Despite the heat and humidity in Hanoi this week, I haven't been dissuaded from taking long daily walks in the city, sometimes for as long as three to five miles. It's the best way to get oriented in a new place, to get the lay of the land, and it's the best way to absorb what the various neighborhoods and their streets have to offer.
Over the past few days I have taken this golden opportunity to photograph two or three central city neighborhoods on my rounds.
My hotel is in the Old Quarter which is a great place to start. On this link you can find a typical walking tour marked on a map of the Old Quarter:
http://www.vietnamonline.com/destination/hanoi/old-quarter-walking-tour.html
In this vibrant, colorful neighborhood, which is the old city center, are hundreds of hotels, hostels, restaurants, coffee shops, noodle stands, bakeries, convenience stores, mom and pop stores, clothing stores, shoe stores, hardware stores, souvenir shops, cellphone shops, electronics shops, authorized Apple retailers, other computer retailers, a nightly night bazaar of several blocks length, a traditonal "wet" market, a beautiful park and lake, and a few notable cultural attractions.
The Old Quarter has almost no traffic lights, so car and motorbike traffic make their way through intersections in a fascinating ballet of weaving and waving. Drivers here drive much slower than their counterparts in other countries, so this surreal system seems to work without too much disaster.
Just to the southeast of the Old Quarter is the French Quarter, which at first glance appears to be more of the same, but soon you notice that the streets are wider, the tree-lined boulevards are more glamorous, the French architecture is better-preserved, and the new buildings are taller and bigger. There are also many more traffic lights.
Here you find supermarkets, luxury brand stores, independent boutique shops, a higher class of hotels and restaurants, and brand-name Western fast food outlets such as KFC and Burger King. And yet sometimes there is less than meets the eye: a closer look inside a "supermarket" revealed a post-communist example of a western concept that has yet to find its strengths here. The shelves were filled, true, but compared to the big box stores of Thailand, this supermarket seemed like something straight out of 1989 East Germany.
Just to the west/northwest of the Old Quarter is the capital city's newer administrative center. Here the boulevards are even wider, with yet more trees, and bigger parks line large sections of the area. Several five-way intersections abound, managed by traffic light or roundabout, and here you can see traffic police at work.
This is a neighborhood of big city squares, large government buildings, several foreign embassies including Thailand, Poland, Romania, and Canada, and big monuments to important historical figures such as a statue of Vladimir Illych Lenin (quite possibly one of the last in the world!), and here too is the gigantic Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum.
The latter two landmarks have a way, I noticed as I was taking photos, of making this usually bright and colorful city appear almost Stalinist grey and drab. And yet I was impressed by their size and the huge spaces surrounding them where families gather late in the afternoon, together with their children and friends, for sports such as badminton and football, jogging, biking, skateboarding, and tai chi.
Monday, July 7, 2014
How Much Is It?
My knowledge of the Vietnamese language is nil as is English to many of the people I meet here on the street in Hanoi, but we all understand money--as long as we have a common denominator to value it.
But even simple amounts can be confusing here. Today's rate of the U.S. dollar to the Vietnamese dong is 21,263.02 dong per $1.00.
That means I pay, at 20,000 dong per cup, just a little less than a dollar for the excellent Vietnamese coffee the shops in my neighborhood serve.
You can check this page to see tomorrow's dong/dollar rate, and so on:
https://www.google.com.vn/?gfe_rd=cr&ei=qUm6U_f0OMSJ8Qee2oHwAw#q=vietnam+dong+us+dollar+rate
Check out this page to see Vietnam's colorful plastic banknotes, all of which feature Ho Chi Minh's visage:
https://www.google.com.vn/search?q=vietnamese+currency&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=YEi6U6DfHIal8AWd8YHoBw&sqi=2&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1024&bih=639#q=vietnamese+currency+images&tbm=isch
All I have to do to become a "gosh dong millionaire" is change $50 in greenbacks. At today's rate I'd pull in around 1, 063,151.18 dong.
But when I took a moto taxi to a location not very far from my hotel and I asked the driver how much, he said "Five." At first I took this to mean 5000 dong (about 25 cents), but then I knew that sometimes the Vietnamese will indicate price with one finger for each 10,000 dong (50 cents) requested.
So did my driver mean 50,000 dong ($2.50)? This seemed like a reasonable price for the distance. But still I wasn't sure.
"Five what?" I asked.
"Five dollars, " he said cheerfully. In other words, he wanted more than 100,000 dong. This seemed to be far too much money for the service.
"How much in dong?" I asked him.
"One hundred five thousand," he said. I asked him if he could give me a discount. "I'll take you for 100,000," he said.
When I asked the desk at my hotel how much was the cost of one of my loads of laundry, after some intricate calculations, I was told "Two point six dollar." How much was that in dong? "A little more than 50,000", I was told.
Sometimes prices on fixed-price items such as restaurant menu selections and convenience store goods will indicate however many K, as in 20K for a 1.5 liter bottle of water or soft drink, 23K for a bag of chips, etc.
The items on the menu at a good, medium-priced restaurant on my corner run from 50K for Vietnamese food to 150K for some Western-oriented dishes like burgers and fries. This can get confusing sometimes. Somehow I have a hard time remembering that 100 grand in dong is just $5, so 200 grand is $10.
Anything that approaches 400,000 dong in cost ($20) seems so expensive here, I can't even conceive of it.
I asked for my hotel bill yesterday, and the final, itemized invoice read 3,896,136 dong. That's close to 4 million dong! Or how many dollars? I'm scratching my head in confusion here. Should I run out to the ATM and withdraw the cash, or should I settle it up with a credit card?
It bears pointing out, by the way, that the smallest Vietnamese banknote is a 1000 dong note.
When I produced my credit card to pay the hotel bill, I was asked: "Do you want us to indicate payment in dollars or dong?" I said dollars would be fine (and much less confusing for me!).
After another brief calculation, I was shown the dollar figure: $183.78 for a week's hotel room plus incidentals.
That's a bargain in any currency!
But even simple amounts can be confusing here. Today's rate of the U.S. dollar to the Vietnamese dong is 21,263.02 dong per $1.00.
That means I pay, at 20,000 dong per cup, just a little less than a dollar for the excellent Vietnamese coffee the shops in my neighborhood serve.
You can check this page to see tomorrow's dong/dollar rate, and so on:
https://www.google.com.vn/?gfe_rd=cr&ei=qUm6U_f0OMSJ8Qee2oHwAw#q=vietnam+dong+us+dollar+rate
Check out this page to see Vietnam's colorful plastic banknotes, all of which feature Ho Chi Minh's visage:
https://www.google.com.vn/search?q=vietnamese+currency&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=YEi6U6DfHIal8AWd8YHoBw&sqi=2&ved=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw=1024&bih=639#q=vietnamese+currency+images&tbm=isch
All I have to do to become a "gosh dong millionaire" is change $50 in greenbacks. At today's rate I'd pull in around 1, 063,151.18 dong.
But when I took a moto taxi to a location not very far from my hotel and I asked the driver how much, he said "Five." At first I took this to mean 5000 dong (about 25 cents), but then I knew that sometimes the Vietnamese will indicate price with one finger for each 10,000 dong (50 cents) requested.
So did my driver mean 50,000 dong ($2.50)? This seemed like a reasonable price for the distance. But still I wasn't sure.
"Five what?" I asked.
"Five dollars, " he said cheerfully. In other words, he wanted more than 100,000 dong. This seemed to be far too much money for the service.
"How much in dong?" I asked him.
"One hundred five thousand," he said. I asked him if he could give me a discount. "I'll take you for 100,000," he said.
When I asked the desk at my hotel how much was the cost of one of my loads of laundry, after some intricate calculations, I was told "Two point six dollar." How much was that in dong? "A little more than 50,000", I was told.
Sometimes prices on fixed-price items such as restaurant menu selections and convenience store goods will indicate however many K, as in 20K for a 1.5 liter bottle of water or soft drink, 23K for a bag of chips, etc.
The items on the menu at a good, medium-priced restaurant on my corner run from 50K for Vietnamese food to 150K for some Western-oriented dishes like burgers and fries. This can get confusing sometimes. Somehow I have a hard time remembering that 100 grand in dong is just $5, so 200 grand is $10.
Anything that approaches 400,000 dong in cost ($20) seems so expensive here, I can't even conceive of it.
I asked for my hotel bill yesterday, and the final, itemized invoice read 3,896,136 dong. That's close to 4 million dong! Or how many dollars? I'm scratching my head in confusion here. Should I run out to the ATM and withdraw the cash, or should I settle it up with a credit card?
It bears pointing out, by the way, that the smallest Vietnamese banknote is a 1000 dong note.
When I produced my credit card to pay the hotel bill, I was asked: "Do you want us to indicate payment in dollars or dong?" I said dollars would be fine (and much less confusing for me!).
After another brief calculation, I was shown the dollar figure: $183.78 for a week's hotel room plus incidentals.
That's a bargain in any currency!
Sunday, July 6, 2014
English Language Vietnamese Paper Bores to Tears
At newsstands around the Old Quarter there are plenty of Vietnamese language publications to enjoy with breakfast, but so far I've found nothing in English.
In my traveling career, the best bet for American journalism overseas has been the International Herald Tribune which was once co-published by the New York Times and the Washington Post.
The IHT still exists but only online here.
The paper version has been recently re-branded as the International New York Times and it's available in most major cities around the world including Bangkok where it's sold for 80 baht ($2.50).
I'm sure I'd be able to find the INYT in Hanoi at maybe one or two specialized shops such as English language bookstores, but as for finding it on my usual rounds, forget it. . .
This reminds me of my admittedly limited experience with Communist countries over the years. On my day trip through Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie to visit East Berlin in December 1983--at the height of the Cold War--I wasn't in the market for a Western newspaper, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have found the IHT even if I'd been looking for it.
Besides, it was easily available just over the Wall in West Berlin where I was staying.
My only other experience with Communist media was in Laos, a nation which is linguistically and culturally a cousin of Thailand but which is politically and philosophically tied to Vietnam.
As I recall, the Lao Peoples' Democratic Republic's government was so secretive in my day that it didn't even have a Lao language newspaper for sale. Whenever I entered the Lao PDR for a visa run or a trip down the Mekong from Thailand, I was entering a virtual news-free zone.
Occasionally one could find a week-old copy of the Bangkok Post, but that would've been a very lucky day.
These days you can read the Vientiane Times here.
Back in Hanoi this year, after some googling around, I found the Vietnam News online. Today's top story reads like a Central Committee memo with the headline "Nation pushed to achieve higher growth" as it outlines a Party plan to reach annual economic growth targets of 8%-9%.
Other headlines and text reveal that "Venezuela becomes strategic ally", "Voter ask PM to take tough stance on East Sea (the South China Sea)", "President praises fishermen for conducting peaceful fight", and "China has broken its promise".
OMG! Is this all the Vietnam News has to offer its loyal farang readers? Pretty much, I'm afraid. You really have to dig for something that doesn't completely bore one to tears, such as this item:
http://vietnamnews.vn/learning-english/256905/meet-ha-nois-music-mechanic.html
But my all-time favorite communist media outlet has to be KCNA, the official news agency of the Korean Workers' Party of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, also known as North Korea.
Here is a fascinating piece about the recent visit of a Vietnamese delegation to Mangyongdae:
http://www.kcna.co.jp/index-e.htm
In my traveling career, the best bet for American journalism overseas has been the International Herald Tribune which was once co-published by the New York Times and the Washington Post.
The IHT still exists but only online here.
The paper version has been recently re-branded as the International New York Times and it's available in most major cities around the world including Bangkok where it's sold for 80 baht ($2.50).
I'm sure I'd be able to find the INYT in Hanoi at maybe one or two specialized shops such as English language bookstores, but as for finding it on my usual rounds, forget it. . .
This reminds me of my admittedly limited experience with Communist countries over the years. On my day trip through Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie to visit East Berlin in December 1983--at the height of the Cold War--I wasn't in the market for a Western newspaper, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have found the IHT even if I'd been looking for it.
Besides, it was easily available just over the Wall in West Berlin where I was staying.
My only other experience with Communist media was in Laos, a nation which is linguistically and culturally a cousin of Thailand but which is politically and philosophically tied to Vietnam.
As I recall, the Lao Peoples' Democratic Republic's government was so secretive in my day that it didn't even have a Lao language newspaper for sale. Whenever I entered the Lao PDR for a visa run or a trip down the Mekong from Thailand, I was entering a virtual news-free zone.
Occasionally one could find a week-old copy of the Bangkok Post, but that would've been a very lucky day.
These days you can read the Vientiane Times here.
Back in Hanoi this year, after some googling around, I found the Vietnam News online. Today's top story reads like a Central Committee memo with the headline "Nation pushed to achieve higher growth" as it outlines a Party plan to reach annual economic growth targets of 8%-9%.
Other headlines and text reveal that "Venezuela becomes strategic ally", "Voter ask PM to take tough stance on East Sea (the South China Sea)", "President praises fishermen for conducting peaceful fight", and "China has broken its promise".
OMG! Is this all the Vietnam News has to offer its loyal farang readers? Pretty much, I'm afraid. You really have to dig for something that doesn't completely bore one to tears, such as this item:
http://vietnamnews.vn/learning-english/256905/meet-ha-nois-music-mechanic.html
But my all-time favorite communist media outlet has to be KCNA, the official news agency of the Korean Workers' Party of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, also known as North Korea.
Here is a fascinating piece about the recent visit of a Vietnamese delegation to Mangyongdae:
http://www.kcna.co.jp/index-e.htm
Rough Guide to Vietnam/Hanoi
Here's an excerpt from the Rough Guide to Vietnam and its take on the city of Hanoi:
By turns exotic, squalid, gauche and hip, the high-octane Vietnamese capital of Hanoi provides a full-scale assault on the senses. Its crumbly, lemon-hued colonial architecture is a feast for the eyes; swarms of buzzing motorbikes invade the ear, while the delicate scents and tastes of delicious street food can be found all across a city that – unlike so many of its regional contemporaries – is managing to modernize with a degree of grace. Despite its political and historical importance, and the incessant noise drummed up by a population of over six million, Hanoi exudes a more intimate, urbane appeal than Ho Chi Minh City.
Hanoi city centre comprises a compact area known as Hoan Kiem District, which is neatly bordered by the Red River embankment in the east and by the rail line to the north and west, while its southern extent is marked by the roads Nguyen Du, Le Van Huu and Han Thuyen. The district takes its name from its present-day hub and most obvious point of reference, Hoan Kiem Lake, which lies between the cramped and endlessly diverting Old Quarter in the north, and the tree-lined boulevards of the French Quarter, arranged in a rough grid system, to the south. West of this central district, across the rail tracks, some of Hanoi’s most impressive monuments occupy the wide open spaces of the former Imperial City, grouped around Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum on Ba Dinh Square and extending south to the ancient walled gardens of the Temple of Literature. A vast body of water confusingly called West Lake sits north of the city, harbouring a number of interesting temples and pagodas, but the attractive villages that once surrounded it have now largely given way to upmarket residential areas and a smattering of luxury hotels.
Modern Hanoi has an increasingly confident, “can do” air about it and a buzz that is even beginning to rival Ho Chi Minh City. There’s more money about nowadays and the wealthier Hanoians are prepared to flaunt it in the ever-more sophisticated restaurants, cafés and designer boutiques that have exploded all over the city. Hanoi now boasts glitzy, multistorey shopping malls and wine warehouses; beauty parlours are the latest fad and some seriously expensive cars cruise the streets. Almost everyone else zips around on motorbikes rather than the deeply untrendy bicycle. The authorities are trying – with mixed success – to temper the anarchy with laws to curb traffic and regulate unsympathetic building projects in the Old Quarter, coupled with an ambitious twenty-year development plan that aims to ease congestion by creating satellite towns. Nevertheless, the city centre has not completely lost its old-world charm nor its distinctive character.
Hanoi, somewhat unjustly, remains less popular than Ho Chi Minh City as a jumping-off point for touring Vietnam, with many making the journey from south to north. Nevertheless, it provides a convenient base for excursions to Ha Long Bay, and to Sa Pa and the northern mountains, where you’ll be able to get away from the tourist hordes and sample life in rural Vietnam. There are also a few attractions much closer at hand, predominantly religious foundations such as the Perfume Pagoda, with its spectacular setting among limestone hills, and the spiral-shaped citadel of Co Loa, just north of today’s capital. The Red River Delta’s fertile alluvial soil supports one of the highest rural population densities in Southeast Asia, living in bamboo-screened villages dotted among the paddy fields. Some of these communities have been plying the same trade for generations, such as ceramics, carpentry or snake-breeding. While the more successful craft villages are becoming commercialized, it’s possible, with a bit of effort, to get well off the beaten track to where Confucianism still holds sway.
By turns exotic, squalid, gauche and hip, the high-octane Vietnamese capital of Hanoi provides a full-scale assault on the senses. Its crumbly, lemon-hued colonial architecture is a feast for the eyes; swarms of buzzing motorbikes invade the ear, while the delicate scents and tastes of delicious street food can be found all across a city that – unlike so many of its regional contemporaries – is managing to modernize with a degree of grace. Despite its political and historical importance, and the incessant noise drummed up by a population of over six million, Hanoi exudes a more intimate, urbane appeal than Ho Chi Minh City.
Hanoi city centre comprises a compact area known as Hoan Kiem District, which is neatly bordered by the Red River embankment in the east and by the rail line to the north and west, while its southern extent is marked by the roads Nguyen Du, Le Van Huu and Han Thuyen. The district takes its name from its present-day hub and most obvious point of reference, Hoan Kiem Lake, which lies between the cramped and endlessly diverting Old Quarter in the north, and the tree-lined boulevards of the French Quarter, arranged in a rough grid system, to the south. West of this central district, across the rail tracks, some of Hanoi’s most impressive monuments occupy the wide open spaces of the former Imperial City, grouped around Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum on Ba Dinh Square and extending south to the ancient walled gardens of the Temple of Literature. A vast body of water confusingly called West Lake sits north of the city, harbouring a number of interesting temples and pagodas, but the attractive villages that once surrounded it have now largely given way to upmarket residential areas and a smattering of luxury hotels.
Modern Hanoi has an increasingly confident, “can do” air about it and a buzz that is even beginning to rival Ho Chi Minh City. There’s more money about nowadays and the wealthier Hanoians are prepared to flaunt it in the ever-more sophisticated restaurants, cafés and designer boutiques that have exploded all over the city. Hanoi now boasts glitzy, multistorey shopping malls and wine warehouses; beauty parlours are the latest fad and some seriously expensive cars cruise the streets. Almost everyone else zips around on motorbikes rather than the deeply untrendy bicycle. The authorities are trying – with mixed success – to temper the anarchy with laws to curb traffic and regulate unsympathetic building projects in the Old Quarter, coupled with an ambitious twenty-year development plan that aims to ease congestion by creating satellite towns. Nevertheless, the city centre has not completely lost its old-world charm nor its distinctive character.
Hanoi, somewhat unjustly, remains less popular than Ho Chi Minh City as a jumping-off point for touring Vietnam, with many making the journey from south to north. Nevertheless, it provides a convenient base for excursions to Ha Long Bay, and to Sa Pa and the northern mountains, where you’ll be able to get away from the tourist hordes and sample life in rural Vietnam. There are also a few attractions much closer at hand, predominantly religious foundations such as the Perfume Pagoda, with its spectacular setting among limestone hills, and the spiral-shaped citadel of Co Loa, just north of today’s capital. The Red River Delta’s fertile alluvial soil supports one of the highest rural population densities in Southeast Asia, living in bamboo-screened villages dotted among the paddy fields. Some of these communities have been plying the same trade for generations, such as ceramics, carpentry or snake-breeding. While the more successful craft villages are becoming commercialized, it’s possible, with a bit of effort, to get well off the beaten track to where Confucianism still holds sway.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Congratulations to Costa Rica!
Here's a little shout out to my student M and his Costa Rican heritage: congratulations on the Costa Rican team's historic performance at the World Cup!
The valiant Central American nation's football team thrilled its fans when it reached its first World Cup quarter final match with European powerhouse the Netherlands.
I caught the first half of the scoreless draw last night but fell asleep and missed the disappointing penalty shoot-out at the end.
Holland out-shot the Ticos 4-3 to end Costa Rican hopes, but it was a wild ride just same. . .
http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/jul/04/world-cup-2014-five-things-costa-rica
The valiant Central American nation's football team thrilled its fans when it reached its first World Cup quarter final match with European powerhouse the Netherlands.
I caught the first half of the scoreless draw last night but fell asleep and missed the disappointing penalty shoot-out at the end.
Holland out-shot the Ticos 4-3 to end Costa Rican hopes, but it was a wild ride just same. . .
http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/jul/04/world-cup-2014-five-things-costa-rica
Complexities of the Thai Political Situation
I have wanted to post a piece for my readers explaining some of the complexities of the current Thai political situation, but I didn't want to post something so publicly while I was still in Thailand, under martial law and the attendant uncertainties of being present for this latest of many Thai military interventions.
Trying to make sense of recent developments is also greatly complicated by issues related to the monarchy, in general, and to the question of succession to the throne in particular.
Since the September 2006 coup, which ousted the controversial yet democratically-elected prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, various Thai regimes--both military and civilian--have made liberal use of the nation's strict lese majeste laws. These measures, also known as the 112 laws for the number of the pertinent article in the Thai criminal code, have been used to stifle all national debate about Thailand's aging and ailing King Bhumiphol Adulyadej and his important role in various political crises over the years.
For that reason alone I hesitate to publish much about what I know regarding the last decade or so of Thai political development because I don't want to end up on a Thai blacklist and be barred from entering the country.
Since the bloody events of May 2010, when an army-backed civilian government led by Democrat Party leader and prime minister Abhisit Vejjajiva turned its guns on so-called Red Shirts supporters of Mr Thaksin's party, killing perhaps 100 people in the process, I have read as much as I can online, in the newspapers, in news magazines, and in books, about Thailand's fragile democracy and the struggles of ordinary people to be represented by their own chosen leaders.
The story of Thaksin's rise and fall, and the roots of that story, go back 20-25 years to the period when I made Thailand my temporary home.
To simplify the story somewhat, let me backtrack to 1997. By that year Thailand had had five years of different civilian government following another major crisis, the Black May events of 1992.
Black May was a middle-class protest by Bangkok yuppies and students against the attempt by another junta chief, Suchinda Krapayoon, to appoint himself head of an unelected civilian government.
Former Bangkok governor and army major general Chamlong Srimuang was a major leader of these protests which ended when the army opened fire on the protesters, killing at least 100 people but possibly another several hundred more.
After Black May Thai politicians and leaders of the military, the bureaucracy, and the palace began a long, strenuous process of political reform which culminated in 1997 with the promulgation of the so-called "People's Constitution". Most of my friends and many others from across the spectrum of Thai society welcomed this major reform because it marked the first time in Thai history that ordinary people had some say in the writing of their nation's basic law.
Out of this development came Thaksin, a self-made billionaire telecommunications tycoon and the richest man in Thailand, who bankrolled his own party, Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais), which won the most parliamentary seats in an early 2001 election.
Thaksin became the first Thai prime minister in history to finish a full four-year term. His tenure was marked by unprecedentedly populist policies such as the One Tambon One Product (OTOP) scheme which aimed to promote one product for every provincial subdistrict in the country; and the 30-baht doctor visit scheme, effectively a universal health care program which brought affordable doctor and clinic visits to millions of rural people.
Like many Thai leaders, however, Thaksin displayed a nasty authoritarian side, too, with his murderous "war on drugs" in 2002 which unleashed police forces nation-wide who gunned down accused drug dealers in an orgy of extra-judicial killing that left two to three thousand people dead in less than three months.
Human rights groups, however, accused the police of killing many people--including innocent men, women, and children--who had nothing at all to do with the lucrative illegal drug trade. Indeed, it's no secret in Thailand that some of the biggest drug lords in the country are powerful elite figures from the police, the military, and civilian political circles.
Despite this carnage, however, Thaksin remained so popular with ordinary people--especially from the north and northeastern regions of the country--that not only did he finish his four-year term but also he and his party were re-elected in a landslide victory in early 2005.
Behind the scenes, however, Thai leaders in the army, the bureaucracy, and the palace--the traditional triumvirate of Thai power--were becoming increasingly nervous about Thaksin's popularity. Indeed, several NGOs from the 1992-1997 period who had been very active in the anti-military democracy movement of Black May and the People's Constitution were now beginning to regret what they had helped to unleash.
Those people had come to see Thaksin as an old-style Thai dictator who used vote-buying at the ballot box and populist post-election policies to maintain a monopoly on political power.
Others were also starting to fear that Thaksin, with some of his behind-the-scenes maneuvering, was planning to usurp the monarchy, establish a republic, and become something like a "president for life".
One such group, the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) led by another wealthy tycoon, Sondhi Limthongkul, began staging anti-Thaksin government protests in early 2006.
When PAD protesters, also known as the Yellow Shirts, refused to recognize Thaksin's legitimacy in the wake of his historic 2006 landslide victory, his own supporters began to rally on his behalf under the banner of the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UFDD), an umbrella group for various pro-government supporters who became known as the Red Shirts.
By the time of my August 2006 visit, Bangkok was divided down the middle by these more-or-less permanent protest camps, and one strange incident in the news caught my attention that month: an army staff sergeant was arrested while cruising through Thaksin's Bangkok neighborhood in an army vehicle which was loaded with grenades and other explosive materials.
Police--who were known generally to be an important Thaksin power base, Thaksin himself having been a former police captain--accused the army sergeant of casing Thaksin's home and taking part in an assassination plot under orders from a murky, mysterious army faction.
Just a month later, the army stepped in and ousted Thaksin in the first coup in 15 years. Many people, including the king, quickly endorsed this move. Thaksin immediately left Thailand for a lengthy self-imposed exile in Dubai and Great Britain.
In full disclosure, I was also a reluctant supporter of this coup because I was sickened by the police violence Thaksin instigated in 2002. I also believed that the main opposition party in parliament, the 60-year-old Democrat Party led by the young Oxford-educated Abhisit Vejjajiva, was the cleaner of the two major parties, Thaksin's party having been filled with some of the most corrupt politicians of the previous decade and a half.
The aftermath of the 2006 coup marked the commencement of eight years of unrelenting political divide between the Red Shirts, who broadly represented Thaksin supporters but also other groups and NGOs in favor of free speech, poverty alleviation, farmers' rights, land reform, rural "upcountry" matters, blue-collar workers, and similar causes and issues; and the Yellow Shirts, who broadly represented the Bangkok middle-class, white-collar workers, the massive Thai government bureaucracy, certain army factions, certain palace factions, and other urbanized, educated elites.
By May 2010, Abhisit's Democrats were in power, but the Red Shirts refused to recognize his government because essentially it was an unelected regime appointed and backed by certain army leaders. When Red Shirt leaders refused to stop their mass protests, Abhisit ordered (or was himself ordered to order) security forces to intervene. Another minor bloodbath ensued and martial law was declared.
Another round of elections was called, and eventually Thaksin's sister Yingluck Shinawatra became Thailand's first woman prime minister after her party, widely understood to be funded by her still-exiled brother, won the 2011 elections.
What these elections have illustrated--indeed, what all elections in Thailand since 2001 have shown--is that only Thaksin or Thaksin-backed parties and candidates can win Thai elections.
And since 2006, the only way an anti-Thaksin party or politician can gain power is through the barrel of an army-backed gun. And a vicious political cycle turns, and turns again.
The Yingluck government lasted just a little over two years. But vigorous protests by the Yellow Shirts insisted that she was only a Thaksin clone, doing Thaksin's bidding, and therefore hers was an illegitimate government, even if she and her party had been duly elected in a free and fair ballot.
The Yellow Shirts refused to end their protests until another "more legitimate", appointed government could be installed to represent "all Thai people", not just the rural poor and upcountry people from the northern and northeastern regions of the country.
The Red Shirt counter-protesters set up permanent camps in the capital, insisting that the Yellow Shirts should go home, that they only represented the urbanized Bangkok elites, and that they would always resort to making backroom deals with various army leaders in order to cling to power illegitimately.
By early 2014 these two permanent protest camps in Bangkok had brought conventional politics, the Thai parliament, and the elected government to a virtual standstill. Both sides were reportedly resorting, as they had in 2010, to low-level incidents of violence including random grenade strikes, bombings, and targeted assassinations. Fears were high in some circles that Thailand was about to descend into civil war.
In turn, the low-level violence was having a very negative effect on Thai business and the overall economy. Current estimates indicate that the economy contracted by as much as 2%-3% in the first quarter of this year.
And the economy wasn't helped by the negative perception of foreigners who began to pull money out of investments and began canceling vacation visits to the kingdom in alarming numbers. This was a very ill omen in a country that depends upon tourism for as much as 10% of its GDP.
Therefore, when the Thai army announced its declaration of martial law on May 20, just as I was preparing to board my Hanoi-bound flight from Chicago, and when just two days later they announced the formation of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO, or Khor Sor Chor in Thai) to replace the luckless Yingluck government, I was sad for Thailand and its people, but hardly surprised.
Yet another cycle begins: the NCPO announces that elections will be held in September 2015. A Thaksin-funded party led by a Thaksin-backed surrogate will win by a landslide. The PAD and its supporters will cry foul and say the election was illegitimate. The Red Shirts and their supporters will rally behind the elected government, claiming that the PAD only represents Thailand's grimy backroom politics and is therefore illegitimate. Low-level violence will once again ensue, businesses will get nervous again, tourists will cancel their holiday trips, and plenty of educated Thai people will again call for a military leader who can break the semi-permanent political impasse and "get things done again for the further development of Thai-style democracy".
Trying to make sense of recent developments is also greatly complicated by issues related to the monarchy, in general, and to the question of succession to the throne in particular.
Since the September 2006 coup, which ousted the controversial yet democratically-elected prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra, various Thai regimes--both military and civilian--have made liberal use of the nation's strict lese majeste laws. These measures, also known as the 112 laws for the number of the pertinent article in the Thai criminal code, have been used to stifle all national debate about Thailand's aging and ailing King Bhumiphol Adulyadej and his important role in various political crises over the years.
For that reason alone I hesitate to publish much about what I know regarding the last decade or so of Thai political development because I don't want to end up on a Thai blacklist and be barred from entering the country.
Since the bloody events of May 2010, when an army-backed civilian government led by Democrat Party leader and prime minister Abhisit Vejjajiva turned its guns on so-called Red Shirts supporters of Mr Thaksin's party, killing perhaps 100 people in the process, I have read as much as I can online, in the newspapers, in news magazines, and in books, about Thailand's fragile democracy and the struggles of ordinary people to be represented by their own chosen leaders.
The story of Thaksin's rise and fall, and the roots of that story, go back 20-25 years to the period when I made Thailand my temporary home.
To simplify the story somewhat, let me backtrack to 1997. By that year Thailand had had five years of different civilian government following another major crisis, the Black May events of 1992.
Black May was a middle-class protest by Bangkok yuppies and students against the attempt by another junta chief, Suchinda Krapayoon, to appoint himself head of an unelected civilian government.
Former Bangkok governor and army major general Chamlong Srimuang was a major leader of these protests which ended when the army opened fire on the protesters, killing at least 100 people but possibly another several hundred more.
After Black May Thai politicians and leaders of the military, the bureaucracy, and the palace began a long, strenuous process of political reform which culminated in 1997 with the promulgation of the so-called "People's Constitution". Most of my friends and many others from across the spectrum of Thai society welcomed this major reform because it marked the first time in Thai history that ordinary people had some say in the writing of their nation's basic law.
Out of this development came Thaksin, a self-made billionaire telecommunications tycoon and the richest man in Thailand, who bankrolled his own party, Thai Rak Thai (Thais Love Thais), which won the most parliamentary seats in an early 2001 election.
Thaksin became the first Thai prime minister in history to finish a full four-year term. His tenure was marked by unprecedentedly populist policies such as the One Tambon One Product (OTOP) scheme which aimed to promote one product for every provincial subdistrict in the country; and the 30-baht doctor visit scheme, effectively a universal health care program which brought affordable doctor and clinic visits to millions of rural people.
Like many Thai leaders, however, Thaksin displayed a nasty authoritarian side, too, with his murderous "war on drugs" in 2002 which unleashed police forces nation-wide who gunned down accused drug dealers in an orgy of extra-judicial killing that left two to three thousand people dead in less than three months.
Human rights groups, however, accused the police of killing many people--including innocent men, women, and children--who had nothing at all to do with the lucrative illegal drug trade. Indeed, it's no secret in Thailand that some of the biggest drug lords in the country are powerful elite figures from the police, the military, and civilian political circles.
Despite this carnage, however, Thaksin remained so popular with ordinary people--especially from the north and northeastern regions of the country--that not only did he finish his four-year term but also he and his party were re-elected in a landslide victory in early 2005.
Behind the scenes, however, Thai leaders in the army, the bureaucracy, and the palace--the traditional triumvirate of Thai power--were becoming increasingly nervous about Thaksin's popularity. Indeed, several NGOs from the 1992-1997 period who had been very active in the anti-military democracy movement of Black May and the People's Constitution were now beginning to regret what they had helped to unleash.
Those people had come to see Thaksin as an old-style Thai dictator who used vote-buying at the ballot box and populist post-election policies to maintain a monopoly on political power.
Others were also starting to fear that Thaksin, with some of his behind-the-scenes maneuvering, was planning to usurp the monarchy, establish a republic, and become something like a "president for life".
One such group, the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) led by another wealthy tycoon, Sondhi Limthongkul, began staging anti-Thaksin government protests in early 2006.
When PAD protesters, also known as the Yellow Shirts, refused to recognize Thaksin's legitimacy in the wake of his historic 2006 landslide victory, his own supporters began to rally on his behalf under the banner of the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship (UFDD), an umbrella group for various pro-government supporters who became known as the Red Shirts.
By the time of my August 2006 visit, Bangkok was divided down the middle by these more-or-less permanent protest camps, and one strange incident in the news caught my attention that month: an army staff sergeant was arrested while cruising through Thaksin's Bangkok neighborhood in an army vehicle which was loaded with grenades and other explosive materials.
Police--who were known generally to be an important Thaksin power base, Thaksin himself having been a former police captain--accused the army sergeant of casing Thaksin's home and taking part in an assassination plot under orders from a murky, mysterious army faction.
Just a month later, the army stepped in and ousted Thaksin in the first coup in 15 years. Many people, including the king, quickly endorsed this move. Thaksin immediately left Thailand for a lengthy self-imposed exile in Dubai and Great Britain.
In full disclosure, I was also a reluctant supporter of this coup because I was sickened by the police violence Thaksin instigated in 2002. I also believed that the main opposition party in parliament, the 60-year-old Democrat Party led by the young Oxford-educated Abhisit Vejjajiva, was the cleaner of the two major parties, Thaksin's party having been filled with some of the most corrupt politicians of the previous decade and a half.
The aftermath of the 2006 coup marked the commencement of eight years of unrelenting political divide between the Red Shirts, who broadly represented Thaksin supporters but also other groups and NGOs in favor of free speech, poverty alleviation, farmers' rights, land reform, rural "upcountry" matters, blue-collar workers, and similar causes and issues; and the Yellow Shirts, who broadly represented the Bangkok middle-class, white-collar workers, the massive Thai government bureaucracy, certain army factions, certain palace factions, and other urbanized, educated elites.
By May 2010, Abhisit's Democrats were in power, but the Red Shirts refused to recognize his government because essentially it was an unelected regime appointed and backed by certain army leaders. When Red Shirt leaders refused to stop their mass protests, Abhisit ordered (or was himself ordered to order) security forces to intervene. Another minor bloodbath ensued and martial law was declared.
Another round of elections was called, and eventually Thaksin's sister Yingluck Shinawatra became Thailand's first woman prime minister after her party, widely understood to be funded by her still-exiled brother, won the 2011 elections.
What these elections have illustrated--indeed, what all elections in Thailand since 2001 have shown--is that only Thaksin or Thaksin-backed parties and candidates can win Thai elections.
And since 2006, the only way an anti-Thaksin party or politician can gain power is through the barrel of an army-backed gun. And a vicious political cycle turns, and turns again.
The Yingluck government lasted just a little over two years. But vigorous protests by the Yellow Shirts insisted that she was only a Thaksin clone, doing Thaksin's bidding, and therefore hers was an illegitimate government, even if she and her party had been duly elected in a free and fair ballot.
The Yellow Shirts refused to end their protests until another "more legitimate", appointed government could be installed to represent "all Thai people", not just the rural poor and upcountry people from the northern and northeastern regions of the country.
The Red Shirt counter-protesters set up permanent camps in the capital, insisting that the Yellow Shirts should go home, that they only represented the urbanized Bangkok elites, and that they would always resort to making backroom deals with various army leaders in order to cling to power illegitimately.
By early 2014 these two permanent protest camps in Bangkok had brought conventional politics, the Thai parliament, and the elected government to a virtual standstill. Both sides were reportedly resorting, as they had in 2010, to low-level incidents of violence including random grenade strikes, bombings, and targeted assassinations. Fears were high in some circles that Thailand was about to descend into civil war.
In turn, the low-level violence was having a very negative effect on Thai business and the overall economy. Current estimates indicate that the economy contracted by as much as 2%-3% in the first quarter of this year.
And the economy wasn't helped by the negative perception of foreigners who began to pull money out of investments and began canceling vacation visits to the kingdom in alarming numbers. This was a very ill omen in a country that depends upon tourism for as much as 10% of its GDP.
Therefore, when the Thai army announced its declaration of martial law on May 20, just as I was preparing to board my Hanoi-bound flight from Chicago, and when just two days later they announced the formation of the National Council for Peace and Order (NCPO, or Khor Sor Chor in Thai) to replace the luckless Yingluck government, I was sad for Thailand and its people, but hardly surprised.
Yet another cycle begins: the NCPO announces that elections will be held in September 2015. A Thaksin-funded party led by a Thaksin-backed surrogate will win by a landslide. The PAD and its supporters will cry foul and say the election was illegitimate. The Red Shirts and their supporters will rally behind the elected government, claiming that the PAD only represents Thailand's grimy backroom politics and is therefore illegitimate. Low-level violence will once again ensue, businesses will get nervous again, tourists will cancel their holiday trips, and plenty of educated Thai people will again call for a military leader who can break the semi-permanent political impasse and "get things done again for the further development of Thai-style democracy".
The Best Phad Kra Phao in Thailand
Of the many excellent dishes of Thai cuisine's thousands of degustatory concoctions, one of my favorites is phad kra phao or fried basil leaves and hot chili peppers.
Typically served on rice with pork or chicken (but sometimes with shrimp or other seafood), you can also order it with a fried egg on the side, as the Thais often do.
There's also a version of the dish served with fried wide rice noodles, instead of the usual white rice, called phad khee mao (drunkard's noodles) which I've happily ordered instead.
When I began doing my annual revisits to Thailand in 2005 and 2006 one of my favorite pastimes was ordering this tasty and often spicy dish.
By the time of my last visit in 2007, my lust for phad kra phao had evolved into something of a quest to find the best of its kind in Thailand.
Without any real desire to find a definitive winner, however, I noticed after a time that I was ordering the dish at least once, sometimes twice, per day.
I ordered it from typical sit-down restaurants, from the smallest of street stalls, from air-conditioned food courts in shopping malls, from five-star hotel coffee shops, from fancy mountain resorts, from the humblest of village food shacks, from 20-30 baht menus (60 cents to 90 cents) to 300-400 baht menus ($9 to $12).
My friend Pik would often make it, and anytime I visited other friends at home there was a good chance phad kra phao would be on their own extensive, family-style meals as well.
Did I ever find the best one? I'm fairly certain I never had a bad one, with one remarkable exception.
In 1997 I was working the Phrae gig with the Banjoman Band. The venue was a typical restaurant/pub job (owned by the same owner of today's Tiger Kingdom in Chiangmai), and band members were entitled to one free rice dish per night.
The chef was aware that phad kra phao was one of my favorites, and he would ask me: "Dave kin phet dai mai?" ("Can you eat spicy?")
When I assured him that I could eat it spicy "baep Thai" (Thai style) it became something of a game for him to find my limit of phrik khee noo (hot chili peppers). Gradually his version of the dish became ever more spicy. After the meal he would smirk and ask me how it was: "Phet mai? Dave yang kin phet dai, reu?" ("Was it spicy? You can still eat spicy?") Always I would assure him: "Kin dai nae nawn! Arroi maak maak luhy" ("Of course I can eat spicy! It's very delicious")
One night, possibly in frustration at my unwillingness to blink, he went all out and just loaded up the dish with as much crushed chili pepper as he could manage. I forget now if I ordered it with pork, or chicken, or shrimp, or what, because it hardly matters: his creation was so spicy that it was virtually inedible. I went through the motions, but I conspicuously didn't clean my plate that evening.
As always, he was near the door as I was on my way home for the night, and he didn't waste time cornering me with: "Khuen-nee arroi mai? Dave yang kin phet dai, chai mai?" ("Was it good tonight? You can still eat spicy, right?") What a smartass!
Still, I refused to bend: "Arroi maak, kheun-nee man phet nit-noi tae arroi muean deum" ("Very tasty, tonight it was a little spicy but delicious all the same")
At this my culinary torturer roared with laughter as I walked out of the joint. I never ordered the dish from him again.
So did I ever find a "best" one? Who knows, but one occasion sticks out for me.
I recall that I ordered a standout version of the dish from a hole in the wall, outdoor-seated, food shack outside the so-called Fish Cave on the winding mountain road from Soppong to Mae Hong Son town.
If I remember correctly, the mae khrua (owner/chef) recommended the shrimp version, so I said okay. It absolutely blew me away with its flavor, subtle spicing, and overall naa-kin (extraordinarily delicious) quality.
How do I remember this occasion after having tried phad kra phao hundreds of times over 25 years?
Because on that day I said to myself:
"I think I might have found the best phad kra phao in Thailand!"
Typically served on rice with pork or chicken (but sometimes with shrimp or other seafood), you can also order it with a fried egg on the side, as the Thais often do.
There's also a version of the dish served with fried wide rice noodles, instead of the usual white rice, called phad khee mao (drunkard's noodles) which I've happily ordered instead.
When I began doing my annual revisits to Thailand in 2005 and 2006 one of my favorite pastimes was ordering this tasty and often spicy dish.
By the time of my last visit in 2007, my lust for phad kra phao had evolved into something of a quest to find the best of its kind in Thailand.
Without any real desire to find a definitive winner, however, I noticed after a time that I was ordering the dish at least once, sometimes twice, per day.
I ordered it from typical sit-down restaurants, from the smallest of street stalls, from air-conditioned food courts in shopping malls, from five-star hotel coffee shops, from fancy mountain resorts, from the humblest of village food shacks, from 20-30 baht menus (60 cents to 90 cents) to 300-400 baht menus ($9 to $12).
My friend Pik would often make it, and anytime I visited other friends at home there was a good chance phad kra phao would be on their own extensive, family-style meals as well.
Did I ever find the best one? I'm fairly certain I never had a bad one, with one remarkable exception.
In 1997 I was working the Phrae gig with the Banjoman Band. The venue was a typical restaurant/pub job (owned by the same owner of today's Tiger Kingdom in Chiangmai), and band members were entitled to one free rice dish per night.
The chef was aware that phad kra phao was one of my favorites, and he would ask me: "Dave kin phet dai mai?" ("Can you eat spicy?")
When I assured him that I could eat it spicy "baep Thai" (Thai style) it became something of a game for him to find my limit of phrik khee noo (hot chili peppers). Gradually his version of the dish became ever more spicy. After the meal he would smirk and ask me how it was: "Phet mai? Dave yang kin phet dai, reu?" ("Was it spicy? You can still eat spicy?") Always I would assure him: "Kin dai nae nawn! Arroi maak maak luhy" ("Of course I can eat spicy! It's very delicious")
One night, possibly in frustration at my unwillingness to blink, he went all out and just loaded up the dish with as much crushed chili pepper as he could manage. I forget now if I ordered it with pork, or chicken, or shrimp, or what, because it hardly matters: his creation was so spicy that it was virtually inedible. I went through the motions, but I conspicuously didn't clean my plate that evening.
As always, he was near the door as I was on my way home for the night, and he didn't waste time cornering me with: "Khuen-nee arroi mai? Dave yang kin phet dai, chai mai?" ("Was it good tonight? You can still eat spicy, right?") What a smartass!
Still, I refused to bend: "Arroi maak, kheun-nee man phet nit-noi tae arroi muean deum" ("Very tasty, tonight it was a little spicy but delicious all the same")
At this my culinary torturer roared with laughter as I walked out of the joint. I never ordered the dish from him again.
So did I ever find a "best" one? Who knows, but one occasion sticks out for me.
I recall that I ordered a standout version of the dish from a hole in the wall, outdoor-seated, food shack outside the so-called Fish Cave on the winding mountain road from Soppong to Mae Hong Son town.
If I remember correctly, the mae khrua (owner/chef) recommended the shrimp version, so I said okay. It absolutely blew me away with its flavor, subtle spicing, and overall naa-kin (extraordinarily delicious) quality.
How do I remember this occasion after having tried phad kra phao hundreds of times over 25 years?
Because on that day I said to myself:
"I think I might have found the best phad kra phao in Thailand!"
Friday, July 4, 2014
Highlights of Five Weeks in Thailand
1.) This year's "place that sticks" is without a doubt my former home-away-from-home Chiangmai, where I spent about three of my five weeks in Thailand. It was great simply to hang out there as an informed ex-resident, now tourist, and surprising some of my old friends along the way.
2.) Hanging out with Pik and Stefan and their kids.
3.) Seeing Peppo, my niece, after seven long years.
4.) Although I didn't seek out as much live music as I would have even 10 years ago, discovering the bands at Tiger Kingdom in Chiangmai was definitely a highlight of this trip. The younger generation of singers and musicians here is very impressive, and though their older mentors--some of them contemporaries and friends of mine--have obviously helped with their development, I can tell that older musicians in Thailand can also learn a lot from their younger sisters and bretheran.
5.) Revisiting Soppong Town, Bangma Pha District, Mae Hong Son Province.
6.) Visiting the old 16th century Ayutthaya City ruins.
7.) Playing fiddle tunes with Sharon and Mick and others at Finnegan's Pub in Bangkok.
8.) Best $12 hotel room: The Rest Bull Bed and Bar in Chiangmai had everything I needed: clean sheets and bathroom, hot shower, fridge, air conditioning, cable TV, free coffee and tea, and relative peace and quiet.
9.) Best $22 hotel room: a toss-up between the S1 Hostel in Bangkok's Soi Ngam Dupli--with most of the same amenities listed above, and Hanoi's Serenity Hotel--also with the same amenities plus an excellent, free American-style breakfast and a desktop with internet access in my room.
10.) Best coffee: Vietnam wins this by a large margin with its strong black coffee sweetened with condensed milk. Thailand tries very hard with its many small espresso machines and $1 lattes, but at heart it's still a Nescafe nation. On the rare occasions when I found kafe boran, the Thai version of Vietnamese coffee, I ordered it in anticipation of my return to Hanoi.
2.) Hanging out with Pik and Stefan and their kids.
3.) Seeing Peppo, my niece, after seven long years.
4.) Although I didn't seek out as much live music as I would have even 10 years ago, discovering the bands at Tiger Kingdom in Chiangmai was definitely a highlight of this trip. The younger generation of singers and musicians here is very impressive, and though their older mentors--some of them contemporaries and friends of mine--have obviously helped with their development, I can tell that older musicians in Thailand can also learn a lot from their younger sisters and bretheran.
5.) Revisiting Soppong Town, Bangma Pha District, Mae Hong Son Province.
6.) Visiting the old 16th century Ayutthaya City ruins.
7.) Playing fiddle tunes with Sharon and Mick and others at Finnegan's Pub in Bangkok.
8.) Best $12 hotel room: The Rest Bull Bed and Bar in Chiangmai had everything I needed: clean sheets and bathroom, hot shower, fridge, air conditioning, cable TV, free coffee and tea, and relative peace and quiet.
9.) Best $22 hotel room: a toss-up between the S1 Hostel in Bangkok's Soi Ngam Dupli--with most of the same amenities listed above, and Hanoi's Serenity Hotel--also with the same amenities plus an excellent, free American-style breakfast and a desktop with internet access in my room.
10.) Best coffee: Vietnam wins this by a large margin with its strong black coffee sweetened with condensed milk. Thailand tries very hard with its many small espresso machines and $1 lattes, but at heart it's still a Nescafe nation. On the rare occasions when I found kafe boran, the Thai version of Vietnamese coffee, I ordered it in anticipation of my return to Hanoi.
Provoking Memory at the Hanoi Hilton
Having decided after much research to forgo a trip to World Heritage site Halong Bay, I narrow my focus to a few tourist attractions in Hanoi.
Perhaps a natural first stop for an American is the notorious Hoa Lo Prison. Also known as the Hanoi Hilton, this was the prison used to house American pilots and other U.S. prisoners captured during the Vietnam War. U.S. Senator John McCain is just one of the many notable inmates who resided here in the late '60s-early '70s. One of the many display cases in the museum shows McCain's flight suit and parachute.
Wikipedia's entry on the subject, despite an understandable pro-U.S. bias, is very informative and has this to say:
Most of the prison was demolished in the mid-1990s and the site now contains two high-rise buildings, one of them the 25-story Somerset Grand Hanoi serviced apartment building.[3] Other parts have been converted into a commercial complex retaining the original French colonial walls.[28] Only part of the prison exists today as a museum. The displays mainly show the prison during the French colonial period, including the guillotine room, still with original equipment, and the quarters for men and women Vietnamese political prisoners.[29] Exhibits related to the American prisoners include the interrogation room where many newly captured Americans were questioned (notorious among former prisoners as the "blue room") is now made up to look like a very comfortable, if spartan, barracks-style room. Displays in the room claim that Americans were treated well and not harmed (and even cite the nickname "Hanoi Hilton" as proof that inmates found the accommodations comparable to a hotel's). The museum's claims are contradicted by former prisoners' published memoirs and oral histories broadcast on C-SPAN identify the room (and other nearby locales) as the site of numerous acts of torture.
An English language Vietnamese publication Hoa Lo Prison: Historical Relic, published in December 2013 by the Administration Board of the museum, has this to say about the "American War" period:
From August 5, 1964, when the US started the war of destruction against North Vietnam to 7 a.m. on December 30, 1972, when the US had to declare an end to all bombing raid activities from the 20th Parallel northwards, the North Vietnamese army and people shot down 4,181 US craft, killed and captured hundreds of experienced American pilots.
In particular, during the 12 days and nights of December 1972 (the so-called "Christmas bombing"), North Vietnamese army and people shot down 23 B52 and 2 F11 aircraft, captured alive many American pilots, smashing the large-scale strategic surprise B52 attack by the US Air Force against two Vietnamese cities of Hanoi and Hai Phong, winning the "Dien Bien Phu Victory on the Air" (sic), defeating the supremacy of the US Air Force and forcing the US to sit at the negotiating table at the Paris Conference that led to an end to the war (sic) and restoration of peace in Vietnam.
According to the museum administration board, the U.S. pilots
were given sufficient personal belonging including smallest things to meet their daily needs...captured pilots were created (sic) favorable conditions for entertainment, cultural and sports activities, chess playing, listening to Voice of Vietnam radio (English broadcasts), watching films and enjoying music. Parties were organized for them during New Year festivals amd holidays, what were impossible (sic) for the Vietnamese at that time.
For the Vietnamese this museum provokes historical memory of the 100-year colonial experience under the French, so most of the site is dedicated to those years from the mid-1890s until the 1940s-1950s.
The solitary confinement cells are the most harrowing for today's visitor. The smallness of the cells combined with the unbearable heat and humidity illustrate the barest glimpse of the misery of countless political prisoners many of whom awaited execution by guillotine.
Two rooms, the only air conditioned ones on site(!?), are dedicated to the U.S. prisoners. Each room has a video monitor running propaganda videos on loop over the various display cases of artifacts and photographs from the period.
Book lovers will like to know that inside one of the museum courtyards there is a pretty good used book shop (mostly English language) with Vietnam-themed postcards for sale as well.
Perhaps a natural first stop for an American is the notorious Hoa Lo Prison. Also known as the Hanoi Hilton, this was the prison used to house American pilots and other U.S. prisoners captured during the Vietnam War. U.S. Senator John McCain is just one of the many notable inmates who resided here in the late '60s-early '70s. One of the many display cases in the museum shows McCain's flight suit and parachute.
Wikipedia's entry on the subject, despite an understandable pro-U.S. bias, is very informative and has this to say:
Most of the prison was demolished in the mid-1990s and the site now contains two high-rise buildings, one of them the 25-story Somerset Grand Hanoi serviced apartment building.[3] Other parts have been converted into a commercial complex retaining the original French colonial walls.[28] Only part of the prison exists today as a museum. The displays mainly show the prison during the French colonial period, including the guillotine room, still with original equipment, and the quarters for men and women Vietnamese political prisoners.[29] Exhibits related to the American prisoners include the interrogation room where many newly captured Americans were questioned (notorious among former prisoners as the "blue room") is now made up to look like a very comfortable, if spartan, barracks-style room. Displays in the room claim that Americans were treated well and not harmed (and even cite the nickname "Hanoi Hilton" as proof that inmates found the accommodations comparable to a hotel's). The museum's claims are contradicted by former prisoners' published memoirs and oral histories broadcast on C-SPAN identify the room (and other nearby locales) as the site of numerous acts of torture.
An English language Vietnamese publication Hoa Lo Prison: Historical Relic, published in December 2013 by the Administration Board of the museum, has this to say about the "American War" period:
From August 5, 1964, when the US started the war of destruction against North Vietnam to 7 a.m. on December 30, 1972, when the US had to declare an end to all bombing raid activities from the 20th Parallel northwards, the North Vietnamese army and people shot down 4,181 US craft, killed and captured hundreds of experienced American pilots.
In particular, during the 12 days and nights of December 1972 (the so-called "Christmas bombing"), North Vietnamese army and people shot down 23 B52 and 2 F11 aircraft, captured alive many American pilots, smashing the large-scale strategic surprise B52 attack by the US Air Force against two Vietnamese cities of Hanoi and Hai Phong, winning the "Dien Bien Phu Victory on the Air" (sic), defeating the supremacy of the US Air Force and forcing the US to sit at the negotiating table at the Paris Conference that led to an end to the war (sic) and restoration of peace in Vietnam.
According to the museum administration board, the U.S. pilots
were given sufficient personal belonging including smallest things to meet their daily needs...captured pilots were created (sic) favorable conditions for entertainment, cultural and sports activities, chess playing, listening to Voice of Vietnam radio (English broadcasts), watching films and enjoying music. Parties were organized for them during New Year festivals amd holidays, what were impossible (sic) for the Vietnamese at that time.
For the Vietnamese this museum provokes historical memory of the 100-year colonial experience under the French, so most of the site is dedicated to those years from the mid-1890s until the 1940s-1950s.
The solitary confinement cells are the most harrowing for today's visitor. The smallness of the cells combined with the unbearable heat and humidity illustrate the barest glimpse of the misery of countless political prisoners many of whom awaited execution by guillotine.
Two rooms, the only air conditioned ones on site(!?), are dedicated to the U.S. prisoners. Each room has a video monitor running propaganda videos on loop over the various display cases of artifacts and photographs from the period.
Book lovers will like to know that inside one of the museum courtyards there is a pretty good used book shop (mostly English language) with Vietnam-themed postcards for sale as well.
Doing the Hustle in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia
My two "visits" to Cambodia over the past 25 years were limited to a 2001 trip to the Aranyaprathet-Poipet border towns and to the disputed temple ruins in Phra Viharn, a World Heritage site which is technically in Cambodian territory but accessible only from the Thai side of the border.
I did both these excursions with my artist friend K who at the time was documenting a large photo project of Khmer ruins sites in Thailand as part of a much bigger multi-continental conception of religious-cultural exploration in Europe, Asia, and Latin America.
So my personal experience of the Indochinese "dominoes" of the '60s-'70s is limited to 7 or 8 trips, mostly of the "visa run" variety, into Laos between 1991 and 2001, and to my current visits to the capital of (formerly North) Vietnam.
In Indochina the French colonists left behind a number of things, most notably their churches and colonial-era architecture, but they also left their taste for fresh crispy baguettes, strong sweetened coffee, crafted beer and wine, and world-class cuisine.
Even the French language lingers here as many older people can speak and understand at least a little French. This morning at breakfast in my hotel I overheard a young woman, almost certainly a French-Vietnamese, in conversation with her farang French boyfriend. On TV here I have seen young Vietnamese translating for French journalists in travelogue pieces for French television.
Like Thai people, the Lao and the Vietnamese are quick with the broadest of smiles for foreign visitors. But I've noticed that many people I meet on the street in Hanoi are also aggressively on "the make", looking to hustle the tourist out of her hard-earned dollars, euros and yen.
In my few days here I've been overcharged for a moto taxi (motorcycle taxi) service and for cold bottles of water or Coke. In the larger scope of things, these are minor irritations, but travelers know that this kind of hustle isn't sustainable over the long term. Tourists quickly grow weary of getting charged $2-3 for a $1 Coke or a 50 cent bottle of water. Then they often become wary of many impromptu interactions with locals on the street.
In Hanoi I've been approached by a few young people claiming to be students who want to "help" me by becoming my temporary guide around town on their motorbike, for a fee of course, or so I've assumed.
Now I don't mind paying a reasonable fee for a reasonable service, and I've been quoted a price of $20 for a half day, or $40 for a full day, of guided moto service to museums and other city landmarks. This price seems reasonable, but it depends partly upon the guide's facility with English. And another big question is: will (s)he stick to the agreed upon itinerary, or will (s)he be looking to upsell additonal services into the bargain? ("My wife will go shopping at the market and cook lunch for you; pay what you like!" or "My niece owns a store selling Vietnamese handicrafts; shall I call her and say we will visit this afternoon?")
What really gives me pause, however, is the person who says "Pay what you like." That seems to me to be an open invitation to serious conflict later in the day.
All the guidebooks I've checked out warn about the friendly hustle going down in Hanoi, which--compared to Thailand or Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon)--is relatively new to the Southeast Asian tourism game. And they warn about the airport taxi scams, aggressive moto drivers, fly-by-night tour operators, fake guesthouse scams (where crooks steal the name of a reputable hotel or tour company and cash in quickly before closing down the enterprise), and other tourist pitfalls in Vietnam generally, and in Hanoi in particular.
I understand all this: I know that farang tourists are going to pay a premium--whether in Thailand, Laos, or Vietnam--and I also know that my comprehension of the Thai language and Thai social customs is often rewarded with a 30%-50% discount on a wide array of goods and services in Thailand. I also know that I'm not entitled to the same sort of discounts in Vietnam.
And I'm not saying that the farang premium is always bad--indeed, I will gladly pay more for a service that I want, when I need it, and as long as it's within my often-limited budget.
But I object to touts who insist "we must go now, today" before one can get his proper bearings, or others who persist in advancing their paid agendas despite several obvious, emphatic "No's!" on my part.
Whenever I've said "No, not today, but what are you doing tomorrow morning?" (after I've had a chance to do a little more research), almost invariably my interlocutors lose interest in me and are off to corner their next tourist prospects.
I did both these excursions with my artist friend K who at the time was documenting a large photo project of Khmer ruins sites in Thailand as part of a much bigger multi-continental conception of religious-cultural exploration in Europe, Asia, and Latin America.
So my personal experience of the Indochinese "dominoes" of the '60s-'70s is limited to 7 or 8 trips, mostly of the "visa run" variety, into Laos between 1991 and 2001, and to my current visits to the capital of (formerly North) Vietnam.
In Indochina the French colonists left behind a number of things, most notably their churches and colonial-era architecture, but they also left their taste for fresh crispy baguettes, strong sweetened coffee, crafted beer and wine, and world-class cuisine.
Even the French language lingers here as many older people can speak and understand at least a little French. This morning at breakfast in my hotel I overheard a young woman, almost certainly a French-Vietnamese, in conversation with her farang French boyfriend. On TV here I have seen young Vietnamese translating for French journalists in travelogue pieces for French television.
Like Thai people, the Lao and the Vietnamese are quick with the broadest of smiles for foreign visitors. But I've noticed that many people I meet on the street in Hanoi are also aggressively on "the make", looking to hustle the tourist out of her hard-earned dollars, euros and yen.
In my few days here I've been overcharged for a moto taxi (motorcycle taxi) service and for cold bottles of water or Coke. In the larger scope of things, these are minor irritations, but travelers know that this kind of hustle isn't sustainable over the long term. Tourists quickly grow weary of getting charged $2-3 for a $1 Coke or a 50 cent bottle of water. Then they often become wary of many impromptu interactions with locals on the street.
In Hanoi I've been approached by a few young people claiming to be students who want to "help" me by becoming my temporary guide around town on their motorbike, for a fee of course, or so I've assumed.
Now I don't mind paying a reasonable fee for a reasonable service, and I've been quoted a price of $20 for a half day, or $40 for a full day, of guided moto service to museums and other city landmarks. This price seems reasonable, but it depends partly upon the guide's facility with English. And another big question is: will (s)he stick to the agreed upon itinerary, or will (s)he be looking to upsell additonal services into the bargain? ("My wife will go shopping at the market and cook lunch for you; pay what you like!" or "My niece owns a store selling Vietnamese handicrafts; shall I call her and say we will visit this afternoon?")
What really gives me pause, however, is the person who says "Pay what you like." That seems to me to be an open invitation to serious conflict later in the day.
All the guidebooks I've checked out warn about the friendly hustle going down in Hanoi, which--compared to Thailand or Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon)--is relatively new to the Southeast Asian tourism game. And they warn about the airport taxi scams, aggressive moto drivers, fly-by-night tour operators, fake guesthouse scams (where crooks steal the name of a reputable hotel or tour company and cash in quickly before closing down the enterprise), and other tourist pitfalls in Vietnam generally, and in Hanoi in particular.
I understand all this: I know that farang tourists are going to pay a premium--whether in Thailand, Laos, or Vietnam--and I also know that my comprehension of the Thai language and Thai social customs is often rewarded with a 30%-50% discount on a wide array of goods and services in Thailand. I also know that I'm not entitled to the same sort of discounts in Vietnam.
And I'm not saying that the farang premium is always bad--indeed, I will gladly pay more for a service that I want, when I need it, and as long as it's within my often-limited budget.
But I object to touts who insist "we must go now, today" before one can get his proper bearings, or others who persist in advancing their paid agendas despite several obvious, emphatic "No's!" on my part.
Whenever I've said "No, not today, but what are you doing tomorrow morning?" (after I've had a chance to do a little more research), almost invariably my interlocutors lose interest in me and are off to corner their next tourist prospects.
Rainy Season in Hot, Muggy Hanoi
The weather is starting to get to me, but it's not the welcome late afternoon rains that are doing me in; it's the almost unbearable heat and humidity.
The old cliche "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" was never more true than it is here in Hanoi. An ordinary late morning walk of 30 minutes or so has my shirt soaked through to the skin and my brain crying out for some air-conditioned relief.
But AC is expensive here, and although I have an ACd hotel room, the hotel's management keeps the thermostat locked in at about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. This is a welcome respite from the muggy streets of the old city neighborhood, but in my room in the daytime I can't wear much more than a pha khao ma, the Thai version of the men's sarong. This is a popular garment for men of all ages, in many countries of the region, for when they're simply hanging out at home.
Unlike in Bangkok, the Vietnamese capital city doesn't have nearly as many centrally-cooled shopping malls, fast food restaurants, and other oases of tropically-located, electrically-powered cool zones.
So it's best to get out early--seven or eight in the morning at the latest until 11.00 or 12.00 noon--then take a long siesta after lunch before going back out again at 5.00 p.m. as things begins to cool down a little, hopefully with some rain to help things along.
These past few days, however, we haven't seen much rain either--even though the skies have remained cloudy for much of the day.
The old cliche "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" was never more true than it is here in Hanoi. An ordinary late morning walk of 30 minutes or so has my shirt soaked through to the skin and my brain crying out for some air-conditioned relief.
But AC is expensive here, and although I have an ACd hotel room, the hotel's management keeps the thermostat locked in at about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. This is a welcome respite from the muggy streets of the old city neighborhood, but in my room in the daytime I can't wear much more than a pha khao ma, the Thai version of the men's sarong. This is a popular garment for men of all ages, in many countries of the region, for when they're simply hanging out at home.
Unlike in Bangkok, the Vietnamese capital city doesn't have nearly as many centrally-cooled shopping malls, fast food restaurants, and other oases of tropically-located, electrically-powered cool zones.
So it's best to get out early--seven or eight in the morning at the latest until 11.00 or 12.00 noon--then take a long siesta after lunch before going back out again at 5.00 p.m. as things begins to cool down a little, hopefully with some rain to help things along.
These past few days, however, we haven't seen much rain either--even though the skies have remained cloudy for much of the day.
Back in Post-Vietnam War Hanoi
I arrived in Hanoi on Tuesday July 1 and was almost the first in line to present my extraordinary health declaration to Vietnamese officials--now required of all visitors flying from Qatar, Saudi Arabia and other middle eastern countries--amidst a swarm of news cameras and media spotlights.
My declaration was only a formality since technically I spent the last 30-some days in Thailand, but I flew in on the regular Qatar Airways Bangkok-Hanoi flight, and the news crews were on hand to document the first 200 passengers to arrive in Hanoi under the new regulations.
The form I filled out never mentions the deadly MERS-CoV which has lately been in the news, but I knew I'd guessed correctly about its purpose when I googled the whole episode later the next day.
It's always an adventure when I visit a country new to my own experience--especially when it's a country that's been on my "to go" list for three or four decades, as is Vietnam.
I grew up with the Vietnam War, the first TV war in America's checkered history of international interventions, and somehow I was profoundly affected by the experience of seeing so many American boys return from this mysterious Southeast Asian land, which looks like a serpent on the map and which always seems to have had such colorful postage stamps, in body bags and caskets.
Although I was only six years old at the time of the February 1968 Tet Offensive I distinctly remember being frightened at the prospect of getting drafted for the slaughter of a long-running quagmire that I was sure--deep down--would see Americans and Vietnamese killing each other well into the 21st Century. When I was 10 years old I was already planning my trip to Canada or Sweden to avoid that prospect.
My uncle was stationed in Hue, not so far from the DMZ marking the border between North and South Vietnam, but his 1965-66 tour was relatively early in the conflict, before the Lyndon B. Johnson administration began its upsizing from a few thousand military "advisors" to the eventual 500,000 troops that were stationed in the south at the peak of the war.
In retrospect, the U.S. attempt to prevent the Soviet-backed, Red Chinese-inspired Viet Cong from toppling the corrupt, inept South Vietnamese government was obviously doomed to failure. But at the time it may have seemed reasonable to most Americans that if South Vietnam fell to the "communist monolith" it would necessarily be the first of several Indochinese "dominoes" to topple, perhaps bringing Thailand, Burma, and Malaysia down with them.
In fact, American involvement in the war inevitably spread to Cambodia where the murderous Khmer Rouge for several years was battling the right-wing Lon Nol regime for control, and to Laos where another low-level "communist" insurgency--similar to that taking place in northeastern Thailand--was also brewing.
It bears mentioning that these Indochinese wars were taking place in three of the poorest countries on earth.
When the U.S. and North Vietnam finally agreed on a peace accord in January 1973 that would see a complete American withdrawal in exchange for the return of all American POWs held by Hanoi, it was only a matter of time before the Indochinese insurgencies bore fruit. By the end of April 1975 Vietnam was reunified under Hanoi, and communist regimes were in control in Phnom Penh and Vientiane as well.
But Thailand successfully crushed its own low-level insurgency in the 1970s and 1980s, as Malaysia had done in the 1950s-1960s.
My declaration was only a formality since technically I spent the last 30-some days in Thailand, but I flew in on the regular Qatar Airways Bangkok-Hanoi flight, and the news crews were on hand to document the first 200 passengers to arrive in Hanoi under the new regulations.
The form I filled out never mentions the deadly MERS-CoV which has lately been in the news, but I knew I'd guessed correctly about its purpose when I googled the whole episode later the next day.
It's always an adventure when I visit a country new to my own experience--especially when it's a country that's been on my "to go" list for three or four decades, as is Vietnam.
I grew up with the Vietnam War, the first TV war in America's checkered history of international interventions, and somehow I was profoundly affected by the experience of seeing so many American boys return from this mysterious Southeast Asian land, which looks like a serpent on the map and which always seems to have had such colorful postage stamps, in body bags and caskets.
Although I was only six years old at the time of the February 1968 Tet Offensive I distinctly remember being frightened at the prospect of getting drafted for the slaughter of a long-running quagmire that I was sure--deep down--would see Americans and Vietnamese killing each other well into the 21st Century. When I was 10 years old I was already planning my trip to Canada or Sweden to avoid that prospect.
My uncle was stationed in Hue, not so far from the DMZ marking the border between North and South Vietnam, but his 1965-66 tour was relatively early in the conflict, before the Lyndon B. Johnson administration began its upsizing from a few thousand military "advisors" to the eventual 500,000 troops that were stationed in the south at the peak of the war.
In retrospect, the U.S. attempt to prevent the Soviet-backed, Red Chinese-inspired Viet Cong from toppling the corrupt, inept South Vietnamese government was obviously doomed to failure. But at the time it may have seemed reasonable to most Americans that if South Vietnam fell to the "communist monolith" it would necessarily be the first of several Indochinese "dominoes" to topple, perhaps bringing Thailand, Burma, and Malaysia down with them.
In fact, American involvement in the war inevitably spread to Cambodia where the murderous Khmer Rouge for several years was battling the right-wing Lon Nol regime for control, and to Laos where another low-level "communist" insurgency--similar to that taking place in northeastern Thailand--was also brewing.
It bears mentioning that these Indochinese wars were taking place in three of the poorest countries on earth.
When the U.S. and North Vietnam finally agreed on a peace accord in January 1973 that would see a complete American withdrawal in exchange for the return of all American POWs held by Hanoi, it was only a matter of time before the Indochinese insurgencies bore fruit. By the end of April 1975 Vietnam was reunified under Hanoi, and communist regimes were in control in Phnom Penh and Vientiane as well.
But Thailand successfully crushed its own low-level insurgency in the 1970s and 1980s, as Malaysia had done in the 1950s-1960s.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
A Tour of Historical Thailand
My weekend in Bangkok with Sharon turned out to be action-packed with activities. On Friday morning we met in the Silom area and had a brief look at the Patpong district in daylight. This is the heart of Bangkok's world (in)famous nightlife, and both Soi Patpong 1 and Patpong 2 are normally packed with tourists and vendors in the huge night bazaar. Without the neon lights, however--and in the unforgiving late morning sun--the neighborhood appears even seedier in the daytime than it is at night.
We then set out for Siam Square, an old haunt from my youth, on Bangkok's BTS Skytrain, and I was quite confused by all the changes in the neighborhood since my last visit about 20 years ago. The Mah Boon Krong mall is still there, but now it's rebranded as MBK. I was gratified to see that the old Lido and Scala movie houses are still in the same place.
The Siam Square mall itself remains basically unchanged, albeit spiffed up, but there are many new buildings surrounding it, and these are all rather tall-- 20 stories or more in some cases.
From this point, roughly about halfway between Silom and the Chao Phraya River, we picked up a local city bus for the long trip out to the Banglamphu area which is the location of all the big Bangkok tourist attractions such as the Grand Palace, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, Khao San Road, Sanam Luang, Thammasat University, and the National Museum, our ultimate destination.
Although the 200 baht admission fee is a little bit on the high side for a Thai museum ticket, the entire compound is huge with a very thorough and informative historical exhibit hall to kick things off before one enters the numerous buildings with their display galleries. We spent about three hours on the site but I doubt if we covered even a third of it.
The next day Sharon and I met on Sukhumwit Soi 61 to watch the latest installment of the Thai historical film series King Naresuan 5. King Naresuan was a hero in 16th century Thailand because he fought the hated Burmese and sought vengeance for the latter's sacking of the old Siamese capital city Ayutthaya . As part of the current Thai army junta's program to "Bring Happiness Back to the Thai People", the military government promoted a nationwide ticket giveaway earlier in June so Thais could see the film for free.
Although we paid for our tickets, we thoroughly enjoyed the movie since we were planning to visit the ruins of Ayutthaya with Sharon's husband Michael on the following day, and the historical subject matter of the film piqued our interest in the Ayutthaya story.
Unfortunately, Michael was called back to work on Sunday, so Sharon and I rebooted the idea and made the trip on Monday morning with a hired car and driver, Uncle U.
It's difficult to describe the sheer scope of the ancient ruined city which is full of temples, numerous Buddha images (some of them gigantic including a famous reclining Buddha), many large jedi (stupas), and more.
We started out with a list of about 10 sites and we probably visited 6-7 of them over a six hour period.
On Monday night Sharon helped organize a jam session at Finnegan's Pub on Soi Nana and there was a pretty good turnout of expat players (bodhran, banjo, guitar, mandolin, and fiddle) and Thai/expat listeners.
Sharon did an excellent job helping to clear the cobwebs from my memory of American and Irish fiddle tunes, and at one point the host of the session asked me to play something from Thailand.
Of course I played Khang Khao Kin Kluay (Bats Eating Bananas). By the time I hit the third time around the form, this excellent pickup band of the aged, the middle-aged, and the young, was backing me up so solidly it attracted the attention of the Thai waitstaff and barkeeps.
It also caught the attention of Father Joe Maier, a Bangkok icon of many years for his work in the Khlong Toei slums, who just happened to be in the audience that night.
We then set out for Siam Square, an old haunt from my youth, on Bangkok's BTS Skytrain, and I was quite confused by all the changes in the neighborhood since my last visit about 20 years ago. The Mah Boon Krong mall is still there, but now it's rebranded as MBK. I was gratified to see that the old Lido and Scala movie houses are still in the same place.
The Siam Square mall itself remains basically unchanged, albeit spiffed up, but there are many new buildings surrounding it, and these are all rather tall-- 20 stories or more in some cases.
From this point, roughly about halfway between Silom and the Chao Phraya River, we picked up a local city bus for the long trip out to the Banglamphu area which is the location of all the big Bangkok tourist attractions such as the Grand Palace, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, Khao San Road, Sanam Luang, Thammasat University, and the National Museum, our ultimate destination.
Although the 200 baht admission fee is a little bit on the high side for a Thai museum ticket, the entire compound is huge with a very thorough and informative historical exhibit hall to kick things off before one enters the numerous buildings with their display galleries. We spent about three hours on the site but I doubt if we covered even a third of it.
The next day Sharon and I met on Sukhumwit Soi 61 to watch the latest installment of the Thai historical film series King Naresuan 5. King Naresuan was a hero in 16th century Thailand because he fought the hated Burmese and sought vengeance for the latter's sacking of the old Siamese capital city Ayutthaya . As part of the current Thai army junta's program to "Bring Happiness Back to the Thai People", the military government promoted a nationwide ticket giveaway earlier in June so Thais could see the film for free.
Although we paid for our tickets, we thoroughly enjoyed the movie since we were planning to visit the ruins of Ayutthaya with Sharon's husband Michael on the following day, and the historical subject matter of the film piqued our interest in the Ayutthaya story.
Unfortunately, Michael was called back to work on Sunday, so Sharon and I rebooted the idea and made the trip on Monday morning with a hired car and driver, Uncle U.
It's difficult to describe the sheer scope of the ancient ruined city which is full of temples, numerous Buddha images (some of them gigantic including a famous reclining Buddha), many large jedi (stupas), and more.
We started out with a list of about 10 sites and we probably visited 6-7 of them over a six hour period.
On Monday night Sharon helped organize a jam session at Finnegan's Pub on Soi Nana and there was a pretty good turnout of expat players (bodhran, banjo, guitar, mandolin, and fiddle) and Thai/expat listeners.
Sharon did an excellent job helping to clear the cobwebs from my memory of American and Irish fiddle tunes, and at one point the host of the session asked me to play something from Thailand.
Of course I played Khang Khao Kin Kluay (Bats Eating Bananas). By the time I hit the third time around the form, this excellent pickup band of the aged, the middle-aged, and the young, was backing me up so solidly it attracted the attention of the Thai waitstaff and barkeeps.
It also caught the attention of Father Joe Maier, a Bangkok icon of many years for his work in the Khlong Toei slums, who just happened to be in the audience that night.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Saying Goodbye and Hello to Old Friends
It wasn't easy saying goodbye to Stefan and his daughters when they left for Germany last week. "I'm gonna miss you guys," I told Stefan.
"We feel the same way about you, " he said.
After they left on Tuesday I had just two more nights to wrap up my affairs in Chiangmai--not that I had a lot on my plate, but there was some shopping to do, some food to eat, some TV to watch, and some visiting with Pik.
I also picked up a new friend, Yuriy from Perm, Russia, who is on his first trip to Thailand and this is only his second trip outside of Russia.
He's an IT guy ("I hate it!") who sold all his belongings in Moscow with the intention of "looking for myself" in Thailand.
I remarked that Thailand can be a good place to do that. "Or it can be a very bad place to do it if you're not careful." This observation cracked him up.
Yuriy wants to try to make a go of it in Chiangmai, maybe sign up for Thai courses so he can get a year-long student visa.
He seems like a decent guy, and he's a music fan, so I took him to Tiger Kingdom and introduced him to A and Sakhorn. Yuriry is very impressed with the bands, and especially with the excellent women singers.
I also helped him to find a "hong phak", a room for rent by the month. Within a day we got him set up with something suitable for 2500 baht monthly on a three month minimum lease.
Pik and I had a final dinner together on Wednesday night, then I met her and Yuriy again Thursday morning before I flew back to Bangkok that afternoon.
Of course Pik wants me to move back to Thailand. "We can help you get situated again," she says. She says this every time she sees me.
We've been talking about how to help Peppo get a tourist visa for the U.S., and on Wednesday I went to a specialty travel agency that handles most visa situations for Thais and farang. The travel agent was very helpful with the info, and I wrote it all down and gave Pik a copy so we can begin strategizing.
Pik and I hope that maybe we can sponsor Peppo for a U.S. visit in 2015.
It's sort of sad to be leaving, but I also feel it's about time to get out of Chiangmai--I was getting way too comfortable there.
By late Thursday I was checked into the S1 Hostel on Soi Ngam Dupli off Bangkok's busy Rama 4 Road. The S1 Hostel is a nicely renovated hotel which used to be my regular first stop in Bangkok back when it was called "Honey House".
I was happy with the renovations and with the fact that the price--at 700 baht for an aircon room with bathroom, fridge, and TV--is only 100 baht more than it was in 2007. This is really a bargain for only $22. Does anyone really wonder why I love Thailand?
I've said goodbye to old friends in Chiangmai, but now I'm saying hello to old friends--from the States--in Bangkok.
Sharon is a friend from the old-time music scene in America. As an ethno-musicologist and professor in the field, she has studied--among other things--the contest scene at the National Old-Time Fiddlers Contest in Weiser, ID that I attended each year from 2002 to 2005. This is where we first met, and I still have a copy of her dissertation on the subject.
But what a small world it is! She's also done some extensive study of Thai classical and folk music, and she knows a lot more than I ever will about the instruments they play in Thailand and in other musically influential Asian countries such as China. Indeed, one of her mentors is an expert on Thai music, and he keeps his second home here.
In the most serendipitous manner possible, Sharon's husband Michael--an engineer of state of the art packing machinery--was offered a two-year contract with Bangkok company, and Sharon's summer visit to him coincided with my own trip to Thailand.
We've agreed to meet at the McDonald's at Rama 4 and Silom to do some tourist stuff and maybe take in a museum.
After all, she and I both are supposedly on vacation--even if work from home seems to intrude upon us in that way that it seems to do . . .
"We feel the same way about you, " he said.
After they left on Tuesday I had just two more nights to wrap up my affairs in Chiangmai--not that I had a lot on my plate, but there was some shopping to do, some food to eat, some TV to watch, and some visiting with Pik.
I also picked up a new friend, Yuriy from Perm, Russia, who is on his first trip to Thailand and this is only his second trip outside of Russia.
He's an IT guy ("I hate it!") who sold all his belongings in Moscow with the intention of "looking for myself" in Thailand.
I remarked that Thailand can be a good place to do that. "Or it can be a very bad place to do it if you're not careful." This observation cracked him up.
Yuriy wants to try to make a go of it in Chiangmai, maybe sign up for Thai courses so he can get a year-long student visa.
He seems like a decent guy, and he's a music fan, so I took him to Tiger Kingdom and introduced him to A and Sakhorn. Yuriry is very impressed with the bands, and especially with the excellent women singers.
I also helped him to find a "hong phak", a room for rent by the month. Within a day we got him set up with something suitable for 2500 baht monthly on a three month minimum lease.
Pik and I had a final dinner together on Wednesday night, then I met her and Yuriy again Thursday morning before I flew back to Bangkok that afternoon.
Of course Pik wants me to move back to Thailand. "We can help you get situated again," she says. She says this every time she sees me.
We've been talking about how to help Peppo get a tourist visa for the U.S., and on Wednesday I went to a specialty travel agency that handles most visa situations for Thais and farang. The travel agent was very helpful with the info, and I wrote it all down and gave Pik a copy so we can begin strategizing.
Pik and I hope that maybe we can sponsor Peppo for a U.S. visit in 2015.
It's sort of sad to be leaving, but I also feel it's about time to get out of Chiangmai--I was getting way too comfortable there.
By late Thursday I was checked into the S1 Hostel on Soi Ngam Dupli off Bangkok's busy Rama 4 Road. The S1 Hostel is a nicely renovated hotel which used to be my regular first stop in Bangkok back when it was called "Honey House".
I was happy with the renovations and with the fact that the price--at 700 baht for an aircon room with bathroom, fridge, and TV--is only 100 baht more than it was in 2007. This is really a bargain for only $22. Does anyone really wonder why I love Thailand?
I've said goodbye to old friends in Chiangmai, but now I'm saying hello to old friends--from the States--in Bangkok.
Sharon is a friend from the old-time music scene in America. As an ethno-musicologist and professor in the field, she has studied--among other things--the contest scene at the National Old-Time Fiddlers Contest in Weiser, ID that I attended each year from 2002 to 2005. This is where we first met, and I still have a copy of her dissertation on the subject.
But what a small world it is! She's also done some extensive study of Thai classical and folk music, and she knows a lot more than I ever will about the instruments they play in Thailand and in other musically influential Asian countries such as China. Indeed, one of her mentors is an expert on Thai music, and he keeps his second home here.
In the most serendipitous manner possible, Sharon's husband Michael--an engineer of state of the art packing machinery--was offered a two-year contract with Bangkok company, and Sharon's summer visit to him coincided with my own trip to Thailand.
We've agreed to meet at the McDonald's at Rama 4 and Silom to do some tourist stuff and maybe take in a museum.
After all, she and I both are supposedly on vacation--even if work from home seems to intrude upon us in that way that it seems to do . . .
That Old Visa Run
I had to do a "visa run" to Mae Sai on the Thai-Myanmar border to extend my stay in Thailand sufficiently.
Ah! The visa run. . .so definitive of the expat experience in Thailand.
I've had every type of "easy access" visa that Thailand offers: the ordinary two-month tourist visa, the three-month non-immigrant visa, the six-month double entry visa, the six-month double entry with work permit visa, and the 15-day visa on arrival at Bangkok's airports.
Now the Thais give 30 days on arrival for citizens of about 25-30 countries including the U.S.
In Thailand, you need a visa to stay for longer periods of time. And if you want to stay even longer, you have to do a visa run.
I've done every type of visa run imaginable: I've run to Penang, Malaysia too numerous times to count; I've run to Vientiane, Laos probably at least five times; I've also entered Laos from the north, not too far from Chiangmai, and taken the slow boat down the Mekong River to the ancient Lao capital Luang Prabang; and I've even used a dodgy service that sent my passport to a northern Thai border post with Laos and arranged all the visas and stamps--in other words did all the paperwork--while my person continued to stay and work in Chiangmai.
The latter service was definitely some type of corrupt enterprise endorsed by fairly high Thai/Lao police commanders--the equivalent of regional chiefs rank.
I've extended my stays at the Chiangmai Immigration office, at the Bangkok Immigration office, and at the Mae Sai Immigration office. These types of extensions are very limited--only 5-10 days or so--and they cost money in the range of 500 to 2000 baht.
I've also overstayed my visa, but you can never do too much of that; the fine for each day of overstay used to be 100 baht (four dollars back then, three dollars now), but now it's a steep 500 baht per day. This is what they will charge you at the Bangkok airport whenever you finally leave the country. And if you can't pay the fine, you will be detained and held in an immigration police lock-up--with 150-200 mostly Burmese and Cambodian illegals--until you can do so.
I've also done the run to Mae Sai--the northern-most point in Thailand, about 1000 km north of Bangkok--probably at least half a dozen times that I can remember now.
When Burma (Myanmar) started cautiously opening up in the early 2000s, they allowed farang tourists to visit the border town Tachilek, just opposite Mae Sai, on a day pass only. I remember the whole process being exceedingly tedious with one official checking the passport, another taking your photograph, another collecting the 500 baht fee (though they preferred to be paid in dollars), and yet another stamping the passport and handing over a receipt.
Now the Burmese have really got their act together with the streamlining: just two officials collect the 500, stamp the passport in and out, and you can even have the option of overnighting in Tachilek.
I couldn't take advantage of this welcome hospitality because I was on a day-long mini-bus run from Chiangmai and back again the same day. For 550 baht I booked a place on the 14-seat van with maybe half a dozen other farang from England, Holland, Australia, and the U.S. The service picks you up at your hotel at around 7.00 a.m., departs Chiangmai at 8.00 for the four hour trip through Chiangrai to Mae Sai, and returns you to your hotel at about 5.00 p.m.
In Mae Sai we had just an hour to stamp out of Thailand, stamp into Myanmar, and stamp back into Thailand. I expected, and received, an additional 30 days. But there were other people on my run who received only 15 days for any number of reasons.
The word in the expat community lately is the Thais are cracking down on people who do the visa run too often. They are tightening visa requirements for some people while trying to ensure that long-staying farang aren't doing so as a tourist--because that would be illegal.
But I hear the Thais are also tightening up on the non-immigrant type visa requirements. More than ever, the Thai government seems to prefer farang who have bigger money--one or two million baht--to invest in a Thai business before they will approve one of the more coveted visas.
The next best option is to marry and have children with a Thai.
Ah! The visa run. . .so definitive of the expat experience in Thailand.
I've had every type of "easy access" visa that Thailand offers: the ordinary two-month tourist visa, the three-month non-immigrant visa, the six-month double entry visa, the six-month double entry with work permit visa, and the 15-day visa on arrival at Bangkok's airports.
Now the Thais give 30 days on arrival for citizens of about 25-30 countries including the U.S.
In Thailand, you need a visa to stay for longer periods of time. And if you want to stay even longer, you have to do a visa run.
I've done every type of visa run imaginable: I've run to Penang, Malaysia too numerous times to count; I've run to Vientiane, Laos probably at least five times; I've also entered Laos from the north, not too far from Chiangmai, and taken the slow boat down the Mekong River to the ancient Lao capital Luang Prabang; and I've even used a dodgy service that sent my passport to a northern Thai border post with Laos and arranged all the visas and stamps--in other words did all the paperwork--while my person continued to stay and work in Chiangmai.
The latter service was definitely some type of corrupt enterprise endorsed by fairly high Thai/Lao police commanders--the equivalent of regional chiefs rank.
I've extended my stays at the Chiangmai Immigration office, at the Bangkok Immigration office, and at the Mae Sai Immigration office. These types of extensions are very limited--only 5-10 days or so--and they cost money in the range of 500 to 2000 baht.
I've also overstayed my visa, but you can never do too much of that; the fine for each day of overstay used to be 100 baht (four dollars back then, three dollars now), but now it's a steep 500 baht per day. This is what they will charge you at the Bangkok airport whenever you finally leave the country. And if you can't pay the fine, you will be detained and held in an immigration police lock-up--with 150-200 mostly Burmese and Cambodian illegals--until you can do so.
I've also done the run to Mae Sai--the northern-most point in Thailand, about 1000 km north of Bangkok--probably at least half a dozen times that I can remember now.
When Burma (Myanmar) started cautiously opening up in the early 2000s, they allowed farang tourists to visit the border town Tachilek, just opposite Mae Sai, on a day pass only. I remember the whole process being exceedingly tedious with one official checking the passport, another taking your photograph, another collecting the 500 baht fee (though they preferred to be paid in dollars), and yet another stamping the passport and handing over a receipt.
Now the Burmese have really got their act together with the streamlining: just two officials collect the 500, stamp the passport in and out, and you can even have the option of overnighting in Tachilek.
I couldn't take advantage of this welcome hospitality because I was on a day-long mini-bus run from Chiangmai and back again the same day. For 550 baht I booked a place on the 14-seat van with maybe half a dozen other farang from England, Holland, Australia, and the U.S. The service picks you up at your hotel at around 7.00 a.m., departs Chiangmai at 8.00 for the four hour trip through Chiangrai to Mae Sai, and returns you to your hotel at about 5.00 p.m.
In Mae Sai we had just an hour to stamp out of Thailand, stamp into Myanmar, and stamp back into Thailand. I expected, and received, an additional 30 days. But there were other people on my run who received only 15 days for any number of reasons.
The word in the expat community lately is the Thais are cracking down on people who do the visa run too often. They are tightening visa requirements for some people while trying to ensure that long-staying farang aren't doing so as a tourist--because that would be illegal.
But I hear the Thais are also tightening up on the non-immigrant type visa requirements. More than ever, the Thai government seems to prefer farang who have bigger money--one or two million baht--to invest in a Thai business before they will approve one of the more coveted visas.
The next best option is to marry and have children with a Thai.
Friday, June 27, 2014
World Cup Fever
From his sister's home in Germany, Stefan will be able to watch the Fifa World Cup final group G match between powerful Germany versus up and coming United States as both teams would appear to make it to the next round of 16.
In their first group match, the U.S. beat Ghana in a vengeance match as payback for the latter's rousting of the Americans at the 2010 event in South Africa, and the Americans came very close to besting Cristiano Ronaldo's Portugal side last Monday (Tuesday morning at 5.00 a.m. Thai time).
I was able to watch most of that match while readying myself for a visa run to the Thai-Burmese border. The American side at first were unable to answer the early goal by Portugal's Nani as the match broke for halftime. But American midfielder Jermaine Jones evened things up with a goal in the 64th minute.
In the 84th minute, forward Clint Dempsey put the U.S. ahead with a beautiful goal that had me screaming at my TV at 6.40 a.m. I thought, all you guys have to do is hold on for this victory!
Unfortunately, I was screaming again 11 minutes later when, in the 90th minute plus 5 minutes injury time, Silvester Varela evened the score 2-2, barely a minute before the referee whistled the match to a close. It was quite a disappointing end to a match that featured a very strong American team.
There have been surprises galore in this year's World Cup finals as some of the "beautiful game's" biggest contenders have been eliminated from the tournament, including former world champions Spain, Italy's famed Azzuri, and now Portugal as well.
Poor England, a perpetual also-ran since it won the World Cup final it hosted in 1966, was shut out of the final 16 with a miserable draw and two losses in group D.
Meanwhile, some of the "minnows" of the sport have delivered major happiness to their supporters with their stunning upsets and ferociously determined play. These teams include Costa Rica at the top of group D, Chile second in group B, Algeria also in second in group H, and Greece in second in group C.
Colombian fans are thrilled to see their team topping group C with their best World Cup performance in history.
And Uruguay surprised some with their second place in group D as they eliminated Italy in their final group match. Unfortunately the celebration was marred by Luis Suarez's biting of Giorgio Chiellini's left shoulder. It was the third biting incident in Suarez's checkered career, and Fifa has banned him for four months which means he will miss Uruguay's next nine games.
All this--the thrilling matches, the heartbreak, the controversy--is personally reminiscent of the
2010 World Cup which I was able to watch during my seven week tour of Central America in June and July of that year.
And I am reminded also of my experience in 1994 when the United States hosted the World Cup for the first time.
At that time I was living and working in Bangkok, and often I would stay up late--at times until 3.00 or 5.00 a.m.--and go out to watch the matches at the Malaysia Hotel, near my room in the Soi Ngam Dupli neighborhood.
I discovered then that I enjoy watching this level of "soccer" play, even though I was never a huge sports fan. There is something really compelling about the World Cup. It's similar to the excitement generated by the Olympics, but I think it's more exciting than the Olympics, and I'm not sure I can explain why.
In 1994 I was proud, too, to see the U.S. make such a good international impression with its outstanding hosting of the event. That year, the world famous Brazilians came out on top against Roberto Baggio's Italy in an overtime penalty shootout.
This year, the Brazilians are the hosts and they are also the favorites to win their sixth World Cup.
I'm just thrilled to see the U.S. make the top 16 with Germany in their group G. Can the Americans advance to the next round?
In their first group match, the U.S. beat Ghana in a vengeance match as payback for the latter's rousting of the Americans at the 2010 event in South Africa, and the Americans came very close to besting Cristiano Ronaldo's Portugal side last Monday (Tuesday morning at 5.00 a.m. Thai time).
I was able to watch most of that match while readying myself for a visa run to the Thai-Burmese border. The American side at first were unable to answer the early goal by Portugal's Nani as the match broke for halftime. But American midfielder Jermaine Jones evened things up with a goal in the 64th minute.
In the 84th minute, forward Clint Dempsey put the U.S. ahead with a beautiful goal that had me screaming at my TV at 6.40 a.m. I thought, all you guys have to do is hold on for this victory!
Unfortunately, I was screaming again 11 minutes later when, in the 90th minute plus 5 minutes injury time, Silvester Varela evened the score 2-2, barely a minute before the referee whistled the match to a close. It was quite a disappointing end to a match that featured a very strong American team.
There have been surprises galore in this year's World Cup finals as some of the "beautiful game's" biggest contenders have been eliminated from the tournament, including former world champions Spain, Italy's famed Azzuri, and now Portugal as well.
Poor England, a perpetual also-ran since it won the World Cup final it hosted in 1966, was shut out of the final 16 with a miserable draw and two losses in group D.
Meanwhile, some of the "minnows" of the sport have delivered major happiness to their supporters with their stunning upsets and ferociously determined play. These teams include Costa Rica at the top of group D, Chile second in group B, Algeria also in second in group H, and Greece in second in group C.
Colombian fans are thrilled to see their team topping group C with their best World Cup performance in history.
And Uruguay surprised some with their second place in group D as they eliminated Italy in their final group match. Unfortunately the celebration was marred by Luis Suarez's biting of Giorgio Chiellini's left shoulder. It was the third biting incident in Suarez's checkered career, and Fifa has banned him for four months which means he will miss Uruguay's next nine games.
All this--the thrilling matches, the heartbreak, the controversy--is personally reminiscent of the
2010 World Cup which I was able to watch during my seven week tour of Central America in June and July of that year.
And I am reminded also of my experience in 1994 when the United States hosted the World Cup for the first time.
At that time I was living and working in Bangkok, and often I would stay up late--at times until 3.00 or 5.00 a.m.--and go out to watch the matches at the Malaysia Hotel, near my room in the Soi Ngam Dupli neighborhood.
I discovered then that I enjoy watching this level of "soccer" play, even though I was never a huge sports fan. There is something really compelling about the World Cup. It's similar to the excitement generated by the Olympics, but I think it's more exciting than the Olympics, and I'm not sure I can explain why.
In 1994 I was proud, too, to see the U.S. make such a good international impression with its outstanding hosting of the event. That year, the world famous Brazilians came out on top against Roberto Baggio's Italy in an overtime penalty shootout.
This year, the Brazilians are the hosts and they are also the favorites to win their sixth World Cup.
I'm just thrilled to see the U.S. make the top 16 with Germany in their group G. Can the Americans advance to the next round?
Miriram and Her Violin
Pik and Stefan have raised their kids to study some music. Peppo and Miriam both have some experience with the violin and Tara has become quite accomplished on the piano. Her parents invested an enormous sum of money for a very good second hand Yamaha upright.
Most of the kids and Pik can play some guitar and there are two decent ones at hand.
Miriam has a suitable full size violin, but her bow is in terrible condition.
It's a cheap wooden stick with long-worn out hair, and I tell Pik it would be better to buy a new one since it would be cheaper than a rehair unless she can find someone who works with the saw duang or saw u (Thai fiddles) who can probably rehair a conventional bow for cheap.
I considered buying Miriam a replacement bow but the problem is she's never really had a steady teacher so she remains rather unmotivated. Occasionally she will tool around with the instrument, reading from Suzuki book 1 and other materials (all the kids can read music).
I've identified a couple key areas which might help Miriam if she wants to spend half an hour with me. I leave it up to her.
Meanwhile, the family is readying for the big trip to Germany. It's Stefan's first trip "home" in six years, and it's Tara's second trip to Germany. She will stay with Stefan's sister and mother and attend school for one year.
This is Miriam's first trip abroad. (Casper made his first trip to Germany with Tara and Stefan six years ago.) She really doesn't want to go.
"She complains almost daily about having to do this, " Stefan says. "She doesn't want to miss any school here with her friends. But I tell her it will be good for her to see something different (apart from Thailand), and anyway it's only for two weeks."
Stefan himself is ambivalent about the trip. In his 20 years in Thailand, this will be only his second trip to the country of his birth. He knows from experience that that makes him an oddity there.
"I'm not even sure how to talk to people there; here I never speak German, only English or Thai all the time. When I go home it takes a real effort for me to process what people are saying and asking me, and it's a headache for me to make sure I reply in proper German."
Three hours before Stefan and the girls are due to depart for Chiangmai Airport, Miriam finally takes me up on my offer. I use the A part of Khang Khao Kin Kluay (Bats Eating Bananas), an old Thai favorite, to help her with first finger anchoring, standing up straight, and learning from "listen and play" since she's fallen into the trap of only using notated music whenever she plays.
By the end of the half hour she is drilling one of the tricky bits. "This is what she needs to do, " I remark to Stefan.
"She's never worked like that before, " he says.
"Really she needs a teacher, " I say, and we agree that I shouldn't invest any money into a new bow until it becomes clear that she might want to continue with it.
"I would really like for her to do this, but she's at an age where it has to come from her, otherwise it's as if I'm forcing her, " he says.
Most of the kids and Pik can play some guitar and there are two decent ones at hand.
Miriam has a suitable full size violin, but her bow is in terrible condition.
It's a cheap wooden stick with long-worn out hair, and I tell Pik it would be better to buy a new one since it would be cheaper than a rehair unless she can find someone who works with the saw duang or saw u (Thai fiddles) who can probably rehair a conventional bow for cheap.
I considered buying Miriam a replacement bow but the problem is she's never really had a steady teacher so she remains rather unmotivated. Occasionally she will tool around with the instrument, reading from Suzuki book 1 and other materials (all the kids can read music).
I've identified a couple key areas which might help Miriam if she wants to spend half an hour with me. I leave it up to her.
Meanwhile, the family is readying for the big trip to Germany. It's Stefan's first trip "home" in six years, and it's Tara's second trip to Germany. She will stay with Stefan's sister and mother and attend school for one year.
This is Miriam's first trip abroad. (Casper made his first trip to Germany with Tara and Stefan six years ago.) She really doesn't want to go.
"She complains almost daily about having to do this, " Stefan says. "She doesn't want to miss any school here with her friends. But I tell her it will be good for her to see something different (apart from Thailand), and anyway it's only for two weeks."
Stefan himself is ambivalent about the trip. In his 20 years in Thailand, this will be only his second trip to the country of his birth. He knows from experience that that makes him an oddity there.
"I'm not even sure how to talk to people there; here I never speak German, only English or Thai all the time. When I go home it takes a real effort for me to process what people are saying and asking me, and it's a headache for me to make sure I reply in proper German."
Three hours before Stefan and the girls are due to depart for Chiangmai Airport, Miriam finally takes me up on my offer. I use the A part of Khang Khao Kin Kluay (Bats Eating Bananas), an old Thai favorite, to help her with first finger anchoring, standing up straight, and learning from "listen and play" since she's fallen into the trap of only using notated music whenever she plays.
By the end of the half hour she is drilling one of the tricky bits. "This is what she needs to do, " I remark to Stefan.
"She's never worked like that before, " he says.
"Really she needs a teacher, " I say, and we agree that I shouldn't invest any money into a new bow until it becomes clear that she might want to continue with it.
"I would really like for her to do this, but she's at an age where it has to come from her, otherwise it's as if I'm forcing her, " he says.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Thailand Story
From about 1985-1989, when I lived in
New York, I spent most of my springs and summers hanging out in the
international busking scene in Europe. From Paris and Zurich, I
would join various bands forming up to play the summer season on the
circuit. The money was actually quite good back then--good
enough to fly to London or Paris 2-3 times a year.
One of my friends, a Dutch one-man band named Thomas van Nes, had relocated to Chiangmai and fallen in love with Thailand and with a young Thai woman. He later married her and they had two sons, now grown.
The band I was playing with at the time, the Rhythm Pygmies, bumped into Thomas in Switzerland during the summer of '89, and he urged us to pay him a visit. The four of us in the band--me, my running buddy Marc from New York on guitar; Gilles,a Canadian bassist; and Christian, a French-Spanish gypsy singer/guitarist; took Thomas up on his invitation just a few days before the Berlin Wall fell in November of '89.
One thing led to another and we started getting gigs in Chiangmai, so we decided to stay indefinitely, or at least for the winter. In the end, the Rhythm Pygmies celebrated its swan song with a lengthy run in Bangkok's Brown Sugar jazz club in May of 1990, and then we split up more or less permanently with Marc and me staying in Thailand while Gilles and Christian returned to Europe.
Marc and I found ourselves hooked on the Thai people, the food, the culture, and the ease of getting paid gigs in Chiangmai. Marc later married a Thai citizen, Pik, and eventually they had a daughter, Peppo.
One of my friends, a Dutch one-man band named Thomas van Nes, had relocated to Chiangmai and fallen in love with Thailand and with a young Thai woman. He later married her and they had two sons, now grown.
The band I was playing with at the time, the Rhythm Pygmies, bumped into Thomas in Switzerland during the summer of '89, and he urged us to pay him a visit. The four of us in the band--me, my running buddy Marc from New York on guitar; Gilles,a Canadian bassist; and Christian, a French-Spanish gypsy singer/guitarist; took Thomas up on his invitation just a few days before the Berlin Wall fell in November of '89.
One thing led to another and we started getting gigs in Chiangmai, so we decided to stay indefinitely, or at least for the winter. In the end, the Rhythm Pygmies celebrated its swan song with a lengthy run in Bangkok's Brown Sugar jazz club in May of 1990, and then we split up more or less permanently with Marc and me staying in Thailand while Gilles and Christian returned to Europe.
Marc and I found ourselves hooked on the Thai people, the food, the culture, and the ease of getting paid gigs in Chiangmai. Marc later married a Thai citizen, Pik, and eventually they had a daughter, Peppo.
Long story short, Marc and I
eventually went our separate ways and I joined a Thai country band,
Banjoman and Friends, whose members were mostly from Phrae province.
We enjoyed a very well-paid run at Chiangmai's Mae Ping Hotel, and
this led to other gigs including private engagements in Thailand's
"Hi-So" scene: Army and police generals (including a
former prime minister and leader of the 1991 coup that ousted
Chatichai Choonhaven), aristocracy including the King and Queen, and
other various and assorted rich and powerful figures.
This experience--roughly from 1992
through 1998--culminated with several Banjoman recording sessions and CDs and
at least one appearance that I recall on national television. So I was
fortunate enough to be hooked up with Thai musicians who were sort of
C- or D-list famous. But these led to other gigs for me with a
few A-list people including Ad Carabao and Nga Caravan.
Perhaps most importantly, all this was happening as Thailand was in the midst of an economic boom which ended only with the so-called Asian currency crisis in July 1997. In other words, Thailand in the mid-'90s was the right place and the right time for me.
Along the way I also met a Thai woman, and we ended up together for about three years--no children--and it was from her that I learned the bulk of my Thai language skills. Meanwhile, my colleagues in the Banjoman group were the ones who introduced me to phlaeng luk-thung and Thai classical music. Banjoman ultimately disbanded in '98 but since then there have been many imitators in Chiangmai and Bangkok--indeed, probably in every major city in Thailand.
Perhaps most importantly, all this was happening as Thailand was in the midst of an economic boom which ended only with the so-called Asian currency crisis in July 1997. In other words, Thailand in the mid-'90s was the right place and the right time for me.
Along the way I also met a Thai woman, and we ended up together for about three years--no children--and it was from her that I learned the bulk of my Thai language skills. Meanwhile, my colleagues in the Banjoman group were the ones who introduced me to phlaeng luk-thung and Thai classical music. Banjoman ultimately disbanded in '98 but since then there have been many imitators in Chiangmai and Bangkok--indeed, probably in every major city in Thailand.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Junta Ends Curfew Just As Niece Arrives for a Visit
Bangkok's military rulers earlier this week eased curfew restrictions in several provinces, including Mae Hong Son, but left the midnight-4 a.m. restriction in the capital, in Chiangmai, and several other areas.
However, in a surprise move, the junta finally scrapped the curfew in all remaining areas effective last night (Friday June 13).
The move comes just in time for the second day of Fifa's World Cup in Brazil. Thais are pretty crazy for football and will watch as many broadcast matches as possible, but many of the live broadcasts will be late at night. Last night there were three matches at 10 p.m., 1 a.m., and 4 a.m.
Businesses with big screen HD and plenty of food and drink are expected, as usual, to cash in on the biggest sports event in the world apart from the Olympics.
While the curfew hasn't really cramped my own earlier-to-bed-at-this-age lifestyle, most Thais and farang are sure to welcome the news. This morning I overheard some Thais talking about how they'd gone out partying in the wee hours. In fact, they were only just returning home, at 10.30 a.m., to get some sleep.
Meanwhile, I had just slept through the entire canceled curfew following a somewhat difficult motorbike journey yesterday from Pai to Chiangmai. While I made excellent time in the first hour of my trip, once I passed the provincial border, I started getting hit by intermittent rain. In fact, the rain forced me to stop half a dozen times in the last 80 km (50 miles) of the trip. It took me about five hours to cover the entire 80 mile journey.
So I was fairly pleased to be back in Chiangmai today, and thrilled to find out that my Thai "niece" Pepo, daughter of my friend Marc, has arrived for a three-day weekend with her family. Pepo looks great and seems very happy and content with life. She was bubbling with enthusiasm about things in general, and she filled me a bit about her PR job with the Bangkok film company.
Her entry level salary is okay, but she also gets paid for overtime. The catch, however, is that she has to put in a lot of overtime. In fact, it seems as if she's expected to put in 16 hour days--everyday.
On the bright side her weekends are free, and she has friends to hang out with as she begins to settle into the work life routine.
This morning I ate northern style food (with sticky rice) with Pepo and her sister Miriam. This kind of food isn't for everybody (for many farang it involves acquiring a taste), but for northern Thais it is an integral part of their culture and home life.
I asked Pepo if she misses northern food in Bangkok. "For sure!" she said, adding that she's far too busy with work to seek out the cuisine in the capital.
However, in a surprise move, the junta finally scrapped the curfew in all remaining areas effective last night (Friday June 13).
The move comes just in time for the second day of Fifa's World Cup in Brazil. Thais are pretty crazy for football and will watch as many broadcast matches as possible, but many of the live broadcasts will be late at night. Last night there were three matches at 10 p.m., 1 a.m., and 4 a.m.
Businesses with big screen HD and plenty of food and drink are expected, as usual, to cash in on the biggest sports event in the world apart from the Olympics.
While the curfew hasn't really cramped my own earlier-to-bed-at-this-age lifestyle, most Thais and farang are sure to welcome the news. This morning I overheard some Thais talking about how they'd gone out partying in the wee hours. In fact, they were only just returning home, at 10.30 a.m., to get some sleep.
Meanwhile, I had just slept through the entire canceled curfew following a somewhat difficult motorbike journey yesterday from Pai to Chiangmai. While I made excellent time in the first hour of my trip, once I passed the provincial border, I started getting hit by intermittent rain. In fact, the rain forced me to stop half a dozen times in the last 80 km (50 miles) of the trip. It took me about five hours to cover the entire 80 mile journey.
So I was fairly pleased to be back in Chiangmai today, and thrilled to find out that my Thai "niece" Pepo, daughter of my friend Marc, has arrived for a three-day weekend with her family. Pepo looks great and seems very happy and content with life. She was bubbling with enthusiasm about things in general, and she filled me a bit about her PR job with the Bangkok film company.
Her entry level salary is okay, but she also gets paid for overtime. The catch, however, is that she has to put in a lot of overtime. In fact, it seems as if she's expected to put in 16 hour days--everyday.
On the bright side her weekends are free, and she has friends to hang out with as she begins to settle into the work life routine.
This morning I ate northern style food (with sticky rice) with Pepo and her sister Miriam. This kind of food isn't for everybody (for many farang it involves acquiring a taste), but for northern Thais it is an integral part of their culture and home life.
I asked Pepo if she misses northern food in Bangkok. "For sure!" she said, adding that she's far too busy with work to seek out the cuisine in the capital.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Cashing in on Pai
Stefan warned me that there has been a lot of new development in Pai, but I wasn't prepared to hear stories of prices doubling or even tripling during the high season.
Pai is the first major town on the road from Chiangmai once you've passed the border of Chiangmai and Mae Hong Son provinces.
Pai has long been a popular destination, especially with young backpackers and independent travelers, but for me it's usually been just a rest stop on the way to and from Soppong or Mae Hong Son town, the provincial capital.
I didn't have a clue where I was going to stay in a town that must have a couple hundred guesthouses, hotels, and resorts, but I knew I only wanted to spend 200-300 baht per night ($6-10). This seemed to be an easy enough mission since I'd already seen many signs offering "Rooms Starting At $300."
I was almost set to check out a place across the street from the Be Bop Bar when an older gentleman rolled up to me and my parked motorbike on his three-wheeled motorcycle and side car. We chatted for a bit, he wondering where I planned to stay, me lying at first that I'd already booked a room, so that I could get a better feel for him and his angle.
He revealed that he worked as a three-wheeled taxi driver and that he could direct me to good accommodations ("Just name your price and preferred type of room") for which he'd be able to claim a 5% commission from the owner. "I have this arrangement with many owners here in Pai," he explained. "If you like the room, I collect from them. It will cost you nothing directly."
I liked his manner, so I agreed to follow him to TaYai Guesthouse where the woman owner set me up with 200 baht room.
She and her husband are originally from Chiangmai, and they entered the guesthouse business in Pai only three years ago to escape the Bangkokization of their native city.
"The air is better here, it's nice and quiet, and there are no thieves. There are so many thieves in Chiangmai! Do you see all this stuff here?" she asked, referring to the kitschy ceramic animals and other tchotchkes decorating her very well-kept garden. "In Chiangmai, this stuff would be gone in one night."
I shared some of my story with her (used to live here for eight years, had a Thai girlfriend, how I learned Thai, played in a Thai country band) and remarked upon how affordable Thailand still is even after some of the most rapid economic development in Asia.
"Ha! Not anymore, at least not in Pai," she said. "If you visit during the high season (November through February), I would have to charge you much more than 200 baht. In fact most places here will charge at least 600 for the room you have, and that means no air conditioning.
"It's so busy here, with farang and Japanese and Chinese tourists, that most places are full. You have to reserve rooms in advance. Just the other day, someone reserved a room here six months in advance!"
This was all easy enough for me to understand: Pai is popular with a certain set (youthful, "alternative", neo-hippie, etc), there are only a certain number of rooms available, market forces dictate these prices, and so forth. And I'd (barely) come to accept that restaurant prices were about double from those of Chiangmai. But then my landlady dropped a real stunner.
"In the high season it gets so full that now they've opened up camping down by the river," she said. "One tent spot is 600 baht! Now they have hundreds of these camping spots, and still the tourists keep coming, Thai tourists, too. Everybody wants to come here, it seems like."
Even now, with the low season, the rainy season now in full swing, she seems to be doing okay. On the couple nights I've stayed here, she 's had at least 8-10 of her 15 or so rooms filled with farang, Thai, and other Asian customers.
Pai is the first major town on the road from Chiangmai once you've passed the border of Chiangmai and Mae Hong Son provinces.
Pai has long been a popular destination, especially with young backpackers and independent travelers, but for me it's usually been just a rest stop on the way to and from Soppong or Mae Hong Son town, the provincial capital.
I didn't have a clue where I was going to stay in a town that must have a couple hundred guesthouses, hotels, and resorts, but I knew I only wanted to spend 200-300 baht per night ($6-10). This seemed to be an easy enough mission since I'd already seen many signs offering "Rooms Starting At $300."
I was almost set to check out a place across the street from the Be Bop Bar when an older gentleman rolled up to me and my parked motorbike on his three-wheeled motorcycle and side car. We chatted for a bit, he wondering where I planned to stay, me lying at first that I'd already booked a room, so that I could get a better feel for him and his angle.
He revealed that he worked as a three-wheeled taxi driver and that he could direct me to good accommodations ("Just name your price and preferred type of room") for which he'd be able to claim a 5% commission from the owner. "I have this arrangement with many owners here in Pai," he explained. "If you like the room, I collect from them. It will cost you nothing directly."
I liked his manner, so I agreed to follow him to TaYai Guesthouse where the woman owner set me up with 200 baht room.
She and her husband are originally from Chiangmai, and they entered the guesthouse business in Pai only three years ago to escape the Bangkokization of their native city.
"The air is better here, it's nice and quiet, and there are no thieves. There are so many thieves in Chiangmai! Do you see all this stuff here?" she asked, referring to the kitschy ceramic animals and other tchotchkes decorating her very well-kept garden. "In Chiangmai, this stuff would be gone in one night."
I shared some of my story with her (used to live here for eight years, had a Thai girlfriend, how I learned Thai, played in a Thai country band) and remarked upon how affordable Thailand still is even after some of the most rapid economic development in Asia.
"Ha! Not anymore, at least not in Pai," she said. "If you visit during the high season (November through February), I would have to charge you much more than 200 baht. In fact most places here will charge at least 600 for the room you have, and that means no air conditioning.
"It's so busy here, with farang and Japanese and Chinese tourists, that most places are full. You have to reserve rooms in advance. Just the other day, someone reserved a room here six months in advance!"
This was all easy enough for me to understand: Pai is popular with a certain set (youthful, "alternative", neo-hippie, etc), there are only a certain number of rooms available, market forces dictate these prices, and so forth. And I'd (barely) come to accept that restaurant prices were about double from those of Chiangmai. But then my landlady dropped a real stunner.
"In the high season it gets so full that now they've opened up camping down by the river," she said. "One tent spot is 600 baht! Now they have hundreds of these camping spots, and still the tourists keep coming, Thai tourists, too. Everybody wants to come here, it seems like."
Even now, with the low season, the rainy season now in full swing, she seems to be doing okay. On the couple nights I've stayed here, she 's had at least 8-10 of her 15 or so rooms filled with farang, Thai, and other Asian customers.
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Striking Development of Remote Areas in Northern Thailand
Today I write this from Amphoe Bang-ma Pha, Mae Hong Son Province, my favorite area of Thailand. Bang-ma Pha town (Soppong) is about 180 km northwest of Chiangmai but 4-5 hours by bus because of the mountainous roads.
I did the trip on motorbike, stopping in Pai (44 kilometers southeast of here) on Sunday to overnight, and I arrived here yesterday morning.
Whenever I think about visiting Thailand, this is where I ultimately want to be.
I first visited the area during Christmas of 1989. At that time, the roads from Soppong up to the caves at Tham Lot and Ban Mae Lanna were strictly dirt and quite treacherous even with 4WD. Electricity was by expensive gasoline-operated generator, but most people used candles and flashlights for light after sundown.
Now both those routes are paved all the way, and both villages have electricity on Thailand's grid.
I can't say that I had a front row seat to these developments, but I've visited here countless times over the years, so every new thing that's built--from government offices to schools to hospitals (all the things we take for granted in the west)--is quite memorable to me.
The iconic 7-11 convenience store, for me, rather defines and epitomizes the development of Thailand over the past couple decades since there wasn't even one such store in Thailand in the late 1980s.
Beginning roughly 20 years ago, the gigantic CP Group of Thailand started to open 7-11 stores in Bangkok and Chiangmai, Thailand's second-largest city. Before long, there was a branch or two, or more, in every town and city in the land. (There are at least four in tiny Pai alone.)
So I couldn't believe my eyes when I drove into Soppong village yesterday and saw that 7-11 has arrived here, too. My first thought? "Amphoe Bang-ma Pha has joined the world." My second thought? Hard to describe, but it was something of a mixture of sad and wistful.
Soppong has long moved past being the definitive one-horse town it was in the '90s. It's at least three or four "horses" and gaining more by the day.
There are more guesthouses than before, and some of them--like mine--are a little more upscale. There are many more coffee shops and restaurants, and where there used to be only two or three mom and pop stores selling all types of general goods, now I see perhaps twice that many.
To the best of my recollection, there were no shops selling brand-new motorbikes, even a decade ago. Now there are at least two.
And the building boom continues. I see a multi-story behemoth--probably shophouses--going up just 100 meters from my room.
With "development" of a relatively remote area come new types of problems. For example, now that it's the rainy season, the late afternoon rains that come like clockwork every day also bring high winds that cause trees or mountain debris to fall on power lines, bringing temporary electric outages just at the time of day when demand is highest. This happened both nights I spent in Soppong, so people still rely on candles and generators.
The owner of my resort told me that in the old days when the power went out, the electric company didn't care too much about getting things up and running again quickly because "there wasn't so much development as now and not nearly as many customers as now."
But with the growth of Soppong over the last 10-15 years, more people demand that the work crews get out there and restore power as soon as possible.
The 3-4 outages I witnessed over two nights lasted from about 15 minutes to as much as 90 minutes or so. My first night here I saw one of the work crews working almost right outside my door.
Yesterday I saw a very large crew, perhaps two dozen strong with five or six trucks, working on a stretch of downed power lines about five miles west of Soppong.
While development has undoubtedly brought numerous benefits to the mostly hilltribe peoples who live here, I can't help but feel--from my privileged farang perch--that part of the charm of this place was that it presented certain challenges, that it took some gumption to get here and a certain resilience to stay.
How strange to feel so ambivalent about development! The locals benefit a lot, of course, but how much will they lose in the long term? Farang who have seen post-Communist economic wreckage, post-manufacturing "rust belts" in the West, and a massive Chinese economic powerhouse becoming one of the world's major-league polluters may be right to ask such questions.
But do we have the right to demand that China clean up its act, or that certain developing countries forgo certain kinds of developments?
I think the best we can do is try to set an example to the world with careful, sustainable development models that developing countries can eventually emulate.
I did the trip on motorbike, stopping in Pai (44 kilometers southeast of here) on Sunday to overnight, and I arrived here yesterday morning.
Whenever I think about visiting Thailand, this is where I ultimately want to be.
I first visited the area during Christmas of 1989. At that time, the roads from Soppong up to the caves at Tham Lot and Ban Mae Lanna were strictly dirt and quite treacherous even with 4WD. Electricity was by expensive gasoline-operated generator, but most people used candles and flashlights for light after sundown.
Now both those routes are paved all the way, and both villages have electricity on Thailand's grid.
I can't say that I had a front row seat to these developments, but I've visited here countless times over the years, so every new thing that's built--from government offices to schools to hospitals (all the things we take for granted in the west)--is quite memorable to me.
The iconic 7-11 convenience store, for me, rather defines and epitomizes the development of Thailand over the past couple decades since there wasn't even one such store in Thailand in the late 1980s.
Beginning roughly 20 years ago, the gigantic CP Group of Thailand started to open 7-11 stores in Bangkok and Chiangmai, Thailand's second-largest city. Before long, there was a branch or two, or more, in every town and city in the land. (There are at least four in tiny Pai alone.)
So I couldn't believe my eyes when I drove into Soppong village yesterday and saw that 7-11 has arrived here, too. My first thought? "Amphoe Bang-ma Pha has joined the world." My second thought? Hard to describe, but it was something of a mixture of sad and wistful.
Soppong has long moved past being the definitive one-horse town it was in the '90s. It's at least three or four "horses" and gaining more by the day.
There are more guesthouses than before, and some of them--like mine--are a little more upscale. There are many more coffee shops and restaurants, and where there used to be only two or three mom and pop stores selling all types of general goods, now I see perhaps twice that many.
To the best of my recollection, there were no shops selling brand-new motorbikes, even a decade ago. Now there are at least two.
And the building boom continues. I see a multi-story behemoth--probably shophouses--going up just 100 meters from my room.
With "development" of a relatively remote area come new types of problems. For example, now that it's the rainy season, the late afternoon rains that come like clockwork every day also bring high winds that cause trees or mountain debris to fall on power lines, bringing temporary electric outages just at the time of day when demand is highest. This happened both nights I spent in Soppong, so people still rely on candles and generators.
The owner of my resort told me that in the old days when the power went out, the electric company didn't care too much about getting things up and running again quickly because "there wasn't so much development as now and not nearly as many customers as now."
But with the growth of Soppong over the last 10-15 years, more people demand that the work crews get out there and restore power as soon as possible.
The 3-4 outages I witnessed over two nights lasted from about 15 minutes to as much as 90 minutes or so. My first night here I saw one of the work crews working almost right outside my door.
Yesterday I saw a very large crew, perhaps two dozen strong with five or six trucks, working on a stretch of downed power lines about five miles west of Soppong.
While development has undoubtedly brought numerous benefits to the mostly hilltribe peoples who live here, I can't help but feel--from my privileged farang perch--that part of the charm of this place was that it presented certain challenges, that it took some gumption to get here and a certain resilience to stay.
How strange to feel so ambivalent about development! The locals benefit a lot, of course, but how much will they lose in the long term? Farang who have seen post-Communist economic wreckage, post-manufacturing "rust belts" in the West, and a massive Chinese economic powerhouse becoming one of the world's major-league polluters may be right to ask such questions.
But do we have the right to demand that China clean up its act, or that certain developing countries forgo certain kinds of developments?
I think the best we can do is try to set an example to the world with careful, sustainable development models that developing countries can eventually emulate.
Friday, June 6, 2014
Phrae Boys at the Tiger Kingdom
Tuk and Pik both sent me to Tiger Kingdom in Town, part of the larger Tiger Kingdom franchise.
"You will find the Phrae boys there, " Tuk said.
The "Phrae boys"--from Phrae province--are some of the guys I used to play with in the Banjoman Band during the early 1990s.
Sure enough, I found A, another one of my oldest friends here, leading a group of much younger players which included a fantastic young female singer who sang with such energy and enthusiasm, I was completely mesmerized.
A didn't recognize me at first, but when he did it was all hugs and laughter.
A started out as a founding member of the old Chiangmai Beatles cover band at the Riverside and he became a much sought after bassist. Much more than a bassist, however, he can play just about any stringed instrument on the map. Over the years he followed his heart through many musical incarnations and traveled widely in Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam.
More recently he returned to Chiangmai to teach and help develop new local talent.
I was so impressed with his group, called Ba-leng Phlaeng, that I felt he's done much more than mentor the next generation. He's actually developing the music itself, bringing the Chiamngmai restaurant/pub music scene to a newer and exciting level.
Lek "Mandolin" was also nearby last night. Another crucial player in the Banjoman group, he's a thoughtful, quiet man who has facial features similar to the Native American. Like A, he was very surprised to see me. We talked about some of our mutual friends including Sakhorn "Mr Action" ("Wait a little bit, he'll be here soon," said Lek), Moo "Bass" (retired from his public school teaching job and now building and repairing guitars), Prasat (leader of Banjoman--still living in Phrae with his wife and now teenage son), and others.
Perhaps the most joyful encounter for me was with Sakhorn--Mr Action himself--whose jaw seemingly dropped to floor when he saw me there. Hugs! In Thailand! Where they really don't do that sort of thing!
He and I had a chance to chat for about half an hour. He was the oldest player in Banjoman (about eight years older than me), and he really looked great and seemed to be doing well. His job last night was to play and sing solo the last set of the night before curfew.
Everywhere in Chiangmai I've been so far owners/proprietors are complaining about the slow, low season and the bad effect of the military's curfew on business.
But Tiger Kingdom was nearly full of customers enjoying fine food and drink and exciting new music, and I was happy to be part of that crowd.
"You will find the Phrae boys there, " Tuk said.
The "Phrae boys"--from Phrae province--are some of the guys I used to play with in the Banjoman Band during the early 1990s.
Sure enough, I found A, another one of my oldest friends here, leading a group of much younger players which included a fantastic young female singer who sang with such energy and enthusiasm, I was completely mesmerized.
A didn't recognize me at first, but when he did it was all hugs and laughter.
A started out as a founding member of the old Chiangmai Beatles cover band at the Riverside and he became a much sought after bassist. Much more than a bassist, however, he can play just about any stringed instrument on the map. Over the years he followed his heart through many musical incarnations and traveled widely in Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam.
More recently he returned to Chiangmai to teach and help develop new local talent.
I was so impressed with his group, called Ba-leng Phlaeng, that I felt he's done much more than mentor the next generation. He's actually developing the music itself, bringing the Chiamngmai restaurant/pub music scene to a newer and exciting level.
Lek "Mandolin" was also nearby last night. Another crucial player in the Banjoman group, he's a thoughtful, quiet man who has facial features similar to the Native American. Like A, he was very surprised to see me. We talked about some of our mutual friends including Sakhorn "Mr Action" ("Wait a little bit, he'll be here soon," said Lek), Moo "Bass" (retired from his public school teaching job and now building and repairing guitars), Prasat (leader of Banjoman--still living in Phrae with his wife and now teenage son), and others.
Perhaps the most joyful encounter for me was with Sakhorn--Mr Action himself--whose jaw seemingly dropped to floor when he saw me there. Hugs! In Thailand! Where they really don't do that sort of thing!
He and I had a chance to chat for about half an hour. He was the oldest player in Banjoman (about eight years older than me), and he really looked great and seemed to be doing well. His job last night was to play and sing solo the last set of the night before curfew.
Everywhere in Chiangmai I've been so far owners/proprietors are complaining about the slow, low season and the bad effect of the military's curfew on business.
But Tiger Kingdom was nearly full of customers enjoying fine food and drink and exciting new music, and I was happy to be part of that crowd.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Tuk "Pepsi" at New Chiangmai Brasserie Location
Last night Tuk turned up at Pik and Stefan's place. I think he was surprised to see me.
Tuk and his wife Jit run the Brasserie in Chiangmai which has relocated from its excellent riverside location to a smaller spot just outside the eastern side of the old city walls.
Two decades ago Tuk had a reputation as the best rock and roll guitarist in Chiangmai and his specialty was Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and early Eric Clapton covers, and he was always backed by a powerful rhythm section.
These days there's some downsizing happening, and he's playing mostly acoustic guitar now, and mentoring a new generation of younger, hungry local musicians.
Tuk is widely traveled for a Thai, having been to Europe and Japan several times over the years, and there was a period in the mid-nineties when he secured a sponsorship deal from the Pepsi corporation. Since "Tuk" is a somewhat common nickname in Thailand, he was known as Tuk Pepsi for awhile.
He and I had a falling out at one point, but later I realized I had pushed something a little too far, and so I sought to mend fences with him, and today that story is water long under the bridge.
My friend Marc and I were musical partners in the early '90s, and often Thai people couldn't tell us apart, they calling me "Marc" and calling him "Dave".
Apparently Tuk's wife Jit mixed up the two of us again last night. After chatting with her for awhile, she said: "So are you here to see your daughter?"
I explained to her that Pepo isn't my daughter but "she's Marc's daughter", and Jit apologized, but I assured her that of course "I'm here to see her too."
Tuk and his wife Jit run the Brasserie in Chiangmai which has relocated from its excellent riverside location to a smaller spot just outside the eastern side of the old city walls.
Two decades ago Tuk had a reputation as the best rock and roll guitarist in Chiangmai and his specialty was Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and early Eric Clapton covers, and he was always backed by a powerful rhythm section.
These days there's some downsizing happening, and he's playing mostly acoustic guitar now, and mentoring a new generation of younger, hungry local musicians.
Tuk is widely traveled for a Thai, having been to Europe and Japan several times over the years, and there was a period in the mid-nineties when he secured a sponsorship deal from the Pepsi corporation. Since "Tuk" is a somewhat common nickname in Thailand, he was known as Tuk Pepsi for awhile.
He and I had a falling out at one point, but later I realized I had pushed something a little too far, and so I sought to mend fences with him, and today that story is water long under the bridge.
My friend Marc and I were musical partners in the early '90s, and often Thai people couldn't tell us apart, they calling me "Marc" and calling him "Dave".
Apparently Tuk's wife Jit mixed up the two of us again last night. After chatting with her for awhile, she said: "So are you here to see your daughter?"
I explained to her that Pepo isn't my daughter but "she's Marc's daughter", and Jit apologized, but I assured her that of course "I'm here to see her too."
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