a main road full of taxis, buses, and semi-trailers.

I somehow avoided becoming the hood ornament of a tractor trailer, pulled into the gas-station and started looking for the key that accesses the gas cap under the seat. When the attendant came over, instead of filling up the tank, he informed me that there was a power outage and that they couldn't give me any gas because they couldn't pump it. The station across the street didn't have power either. So...I drove even farther down the street to another station. No power. I drove back down the street in the opposite direction, past the Nichada gates to another station. No power.

But I was determined not to go back empty-handed. Since there was a 7-11 next door (that great center of Thai economic life) I decided to just grab a snack and wait for the power come back on. This momentary struggle did nothing but prolong my suffering. The store had no slurpee machine. I settled for chocolate milk, but couldn't get Meiji brand and instead had to drink Foremost. I bought my usual pretzels thinking they were pizza-flavored, not noticing I had picked up 'corn-flavored' instead. I sat on my little roadster and waited, and waited....and waited. But no power. The Universe had considered my petition and pronounced its decision: "No gas for you!"

So...

If you're looking for an image that truly represents our lives in Thailand, this might be it. Me, sitting on a safety-scooter at gas station, choking down semi-chocolate milk and corn-flavored pretzels, waiting for electricity to come back on.

(Or Kaddi sweeping up ants...that might be a good one too.)

The Backstroke Queen

"You can swim, you can dive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the backstroke queen..."

So THAT'S what happened to it...

This morning I found the following news story in National Geographic...



Fishers in northern Thailand netted this huge catfish in the Mekong River. Nearly nine feet long (2.7 meters) and as big as a grizzly bear, the behemoth tipped the scales at 646 pounds (293 kilograms). Experts say the fish, which belongs to the species known as the Mekong giant catfish, may be the largest freshwater fish ever recorded.

After a record-breaking Mekong giant catfish died, residents of Hat Khrai, a Thai village on the Mekong River, butchered the fish for its meat. The catfish, highly aggressive feeders, are known to eat almost anything. Among the stomach contents of this behemoth, fisherman found a triangle pillow, a daschund dog carcass, and a small silver Pentax digital camera.

"Mekong people believe it's a sacred fish, because it 'meditates'"—in the deep, stony pools of the Mekong River—"somewhat like a Buddhist monk, said Zeb Hogan, a fisheries biologist who studies the largest freshwater fish in the world. A WWF conservation fellow and National Geographic Society Emerging Explorer, Hogan has received funding from the National Geographic Society Conservation Trust.

Mekong giant catfish attract high prices in Thailand, because eating the fish is supposed to bring good luck. Likewise, the Chinese believe that catfish meat boosts intelligence and prolongs life.

Who doesn't love a giant stupa?

Another day...another daytrip....

What vacation in Thailand would be complete without seeing the Floating market? We headed down to Damnoen Saduek (about 100 km Southwest of Bangkok) to check out the canals, orchards, and Thai handicrafts that have been featured so prominently imagery advertising Thailand. Our second trip varied somewhat from our first (with my parents). On the way down we stopped by the side of the road to checkout the salt flats that surround Samut Songkhram. They pump ocean water into small 'paddies', then allow the water to evaporate and harvest the salt. As Del and I wandered around we smelled the acrid odor familiar to anyone who has driven past the Great Salt Lake on I-80.

After spending an hour getting 'hooked' by one vendor after another at the Floating market, we traveled back through Nakorn Pathom and ate lunch at KFC. (This is not your father's Kentucky Fried Chicken - who knew they made such a great flat-bread shrimp taco?) Later, I wandered off to Dairy Queen while everyone else went to Swensen's for some peanut-butter chocolate chip ice cream. When I re-joined the family, I walked into Swensen's and was met with Americana's classic photo-image of tragic disappointment. I rounded the corner to see Meg, empty waffle cone in hand, tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth agape with a anguishes howl beginning to emanate from the very depths of her soul...while at her feet a scoop of ice cream slowly melted on the ceramic tile. O, that I had a picture of her face at that very moment! (She had the exact same expression as Jazzhands when Showchoir ended and he was forced to turn in his shiny red suspenders.)

Fortunately, I knew exactly how to console a six-year old girl who just lost her ice cream cone...

...by taking her to see the tallest Buddhist Monument in the World! A few blocks from our dining spot was Phra Pathom Chedi, a giant Stupa and one of the most famous monuments in Thailand. Surprisingly, Meg chose to stay in the car while I drug Del along to take some pictures (she goes crazy for Splash Mountain but doesn't like this?). I couldn't convince anyone to climb up the side of the chedi with me, but I had to have some pictures of the monument - at the very least to use in some future World Civ class when I try to teach students about the origins of Buddhism and the meaning of a 'stupa'.

Sidenote: We also want to thanks two families in our ward for helping us meet our transportation needs during this week. One lent us their golfcart, another their scooter with two childseats on the back, both useful for getting groceries, going to baseball games, or driving Kaddi's parents outside the gates of Nichada to get the daily footmassage.

At first I had my reservations about driving the 'Mom-scooter', since it is a little emasculating for someone like myself. But when I compared it with riding around on a child's bike, suddently it didn't look so bad.

The Competitive World of Speed-Stacking

The clash of cultures continues...

Thanks to relative who sent over the equipment with Del and Sharon, Thailand has now been introduced to the sport of "speed-stacking." As Jake will demonstrate in the following video, you place your hands on a timer (which starts as soon as you lift up your hands, then stack several cups and return them to their original position before returning your hands to the timer. Jake and Meg have both been actively preparing themselves to compete in the sport's inaugural even in Southeast Asia, which will consist of me, Jake, and possibly Meg.

Kaddi and I are actively encouraging Jake's newfound devotion in this sport, we're hoping that years of practice during his formative years will prepare him for a future career in the catering business, or perhaps even get him his first apprenticeship as a carni.



Disclaimer: This is a silent movie, as our temporary camera does not record sound.

World Wide Pants

On Del and Sharon's first day in Bangkok we headed down to see the Grand Palace, with its corresponding temple - Wat Prakaew. Since this is the holiest place in Thailand, they do not allow tourists to enter with shorts, immodest skirts, or tanktops. When Del went in to borrow some pants, they gave him a beautiful pair of purple slacks. We all thought them so stylish we decided he should keep them. But when we tried to sneak out of the gates he was tackled by soldiers who then hauled him off for questioning.

He hasn't been sentenced yet, but apparently "pants-lifting" by farangs is on the rise here in Thailand and they want to make an example out of him. We may have to delay his flight for...a while.

The Bridge

After checking to make sure we had a new van with indestructible air-conditioning, we headed out to Kanchanaburi province about 120 km west of Bangkok. Kanchanaburi is the home of the "bridge over the river Kwai", made famous by the 1952 film with Alec Guiness and William Holden (which was actually filmed in Sri Lanka. During WWII, the Japanese needed a railway link between Burma and Thailand to help them accomplish two things: Cut off British and American support to China through the 'Burma Road', and give the Japanese empire secure access to tungsten deposits in Burma.

In order to build the railroad the Japanese used POW's captured in the Philippines, Malaysia, Hong Kong, and Singapore. Approximately half the workers died either from malnutrition, disease, or exhaustion. In the city of Kanchanaburi there is a cemetery dedicated to the British, Australian, and Dutch POW's that died during the construction. (In actuality, over eighty-percent of the workers who died on that project were Malay, Burmese, or Chinese that had been pressed in to service by the Japanese. There is no memorial for them.) After the bridge's completion it was destroyed by Allied bombing.

We had an enjoyable and education day learning about the Pacific theater. I enjoyed the Railway of Death museum. Jake enjoyed playing around in the waterfall. Del enjoyed dinner at the floating restaurant. Kaddi and Sharon enjoyed watching dozens of schoolchildren laugh and stare at me. Meg enjoyed chewing a jumbo package of Bubbilicious.

The Crocodile Farm in Samut Phrakan

We celebrated Valentine's Day by taking a day trip to Samut Phrakan, about 30 miles southeast of Bangkok, to see the world's largest crocodile farm. It was a day full of Hallmark moments. Sharon took her first elephant ride, Jake fed Mentos to a monkey, and Del got a picture with a tiger.

We had rented a van and rode down in air-conditioned comfort with plenty of leg room. On the way back, however, the air-conditioner stopped working. We had an hour-long ride in 90 degree temperatures with diesel exhaust pouring in the open windows. By the time we got back to Nichada they had to peel us off the upholstery.

After today I'm pretty sure Del and Sharon are trying to move up their flight home. (Lucky for us they can't get to the airpot on their own.)

Your donation is appreciated

For the past few weeks we've been looking forward to Del and Sharon's visit, because we knew they'd bring with them the greatest gift of all. The gift of presents.

Here's a special thank-you to all those of you who contributed to the family care-package...


When she's not perfecting her backstroke or dreaming of chocolate cake, Meg likes to curl up with her new colouring book.



When he's not playing gamecube or learning Brazilian soccer, Jake likes to smell his new shoes.

Mmmm....waxy.

After a long day of scholastic achievement, Shaino pays a visit to the land of chocolate.

The 301NIB Mailbag

Dear 301nights,

I heard Nicolas Cage just finished filming a movie in Bangkok. Did you see him? Have you seen anyone else famous there?

Sincerely,

Fastrunner-Reader-Junior-Christmas-Helper
Magrath, Alberta

Dear FRJCH,

I guess Nicolas Cage must not have filmed any scenes in the National Archives, because I haven't seen him. I saw Steve Young and a gas station once. I saw the director of 'Chicago' at Disneyland, but since coming to Thailand I have not seen anyone famous.

But I did get a personalized phone call from Alec Baldwin. At first I though it was just a pre-recorded message that a friend had put together to make fun of me at nbc.com. But then when he mentioned that I had pretty hair I realized he must actually know me. If a big movie star like Alec Baldwin can take the time to call me, the least I can do is watch his show. If it were on TV here.

Dear 301NIB,

I've noticed the rate of your posts is slowing down as of late. Does this mean you're finally starting to do some actual research? I mean, that was your reason for going to Thailand in the first place, right?

Russ Darrow
Madison, WI

Dear Russell,

I'm proud to announce that I went to the archives for the first time this week, filled out my application for a research permit, and received my ID card. It was like the archives fairy godmother touched me on the head and I became a real researcher.

The bad news is that, unlike the National Library, where I feel quite comfortable and manage to look professional, I have no idea what I'm doing at the archives. They have a completely different catalogue system. I've spent most of this month sitting at a table drawing potential new logos for 301NIB.

The coolest thing about the archives? Personal lockers. You know you're a serious researcher when you have a locker for your belongings. I keep notebooks and pens in mine, along with some soap, a towel, deodorant, shower sandals, and a poster of Edward Said on the door. It's a little awkward using the group shower, but after six hours of grappling with Thai-language sources, you certainly need it.


Dear 301nightsinbangkok,

Oh-my-gosh...you look so hot in those latest photos! I would totally make-out with you. I've got you as my wallpaper on my desktop now. Are you doing a lot of exercise over there?

Your fan,

Kelly K.
Scranton, PA


Dear KK,

I'm really not doing any exercise in the conventional sense. In the world of Nichada, it's only permissible to exercise if its an end unto itself. That is, you should only physically exert yourself for recreational purposes, and not to achieve anything practical. It's acceptable to spend a half hour jogging in your Nike gear, but if you need a loaf of bread from the store you should really drive. I used to walk to the neighbourhood gates to get a taxi, but I stopped after people driving by started throwing spare change at me or asking if I needed directions to a homeless shelter.

It's the same with our skin tone. Decades ago people used to take pride in having pale white skin, because it was a sign of wealth. It proved you could afford to stay indoors all the time instead of working on a farm somewhere. (They also thought plump women had the ideal body type.) But now it is the opposite. Everyone is stuck at a computer in a cubicle under the same depressing flourescent lights, so having tan skin is a sign of our vitality. It means we have the time and money to lie around outdoors (or in a tanning bed.)

Thais, on the other hand, are the exact opposite. Many have occupations which still involved hard physical labour out in the sun. They covet white skin and think foreigners are crazy to spend time running around for no reason or than fitness.


Dear 301NIB,

What's the update on the bombing situation in Bangkok? Did they ever apprehend a suspect? Do I need to post-pone my vacation to Phuket?

Slightly worried,

Ulf Svendersen
Bjornjornlinder, Scandahoovia


Dear Ulf,

I've decided that using the website in order to comment on political matters might not be the wisest move at this juncture in my career. Two years ago a grad student friend was followed home from an anti-Thaksin rally by Thai police, who briefly questioned him as to his purpose in Thailand. I'd prefer that the authorities here not become too interested in me. I still have nightmares about being 'interrogated' by UW campus police for writing those leaflets supporting traditional marriage. Aside from that, I think you'll be perfectly safe here in Thailand.


301nights,

Congratulations on passing the 2500 hit marker. I wonder, how many of those were the result of you checking your own website?

Princess Poindexter
Roseville, CA

I would guess...at least 2000.

LIAR TOWN

As many of you know, Each day Meg and Jake have journal entries as part of their writing portion of homeschool. Here is the latest installment:

LIARTOWN

by Meg

Once upon a time there was a little town. No one has been there except liar people. It is called Liar town because everyon person lies.

One day a person repented and told the truth. Everyone else repented and told the truth, so the town had a party.

Now that everyone was telling the truth they named the town Partytown. Everyone has a party all the time and they all lived happily ever after.

THE END

So it's come to this? A Strates clip show

Sometime over the holidays we lost our camera. I have no idea what happened to it. It may have been thrown away with all the wrapping paper, but more likely I left it on the counter at some 7-11 while I was paying for another slurpee.

There's nothing left to do now but look back at some of our camera memories...

Why I hate Grey's Anatomy:

As part of what will undoubtedly be a life-long pursuit of redemption for bring Kaddi to Thailand, I not only purchased a season of Grey's Anatomy, I also sit down and watch many of the episodes with her. There's only one way to fight back the humiliation I feel from knowing characters and plotlines from the show...by writing a scathing 3-point critique.

Why I hate Grey's Anatomy (and you should too)....


1) It's 'Ally McBeal' in a hospital:

I mean, really - haven't we seen this show before? A troupe of young, good looking, urban professionals who are somehow at the top of their game even though they do nothing at work but gather in the halls to whine about their failed relationships, or flirt with each other in the co-ed changerooms, or sit on the stairwell looking depressed while some (horribly written) inner monoluge drones on. Even during their off-hours all they can think to do is hang-out with each other at a bar across the street from the hospital. I've always wondered why does it take me eight hours to see a doctor when I show up at emergency care? Now I know it's because they're all in the supply closet performing exploratory surgery.

2) Medical Narcissism:

At Seattle Sacred...whatever, they are single handedly pushing society towards enlightenment one surgery at a time. Surgeons are like gods, constantly congratulating themselves on their ability to stave off death. There's nothing the surgeons can't fix, whether it be re-attaching an ankle or convincing empty-nest parents that it's time to let their wheelchair-bound daughter have a life of her own. The doctor always knows best. People who don't accept the diagnosis are backward, or worse - religious.

3) Dr. McDreamy

This is the 21st century sensitive hetero-male? We're only in the middle of the second season, but let's see if I've got the story right so far...

His wife cheats on him with his best friend and he tries to escape the pain by relocating from Manhattan to Seattle. There he broods and simmers, so wounded by his wife's infidelity that he waits an entire three weeks before jumping into to bed with his intern, the fake-Renee Zelwegger. Just as this adulterous relationship is peaking he re-discovers the importance of his wedding vows and goes back to his wife, who he can't stand to be around, and immediately begins pining for his intern. He's a relationship hurricane in a turtleneck, leaving nothing but human wreckage in his path. But oh - those smoldering eyes!

Patrick Dempsey should have stayed in movies. It's still not to late to shoot a sequel to Can't Buy Me Love!

A traditional Canadian Boxing Day

Since we spent the holidays here with no family and no immediate friends and no snow, we weren't exactly sad to take down the Christmas decorations. The highlight for us was probably December 26. I was excited to finally involve my children in a genuine Canadian tradition and show them how I celebrated Boxing day as a child - by going to a safari park full of exotic animals.

We spent the day with some new friends from our ward checking out the animals, watching sea lion and dolphin shows, and getting dehydrated. This park has a special platform that overlooks the 'savannah'. Once you're up there they provide you with bananas to feed the giraffes who just walk right to the platform and stare at you eye-level. It was amazing.

Not until we were finished with the day did we realize that we couldn't get a taxi way out in Northeast Nonthaburi. The park was shutting down, but at the last minute we managed to talk our way on to the employee shuttle bus. They took us down to a main road where we could get a taxi.

Safari world's version of the Jungle Cruise. It's exactly like the one at Disneyland. Except the water smells a little funny. And some of it leaks into the boat. And there's no guide or narration. And the animatronics don't really move, they just heat up and shortcircuit.

So really the only thing that's similar is the stereotype of savage African cultures.

Meg peers out into the 'river' separating Stupendousland from Superterrificworld. I estimate it took us three and a half hours to get that stroller across this wooden plank bridge.

For another eighty baht Jake got to bottle-feed a this baby, fulfilling a nine-year dream to actually touch a tiger. We're also looking into gene-replacement therapy so that he can become a tiger, but unless we can get President Bush to stop vetoing stem cell research that option remains out of our price range. He may have to just settle for tiger-stripe tattoos.

Jake with his crew. We wanted to get a picture of Meg but these giraffe's have two-foot long black tongues that can rip the buttons off your shirt if they smell like bananas. Since she generally smells like some type of dessert we thought it best to maintain a safe distance.

Am I Hot or Not?

Who's stock is up /\ and whose is down \/ in the world of 301NIB?


Kaddi /\

Nichada's top beginner tennis player is dominating the courts every Monday morning. She's been moved up to the top court and will now be battling the pros...of her category. She also has a new friend. One of her tennis partners thought she was twenty-three years old and couldn't believe she had two kids.

Better yet, we paid a visit to Panthip Plaza this week - the black market capital of Thailand. Five floors of counterfeit merchandise and software. We got Flushed Away for the kids, a copy of Microsoft Office for her man, and Season 2 of Grey's Anatomy for the Lady herself.

And yes, they did have seasons of 24 available.


Meg /\

Meg had a rought start to the week when she accidentally discovered that the plants in front of our apartment are poisonous. She spent a good half hour in the bathroom crying with her hands under cold running water. But she's better now and we're trying to put the episode behind us, except that some injury attorney from Stockton keeps leaving us messages.

She has once again started dance and also began taking swim classes today. She came home and shared with me how her teacher introduced the kids to the backstroke. He said they need to pretend their arms are like little knives and there's a big chocolate cake behind them. With each stroke they need to reach back and 'cut the cake, cut the cake...'

Using this mental imagery, Meg set a world record in 100m backstroke for the under-14 age group.


J-Dog /\

Jake has his soccer tournament this Saturday. It's going to be a pretty big event. I've heard there will be some Middle School scouts in attendance, but he's promised us he won't sign a letter of intent until we've had more time to look over his options. He's also started baseball camp this week, although I don't envy him running around that dusty infield under the Thai sun. He told us last night that he hit a home run, although I'm not sure what that means since there's no fence. He made it all the way around the bases, I guess.

He's also pretty happy about being able to ride his bike over to a friend's house by himself. Jake's perfect afternoon involves riding his bike over to his friend's, playing gamecube, then riding bikes with his friend over to baseball practice. It's as if he were growing up in the United States...back in the fifties.

Things are so good for Jake right now he has his own theme song. It was written and usually peformed by Kaddi, including the following lyrics....

"J-dog in the house, J-dog in the house...
J-dog in the house....
I said J-dog in the howwwww-owwwwwwwse. "


Shane <->

I picked up a copy of the National Library newsletter this month to discouver I'd been named Bangkok's 'Sexiest Researcher Alive' for 2006. Since this may be the only recognition I get out of this research trip I was happy to accept the designation (it'll look great on my CV). It's just a little difficult to concentrate on extra-territorial treaties when there are fifty screaming schoolgirls banging on the reading room sliding doors.


Thailand \/

Thailand has recently been downgraded from 'partly free' to 'not free' in a recent survery of global freedom by Freedom of the World 2007, joining such democratic powerhouses as Burma, China, and the Congo. This think-tank apparently doesn't take kindly to military coups that oust democratically elected leaders, juntas that threaten the press and block access to international newsproviders and websites, or government agencies that force their civil servants to wear hideous yellow shirts every day.

No good news could overcome this bad publicity, not even the knowledge that Thailand has an equivalent GDP to the state of Arizona, as well can see from the following map:

















I was a little disappointed to see Wisconsin has a similar GDP to a former apartheid state, but hey - Minnesota is equivalent to Norway.

เหตุการณ์ที่ทำให้หมดกำลังใจ

For about two weeks now I've been looking for a government pamhlet published in 1940, entitled "How Thailand Lost Its Territories to France." I finally figured out how to properly type the query into the computer (in Thai) so that I got the proper search results. It was a rare document so I had to go request it in the Luang Wichit reading room and return a half hour later to find the pamphlet waiting for me.

In my extensive research experience (ahem...) I had never been given a document in such poor condition. It was no exageration to say that this thing looked like someone had recently lit it on fire. I was afraid to even pick it up. I carefully carried it to a reading table but as soon as I opened it the back page fell off. The margins slowly crumbled with every touch, and after five minutes my work space looked like I was operating a bandsaw - there were bits of discolored paper all over me and the table. In this condition the pamphlet was useless to me.

All of this raises two issues...

First, libraries and archives are supposed contain documents hundreds of years old. How is it that something only 65 years old is in such poor condition? Most parts of the Thai library are not climate-controlled and apparently they recently had a raging wildfire, but this is still quite discouraging.

Second, how is it that they would take a document that is already falling apartand give me access to it? Not only did they let me read it, they also allowed me to take it down to the copy center (where someone finally had the sense to take it away from me so it could be repaired). In France I practically had to take a retinal scan and submit to a cavity search before they would even give me the documents, and they didn't let me photocopy anything.

So...I didn't get to read the pamphlet and I didn't get to make a copy. They say they are repairing it, but who knows when it will be done or if I will ever be allowed to see it again. After two weeks of periodically searching, I'm left with nothing.

I guess its time to tell Kaddi we'll need to stay longer than ten months.

"You should have paid it on time"

It's incredible to think that since we've been in Thailand we have not received a single letter from anyone. As missionaries, we were on a first-name basis with the mailman, we knew exactly when he should arrive each day, even though he was usually late. With the advent of email, blogs, and long-distance internet technologies such as Skype, we no longer need the post to keep in touch with friends or family. Our mailbox is a sad and lonely place filled only with advertisements from grocery stores, updates from the housing authority, or (yawn) the occassional bill. Now, I traditionally ignore the mail and everything in it, so I'm really not sure what comes through that box. But I was aware of one thing that hadn't appeared yet - the electrical bill.

When we passed the two-month anniversary in our apartment and still hadn't received any correpondence from the power company, I became slightly less apathetic. After all, it is customary in most societies to exchange goods or services for money, and electricity was the service that fueled our air-conditioners, and the air-conditioner was the one thread that tied our fraying marriage together. A gap in our power supply could mean separation as Kaddi returned to California, which would mean I'd have to give Fulbright back their family allowance stipend, which would mean I'd have to make up the difference by working as pole-dancer at a Japanese sushi bar. In the face of such potentially catastrophic outcome I decided there was only one possible course of action: ignore the problem and hope it somehow worked itself out. This approach (practiced in Japan as the Shaino-suka method of crisis management) has served me faithfully for over a decade of marriage.

By the time we did get our notice, I realized I may have to change tactics. Thai bills are a mess of words, numbers, abbreviations, ledgers, and acronyms. Just imagine trying to read your AT&T bill in a non-western language (I can hardly read mine in English). Although I couldn't decipher everything, I did understand three very important words at the top: Warning, Cut-off, and electricity. Since the we had not yet made the acquaintance of Thailand's Power Authority, I thought this quite a rude manner of introducing themselves, but it didn't change the fact that we now had a serious problem. I knew that most people paid their utility bills at 7-11, (is there anything you can't do there?) so I immediately put on my red baseball cap, hopped on my kiddie bike and pedaled my way down to the local candy store. When I handed my Notice to Disconnect to the store clerk and asked if I could pay it she immediately drew back in horror.

"You can't pay this here," she said. "They're going to cut off your power in three days, so now you have to go to the utility authority down in Bangkok. You should have paid it on time."

*sigh*

The only thing better than hearing that you've just been enrolled in a Thai version of the Amazing Race, where you have to find the utility company and pay the bill before they cut off your electricity (which may initiate divorce proceedings)...is getting that news PLUS advice about paying your bills on time. If The Mack Strate was a hero in a Thai comic book, his nemesis would definitely be the pretentious 7-11 clerk. Actually, that's pretty lame. I'll have to think of something better.

There was nothing left for me now but to return home and try to call the power company on the telephone. This was always an adventure, because in Thailand even officially listed numbers only work about half the time. They just changed many of the area codes so that now you have to dial '8' in between the first two digits to connect. Also, when you call a gigantic, amorphous corporation like the utility company, you have no idea who will pick up the phone, or even who to ask for. I decided to try try my luck in English first and pull out Thai as a last resort. Sometimes you just get tired of trying to accomodate others by speaking their language and want people to start accomodating you. After hitting my head on every branch in the phone tree, I finally managed a conversation oscillating between Thai and English and discvered that there were multiple locations where I could petition the power company to extend my electricity privileges, including one near the National Library in the Thewet (thae-wade) district. Things were looking up.

When I got off the river-taxi the next day the first thing I needed was a tuk-tuk driver who could tell me where the utility office was and possibly even take me there. As you come down the pier ramp on to the street, there is a row of tuk-tuks on one side and motorcycles on the other, waiting to transport people to their office, class, whatever. This also mean there is also a crowd of tuk-tuk drivers standing around waiting to either help or harrass you depending on their mood. I approached the group and explained that I needed someone to take me to the power company so that I could pay my bill.

"You don't need to go to the power company," he said, "Just pay it at the 7-11 there on the corner."

There are times when you really don't feel like giving you life's account to a tuk-tuk driver, but in this instance I knew my marriage hung in the balance. So I explained that it was a past-due notice and that they were going to cut our power and I just needed to get to the electric company office.

"Oh," he said, "I don't know of any office around here. You should have paid it on time."

This fatherly wisdom echoed in my mind as I walked down to a main road to find a taxi who would hopefuly have more than financial advice to offer me . I jumped into the first cab to come by and explained my situation:

"I need to go to the electric company to pay my bill AND I CAN'T PAY IT AT 7-11 because it's past-due."

It must be that everyone in Thailand is smart enough to pay their bills on time, becaue nobody, not even a taxi driver who earns his living driving around Thewet, knew where the utility company (which ended up being three blocks away) was located. As we drove around I made the mistake of showing the driver the notice in the hopes that he might recognize the logo or name or something....anything. Armed with this symbol of my procrastination, he proceeded to stop the taxi at nearby store to ask for directions. For the next few minutes I felt like a living exhibit in the Museum of Bad-Credit Consumers. One by one passers-by would stop, look at the collection notice, frown, turn to stare at me trapped in the taxi, look back at the notice, and shrug as if to say "The only way to really help these people is to just let them be." By the time we found someone who knew where it was located, the entire district knew we were behind on our bills.

Once I finally got to the utility company it was rather anti-climactic. I once again by-passed the waiting protocol by being tall, white, and incoherent - and within five minutes I was up at the window paying my money. On the way back to the library I walked a little taller knowing that both my research tenure and my marriage had been prolonged for at least another month.

But since that day every store within a mile radius of the National Library has refused me credit.

Into the Great Wide Open

We Wisconsin fans thought we were special when our Men's and Women's hockey teams both won national champions last year, but now Florida has outdone us by winning national championships in basketball and football. This confirms three things I've always believed about college sports:

1) Urban Meyer really DID sell his soul to the devil.

2) There really is a university that can out-do Ohio State when it comes to 'educating' its 'student athletes'.

3) The word 'Chompions' is probably the cleverest thing ever printed by any sportswriter, anywhere.

So, Congratulations Gator fan...on the best thing to ever happen to Gainesville since Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

...huddled masses yearning to be Thai.

Wednesday our family went to the Immigration Bureau in Bangkok to renew our non-immigrant visas. After spending a few hours and a few thousand baht, we had permission from the Kingdom of Thailand to stay until September. I know that many of you are wondering how the Thai immigration system stacks up against its American counterpart. I've spent the last week building a spreadsheet that compares the two national systems. Thailand and the United States go head-to-head in six scientifically recognized categories.

If you're trying to decide between immigrating to the U.S. or Thailand, this is one post you can't afford to miss. Here are the results...


Category #1: General Ambience of Immigration Center.

THAILAND: Hot, stuffy, congested room with plastic stadium seats, dirty floors, soiled smelly bathrooms, crying babies, and incomprehensible audio instructions constantly blaring at you over the loudspeaker.

USA: Hot, stuffy, congested room with plastic stadium seats, dirty floors, soiled smelly bathrooms, crying babies, and incomprehensible audio instructions constantly blaring at you over the loudspeaker.

Advantage: Tie.



Category #2 Elapsed Waiting Time

THAILAND: It's generally possible for tall, white, bearded researchers with perfectly coifed hair to avoid waiting by feigning ignorance as follows:

Official: Where's you number?
Shane: Number? The lady at the information desk just told me to come straight over here and give you this letter.
Official: You're supposed to have a....(sigh) just give me the application.
Shane: (quietly) heh heh...

USA: You can expect to be #87 in a line "now serving" #11. Any attempt to circumvent the process is guaranteed to result in you twitching and flailing around on the floor with several gigawatts of electricity surging through your body while federal employees enjoy a rousing game of 'Taser the immigrant.'

Advantage: Thailand



Category #3: Requirements: (What do you need to get a visa?)

THAILAND: Your money.

USA: A stack of forms and pictures explaining your unique qualifications for entering the home of the brave. You must provide proof that you've performed at least three miracles during your lifetime (and they can't be card tricks). You may also be required to provide a self-criticism explaining what sins you committed in your former life that caused your bad karma, which resulted in your being born in a country other than the United States. They also want lots of money.

Advantage: Thailand



Category #4: Fringe Benefits.

Thailand: When you complete your application they give your children pieces of candy.

USA: When you complete your application they put you in a concrete cell, spray you down with a firehouse and throw de-lousing powder in your face.

Advantage: Thailand



Category #5 Bureaucratic efficiency.

THAILAND: Forms processed within two hours.

USA: Forms fed into paper shredder within two hours. Rejection notice sent out within 12-18 months.

Advantage: Thailand



Category #6 Ultimate Reward.

THAILAND: A drab, uninspiring, blue-ink stamp in one's passport.

USA: A shiny, new alien credit-card, complete with picture, thumbprint, and super-cool hologram.

Advantage: USA!


Disclaimer: Applicants should remember that upon completing Thailand's immigration process they will have to live in Thailand.

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.