The View from Here, Part III (Bus edition)

As I see it: window seat, bus #79.

food on the brain (and on-the-go)

Pictures, few words.  A new addition to the blog roll. Starting today.

a local businessman:  walkin' and grillin'

No more water, please.

I really love this picture. It was taken underneath the chandelier in the lobby of the condo building where we (and many other families) had relocated temporarily to escape the floods. There's a hint of 'i'm-underwater-bubbles-rising-to-the-surface.' It at once symbolizes the moment of feeling underwater (for me, at least mentally), and the goal of rising out of it all to the light at the surface just like a little air bubble escaping the deep. It pretty much sums up my physical and mental location at that moment.

We were among the lucky ones whose lives were only momentarily upended by the devastation of recent flooding, but for many who have lost homes, property, lifestyles, it is a continuing battle to get back to the way life was. In some cases, they are just starting from scratch: rebuilding homes, trying to recreate their previous life or perhaps start a fresh one.

The Thai people are quite adept at picking up and getting back to life. Streets are once again full of vendors. Food and bottled water are plentifully stocked. Sandbags still litter the sidewalks of some spots around the city, almost as if their owners aren't sure if they should keep them 'just in case.' Chatter has turned back to the weather and politics. No longer am i approached with the line 'are you flooded yet?'

This is what lay in front of me as i sat down to lunch the other day. A perfect sum-up of the way that the people here get right back to the important things. So here we are.  The beginning of a new year:  laughing, fat and dancing.

The View from Here, Part II (Flood Edition)

Needless to say, I’ve been absent again.  Life and other such silly things just seem to take over.  It is easier to say you are going to write often, than to actually sit down and do it.  I haven’t even turned on my computer in weeks.

Each day, as I drive the bridge over the Chao Phraya River, I am ever curious about the level of the rising water.  In my years here, I have never seen it so high.  It seems that the boats could just float over land at that height.  These past weeks (and months, for some) in Thailand have been very wet.   Bangkok, until recently, has been spared the brunt of the flood damage.  But, if you look closely, it is not so true.  Central commercial and business areas are still dry, but those that live along the river are already living in semi-submerged conditions.  So, today, instead of driving, I took a walk over the bridge, so I could have a closer look, and here is what I saw:

makeshift walkway, fishing

walking home, mop in hand

houses along the river, usually well above water, not so anymore

water up to here

inches of water already entering riverside homes

sandbags, tarps and property off the ground

debris and after-effects, the most dangerous part

A few blocks inland from the river, it is dry and you can see sandbags and small walls being built to protect from (or at least stall) the potential waters and inundation of homes and businesses.

makeshift 'mini' flood walls encroach on the sidewalk

others choose sandbags as their line of defense

Folks in our neighborhood are quietly going about their lives.  There is no huge influx of sandbags or small concrete curbs being built around houses.  There is a quiet confidence that our neighborhood won’t be touched, but this is also a very typical Thai ‘mai pen rai’ (don’t worry) attitude towards life that I find hard to adopt (in these circumstances – and based on my character, of course!).  I have moved important items to higher ground and have allowed myself to consider that my house could take on water, if our neighborhood does not escape the waters that are circumventing the central city. 

Most interesting is seeing how people deal with items of value (and WHAT items they value) when forced with the idea of evacuating their homes (or in many cases – forced evacuation).  I have seen cars being wrapped in waterproof jackets, lifted up on blocks or even taken to higher ground for protection.  Today, on my walk, I saw a pile of household items sitting on a rooftop, above flood waters below, almost as if being placed on a high shelf.  Included in the pile were:  a motorcycle helmet, a walker and a number of other random items – seemingly unimportant to me, but obviously not so for those who are trying to save them from being damaged or swept away.

items on a rooftop, escaping the water below

 

It made me think about what I would put on that rooftop, if it were my home that was under water.  Family, of course, would be first.  Then as I looked around the house, I realized that most items, both everyday and minimally used, were actually quite dispensable.  It’s sad, but true.  I don’t need my television or computer.  I don’t need my books.  I don’t need my coffee pot (I may take that back, later).  I don’t need my jewelry (well, not all of it).

So, I decided to pack a (waterproof) bag – mostly mental, but potentially very real, if needed in the next days.  This is what I would put inside:  

first instincts:  wallet, meds, documents, sentimental jewels and grandma's handkerchief, lotion (an addiction), sunglasses (it is still sunny here), earplugs, kid comfort objects, and an old kodachrome from my days in Italy.  Not pictured:  snacks and my phone (currently in use as camera)

 

It’s not that I wouldn’t want to keep books and pictures and kid drawings and files and clothes and jewelry.  It is simply clear, when faced with an 'only-can-hold-so-much' bag, that they are not necessary and I can get new ones (or better ones) if I ever have the need.  I have no doubt that the kids will continue to draw cute pictures and they will continue to make funny faces for new photographs (and besides, those were already scanned and are living on that little jump drive in the pic above).

For now, this is our neighborhood:

dry today (and hopefully permanently)

And this is us:

boots at the ready, but ideally not needed

 

So, in the next few days and weeks, I hope it will stay this way and our boots will remain fashion accessories for running around the yard.  If lucky, my bag will stay at home where it is currently housed, without needing to be our rescue pack.  But, don't think it isn't stashed away on the second floor.  Not taking any chances.

Respect Your Mother (and Other Such Thoughts)

Today I sat.  I sat for a long time on a wooden bench amongst hundreds of other parents.  The weather was hot, humid and rainy, as usual.  Fans whirred above my head, some spraying cool mist, which definitely kept it cooler, but did not do wonders for my hair.  The last thing I need in a humid climate is more humidity, especially not the kind that is being deliberately aimed at my already frizzed-out, half curly mane (an ingenious invention with potentially disastrous implications of the beauty variety).

Despite the discomfort (and clear concern for the state of my hair), I sat on for more than two-and-a-half hours.  There were speeches, songs, poems (at list I think that’s what they were), dances and prayers.  Some were in English, but most in Thai.  Needless to say, I did not understand it all.  I couldn’t see anything either, except for a few very bad dye jobs and the hint of students performing in the distance.  ‘Please rise’ and ‘please be seated’ moments broke up the monotony.

Somehow I always feel as if the Thai people around me are completely at ease with these long-winded affairs, opting to pass the time quietly listening or perhaps sneaking in a conversation with a neighbor.  They are used to it.  I should be by now.  I’ve been to my fair share of mind-numbingly long presentations.  Alas, I am not.  I like to think of it as my own version of restless leg syndrome, but instead it is restless foreigner syndrome.

As I am not one to sit still for long, I have taught myself to deal with the discomfort of stillness by letting my mind wander.  If I don’t understand what they’re saying, why try to listen, right?  It can actually be good, quality thinking time for me.    So, sitting there this morning, after answering a few emails, checking Facebook and making sure no one was available for a chat on Skype, my mind switched into pensive mode.

The reason I was there today (albeit two days early), in a parent-heat sandwich, was due to the fact that August 12 is Mother’s Day in Thailand and most importantly, the Queen’s birthday.  So, as I was tuning out the heat and speeches about respecting our mothers, I made myself aware of a few things that I really enjoy about being here, on this bench, in this country. 

Here is my list:

1. My 4 and 6 year old children are already fluent in Thai.  I am forced to play catch-up.
2. The deep respect for family and togetherness is impressive. Not stifling, impressive.
3. Pomp and circumstance is good every now and then (even if I resist it).  At least it makes you get dressed up all pretty a few times a year.
4. There is nothing greater for a busy parent than a school uniform.  Not having to wrestle that really dirty, sequined top out of your child’s hand on the way to school – priceless.  And, when you see the students all lined up – they look pretty good together down to those pesky braids that I have to twist every morning.
5. Food is never out of the picture.  Even during important ceremonies, the kitchen is always open. 
6. If by chance, the kitchen is closed, you simply take 5 steps out the gate and follow the smells to your choice of hundreds of snacking options.
7. Having a rainy season means that the locals know how to plan for rain.  Tents are always on hand.  Events don’t get delayed or cancelled.  They happen.  You may be soaked by the time you get there, but the good news is, you won’t be alone.
8. I can feel better about being late for everything.  No matter how late I am, someone is always later than me.
9. The power of music to bring out emotions is amazing.  I still get chills every time I hear the King’s royal anthem, whether in a movie theatre, on television or on the street.  You can sense the respect for the monarchy in its regal crescendos.
10. Sitting and waiting is O.K.  It gives me time to stop and think. (This last one took me a very long time to learn – it didn’t just happen this morning).

Here are some photographs I took in between thoughts:

students wait to pay respect to mom

 blue, the Queen's flag

 portrait of the Queen, presiding

 all in a line

And with that, I wish my mom and all a Happy Mother’s Day from Thailand, full of respect, appreciation and moments to stop and think.