Celebrating Canada Day on July 4th

It was hard for our family to be away from everyone on Canada Day. Fortunately, Our friends the Nielsens had a little together and and invited us along with two other families. It was three days late, not the same as watching the Canada Day parade go down mainstreet in Raymond, but a great time nonetheless.

After a great bbq, everyone lights the candles on the red-white-and-blue Canada cake.


Ambrien, Meg, Cyan, and Abriel wait on the edge of Nichada lake for the traditional Canada Day fireworks display.

The kids lineup for an 'fishing expedition' celebrating the greatness of the Canadian outdoors.

Set phasers to...FUN

Last week we headed over to the Bangkok Children's Discovery Museum, where we discovered that for every one hour spent at the museum we got to spend two hours in traffic.



Jake and Meg spent 45 minutes of the 1.5 hours we spent at the museum sending little 'capsules' back and forth to each other in these windpipes. If they had just done it for fifteen more minutes they would have been certified to work as a Wells Fargo drive-thru bank teller.


It's always fun to shout messages to each other through long pipes. As a special Discover museum souvenir, each kid brought home a case of 'tube-and-mouth' disease.



The kids learn how Thai pop music videos are made using a blue screen. They watched themselves on the televisions monitors in front.
Jakes poses on a replica of a traditional Thai hut on stilts.



Kaddi and Meg pose in front of a traditional Thai shelter for big screen TV's.

A Momentary Indiscretion

1972 was a tumultuous year for Thailand. The Cold Ward was at its height as the shadow of Communism grew across Southeast Asia. Thai leaders watched anxiously as President Nixon gradually withdrew American troops from Vietnam. The Pathet Lao was threatening monarchy rule in Laos and the Khmer Rouge battled the government of Cambodia. Even within its own borders, guerillas from the Communist party of Thailand regularly clashed with the Thai army and broadcast radio messages of revolution to the Thai people. University students began growing their hair long and protesting Thai foreign policy, including the US military presence in Thailand. Everywhere it seemed that the existing social, economic, and religious order was under attack.

In June of that year, four Mormon Elders from Nakhorn Sawan province traveled north to Sukhothai province to spend their preparation day touring the ancient city. Sukhothai is considered the birthplace of the Thai nation, the kingdom that existed before Ayuthaya and Bangkok. It was the home of Ramkhamhaeng, the legendary king who invented the Thai alphabet and presided over unprecedented peace and prosperity. The ruins of Sukhothai are sacred to Thais and have been declared a UNESCO World heritage site.

(Caption says: One American missionary poses on head of Buddha, another takes a picture. Both narrowly escape being lynched by angry mob.)

As they toured the ruins and posed for pictures, the group's greenie decided to climb up on the Buddha and pose for a picture sitting on its head. Even though all missionaries in Thailand are warned about the cultural sensibilities of both head and feet in Thailand, none of the other three objected to his actions. His trainer took the picture and the group continued on with their excursion.

Upon returning to Nakhorn Sawan, the trainer dropped off the roll of film with a local developer. When the owner of the store saw the photos, he was so incensed that he sent the pictures to several newspapers. On July 12, 1972 Siam Rat printed the infamous photos that changed both the church's status in Thailand and these young men's lives forever. The newspaper Thai Rat carried these photos on their front page for five straight days.

(Captions: Two Americans hide their faces while being sentenced for disrespecting Buddhism. Taxi driver furious he had to drive farangs. Missionaries receive death threats and must be placed in solitary confinement for our safety.)

Having only skimmed the story briefly, I'm not sure exactly when and why the Elders were arrested. After this publicity it became impossible for them to go out in public in Nakhorn Sawan. It may be that they eventually turned themselves into the police for protection. At night groups of people would gather to throw rocks at the house they were living in. They received death threats. When they were finally jailed they had to be separated from other inmates so they weren't attacked or lynched.

(Photo bottom center of Elders in handcuffs: Americans found guilty of disrespecting Buddhism, sentenced to six months in prison.)

The judge assigned to their case did not accept ignorance as an excuse. Because they had come to Thailand to teach about religion, he said, they should have been more familiar with Buddhism and its cultural sensibilities. Buddhism was the cultural foundation of Thai society, and their actions threatened to undermine that foundation. He sentenced the greenie and his trainer to six months in jail.

It was a harsh punishment in deed for such a momentary indiscretion. I would guess that today such an offense would warrant deportation at most. But because of the high-profile nature of the case, the judge probably felt he had to make and example of the missionaries. A strict ruling was necessary to protest Buddhism's status as the religious cornerstone of Thai culture. Societies can behave like animals. When they are threatened they lash out at enemies, real or perceived. Sometimes they invent enemies to defeat, giving them a enhanced feeling of control over their situation.

One can not help but feel sorry for these two missionaries, whose names (which I purposely omit) will forever be associated with the most embarassing episode for the church here in Thailand. This is not the experience you expect when you receive your mission call. For decades, Protestant ministers have used this event as an excuse to continue to deny the LDS church from receiving official recognition as a religion in Thailand. Even when I was a missionary, twenty-two years after the fact, I still met the occassional person who would say "I remember you, you're the guys who sat on that Buddha in Sukhothai."

To this day there are still no missionaries in Nakhorn Sawan or Sukhothai.

A Modest Proposal

Kaddi and I have a problem that confronts most couples with young children - we don't get out much. This problem was again brought to our attention recently when we went to the mall and saw previews for Fractured. (We never miss a Ryan Gosling movie). But how to get out without the kids in tow? We have no family here. Most people we know have left for the Americas, all other contacts live an hour or so away, and according to our rental contract the security guard's duties do not include baby-sitting. The solution to this problem requires a little ingenuity.


Since our kids are old enough to be relatively self-sufficient, but not quite old enough to stay home for four hours by themselves, it's simply a matter of keeping them both contained and entertained. They need to be restricted enough that they can't burn the house down, but not necessarily supervised. The solution involves borrowing an time-tested product and finding a new application for it. Mormon parents everywhere, I give you....

The Kiddie-Kennel

Have you ever sat in church and silently laughed while leaders instructed you to go out with your wife once a week? No longer. With Kiddi-Kennel you just cage 'em and engage 'em.

Most kids spend four hours a day watching TV anyway, so why can't they stare at the telly through the bars of protective steel mesh? The prototypes I'm working on with my business partner will be about 3 X 3, with an mesh cage in front, cupholders, snack trays, and built in earphones in case the kids want to watch separate movies. We're experimenting with fireproof outercasings and perhaps even sprinkler systems. We still haven't got the toiletry situation figured out, but our focus groups have shown that this is not a major concern for parents anyway. (After all, cleaning up a little tinkle is a small price to pay for some alone time - why not just put some newspapers down?)

So, for only $69.99 the kids can watch their movies in secure comfort, mom and dad remember why they got married in the first place, and there is love at home.

Inhumane? Going three months without a date with your wife- THAT's inhumane!

Presenting a presentable presentation

The Seven Martyrs displayed at Ban Song Khon Cathedral in Mukdahan province.



When I arrived here in Thailand, Profesor Chalong (who oversees my research in Bangkok) asked me to deliver a seminar paper to his graduate students at Chulalongkorn university. I had serious reservations about speaking at an academic forum in Thai, but what's the point of doing all this research if you're going to keep it to yourself? Connecting with other scholars and finding an audience for your work is the goal of every professor. A month ago I received the seminar schedule and found out I was the first lecturer in a series that included some very distinguished names in our field. This increased the stress level a bit, but since the audience was mostly graduate student with some faculty it turned out to be a very informal, enjoyable environment to share some preliminary conclusions.


As I have repeated many times, my research involves Thai nationalism and anti-colonialism during the WWII period. For this forum I chose to limit my remarks to the Thai government's attempt to rid the country of the Catholic church form 1940-1944. In the minds of Thai leaders, Catholicism was working hand-in-glove with French imperialists to consolidate power in Southeast Asia. Once the border war between Thailand and French Indochina broke out, Bangkok exploited the wartime atmosphere to persecute Catholics and entrench Buddhism as the national religion (a process which has recently received renewed interest).


The results were disastrous for Catholics. All French priests were arrested and deported, and most Thai priests were imprisoned. All religious meetings were banned, the churches and schools were closed and usually appropriated for government used. Catholics were forced to attend 'Re-education meetings' and asked to sign affadavits saying they had renounced Christianity. Catholic govt workers lost their jobs, and Thais boycotted their businesses. Thais who refused to stop teaching Catholicism were assaulted and sometimes even killed. The Vatican responded by sending in Italian priests and enlisting the help of the Italian embassy in Bangkok to recover lost property, but during the war they could exert little pressure. It was not until Japan's fortunes in the Pacific nose-dived and Thailand began preparing itself for an Allied victory that the religiou persecution ended. Late in 1944 Thailand adopted a new Constitution that ensured religious freedom and the government began gradually returning church property.





My ground-breaking powerpoint map of Catholic administrative boundaries.


On the whole, it think the presentation went quite well. Thailand is currently drafting a new constitution and there is strong support for writing in Buddhism as the national religion, so the topic received a great deal of interest. Most of the audience was not even aware of that such an episode had ever taken place. I have uncovered incontrovertable evidence that the entire campaign was the result of orders from the Ministry of Interior to the provincial governors, which raises serious questions about Thai-West relations. I made many mistakes in Thai, and often felt rather foolish, but managed to maintain people's interest when presenting the evidence. The most difficult part was attempting to explain how this episode fit into the overall framework of my dissertation (something I have difficulty explaining in English).

Even better, Kaddi was nice enough to sit through the who two hours so that I would have a friendly face to look at. Afterwards I think one of the graduate students tried to hit on her.



(And of course I was swamped with people who wanted to be featured on 301NIB, or wanted t-shirts and other merchandise. Celebrity is such a burden.)

It's all anecdotal

Thailand, like many Asian countries, thinks that English is synonymous with pop culture and being cool. It's not uncommon to see a Thai posters or billboards written mainly in Thai except for a single English word or phrase in the middle. Usually the word is spelled wrong or the grammar is incorrect, which makes it fun for anyone who can actually read it.

Except today. I was standing on the river pier waiting for my boat, when a middle-aged woman and her son walked by and stood next to me along the rail. The son had just finished school and was dressed in a para-military uniform, while his mom had on slacks and a t-shirt. I happened to glance over and see that mom's t-shirt has a graphic that looked like a billboard for a British band called 'U.K. Subs', which I've never heard of. It was full of pictures with English words and phrases, but placed squarely in the middle in bold type were the words....

Well, I can't type the words here, not even with dashes in place of key consonants. Let's just say that the phrase rhymed with "Duck Cough."

Hard to imagine your mom picking you up from school in a t-shirt like that, isn't it?


The Break-Up

I had a great Father's day. Kaddi made me a special dinner of chicken-salad croissants, black-olive salad, and cranberry punch - all three are delicacies here in Thailand. After dinner Meg gave me two cards that she had made for me, each containing a chocolate treat that she knew I liked. One of her cards said:

"In all the years of Dads, you've been the best"

What father wouldn't love such praise? When I finished admiring Meg's card (which took some time) I asked Jake why there was no card from him. He rolled his eyes and said "Dad, I just don't love you that way!"

I guess he just wants to be friends.



Share the Magic

Some of our friends from Wisconsin are headed for a family reunion in San Diego this summer, and will probably visit Disneyland with their kids for the first time. When we mentioned this to Meg she was very excited for her best friend Whitney. She got a dreamy look in her eye and said:

"Whitney will have so much fun at Disneyland...cotton candy, ice cream, lemonade, giant suckers, licorice....so much fun!"



It's a Boy!

...for our friends Clark and Kim....that is. The Millers recently emailed us saying that they had their baby, on Father's Day no less. They decided to name him Russell Clark Miller. Clark and I served in the Elders Quorum together in Madison, I was the Millers hometeacher for over two years, and I even helped them paint their basement during their remodeling project. I was quite touched that they decided to name their second son after me (Russell is my middle name). Needless to say, I'm very honoured.

Although "Mack Strate Miller" would have sounded even better.

Welcome to the desert of the real

Recently I've received some feedback from certain viewers stating that they're unhappy with the rather slow progression of the blog. They want better posts, and they want them more often (as if this were a television sitcom). Well, there's a reason why the blog has bogged down of late.

Nothing....is....happening....here.

This is far more palpable for the rest of the family than for myself. Kaddi's tennis circuit has ended. Soccer and baseball have long been over for Jake. Meg's ballet and swimming lessons are done. The international school has gone on summer break. All the embassy and corporate ex-pat families have begun their annual migration back to stateside normalcy, leaving no one to socialize with Kaddi and the kids. Even Jake's weekly violin lesson, not exactly a highlight, was cancelled this week. because the teacher's kids have an as yet unexplained rash. Our daily lives, never very exciting to begin with, are now slowly dragging across the sandy bottoms of the ocean of life.

For me it's slightly different. The research process is open-ended. I could easily stay here for two years and not exhaust the materials that would enhance our understanding of memory, loss, and the Franco-Thai conflict's role in Thai nationalism. But all my life I've got by doing the minimum. You figure out the exact amount of work necessary to complete a task or achieve a goal, and then portion out your time and effort accordingly. It's a mantra. The problem is, I had officially done the minimum by the end of May. I have the bare minimum of materials necessary to produce a ground-breaking PhD dissertation. What I find from here on out is bordering on over-achievement. I've spoken out against overachievement my entire career. It's a very confusing time for me.

So, for all intents and purposes, 301NIB has reached a stage comparable to a basketball game whose outcome has already been determined. As the final seconds tick away players just stand around staring into the stands and preparing their cliches for the post-game interview. (We're so bored we've been watching the NBA finals.) Our departure date is set at July 24th, so until then many of you might want to find an alternate diversion.

Just remember to check back for the season finale.

Keeping up with the Cluffs

Growing up, every kid has someone they try to imitate, someone they admire. Perhaps they even secretly wish they could take his place. Jake has Shadow the hedgehog. Dwight Schrute has Michael Scott. Michael Scott has Todd Packer. Even Homer Simpson has Duffman. (For the purposes of this post...) That person in my life has always been my cousin Ryan.

Ryan is two years older than me, which seems like a lifetime when you're a kid. He was always the straw that stirred the drink. Things just happened when he was around. Just walking somewhere with him made you feel cooler, it didn't matter where you were going. My boyhood is dotted with episodes of trying to measure up to my older cousin:

When I was 8 and he was 10 we spent Easter up in Whitecourt at the Heaven's. I thought I had outdone him in the egg-rolling contest. He and Bill responded by pelting me with the leftover eggs and then locking me in an empty rabbit cage and leaving me there until I passed out from the ammonia fumes.

When I was 9 and he was 11 I caught his attention by reciting all the lyrics from Joan-Jett and the Blackhearts hit "I love Rock-n-Roll". But later that day he outdid me by founding and playing lead-guitar for the Rock super-group Firestorm, which remains the greatest under-14 band in Magrath's history.

When I was 11 and he was 13 I tried to outshine Ryan with the recent baseball championship trophy our team had just won. But he had something far more impressive -a girlfriend. I spent a whole weekend trapsing around the St. Mary's campground listening to he and Bill talk about girls. My slang vocabulary increased ten-fold.

When I was 17 I was often top-scorer on our high school basketball team. But he was 19, a freshman at Ricks College and into Gatorade, late-nights parties, and most of all...gangsta rap. I remember seeing him and Bill on a Thanksgiving weekend and driving around in their compact listening to NWA. It was the Mount Olympus of teenage cool.

It has taken me multiple attempts and several decades, but I think I've finally outdone Ryan. He lives in Orem, I live in Bangkok. He vacations in New Mexico, I go snorkeling in Phuket. This superiority is personified by my pimped out ride - each day I travel to the archives in a pink taxi. Who could possibly top that? I took great pride in fulfilling a life-long dream of out-doing my cousin.

Until I saw this:



Not only did Mr. Senior-project-manager go out and get a Lexus (and a smokin' hot wife to pose on the hood), he gets the most beautiful shade of purple you can buy without having to slap a rainbow-triangle on the bumper.

So, once again I have fallen short. But my resolve has not weakened. I'm pretty sure a dissertation on the "Selective Memory of Survival: The Franco-Thai conflict and the role of loss in modern Thai history" will vault me right back into the spotlight. Then we'll see what's what.

An Evening of Meg

A few highlights from Meg's first dance recital.

First remove the glow-stick from thine own eye

On Saturday Jake went to the birthday party of his friend Alex. They enjoyed playing paintball, had pizza and birthday cake, and spent the night playing Nintendo. Unfortunately for Jake, while all the other boys slept over at Alex's house he had to return home at 10:30 PM so he could attend church the next morning. When he arrived home late that night knowing all the other boys were still in the throes of Nintendonitis, his only consolation was the pink glow-stick that he received in his partybag. He cracked the glass vial, shook up the two fluids, and fell asleep staring at its soothing phosphorescent light.

As if reluctant to part with that birthday euphoria, Jake decided it would be a great idea to bring his (now spent) glow-stick to church with him. And so it was that as we were in the middle of fast and testimony meeting, Kaddi and I looked over to see that Jake had managed to crack the glow-stick outer casing and squirt its radiocative fluid onto his shirt, into his eyes, and onto the dress of the lady sitting in front of him. You really have to admire Jake and his unique talents. Who else can take a child's party favour and produce a mushroom cloud?

As we have since learned, the glass vials in glow-sticks are full of hydrogen peroxide. As anyone who wore contact lenses in the eighties can attest: it is extremely painful when applied directly to the eye. I took Jake to the bathroom to rinse, but he had his eyes shut too tightly to allow in any water. Luckily, the husband of the family who gives us a ride to church each week is a US army doctor, who instructed us to take the eye-flush concept to the next leve. We carried Jake into the kitchen and laid him on the counter. I held his head in the sink while Dr. Gibbons forced his eyes open underneath the kitchen tap. We held him under the water for a good fifteen minutes. His hair was soaked, his shirt was soaked, we even got his pants a little wet. By the time we finished he looked like a drowned rat...who'd been smoking marijuana.

As fate would have it, immediately next door to the Asoke church building is the Rutnin hospital, an eye clinic that caters to clientelle from all over the world. I walked Jake over there and registered to see eye doctor. Within fifteen minutes he'd had an general eye exam. Within thirty minutes he was in the doctor's office getting an eye scan. The doctor determined there had been no damage to the eye tissue. Within 45 minutes we'd received his eye drops and paid the bill: twenty-seven dollars. Within an hour we were back at church in time for the beginning of third-hour classes. (Why must the Thai private health care system be so blasted efficient?!!)

Lest ye find yourself feeling too sorry for poor Jakey - know this. While we rinsed out his eyes, the primary president brought him several fun-sized Twix and a large handful of Starbust candies (which you can't buy here) to help alleviate his suffering. He sat eating this candy at the eye clinic while he watched 'Mr. Bean take a vacation' and several pretty Thai nurses fawned all over him, enamoured of his red hair. At one point I considered dumping the remainder of the glowstick into my own eyes to get in on the action.

On the walk back to our meetings I asked Jake which scenario he preferred:

Column A : Severe eye pain, followed by candy, a movie, and an hour long break from the Sunday block.

- OR -

Column B: A normal Sunday.

He chose column A. (A church-goin' man after my own heart.)

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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