Trendy Chiang Mai

Living in Thailand is a daily non-stop language lesson. I keep discovering new meanings for English words I thought I knew and learning Thai words I have never known.

Take the word “trendy” for example. My condo is in a trendy neighborhood in Chiang Mai. Here as elsewhere, trendy means that there are many boutiques, cafes, restaurants, banks, and other services all within short walking distance. Given the neighborhood’s proximity to the airport as well as to lots of nightlife and traffic, trendy means pretty noisy, too.

My neighborhood also has some of the same features as regular non-trendy ones in Chiang Mai. These include having no walkable sidewalks, trash on the streets, thickets of overhead electrical wires, and more than a few stray dogs.

Before starting to sound like a crusty and critical expat, let me point out that there is a community where I live. Although I’ve only resided here a short time, there are many neighbors in my building that I could ask for help and vice versa. The building security guard and receptionist greet me with genuine pleasure when they see me. There is a wonderful masseuse in the lobby of my building whose seven-year-old son loves to tell me about swimming and his pool adventures when I get massages from his mom.

After telling the Thai shopkeepers on the condo's soi about my concern for the stray dog that lives on our lane—I was carrying a plate of food for the dog and searching for him at the time—they started looking after him as well.

There are two restaurants on the soi where I am a regular. One is a place called Mu’s Katsu operated by a gracious young Thai couple named Mu and Paul. The food is excellent and inexpensive. I eat at Mu’s about three times per week.

“Where is Gally?” Paul asked one evening recently.

“I don’t know Gally.” 

“Yes. Yes, you do,” Paul said.

“Really, I don’t.” I smiled. Smiling is very important in Thailand.

Mu’s Katsu is a small restaurant popular with Thais and foreigners alike. On this particular evening, most of the patrons were Thai.

Everyone in the place suddenly became interested in Paul’s and my conversation. It was unusual for Paul to be so insistent.

“Gally. Gally. You know Gally.” Clearly, Paul was not going to let this go. I looked around. All eyes were on me. “Please just tell him you know Gally so he will be happy and we can eat in peace,” they silently pleaded.

But I did not know Gally and had no idea where he was.

Mercifully, Paul suddenly added, “Gally. The guy from Austaylia.”

“Oh, Gary,” I said. Paul smiled. The whole restaurant breathed a sigh of relief but remained curious. Gary is a condo neighbor who is also a Mu’s Katsu regular. We have eaten there together several times.

“Gary is coming back from Australia next week.” 

“I tell you you know him,” Paul beamed triumphantly. Yes indeed. Silly me.

Oddly, the other restaurant patrons now seemed more interested than ever. Somewhat daunted by all the attention, I finished my dinner quickly and left.

Later, I told a Thai friend about my exchange with Paul. She laughed. A lot.

“You know that in Thai language ga rii means woman who sells body for sex?”

No wonder everyone in the restaurant had been so interested.

No, I did not know. Ga rii. Gary.

It is doubtful that ga rii will be a useful term. But how wonderful to have added yet another meaning to an English name and a new word to my fledgling Thai vocabulary all at the same time.

(This was originally posted on InterNations, a social network for expats. Please see link on the right of the page.)

InterNations: A Good Way to Meet Expats in Thailand

Friends in the United States, my birthplace, often ask me how I meet people in Chiang Mai, Thailand where I now live.

Actually, for me, it has been a lot easier to meet people here than it has in any other place I have lived. Chiang Mai is friendly. You have to go out of your way not to meet folks here.

InterNations has played a significant role in my social life as an expat in Thailand as well as in Hong Kong where I lived previously. InterNations is an international social (in person and online) network, that sponsors events around the globe. I have belonged to InterNations since moving from America to Hong Kong in 2010. Chiang Mai now has a fledgling chapter.

Through InterNations in Chiang Mai, I have made several meaningful connections. One was with an adventurous woman named Colleen who has been traveling around the world this past year. She sent me an email me through the InterNations message board. We then met at an InterNations event when she was in Chiang Mai and got together for lunch a few days after. Colleen and I hit it off and ended up going to Hanoi together. After she returned to Thailand from Vietnam, I made sure I went to Bangkok to see her off on her trip to Europe. It's pretty much a sure thing that we will travel together again.

Through InterNations, I also met Christina, an international development consultant. We share a lot of values about how to demonstrate respect for people living in poverty. Together, we have embarked upon an adventure that we hope will help a community of people living on a garbage dump near the Thai Burmese border.

So, if you are planning on relocating to a new country or just passing through, I encourage you to make connections through InterNations. It's free. There are no meetings, dues, or obligations. Solo travelers are welcome and warmly included at events.

And it's not just an American thing. Through InterNations, I have met expats and travelers from Taiwan, Hong Kong, mainland China, Austria, Germany, the UK, Korea, Mauritius, Panama, Thailand, Denmark, Australia.....you get the picture.

If this sounds like an infomercial, it's because it is. But no one paid me to publish this. InterNations events are interesting, welcoming, and fun. Check it out at http://www.internations.org

Also see this article about international women in business. http://www.internations.org/magazine/international-women-15279

Goat Story

When does a goat story become a ghost story? In Thailand, of course, where belief in ghosts and spirits is so widespread it influences most aspects of daily life.

Actually, to say that Thai people believe in ghosts is an understatement of monumental proportions. Belief in ghosts is such an integral part of the culture, it is as though the Thais themselves manifest spirits whether they exist in "objective" reality or not. Oddly, as a Westerner who does not share Thai ghost beliefs, I am not immune. Upon moving to Chiang Mai exactly one year ago, I sometimes sensed unseen presences or caught glimpses of shadowy figures out of the corner of my eye in my condo.   

But the ghosts have since moved. After becoming more acclimated to Thailand, my unwelcome guests and I had a polite but direct conversation. I asked them to relocate to the condo building's san phra phum (spirit house). They obliged. Because I was a farang (foreigner), the ghosts assumed that I didn't know Thai cultural rules so they had pushed the boundaries.

There are spirit houses near all Thai homes, temples, hotels, condominiums, car dealerships, fitness centers, shopping malls, etc., etc.. The spirit houses are usually elaborately painted wooden structures the size of large doll houses on big pedestals with miniature replicas of people, furniture, and animals inside and around them. A Buddhist monk typically advises about the optimum placement of the spirit house on a property.

Traditional spirit houses 

Spirit house figurines

Modern spirit house near trendy Bangkok hotel

I will get to the goat story. Promise. 

But first it's important to know about the most popular form of transport in Thailand. There are thousands of motor scooters here. It's not uncommon to see two or three people riding on a scooter while also juggling a baby or a ladder. 

But not to worry. There are helmet laws. They are enforced in a relaxed way but they exist nonetheless.

While eating dinner one evening with a group of Thai friends from my Rotary club, I told a story about my visit to a town in southern Spain where there had also been many scooters and helmet laws. Regarding the latter, however, frequently only the driver wore a helmet while the passengers did not.

One day in the Spanish town, I saw three people on a scooter--a man, a woman, and what appeared to be a child wedged between them. Only the child was wearing a helmet. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the helmeted child wasn't a kid in the human sense. It was a goat. This I thought was pretty funny. "That goat must have been important to those people," I told my Thai friends, expecting laughter.

Instead there were incredulous stares and silence. Finally, Suparie, a woman who has spent a lot of time in New Zealand, America, and Europe and who is comfortable with the questioning ways of Westerners asked, "How did you know it was a goat?"

What a weird question, I thought. 

"Well, it had hooves and long spindly furry 'arms and legs'," I sputtered.

"How do you know that goats look like this?" she demanded.

"Well, what do goats look like in Thailand?" I had seen goats in the villages around Chiang Mai. They looked very similar to their Spanish counterparts.

There were more blank looks and silence as my dinner companions seemed to be wondering how I knew what goats looked like.

Then it dawned on me. Although my friends and I speak English, we pronounce many words  differently. They thought I was saying that I had seen a helmeted ghost on a motor scooter! "You know that I am talking about the animal that makes the 'baa baa' sound?" I started bleating. A waiter walking by the table looked dismayed. 

Suddenly, smiles flashed all around.

"Ah," said Suparie. "We thought you were saying that you had seen a ghost with a helmet on a motor scooter. Now we know that you saw a goat. You were trying to make a funny story!" She smiled. Everyone else smiled, too. No wonder they had reacted so coolly. Who ever heard of a helmeted ghost on a motor scooter? Clearly, a ghost wouldn't need a helmet!

And then it suddenly occurred to me that maybe some Thais, just like some Spaniards, put helmets on their goats when they take them for rides.

I made a mental note to self: do not tell any more goat stories in Thailand.

So far, this has worked well.

                                     

This Is Not a Fairytale

Once upon a time there were two kingdoms separated by a narrow river. In the Kingdom called The Land of Smiles, the people were happy. The king was kind and cared about his subjects who he loved and protected fiercely. Unlike neighboring lands, foreigners had never conquered his kingdom. The land was beautiful and fertile. Food, clothing, and shelter were enjoyed by most.

The Kingdom across the river was called the Land of Tears. The king of the Land of Tears had waged war upon his own people for half a century. In his greed, he turned what had once been a rich country into a very poor one. The king’s armies stole land and money, burned forests, destroyed roads, farms, schools, clinics, and libraries. They bombed villages. The soldiers cut off the hands and tongues of anyone who objected, forced children to become soldiers, and placed landmines everywhere to prevent people from escaping.

A beautiful queen who loved her people spoke out against the king. She was imprisoned for many years so that she could not tell the world what was happening in her country. The king was so determined to keep what he was doing a secret that few were ever allowed into the Land of Tears. And in truth, not many wanted to go.

After plundering his country for 50 years, the king of the Land of Tears began to see that there would soon be little left to steal unless he allowed foreigners into the kingdom to make investments. But the foreigners were afraid of losing their money. They knew that if the king continued to act in the same way, they also would be robbed. So they demanded proof from the king and his armies that their money would be safe. 

The king promptly released the queen, (although he still did not allow her to have any real power). He also talked about democracy—a word he knew the foreigners loved to hear. The foreigners, whose own kingdoms were also struggling due to their leaders’ greed, were reassured and started to invest. In the meantime, the king continued to wage war upon his own people. The foreigners pretended not to notice.

Despite many dangers, 500,000 people from the Land of Tears managed to flee to other countries. Some found their way to the Land of Smiles. However they came with little but the clothes on their backs. They were not only from the Land of Tears but poor as well, and so they were not welcome.

Some were put into camps from which they could not come and go freely and where there was no work. Others labored as illegal immigrants and lived wherever they could. They did the backbreaking labor no else wanted to do. Without legal rights, people from the Land of Tears could not object when their employers did not pay them or the police beat them.  Many others were bought and sold as slaves.

It so happened that a little girl named Suu from the Land of Tears and her mother learned that there was work and a safe place to live in The Land of Smiles. This place was a garbage dump in a city called Mae Sot near the river. There they could pitch a plastic sheet to shelter from the rain and sift through trash in the hope of making money from recycling bits of plastic. Hundreds of people from the Land of Tears already lived there even though there were no toilets and the water for washing and drinking was polluted. Often people got sick. The recycler did not pay them much so everyone had to work long into the night, including the children. Many times, people despite their hard work, went hungry. Suu and her mom got by the best they could.

Many people visit the garbage village when they come to the city on the river. They take a lot of pictures as if they are at a zoo. “How can these people--especially the children-- live like this?” they ask with disgust. “Why don’t they go back to their own country?” Suu and her mom and the others in the village are friendly to all of the visitors even though they know that they do not really understand why Suu and the villagers live there.

What the visitors do not realize is that no one wants to live on a garbage dump. But this garbage dump is safer than the Land of Tears. Here they can live mostly without fear. Here they have a community.

But what they do not have is clean water, much food, and medicine. Suu's future does not look promising unless people who are aware of her situation do something effective to help.

pigletsforprogress.org is a grassroots group of progress minded people in Chiang Mai who spoke to the community at the dump to find out what kind of help the people there thought be effective. Raising pigs at the dump for extra income is their idea. 

Please help Suu and her community have a brighter future.

Rough Landing: A Thai Tale

It was July and the wet season in northern Thailand. Today, the rain was falling steadily without breaks. This was a penetrating rain. No wind to speak of. The sound of falling water had begun around midnight.

She watched the water drip from the leaves of the trees that clung closest to the house. The garden surrounding the place where they were dog sitting was alive with flowers and shrubs she had never seen before. They glittered like emeralds in the rain. 

In a corner of the garden was a spirit house. Every building in Chiang Mai had one. These elaborate wooden structures on pedestals were erected to shelter and placate the spirits of the land. They looked a lot like dollhouses. She wondered if the spirits and their houses came alive at night. Fear of the mosquito hordes who feasted after dark prevented her from checking.

The inside of the place where they were staying was just as alive as the garden and perhaps even the spirit house, but much less appealing. At night, the walls were covered with geckos. Another bigger lizard also lived in the house. It let out a loud call whenever it caught a gecko. Rats could be heard scurrying to and fro in the kitchen, leaving mounds of droppings that needed to be cleaned off the table each morning. The window screens were in poor repair, making it difficult to sit for any length of time without getting bitten by mosquitoes and gnats.

Basically a huge, dark, dusty box, the house had little cross ventilation. Stifling by mid-day, it did not cool down until well after dark. They had long given up trying to sleep on the lumpy mattress in the sweltering bedroom on the second floor to which the owner had assigned them. A long tattered couch in the living room where it was slightly cooler was less lumpy. The only comfortable thing in the place was the dog, an affectionate mutt with an expressive face who leapt with joy to greet them whenever they returned from errands.

The house was in a neighborhood north of the city. Unlike the ancient golden templed tourist section where they had stayed on their first visit, there were no expats to speak of here except for the occasional few who could be spotted at a run down hotel several blocks away. The Thais in this part of the city, unfamiliar with tourists, spoke little English. This made getting transportation or ordering food in restaurants for people who did not speak Thai unpredictable and frustrating.

Weedy sidewalks with wobbly tiles dotted with piles of food led down the main road from the house to the superhighway. Who was the food for, she wondered-- the dogs or spirits? Or was it one and the same? The traffic of the superhighway swarmed with trucks, tuk tuks, cars, and song taws unimpeded by crosswalks or traffic lights. Overhead, a thick tangled vine of telephone and TV wires attached to poles lining both sides of the street sprouted frequent loose ends that dangled to the ground. She learned to dodge them and the packs of dogs that roamed freely.

Everything about this said developing world. She had always thought she could live in that world because of her travels in Nepal and Tibet. There she thought she had learned that along with the dogs and wires and traffic came a perspective more grounded in human connection than in material possessions.

Then again, that might simply have been what she wanted to see at the time.

Cats Ride Free: a Tale of Two Benches

Today, just like many days, I am riding in a song taew--a modified pick up truck with two padded plastic covered benches in the bed. Song taew literally means two benches in Thai and riding in one is the most popular form of public transportation in Chiang Mai because it's cheap and convenient. A trip in the city costs 20 Thai Bhat (66 cents USD). There are song taews everywhere so they are easy to hail. (On the other end of the scale, are blue and yellow cars marked "Taxi Meter" that do not actually have meters. "Taxi Meter" rides start at $4.00 USD. The choice is clear.)

Instead of riding in the back, the driver has invited me to sit up front next to him. This is definitely a more comfortable option although neither back nor front are air conditioned and it's 95 degrees out. The photo below is the back where passengers usually ride.

On the dashboard of the song taew are a photo of the driver's glossy black cat, a bottle of some green liquid, and a half eaten banana on which many tiny ants are feasting. There are also a few small statues of the Buddha and a picture of a smiling elderly saffron robed monk the driver says is his teacher. Hanging from the rear view mirror is a garland of pink ribbons, mysterious white flowers, and red roses.

The dashboard altar is a common feature of most song taews and taxis I have taken in Chiang Mai. Only the objects vary. Food offerings are frequent. Some altars have a variety of amulets. Others have small statues of various Buddhist saints. I am grateful for whatever protection these altars provide since the driving here is unpredictable. Traffic lanes are pretty much advisory. A vehicle typically occupies two lanes simultaneously. It's also not uncommon for drivers to make right hand turns at intersections from the far left lane by crossing three lanes of traffic. Interestingly, there is not a lot of horn honking or road rage when this happens. Motor scooters-- in swarms-- wind their way around cars and sometimes decide to go the opposite way the traffic is supposed to go. This all makes for an adventurous ride.  Ganesha, the Thai/Hindu elephant god of luck must be pretty active since I haven't seen a lot of accidents.

The man with cavernous eyes and gaunt cheeks has transported me before and is a relatively safe driver. He looks pretty serious most of the time. Driving for a living in Chiang Mai traffic has taken its toll by the looks of it. But when he occasionally smiles a toothless grin, his face shines like the full moon breaking through clouds on a stormy night.

He speaks little English and I less Thai. But we communicate somehow about his cat and his teacher. He is quite fond of both. Suddenly, the cat appears on the seat. Has she been there all along and I haven't noticed, I wonder? This seems unlikely but before I have time to come up with a better
explanation, she begins to purr so loudly that communication with the driver is no longer possible. Looking out the half open grimy passenger window at a row of vegetable vendors and noodle shops, I spot another black cat.

Just then, the cat on the seat pounces onto my lap and leaps out the window. The driver pays no attention and keeps going as if the cat was just another passenger and had simply reached its destination. I look out the window to see if the cat is OK but it is nowhere to be seen.

Having ridden with this driver before, and on other song taews as well, I relax in the confidence that at least I won't have to jump out the window when we get to my stop.

Or at least, I don't think so.

When It Rains It Pours Abundance

I have taken a break from blogspot since we moved into our new life in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We relocated here at the end of June. Lots of beginnings and firsts and adventures in the short time we have been here. It's my plan to post monthly again starting with this entry. (This blog is based upon a story that was published in the Bangkok Post.)

It's September. The rainiest month in Thailand. Which means it's flood season. Many parts of Thailand are now under water.

Mercifully there are no floods in Chiang Mai. Nor has there been a repeat of the deluge that submerged Bangkok last year. Other places have not been so lucky. A second wall of water hit Sukkothai two days ago just as residents had begun to clean up and to return to their daily lives. The floodwater there was 50 cm high on average.

But for the people in Mae Rahn village, flooding is not all bad news. The seasonal downpour generates opportunities to make more income and to take a break from growing rice.

Most farmers, says local resident Samsak Ponghom, are fully aware that their rice paddies will be inundated by floodwater in September. As a result, they quit farming and catch fish, paddy rats, and snakes for income supplementation and personal consumption. "Pad pet moo na, (spicy stir-fried rat meat), is a popular menu item during the flood season, while the meat of snakes, particularly cobras, yields better prices," Mr. Samsak said. (Note to readers: I do not know how to cook spicy rat as it was not taught at the lessons I took recently at the Chiang Mai Thai School of Cookery.)

Another resident, Payong Khamsai, who raises ducks for a living--4500 to be precise--welcomes the flood because it helps her save money on the cost of transporting her birds to their natural forage grounds. When there aren't floods, she has to hire trucks to take the birds to their favorite places to eat. During the floods, the water acts like a food delivery service so the ducks can eat at home, so to speak.

Payong, like many other residents, thinks the floods aren't that bad

Some, like Mr. Somsak, wish the floods would last longer. Typically, the water subsides after 3 months. "It should be 5 months at least", he says.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.