Josh in Myanmar

Travelling with Joshua is great. We have so many ridiculous things happen to us it becomes the norm. Yesterday, the taxi driver that took us to Bago was shocked at the end of the day when I said something like my son and I really had fun. He thought we were “travelling” companions. A beggar on the street, the night before, asked Josh about his brother…me. We were both wondering how he knew Daniel. That little kid would make a great car salesmen in Canada, I am sure.

Walking through little Chinatown in Yangon with Joshua was quite an experience for us. A group of kids were playing with a soccer ball on a busy side street and invited Josh to play with them. Obviously Josh looks like a teenager and as he joined them we were quickly surrounded with people standing around smiling and clapping. Someone even offered Josh a chew on his beetle nut. The face Josd made as he tasted the foul smelling nut reminded me of how he reacted in Fiji when he had to drink some terrible concoction the band leader gave us. He obviously enjoyed playing and the kids and adults had fun also as you can see from the pictures.

Yesterday, we hired a taxi to take us to Bago about two hours north of Yangon and a city filled with pagodas. Which city in Myanmar is not filled with pagodas? Anyway, near the end of the trip I asked a coconut vendor to take five minutes and show us around his village. The five minutes turned into an hour and as usual, when we interacted with people, it was the highlight of the day. As we walked through the village we saw kids playing ( it does not take much to occupy kids). They did not need computer games, television, electricity or any other form of entertainment. Josh and I were the entertainment or some bicycle tire they wheeled down the road. When I took pictures of the kids and then showed the pictures to them, their smiles were priceless. Too bad we did not have two cameras to record their smiling faces.

Of course the houses had no electricity or indoor plumbing. Myanmar women, who are very modest, wear their longy, walk to the well and pour water over and under themselves and then dry off and somehow change under their towel, all in front of the village by the public well. It is amazing. Of course, there are no barbershops either, as we saw a father give a haircut to his son in front of the house, competing with the pig scruffling in the front yard. Josh can really see how lucky he is, or is he? These kids were really having fun, the village seems to be a strong family unit and since no-one has money everyone seems to get along so well.

Tomorrow we are off to Koh Chang for a few days at the beach. We are both looking forward to it, especially after all of the shopping Josh did today. I am tired from just walking with him.

Pattaya-the family destination of Thailand

Pattaya is no longer Pattaya. Sure, it is still the sin capital of the world where you can walk down any street any time of the night or day and buy sex, but it is also a family destination. It has been transformed, by and large, by the large influx of Russian package tourists who simply come by the boatload. Every menu, every bar sign, every tourist brochure is written in Thai and Russian. English does not even get an honourable mention.
Last year, when Sylvia and I stayed in Jomtien Beach, just north of the city, we noticed families upon families of Russians swimming at the pools, playing on the beach and making sandcastles. This year, Josh and I are staying right by Walking Street, the epicenter of the sex trade but instead of selling sex they are selling ice cream. Ok, Ok, kidding, but there are so many other things to do it is absolutely amazing.

Yesterday we took a forty-five minute ferry ride to Koh Larn, an absolutely perfect little island 45 minutes from Pattaya by ferry. It cost 20 baht or 60 cents a person and you were in a different country- almost. The views from the top of the island down to the water were reminiscent of Greece or any island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, I was on a motorcycle speeding down to the ocean and much too scared to take any pictures. (no, I was not driving) which made it even scarier because what do you do with your hands? The water, when Josh and I finally got settled was crystal clear, although cold. I remember the last time I came to the ocean, in August, with a group of teachers, you could literally sit in the water for hours and not be cold. Now you had to keep moving and it was a little tricky getting in…sort of. It was probably only 76 degrees instead of 78. Some enterprising guy set up a children’s playground in the water consisting of a trampoline, teeter totter, climbing wall and so on. Have you ever tried using the big balls at the gym? Now add the dimension of water and you find out what a challenge it is to even get on the apparatus.

When we were in town, Josh and I could not resist buying suits. It was absolutely too alluring not too. The guy we eventually bought a suit from was an old “mais ben rai” Indian guy who said if you want to buy it go ahead, if not, nice talking to you. All the rest shook you hand outside, made eye contact, got you in to the store and started measuring you up before you even discussed what and more importantly if you wanted to buy anything. Josh always wanted a gray suit which he bought and I always wanted a white suit which I bought in spite of Sylvia. I did hear her on my shoulder telling me it was going to be dirty all the time, but I bought it in anyway. Interestingly enough, when she saw me today on Skype she said it looked great. I should have bought one years ago!

Today, as we wait for the suit and the return to Bangkok at 3 we have so many family choices. We could go to the tiger zoo, which we might if Josh wakes up early enough, the giant Buddha on the cliff, the botanical gardens, the computer mall in town, the beautiful wat, or just sit by the swimming pool and chill literally). It is only about 80 today, I think.

Tomorrow we are off to Yangon and we will find out if Josh can teach.

Medical Ethics?

I waited a long time to go to the Siriraj Medical Museum but finally got in today with my perfect companion –Josh.When I have tried to find this museum in the past I usually take a boat, wander aimlessly around this huge hospital complex and leave frustrated because the museum(s) are closed, under renovation or I simply could not find them. This time, for some reason I took a taxi and he took us almost directly to the museum.

In fact, there are 4 museums in one. There is a quite innocuous museum of the contributions of the king to medical science. After reading about how gracious and wonderful the king was, we then slipped into the museum of Forensic Medicine. I will not forget what I saw for the rest of my life. The skulls with the bullet holes didn’t really faze me, nor did the pictures of the suicide victims with their hands cut off at the wrist or blood oozing from their necks. What got to me and Josh were the bottles filled with both embryos and babies. Now I know where the term Siamese twins comes from. One particularly disturbing jar had Siamese twins conjoined at the face. Each shared one nostril, eye, half a lip and so on. It actually looked like a sculpture of a couple in love from a distance but provided quite a jolt when you looked closely. There were about 5 bottles filled with Siamese twins. The other fetuses were in obvious stages of distress and were so alarming I could not take the camera out of its holster. I doubt whether you would want to see what we saw anyway. You probably enjoy sleeping too much.

It left me wondering what happened to the mothers, who gave permission to show these fetuses, did the mother live and so on. Are there ethical criteria to decide what goes on display? For example, we also saw preserved dead bodies “standing up” in what appeared to be a phone booth of sorts. They were almost naturally mummified. I can’t imagine these in a Canadian museum but maybe???

In the anatomy museum, Josh was fascinated at the display of just nerves dangling in their proper place in the body but there was no body. In another room, there were skeletons but what made this different from other museums was that there were pictures above the display case of the people when they were alive.

It was clearly fascinating, in a crude way, but very disturbing. Hopefully tomorrow will be better when we go to the beach for a few days. Joshua is out to-night with my Thai teacher and her friends. I just hope he gets home relatively early so we can get a jump on the day.

My Birthday Walk in the sun

Having a birthday in Bangkok is fantastic, considering all of the ice and snow I have traditionally seen on my birthday. My earliest memory of birthday weather is walking to school with Maidee on December 12 with the wind whipping through my pants and my hands freezing. I couldn’t wait to get inside that warm school.

Yesterday, probably 55 years later I went for a walk with my camera and saw nothing but beautiful flowers, lots of sunshine and people scurrying about in their summer clothes! I still have to pinch myself every time I go out for walk. Not quite like Trudeau’s walk in the snow on February 29 a few years ago.

After my walk along Sukhumvit (you can see the pictures of the flowers and school kids) my friends took me to a Thai nightclub. It was actually fascinating. There were hundreds of tables filled with groups of friends. On the stage, there were a group of dancers, mostly bisexual who were dancing in a very stylized way. I saw the same thing in Vientiane actually, but in Vientiane the couples were up dancing on a dance floor. Here, one listened to the music and then bodies got up everyone around the table and started dancing with their arms rhythmically waving and their bodies seemingly moving with predetermined movement. It was hot, crowed and very Thai. They also sang happy birthday to me in some tune or other I did not recognize.

Now to get back to work on preparing materials for an on line course I teach.

Airport Unrest

Just my luck! They let in thousand of unwanted protestors without lifting a finger and they stop me with pointed rifles telling me taxis were not allowed past this checkpoint. I decided to play golf today at the Royal Air Force Golf Course at Don Muang Airport for probably three reasons. It is the cheapest golf course in Bangkok (about 12 dollars), it is in the middle of two runways ( one for the military and one civilian and I love to see planes take-off and land )and three I wanted to see what the conditions at the airport were like. If they had orders to stop a little old 'farang' guy in a taxi, why couldn't they stop the hordes that took over the airport?

Yesterday I played golf at the Thai army facility and a German couple said that they were still in Thailand at least a week after the planes were supposedly running. I guess there was such a backlog of tourists wanting to get out of Thailand that it took about ten days or so to get them all on planes leaving the country. However, each passenger received 2,000 baht or something like 60 a day to help defray the cost of their extended stay.

After these two kids wearing uniforms and playing with rifles made me get out of the taxi and wait for a club motorcycle I was not amused. After waiting for about 10 minutes, the motorcycle guy made me wear a helmet (which was way too big) and made no effort to help me with my clubs. One hand was trying to keep my helmet from flying off my head the other hand tugging at the golf clubs behind me so I would have something to play with when I arrived. The driver, because the road was quite open, was driving like he was it Le mans or somewhere and took off like a bat out of hell. It was lucky I arrived in one piece.

After paying my green fees and getting a fantastic hat for free, things were really starting to look up. It was going to cost me very little to play, I was going to see tons of airplanes take off and land and the course looked all right. However, as soon as I got to hole number one I realized it was not going to be quite the picnic I imagined. There were tons of other people waiting to tee off. I was not the only genius who thought the price was right. Luckily three old guys asked me to play with them which I agreed to immediately. One guy could hardly walk, another had some strange contraption on his neck and the third guy looked like he was 80. I outdrove all of them by 80 yards on the first hole. After we all got bogeys, one old guy asked me if I wanted to play 20 baht (or 60 cents) for each hole. I almost, in fact, I did, feel sorry for the guy and I was going to give him strokes! Wouldn’t that have been foolish. I won the second hole and he immediately gave me 20 baht and I was feeling very badly for taking advantage of such an old guy. Then they added an additional bet which was to play two persons against two persons taking the best score of the group for an additional 20 baht bet. If two people hit the ball to the left, for example, they were a team for the next hole.Somehow my teammate always seem to take an errant shot or two and I lost 20 baht on every hole and all of a sudden the ‘old’ guy starting punching the lights out getting birdie, par, bogie, birdie etc. Was I set up or what? Each hole cost me 40 baht or $1.20. All of a sudden I realized this was not going to be such a cheap day.

To add insult to injury, on the second hole I figured I better get a drink but did not have enough money so I went to run to my bag for more cash. Everyone was yelling at me to stop, stop, but I kept going straight for my bag, not realizing I was running through fresh, newly laid cement. My shoes got covered in yuk, two old guys had to repave the area I walked through and the cakewalk I was anticipating turned out to be more of a cement walk in reality as well as metaphorically.

The next time some Thai wants to bet with me I hope I remember to say no thank you, except there is no word in Thai for no!

Laos in a Day!

Because of the state of anarchy in Thailand, I figured the airport take-over may never end and I needed to get back to Thailand to pay my bills (really to get my laundry done!). I looked at a map ,theoretically, and it looked like Vientiane was the closest city to Thailand where I could potentially take a bus to Bangkok. Actually, I just asked a travel agent in Hanoi who offered various possibilities but this was the flight that was available, if truth be known.

I am now back home and just went to buy milk. As usual, people are rushing off to work, stores are operating and where I live it is perfectly normal. However, I did buy a Bangkok Post and the opposition party says that if they are not pleased with the new government they will occupy the airport again. I am struck by the audacity of the army who obviously have the support of the middle class or some pretty high ranking individuals. In fact, when I saw news reports, the protesters were arresting various police at the airport. Can you imagine this happening in any western country?

Anyway, I digress. I wanted to talk about Laos, which lived up to its billing as a quiet backwater sort of place. Since I arrived at about 8 pm, I figured I may as well spend the day in Vientiane, the capital and take the night train to Bangkok from Nong Kai across the border in Thailand. I dreamed of the kind of experience Sylvia had in India but it was not to be. The train was full, probably with protesters coming down to Bangkok to stir up trouble. In Issan, the poorest province, they are huge supporters of the government in power and they will be the ones wearing the red shirts you see on television. I was sure, by the way, to take off my red jacket when I got off the bus in Bangkok. I will not be wearing red or yellow anytime soon, except maybe tomorrow since it is the king’s birthday and I may want to show support for the king.

In many ways, Vientiane reminded my of Pnom Penh, another city on the banks of a different river. Vientiane is right on the Mekong, which you might picture as being a powerful river providing a beautiful backdrop to this city. However, the river is quite dry with a huge sand bar in the middle and not beautiful at all, in my opinion. Judge for yourself when you look at the pictures. At night, there were stalls selling the usual “hazerai” on the riverbank and people eating and drinking overlooking the river but I did not find it beautiful or romantic in any way.

The next morning, my first and last day here, I walked out of my hotel and offered the first tuk tuk driver $10 for showing me around from 9 am till 4 pm. He eagerly accepted my money. I did not ask him where we were going and he did not ask what I wanted to see. It turned out, to give you some idea of this city, that after showing me the requisite four sites, he dropped me off at the market at 11:30 and insisted on receiving his money.
(I gave it to him). However bad the stock market is, I assume he needs the money more than me.

I saw the two key Wats ,a sacred Stupa which is the symbol of Laos and the Patuxai or Victory Monument. Victory for what I am not sure since Laos seems to be the whipping boy for south east Asia. Needless to say, the most interesting time for me was after he dropped me off and I was able to meet the people. I loitered around the market, went into a bookstore, had lunch at a wonderful French restaurant by a fountain that was so peaceful, sauntered into a museum and so on. I know that what is important on trips is not the monuments which are just that…bricks and mortar which symbolize important things in the life of the nation. Since I do not know the nations I am visiting, I would much rather meet the people and learn from them.

What I did discover was that the Laotians are really a quiet, peaceful people. The absence of horns was better than I could possibly imagine. I just could not believe the peace and serenity after Hanoi. Now I know why one of the tortures performed is constant noise. It is very stressful and in truth was one of the key reasons, other than laundry, that I wanted to get back to Bangkok so badly.

Have a look at the pictures if you are in to monuments. I won’t have to bother describing what I saw, which in truth, had little meaning for me. The bus ride was a bus ride and now I am back in Bangkok to do what?....swim, have lunch, go to the bank and help celebrate the king’s birthday tomorrow. My camera batteries are repowered!

Hanoi Museums

In Bangkok, when a motorcycle driver stops you on the street and pulls a card out of his pocket, it is usually of naked women enticing you to come to a massage parlour. In Hanoi, when the same thing happens (which is does incessantly) the driver pulls out a card with a list of museums he wants to take you to.

The Vietnamese have done a wonderful job depicting the heroic nature of communism and cycle of continual struggle .As I was standing outside the Vietnam Army museum, appropriately located at 28A Dien Bien Phu Street (the name of the1954 battle beating the French) and across the road from Lenin Park I realized how classic this symmetry was. All of the museums, and there are about twelve of them, show the classic symbols of this struggle. There is a guillotine in at least two museums, many pictures of Ho leading and educating the troops, lots of soldiers in impressive revolutionary poses, the bicycle driver with tons of weight ‘shlepping’ food and ammunition to the front and of course, downed American war machinery. Since the Americans used more firepower in Vietnam then they did during world war two, you can only imagine how much of it is left in museums all over Vietnam!

Schoolchildren, foreigners, and Vietnamese of all sizes and shapes file through these museums daily, reinforcing the notion of continual struggle. To be fair, there are always a few galleries at the end taking Hanoi up to the modern period with charts and graphs of production and economic growth depicted in true communist style.

But what I am left to wonder is what message is getting seared into the brain of schoolchildren. Is it that life is a struggle, the whole world is against us and we have to continue to sacrifice and fight to survive? If this is the case, is it the same message Jews share around the world as they continue to memorialize the Holocaust? Instead of promoting the great tradition of Jewish values, ethics and morality, we tend to promote the horrific negative experience of the twentieth century. Instead of teaching our children to be proud of our rich heritage are we promoting weariness and fear? Are the Vietnamese doing the same thing? There is the Air Force museum, Ho Chi Minh museum, army museum, revolutionary museum, to be fair, mixed in with a geography, ethnography, fine arts and woman museum. Clearly it is not for me to say, but I am certainly left wondering what these messages are essentially doing to the culture of the Vietnamese.

Obviously, Vietnam has a rich and powerful history of scholarship if the writings and pictures represent scholarship as I presume they do. There is centuries of art, universities, and commerce. Clearly there are other important stories to tell other than war. Having said that, seeing powerful howitzers, mangled planes and tanks is quite an awesome experience for someone from Canada. There is probably more war machinery in Vietnamese museums than in all of Canada.

As you can see from the photos( which I cannot upload to this blog) the French colonial influence is quite dramatic in the architecture of the buildings. The French had good taste with their high ceilings, beautifully large arched windows, expansive gardens and contoured buildings. They make for wonderful places to house museums. All of the museums, except for the Ho Chi Minh Museum, are quite laid back and relaxed. In the very modern Ho buiding, built in a lotus shape, you have all of the multi media in many languages talking about the evils of fascism and the wonderful glory of communism and you are directed with arrows, guards and clearly marked hallways making sure you keep moving but see the right things.

Two more museums to go, perhaps tomorrow, as I wait for the Bangkok airport to reopen. The woman’s museum and Fine Art museum. Hopefully I will leave tomorrow and see these on my next trip. After all, I have to have something to look forward to!

Hanoi versus Toronto

As my colleagues and I were driving back from Huong Son (Perfume Pagoda) I couldn’t help but think about the differences there are between Hanoi and Toronto. It doesn’t take much imagination really. Just average vision and nerves of steel. There are usually about a dozen motorcycles roaring right at you coming in the wrong lane. At this time, I usual close my eyes, although realizing, unlike a Disneyland ride, it may not turn out with me walking off the ride with both legs and arms intact! There is so much vehicular traffic of all sorts it is absolutely shocking there are not dead bodies lying all over the road.

Everyone in Hanoi, as I told you last year, has at least one motorbike and they constantly let you know it. The honk incessantly, I think, just to keep themselves awake. As I was driving along the main road between the Fragrance Pagoda and Hanoi the traffic was absolutely mad. Kids were playing soccer or badminton along the side of the road absolutely oblivious of the mayhem just one swerve away. I can’t imagine any self-respecting Toronto mother even letting their kid outside in such traffic! Of course, even though it is probably about 18 degrees and drizzling, everyone is eating outside on the tiniest stools you ever saw in your life(unless you have been to Vietnam). Assuming you could bend low enough to sit on these little stools, would you eat your meals outside at Yonge and Bloor? For those few eating inside, they usually have a storefront and one little divider and they are calmly eating just behind the screen while customers are shopping in their store.

In Asia, you have either just eaten or are going to eat. The common refrain when they see you is not “how are you?” but “have you eaten yet?” Concomitant to that is the heaps of garbage everywhere. At night, as I walk home to my hotel in the Old Quarter, garbage collectors shovel up garbage which is determined to keep falling out of their wheelbarrow, only to supply someone else with a job tomorrow. When I think how clean Singapore is I realize the government or government initiatives can make a real difference.

In Singapore, there are tons of banners flying everywhere lauding education or women or whatever. In Hanoi, there are as many banners furled across the road as in Singapore. I am not sure exactly what they are saying, but I assume they are glorifying some communist initiative or other. If they said something like, “clean up your garbage” who knows what the results could be. I wonder what it takes to change a culture other than propaganda posters?

As we were passing miles and miles of rice paddies we saw a funeral seemingly walking in the middle of the paddy. When I asked my colleagues what was happening , they told me the body or the ashes were likely to be buried in the rice paddy probably owned by the deceased. Indeed, I saw lots of cemeteries in rice fields with headstones in no particular order as you might see in any cemetery in the west. A stone here or there at some jaunty angle.

Of course, there were the ubiquitous buffalo walking along the side of the road and drinking from the canals that run beside the road. Buses are chock full of people hanging out the doors, not quite as bad as Myanmar but nearly. The infrastructure clearly does not support the population and how anything ever moves is amazing to me.

Motorcycles are either full of people (like whole families) riding on one bike or animals. I saw one motorcycle with four pigs tressed up in 4 baskets hanging over the side of the cycle. I presume they were going to market but those live pigs had to be under tremendous stress.

I did spend the day on a beautiful river ride in the mountains going to the Perfume Pagoda if you are wondering where those pictures were taken. I went with my teaching colleagues on a day excursion from Hanoi to the countryside which was fun as you can see from the pictures. What was especially great is that you can escape the tremendous din of horns blowing and the smog of fumes I presume. Of course, the Vietnamese say it the pollution from China, as we claim our smog is pollution from the United States.

I am writing this from the plane going to Ho Chi Minh City. Let’s see if I can notice any changes from last December. Hopefully I can give my jacket a rest until I come up north again and just patiently wait the cold I am going to get. I can feel my throat getting sore already.

The Royal Funeral

We are in the middle of six day pageant in memory of Her Royal Highness Princess Galyani Vadhana Krom Luang Naradhiwas Rajanagarinda. She is the “pie sow” or older sister of the king. Even though she died last January and we lowered the flag for her everyday and had a moment’s silence and so on, the royal cremation ceremony (ies) are only taking place now. Why? Because they had to do it right! They built Thra Merumas or the cremation building within the Grand Palace and after the four days of ceremony it will be taken down.

Yesterday, I spent the day with hundreds of thousands of others roaming around the Grant Palace area trying to take it all in. I did not see the royal procession from Dusit Maha Prasat Throne hall to the Royal Cremation Ground at Sanam Luang, a park across the road from the Grand Palace, but there were huge screens up everyone for all to see. People waited for hours standing by the side of the road only to catch a brief glimpse of the king and queen as they drove past on their way to the ceremony.

Lucky for me, as usual, I got lost and ended up at the assembly area. If you look at my pictures, you will see all of the dignitaries assembling on the parade grounds about four kilometers from the Grand Palace to be taken by bus to the ceremonies. They were all fully decked out in their regalia with their complete entourage. I took a picture of the prime minister and his henchmen and woman and another group of impressive looking people. When they saw I was wearing a York University shirt they told me they were responsible for higher education in Thailand and had worked with York through a CIDA project many years ago. I just wished I was fast enough to ask for an interview with them later in the week since I would love to be stationed in Bangkok. Travelling is fun, but it would be nice to be in one place so I don’t have to pre- think when I am going to get my laundry done so I will have enough clothes to wear on my travels!

What was also interesting was that 2 German ladies were lost and wanted to get to the train station. I acted as the translator between these women and some Thais which was really impressive, I thought. Then a Dutch couple came over and asked me where Gucci was. That was too much for me and I got out of there as quickly as possible before I was inundated with thousands of other questions I could not answer.

The pageantry, I discovered, was really just an excuse for a great party and celebration of Thai history and culture. As usual, roads were closed, food stands appeared out of nowhere and whole families were celebrating. Even the police got into the action and took pictures (of themselves) and others, joked with the crowd and seemed to be having a lot of fun. I did catch some mourners in prayer or meditation, but not many.

I joined the celebration in my own way, which was to take a ferry down to the Sheraton hotel and have a sumptuous buffet overlooking the river.

When in Rome…

I’m too poor to get married!

I was playing golf the other day on THE golf course in Yangon and to make conversation I asked the caddy how many children she had. When I ask a Thai caddy the same question, I always get the answer, two or three, and they are always living with grandmother in Issan, a poor province in the north east of Thailand. This time, in Yangon, the answer stunned me when she said; “I’m too poor to be married” That got me to thinking about social organization in Canada. Would I ever hear the same words in Canada?

It occurs to me that everything about Asia is structured and class oriented. There are no rags to riches stories. In fact, there are no downtown Yangon to the Park Royal Hotel stories. Once you are born into a lower station in life you remain in that station for ever, due to the impossibility of schooling, social opportunities, and so on.

As the world knows, Myanmar is living under a military dictatorship but one can get used to anything. I was in the staff room the other day talking with an older colleague who told me how much he missed freedom. For example, to buy a radio, you have to register and fill out forms. A young guy on staff asked what was so weird about that? It reminds me of the story of the frog in hot water that is gradually brought up to a boil. The frog does not jump out…it simply adapts until it is too late and then dies. It seems that the young people of Myanmar, who have never known freedom, literally do not know what they are missing and simply accept the status quo. The reason they know no different, by the way, is that everything is censored. The only foreign paper you can possibly get is the Singapore Strait Times and anything deemed sensitive is literally cut out. Internet sites such as Yahoo and Hotmail are blocked and there may be one television station with Myanmar news (not sure about that).

Clearly questioning and inquiry is not encouraged at school. In fact, school is hardly encouraged at all. In Mandalay, I was speaking with the chef of the hotel and complimenting him on his work. I went on to ask him what his dreams were. He told me he wanted to be a teacher. I told him I could help him fulfill that dream and he said he was already there. He was a teacher years ago but could not afford to live on the 12.00 a month he was paid once he had his own children. Classes are large, teachers teach by rote and to make a living they “slow down” during the day so that if kids want to really learn to pay to pay for extra tuition after school which is how the teachers make enough money to live.

I guess living outside of Canada has helped me realize how important education is to the development of a nation. Without education, we are back to the caddy saying she could never get married because she was so poor!

Chinese Wedding in Mandalay

For some reason, this week was full of Chinese Weddings in Myanmar. It is obviously an auspicious time for a wedding since I know astrologers are always consulted as to the time and place of weddings so if they are all taking place at the same time there is good reason for it. I was fortunate to be able to attend two of them and remembered the second time to take my camera so at least I have a record of it and you can share the experience with me by having a look at the pictures.

Both weddings were actually quite similar. When I say weddings, I really do not mean the solemnization ceremony but rather the celebration and because they were Chinese parties, you can be sure they revolved around food. We are usually seated near the front at a table of honour and I must tell you that out of hundreds of guest, I was the only guy that had a white face. I was taught a few gestures and expressions in Chinese to say congratulations, fabulous party and so on and whenever I spoke I was greeted with enormous smiles, either because they appreciated the fact that I was trying or they thought I was absolutely out of my mind and were merely patronizing an idiot.

Before you knew it, food was served and the party began. Waiters came out by the hundreds caring platters of food and on both nights the order of food remained virtually the same. We began with some pork, fried something or other and something else fried. There is soup and plenty of it, but it is served two or three times throughout the meal with the sour soup served just before the rice. The rice is served last and as a courtesy you turn it away to let the host know you were completely satisfied with the meal and you have no need or ability to fill up with plebian rice. The shark fin soup comes somewhere near the middle between the platters of fried this and fried that. The plates are put in the middle of the table and everyone around the table usually helps themselves, except in my case! Because I am the oldest and a man, I am usually served first by one of the guests at the table. It was either because I was the oldest or they were a little concerned about me messing up the table with my inefficient control of chopsticks!

The one thing I did not like was that we only had a little bowl, not a bad idea in itself, but they never changed the bowl through three soup dishes and about seven other courses. I suppose my stomach did not know the difference but unfortunately I did. What do you do with the bones and other bits and pieces you do not want to eat and you are kept being given food heaped on top of the older food? I considered slipping it under the table, but could not find an appropriate moment to do it with about 250 pairs of eyes on me, the “white ghost.”

What I also found amazing was the complete absence of speeches or ceremony. The wedding party did walk up the aisle with parents, uncles and aunts etc and bowed three times to the invited guests, once thanking them for coming, once wishing them good fortune and once wishing them health. That was the end of the ceremony. When people finished eating (and that usually meant when the most important person is finished eating and stands up), everyone else gets up and leaves. There is no standing around chatting at the door and lollygagging about as my father would say. You come in, pass over you red envelope of money, sit down, eat your meal, drink copious amounts of beer so you can toast your elders, eat a great meal, get up and all leave at the same time. It does make it hell to get out of the parking lot.

How is my work going, you ask? You don’t think eating an enormous meal every night is work? Last night, by the way, after eating this meal I went back to my room and woke up every 30 minutes or so. I realized it was because of some noise coming out of the bathroom and changed rooms around 4 am. At 5 am I changed rooms again because I could not stand the constant drip from the toilet and when I did eventually go back to my room to begin the day at 7 a.m. I could not get in because my room key did not work. Quite a predicament when you are in your birthday suit!!

Today, I gave one teacher workshop where every school in Mandalay was invited to send representatives and to-night, if I can stay awake, I am giving another workshop to our teachers here. I guess I better go and prepare. I only have a few minutes before I am “

People I met along the way!

I just came back from my nightly swim and was reflecting on how many interesting people I met this week just looking for an apartment. Of course, the most interesting for me were the ladies of the night I talked about in the last entry. It looked like they lived in hovel, shared rooms and God knows what else, but were so generous to a stranger, offering me a beer and refusing to take money for it. That impressed me!

Today, I entered the world of little India. A guy was renting his house, or more like a townhouse with two floors and three bedrooms for about $300 a month. It was right beside the klong (canal) and therefore really quiet but to get there you had to wind your way through a labyrinth of streets getting more and more narrow and more and more Indian. It was Dawali today and when he picked me up he had a red mark on his forehead since he just returned from prayers. He was an Indian who told me about his arranged marriage to a Thai Indian and how successful his marriage turned out even though he was from a different country. He also told me that he lived in Bangkok for the past 18 years but when I asked him to speak to a taxi driver in Thai, he told me he did not speak Thai. Later on, I went on a motorcycle looking for more apartments and the driver was also an Indian who was born in Bangkok but still considered an outsider by the indigenous population. I know since I have had many talks with Indian tailors who feel quite like outsiders in their own country. Even though they went to Thai schools, speak fluent Thai they will never feel part of the country.

I should also mention that when I went to look at the house, it was pretty much what I expected with mattresses on the floor, a dank smell and clothes strewn all around. However, I did meet the three young British tenants who were teachers in Bangkok sitting around playing the guitar and hanging out on a Sunday afternoon. I guess I am really privileged and spoiled to have a neat apartment that looks and feels quite airy.

I guess what strikes me the most about all of the apartments is how people live. Some seem so inviting, but most look quite bleak. No wonder people spend so much time out of doors eating and drinking. Who would want to be inside when all you see in 4 walls and naked light bulb or two?

Did I mention in my last blog the two English guys I met who ran the restaurant at one of the apartments I went to? They were sitting in their bathing suits by the pool communicating with each other and the world by way of their computer and supposedly making fabulous business deals. They just appeared to me like two guys on vacation! One of them had incredibly bad luck. For 17 years, he said, he ran some bars in Bangkok, finally sold and got out and was thrilled to buy a million dollar hotel right on the beach in Pukhet. He told me he loved to sit on the beach, have a beer, look at his hotel and just pinch himself at his luck at living in Paradise. Right…you got it. The tsunami took care of that and the insurance gave him nothing which is why he was glad to be able to sell me French toast, one scrambled egg and tomato juice which I wish I did not order. All this for about 60 cents while he talked about making another million.

Of course, I told you about the guy with the language school whose mother owns a fabulous golf course. His father died, he told me, when he was eleven. He certainly seems to be a go getter and is quite involved in buying more important apartments and other businesses.

I also spoke yesterday with a Hawaiian guy who has lived in Bangkok for the past ten years, appears to be about thirty years old and bought about 4 townhouses and is renting out 50 square meter rooms for about $300 in quite a fashionable neighbourhood but away from the maddening crowd down some winding roads. He was very interesting but perhaps the most interesting person I met was a black woman lawyer, probably middle aged, who left a burgeoning law practice in Washington, she said, to just get away from it all for a year. She is about to start teaching kindergarten kids tomorrow. Hope she did not pay for that year lease!

Apartment Hunting!

Apartment hunting, I have learned, is serious and tiring business. I have spent the last few days and nights hunting all over Bangkok for the best deal and have learned so much about life in Bangkok. For example, last night I wondered over a few streets from where I live to a side soi or laneway that appeared to have a bunch of townhouses. I went into one thinking that because it looked so rundown I could get the house for 10,000 baht or 300 a month. Instead, I was invited in by a bunch of women, was poured a beer ( I hate beer) and shown a room which they apologetically offered me at 6,000 baht a moth or about $200 which was actually quite nice, if you like basic. It was very large, had a bathroom, bed, table, chair and the other things you would expect to find in a room.

What I found interesting was the various stages of undress the ladies were in. I think there was something like seven rooms in the house and six were occupied by women, or I assume, at were women but you can never tell in Bangkok without looking at their hands. When they asked me if I was going to be living there alone and I said yes, they told me I could bring in a woman whenever I wanted, but if I was going to bring in a man, they said I would have to find another apartment! I cannot understand that reasoning at all, except to say that this is Bangkok.

This morning, I went to a lovely condominium apartment near the last BTS stop on the way to the airport. This is the area I want to live in since it is close to the golf courses in the south east of Bangkok and close to the airport. When I told the owner the actual apartment was too small and too expensive for what I was getting and I would not even have room for my golf clubs he told me his mother owned Green Valley Golf Course, a very swanky course that I used to play all the time last year. I couldn’t believe it. I told him I would take the apartment right then and there if he could get me on to the course for half price whenever I wanted to play. He phoned his mother immediately and the best she was willing to offer was $50 which included caddie fees instead of the usual $66. Ummm, what to do? I do love the course and this apartment did have a covered swimming pool.

I also went to another apartment nearby which also had the aura of being very tranquil. I would have to put my name on a waiting list to get in and the first available apartment is a two bedroom on December 1st. She promised to move me to a one bedroom March 1st It is tempting because my clubs, believe it or not, take up a lot of space. I also have boxes of books which are not easy to display in a small place.

I also walked down lots of dirty laneways all over Bangkok and looked at rooms only the Thais live in. Even I noticed the floors and walls were filthy, beds rickety, walls covered with dirt from layers and layers of carbon dioxide emissions and lots of noise. You cannot even turn on the air conditioning to drown out the sound of the cars outside and children playing because there is no air-conditioning. The attraction for me is a personal challenge. How would I make out really living like Thais people and secondly learning Thai. One old man (the owner) of a little two story house told me he was looking forward to speaking with me. Another attraction is, of course, the price. A Thai apartment, like the one I described, rents for about $100 a month in really excellent locations. You can virtually find an apartment in any area of the city if you are willing to walk down some dark and dusty soi just behind the elegant stores and department buildings to find them!

I am going to Myanmar in the next few days for a few weeks so I would like to get this settled before I go. Any ideas on what I should do?

The performing monkey

I am now sitting in a Vietnamese class in Haiphong with a bunch of 12 year old Vietnamese kids taking a math class. Unlike the kids from Myanmar where there is silence no matter what you do, the Vietnamese kids are noisy, lively and rambunctious. They are all leaning over my computer looking at what I am writing. Thankfully, their English is not that good so I can write with impunity. I cannot take a candid picture of them because whenever they even get a whiff of the camera they are all posing and giving the victory sign. I gave them my card and now they are busy copying the words on the card. They are so anxious to learn they are like sponges. When the teacher started by singing a song, they were all with her like it was a rock concert. Look at the pictures to see what I mean.

I am in Haiphong to do my talking monkey routine. I am regularly paraded out in my tie, old white face and grey hair to talk to teachers, parents, managers or whoever they can dredge up to listen. One teacher said to me the other day at lunch, he was so honoured to meet me and couldn’t wait to learn from me. I got to thinking that in Canada, no matter what your credentials, no-one would give you automatic respect; you have to earn it. The colonial mentality is still in force here, even if they did kick the bejesus out of the Americans! . Here all I have to do is look old and Caucasian and they are impressed.

I was paraded in front of a university president and his cronies, and we talked for about 30 minutes. Thankfully my translator said all of the appropriate things, no matter what I said and I had time to think and appear serious. He wants me to come in and do professional development with his professors. He has never seen me teach and only knows me from what he sees in front of him. Sooner or later I am certain I will be found out. I am like the emperor with no clothes.

Yesterday, in the morning I went to visit Loa Hoa prison, probably better known to you as the Hanoi Hilton. What you probably don’t know is that it was built by the French in the nineteenth century to punish the Vietnamese rebels. What the present day Vietnamese love to do is parade out the iniquities of the enemy and since the French are the number one enemy they love to hate. The guillotine had a place of honour both in this prison as well as the museum in Ho Chi Minh City. They sure love the fact that John McCain is running for the President of the United States and they even changed some of the signs in the prison to update his pictures.

I think I now have the hang of crossing the street in Hanoi by the way. There is a never ending stream of motor scooters and if you waited for it to abate you would never get to the other side. Here is the deal : you never even have to look when you are crossing. Just take a deep breath, step out and keep walking at an even pace. The scooters will scoot around you, not a problem. If you speed up or run, you are dead…literally.

I am still alive after about 5 hours of walking around Hanoi to-night. It is a very walkable city and there are beautiful lakes and places to hide. You certainly have to get out of the din of the traffic every once in a while. As usual, a university student approached me in the park and eventually took me to supper on the sidewalk. Other than sitting almost on the sidewalk in our low chairs, the food was delicious and I have not vomited yet. Don’t know what it was and don’t want to do.

I have to go. Back to Bangkok in the morning. See ya.

A week-end in Yangon

Week-end in Yangon

It was like a jungle out there. The air was literally steaming and I was sweating so badly I could not see. My bitter sweat kept going in my eyes which needless to say did not help my golf game. On the other hand, I was playing so badly it probably didn’t hurt either. What made the day memorable for me was that I was playing in the Singapore tournament with the military attaché from Vietnam and a colonel from military intelligence from Laos.

When the Vietnamese attaché was on the putting green, he got down on one knee and cocked the putter like it was a rifle pointing at the hole. He closed one eye while he was doing this and I could not help but think that this is what it must have been like for him in l974 when he was in the Chu Chi tunnels aiming at American GI’s. He was extremely serious and did get 4 birdies, making the whole experience rather eerie for me. It was something like being in Germany when you hear sirens going off and you can’t help but think it is l943 even though you were clearly not there.

To-night, at the banquet, my Singaporean boss MC’d the proceedings which gave me a good insight into how the 100 Singaporeans live in Yangon. As I watched them interact with each other. I especially liked how they did a cheer when they gave a toast. All 500 of us yelled out at the same time AH something or other………………………………………………for about 45 seconds then shouted ‘SING”

Good fun. Tomorrow, I am taking a tour of Yangon and really looking forward to it. Even though it started late, probably because the guide was bargaining for a car, it was well worth it. Did I tell you how I met the guide? The other night I was wondering around downtown and this guy came up to me and asked if I wanted a tour of Yangon on his tricycle Shaw for 1.000 chat or $1.00. I said sure and got up in the seat with some trepidation. Before too long, he was driving me all over Yangon, swerving in and out of traffic and, in my opinion, almost getting all three of us killed. Yes, he drove, there was another guy sitting on the back and I was in the buggy. At the top of the hill, when we got out towalk around a beautiful lake filled with restaurants and bars, I gave the rider $2.00 to go home and told the tour guide I would pay him and a cab driver to get home. Both of them could not believe it and when the guide told the driver why: they both laughed their heads off at this crazy Canadian being scared of being on a bicycle.

For some reason, over lime juice, which I now love, the guide told me he was considering going to Israel for a trip. When I told him I was Jewish he started talking to me in Hebrew and today when he picked me up he took me to the synagogue. It was fantastic, and looked like any middle ages Spanish or European synagogue, even though the 8 families, or members, not sure which, are Iraqi Jews. I am really sorry I did not know about this synagogue Tuesday night for Rosh Hashanah. Apparently, there were Jews there from various embassies and they held a reform service, even though there was seating upstairs for the women.

My Filipino teacher colleague had never seen a synagogue before and he was quite amazed.

We made up for this by visiting lots of Pagodas, one of which reminded me of Mt. St. Michel in France where we had to take a boat to get to it. You can see from the pictures it was really quite nice. We also visited the Botataung Pagoda in town and unlike other pagodas I have visited there was a maze you travelled around and each part of the maze had its own little narrow corner where you could sit and meditate. We also went to two Catholic churches which made him feel comfortable, even though one had no roof, was covered in jungle and not allowed to be restored. The other was in the process of being restored because of Nargis.

After visiting the Strand Hotel, an elegant former British hotel on the Strand ( there were absolutely no tourists) but three coming to-night, we went to the wholesale food market, far off the beaten path. Like Asian markets it was dirty, busy, vibrant and fun. I love it and prefer markets to mosques or pagodas any day of the week.

I will send this from Bangkok tomorrow. Have to go and pack since I am leaving at 6 am.

Site Seeing in Mandalay

Wow, I forgot how tiring site seeing can be. Since I have been working for six days in a row( if not more), I decided to take today off (Sunday) and tour Mandalay. I hired Ujo, my driver, for the day and me, Nyein, the registrar and Sim, the counselor, went off on our adventures. What was nice was that we could go at our own pace and did not have to climb off the bus and visit every tourist trap this side of New York City as other tourists do who take the large tour buses.

As you can see from the pictures, we started at a shop making gold leaf. What I could not get over, and was frankly transfixed by it, was the manual labour involved. Two guys were literally hammering away at the gold to make the leaf, each beating in syncopated rhythm. They used a timer to let them know when they could take a break. The timer was a jug with a little hole in it placed in water in a bucket. When it sunk, they could take a break. They do this literally back breaking labour for at least 8 hours a day I would presume.

We also went to another craft areas where they were chiseling marble statutes of the Buddha or weaving or making wood carvings. It was all the same, using manual labour to do the work that machines could probably do better ( maybe) and certainly less labour intensive. Having said that, when you are probably paying the labour about $1 a day, it is probably better than buying an expensive machine and having to worry about electricity in a land where electricity powers off about as often as I have to urinate from all of the water I am drinking in this 40 degree weather (and this is almost the cool season!)

We had to rush to get to the Mahegandahayon Monastery by 10:15 since all the monks have their meal together at that time. As you can see, they stand obediently in line and walk up separately in silence to receive their portion of rice (covered with flies or maggots just seconds before). They eat in silence and then get back to their studies. They certainly learn obedience, self discipline, and humility, all probably good things. I bought a little book on meditation so I should be an expert by the time I read and practice it. I realize though that it is probably impossible for a westerner who has very little of the virtues mentioned above to practice meditation.

At this point, we went to the ancient city of Innwa and as usual, when something really spectacular comes up, the battery of my camera responds inversely and gives up the ghost, so you will just have to let me paint a word picture. We had to cross the Irawaddy river by barge, to get to the other side. Once there, we had to take a horse drawn carriage for transportation since there was no other way other than foot to travel. We started at a monastery that could have very well been used for “Raiders of the Lost Arc”. It was cavernous inside with huge pillars and birds literally flying around in the belfry if there was one). It was interesting to see the classroom in the monastery where the tables and desks were affixed to the floor and I could almost hear the choral chanting of the students even though there were no classes because today was Sunday. Interesting enough, since Myanmar is on the lunar calendar, Sunday is not necessarily the Sabbath. The Sabbath does happen every seven days but not necessarily on the same day each week.

We then took our carriage to what can best be described as the Leaning Tower of Myanmar. It was a watchtower that literally leaned to one side and I am surprised it still remains standing after all these years. The piece de resistance though, was the castle, or so it seemed, of the Queen who tried to do her husband in but was found by the king and executed by having an elephant that step on her. The pagoda was really beautiful and if I can get Sim’s pictures ( her battery did not run out), I will post the pictures later.

I have to go to sleep since I am going to Yangon early tomorrow. I have that math workshop after school that I have been putting off preparing it. I wrote two blog entries instead of working on the seminar, but sooner or later, and obviously sooner, I have to get at it.

Meeting People

Let me tell you why working is so exciting. In short, it is because it is not really like working at all. I stay at the best hotels, meet a ton of interesting people and develop policies and educational material for my company.

Last night, for example, I flew into Yangon from Bangkok for a meeting on developing some software for a course Vicky and I created, and flew out right after the meeting. They held the plane for me (just kidding) and I flew to Mandalay. Imagine flying from one city to another for a meeting? When you work for a public school board, you are lucky to get taxi fare to go from one school to another!

Last night I had dinner with a wealthy entrepreneur from Yangon and two university representatives from Singapore who also happened to be ethnic Chinese women from Indonesia and Malaysia respectively. We had a chance to discuss politics, education, the state of Myanmar and the state of Singaporean women as the government encourages marriage and childbirth with various incentive programs. All this while music from Dr. Zhivago was playing in the background ,a movie I saw when I was in second year university. I couldn’t help but think of myself as a twenty year old again seeing Dr. Zhivago with his whole life in front of him. Now, here I was talking smack, as Joshua would say ,halfway around the world with people actually seeming to care what I was saying. with One could say I have come a long way but if truth be known, I am still the same guy I was 40 years ago. That is probably the sad part.

Now I am writing this because I am trying to avoid rereading the Singapore math curriculum. Next week I promised to give a series of workshops on the curriculum which to make an understatement, is grossly unfair to the teachers listening to what I have to say. Math was never my strong suit. Anyway, got to get back to my work. Speak to you later.

It is now later…I am in Mandalay avoiding writing another workshop I am presenting this Saturday on outcome based education and learning theory. Actually, it should be quite a lot of fun, but I do have to fiddle with power point a lot to-night which I am not looking forward to. I left school early to-day to play golf and went right behind my hotel. Last year, I walked up to the top of Mandalay Hill and you may remember seeing pictures of the sunset from the top. This year. I was playing golf at sunset from the bottom looking up at all of these fantastic pagodas each more impressive than the other as you climb your way to the top.

Today, I had a chat with the Singaporean ambassador to Myanmar who was visiting the school and asking the Singaporean teachers how they were doing. I asked if he cared about an honorary Singaporean just visiting Mandalay for a few days .He laughed. At some point it may not be a laughing matter.

OK, back to the power point. Nice chatting but I must work!

Here I am again with another story. Last night, the Yunan association in Myanmar had a graduation ceremony for their students who took Chinese. There had to be a thousand Chinese people in the hall in the Yunan community centre. I was very happy to be invited as a representative from my school and slink around the back seats. Instead, I was ushered up to the front row with the Counsel-General of China and the President of the Yunan Association. Can you imagine? The ceremony took about two hours and for about 90 minutes I had an urgent need to go to the bathroom. At little bit intimidating considering I would have to walk out through all these people!

At dinner, the women and graduates sat at different tables and the big shots sat at the head table. What on earth was I doing there? They served me first because I was probably the oldest and the only Caucasian but how do you set aside the food you do not want to eat when everyone is watching you?

Tomorrow I do the tourist thing. I am putting myself into the hands of my driver and telling him to show me what I have not seen yet. It should be quite relaxing not having to represent Jhanada in front of everyone. See ya!

My Bangkok Routine

I remember being shocked last year when I asked second year teachers from American what they were doing on the week-end. They invariably told me they were going to watch a movie at home, cook, or go to some boxing class or other. I couldn’t believe it. Here they were living in a city of 16 million people and about as many wats, markets, shops, sites and sounds that could entertain them for life. Watching television? Were they crazy?

I have now been back in Bangkok again for a week and can finally relate. I have seen every wat ever made by a Thai, and then some. I even saw wats made by Khymer (I think). I have spent my days at every market from Chatachuk on the week-ends to floating markets to markets I just fell in to around Silom when I went to get my ticket for Yangon.I am leaving tomorrow for two weeks so will not be in contact, probably. Internet, electricty and other modern conveniences do not exist in Myanmar.

When I am in Bangkok I take pleasure, believe it or not, in enjoying the museum I live in, taking walks down the street on Sukhumvit and helping tourists pouring over a map (not that I can read a map, but I can generally direct them to where they want to go). I also just go and sit in the park and watch people. There are always tai chi classes in the morning and at night, picnics and volleyball Thai style. They hit the ball with their feet or head! I discovered this great swimming pool in the park literally beside where I live that I could not even see until I was on top of it! I joined for the year for one dollar and for that they needed a copy of my passport, a police check, health report etc. Luckily I had it all so no problem. The women in charge told me I did not have the right bathing suit. (I have three bathing suits which are the shorts types) and I will be damned if I am going to go and buy some Speedo when I already own three bathing suits so I pretended not to understand her whenever she speaks Thai to me or points to my “shorts”

This year, I am actually eating on the street and I am still alive to talk about, playing golf and getting there by motorbike. I have discovered that you can sling your clubs over you back and they rest nicely on the motorbike…so far anyway. As usual, I have had fun meeting interesting people at the golf course. One Korean guy would not let me pay for anything and wanted to play 36 holes. Since I had already made dinner arrangements with friends, I actually turned him down.

As I prepare to go to Myanmar tomorrow for two weeks ( I have to be there October 4 to represent my company in a golf tournament..that could be embarrassing) I am thinking of what I did for the last week in Bangkok. Nothing really, sounds pretty good, doesn’t it?

Yangon-My first official assignment

I just got back from my first official visit as "Dean of RV academies" We have a small school in Yangon Myanmar so it was a good test to see how things would work out. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised at how I was treated. The school is in a posh hotel and as I came in they welcomed me back by name. Do you think that would happen at the Royal York? The bellmen and front desk personnel certainly remembered me from last April.

We now have a library and computer lab. As I was visiting, the librarian would not let me open a door by myself. The same thing happened in our office where we have about 20 people diligently working away at various and sundry tasks. Although it was difficult to be treated this way, I finally got used to ( about 5 seconds, I surmise)

The Myanmar kids are fantastic...respectful, possess very good English skills, enthusiastic and hard working. Nothing has changed on that front since I visited last spring. However, now that I have the title, the principal had me speak to the parents. It is amazing how adept I am getting at making power point presentations on the fly. I ran around for a few hours taking pictures of kids and teachers and then incorporated them into a slide presentation to talk about the school, the strengths and the challenges we face in the coming year. I love having a translator because it gives me time to think and I can watch the audience reaction. It also lets me know how many colloquial expressions I use all the time. For example, I said to the parents we had to pull our socks up. The translator certainly had no idea what I was talking about.

The questions the parents asked were hard hitting and to the point, but because I am a male, white, with gray hair, they seemed, at first glance to be accepting of what I have to say.

I also had to deal with a difficult parent in a private meeting at the principal's request. This was interesting since I was the one historically who usually caused the problems for principals, not solving them. Hopefully I succeeded. When I left Friday, no kid had dropped out yet so I guess I survived unscathed and hopefully did some good.

Whenever I met with or heard business people talk about travel, I have always been quite envious. Now I see what Daniel was talking about. I rolled out of bed in the hotel, went downstairs to the school, worked until 5 or 6 and then had supper and went to bed. I was in Yangon for a week and did no site seeing. I did walk around the downtown which is one big market but that was it. I did not play golf, visit any Temples or travel anywhere. Next week I go to Mandalay and I will be sure to book it over a week-end so I can do some visiting.

I am now back in Bangkok, getting ready to interview some teachers tomorrow and give them an orientation to teaching and our program. What is great about this job is that I have a diverse number of tasks which is fun. I know I will never be bored.

The Museum/Art Gallery

These pictures are not taken from some gallery downtown. They are all taken within a few steps of where I am typing this blog entry. Not really knowing my schedule this year, I decided to sublet an apartment for a few months rather than renting for a year to see if it was even worth paying rent for an apartment in Bangkok. I do want to have a place where I can hang my hat, but is it worth the money if I am only going to be in Bangkok one week a month or so? I do believe it is psychologically important to have my own place as opposed to a hotel, so I looked up Craigslist on the Internet and found this sublet which I am getting for about the price I paid for my apartment last year.( except my apartment last year could probably fit into the living room of this apartment)

It is right down the street from Emporium, a fashionable mall 5 minutes away. As an aside, I have never seen anyone buy anything in the mall (because the Gucci prices are way too expensive) but man, the Thais do dress well and parade themselves around the like they owned the mall. I guess they are out to impress and find some ‘farang’ with a fat wallet. Little do they know the prices are way too high for foreigners as well who will shop at MBK (like Wallmart, but way cheaper). I inquired about a tie at Hermes yesterday and quietly retreated from the store when she told me it was on sale for $250.

Anyway, back to the story. I got a place for three months from a fellow Canadian who is travelling. For some reason, he wanted someone in the apartment and wanted a little money to defray his costs of his travel. To give you some idea of this place, he pays $3.000 rent a month where the average Bangkok apartment probably rents for $300 or less. I never met this guy and only talked to him a few times by e mail but I took the apartment because I knew where it was and the price was right.

When I walked in yesterday, my jaw dropped. After deactivating the alarm (a huge stressor for me with all those buttons) and then taking time to find the light switches deftly hidden behind huge plants I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. At first, I thought I was in a movie theatre. The T.V. was probably as big as the screen in Emporium or so it seemed at first blush. It will be great when I can figure out how to turn it on. He told me he has very high end audio equipment so he has a million gadgets and I have to try and figure out which gadget controls which machine and which button on which gadget to push. I think Walter would even be challenged by this one. I invited the computer teacher from my school to show me how to open the T.V. and even he could not figure it out, making me feel a little better. The living room is filled with books, DVD’s, movies and so on so it will be good if I can figure out how things work…if it is possible. Maybe the whole idea is that it is not supposed to work, just look good.

Walking down the hallway I discovered lots of bathrooms, bedrooms and an office better equipped than our head office in Singapore. I am going to have to take pictures of some of this equipment to ask Daniel what they are for. The computer screen that he uses is more the size of our television at home and here I am not exaggerating.

I think the apartment is probably larger, in square feet, than our house. I feel like some kind of imposter living here and imagine this is how the rich and famous must live…except I am not rich or famous!

The Adventure Begins

I am really excited about my new job. For those of you wondering which job I took when I took my leave last June, I decided to work for the Singapore company that has schools all over South East Asia. I am called the Dean and am responsible for curriculum as well as teacher development. It is right up my alley so it should be fun.

Last week I flew to Singapore to see the head office of the company and met the senior staff. We held strategic planning sessions all week and I also had a chance to meet Ministry officials from the Vietnamese Department of Education, lawyers and bankers, Cambridge officials, Singapore teachers and so on.I think my learning curve will be steep this year.

Last night I flew into Bangkok where I will be staying for the week-end before I head to Myanmar for the week. Frankly, I will be doing lots of travelling which Daniel says I will tire of in a big hurry. He might very well be right…we shall see. I did rent an apartment in Bangkok which I will tell you about in my next entry. It is more like a museum or art gallery than apartment.I am absolutely terrified of touching anything!!!

What can I say about Singapore after 10 days? Josh, it is still freezing. I don’t know what it is about Singaporeans, but they love to keep their air conditioning up to the max. I was really cold every time I went into a mall or restaurant. Speaking of restaurants, I can assure you that with my new boss I will be eating well this year. I have had noodles, poached eggs, an American hamburger, fish boiled at the table in our own pot overlooking the Singapore river, Subway, lots of Chinese dishes, to say nothing of our tea breaks which remind me more of a sit down meal than a break. In fact, I think I gained five pounds during the week I was in Singapore. Thankfully my boss is going to Vietnam for a few weeks while I am in Myanmar!!! Not sure my stomach could survive otherwise.

Singapore, although small, is very much like Toronto. As I was sipping tea in the café of our downtown office building and looking around at the buildings and people, I could easily have been on Richmond Street or Adelaide in Toronto. The infrastructure is there, everything works and the people speak English. A gentle way for anyone from North America to experience Asia.

Singapore is also very much like Toronto in its’ multicultural nature. There are Chinese (65% of the population), Malays, Indians, and Eurasians. It is actually written in their passport what nationality they are. The people certainly seem harmonious ( low murder rate, intermarriage, interesting cuisine, strong school system and so on). Actually, very much like Toronto in a way. And, like Toronto, there is a little India, China town ( which I really liked!), Arab street and all the rest. Certainly not assimilation, but perhaps integration at its best like Toronto.

When you look at the pictures, you will see I saw all of the requisite sites…Sentosa Island which is like something from California but without the American pizzaz, a very restful Botannical Garden with the magnificent orchids you see and China town, which I absolutely loved. I am going to Singapore a number of more times so I will no doubt see the night safari at the zoo as well as the butterfly garden which I look forward to.

I am now going to venture out into the Bangkok night for supper and a look around. I will let you know what changed tomorrow.

Vietnam Revisited

After a week of visiting classes, giving my informed opinion on teachers and curriculum, I was really looking forward to renting motorcycles and spending the day in the countryside outside of Ho Chi Minh City seeing the Saturday weddings and funerals and speaking with the ordinary rural Vietnamese people. I was given a quick lesson on the scooter, told how to accelerate and put on the brakes and quickly made a U turn in this quiet neighbourhood where we rented the scooters. I obviously misjudged something and ended up going up the opposite curb, through someone’s flower garden and luckily almost hit a tree which slowed me down. After lifting up the motorcycle, Peter told me it was no problem, dust yourself off and keep practicing before we actually start on our ride. Good idea, I thought, and took off on the straightaway to practice acceleration, braking and so on. After about five minutes I returned to where we rented the bikes and I tried to slow down, hit the curb again because I was accelerating instead of breaking and ended up on the ground again, along with the scooter I might add. At that point, the two principals told me I might be more comfortable riding on the back of one of their bikes. I agreed with alacrity and off we went. Luckily, I was still in one piece and there was no blood.

The ride continued uneventfully as we negotiated potholes, rocks and mud, to say nothing of the animals, traffic going the wrong way against us and trying to keep our balance on narrow bridges. As I think back, sitting in the same waiting room at the airport as our Christmas visit, the day was as expected. We had drinks and meals with local Vietnamese, kids who spoke English practiced with us and everyone kept smiling. If you look at the pictures, you will see what the countryside looks like. Needless to say, it was just the opposite of Saigon as we traveled through rice paddy fields over narrow bridges and even narrower roadways leading to people’s houses.

The four day interview, dinners and so on went great. The students were absolutely phenomenal as they line up to get in to this school. They only take the very best.The Vietnamese kids and parents are absolutely driven and like elsewhere in Asia, they start their day with some kind of lessons before school, attend school till around until six or so and they spend five hours studying. I was shocked at how outgoing these students were and called me by name, laughed and fooled around with each other during classes and worked cooperatively with each other. I could not get the Myanmar kids to say boo. I am not sure whether it was the teachers, curriculum or just Vietnam kids.

I now have to make a decision about next year…the Science School run by Mahidol University, RV academies or the American School in Vietnam. I told each of them I would give them an answer in a few days. Daniel says I should do something else entirely different to give myself a fresh challenge , Josh says I should take the job that gets my heart pumping the most and I wonder if I should take the job that pays the most! ( just kidding). This past month has been absolutely great for my ego as I see how valuable schools consider me and how desperately they have pursued me. I am sure the actually working part will not be as satisfying.

Next week I go home, so I presume, unless some pretty exciting things happen in the next few days that this will be my last submission since I am writing this basically for my friends and family in Toronto. Over the next few months I will see you and fill in any more details you wish to hear about any of these stories. Since I will be seeing you, no use continuing this blog but I will continue when I return to Asia next fall.

I look forward to seeing all of you and thanks for sharing this journey with me!

The Killing Fields

I guess the most memorable part of this trip to Phnom Penh was the visit to the Choeung Ek Memorial or the so called killing fields. When you enter, there is a tall memorial stupa that houses nothing but skulls. There are probably about 10 stories and at each level, in encased glass, there is nothing but skulls. There are no words or plaques, just the harsh reality of the thousands of skulls staring at you with empty eyes. When you walk around the grounds, you can see the depressed earth where bodies were thrown, a marker where the trucks unloaded the victims and so on. Frankly, it was rather understated if thousand of skulls can be deemed understated. By that I mean there were no bookshops, fancy movies, pamphlets and so on. There was no Spielberg effect.

I then went to S21 Prison ( Toul Sleng) , a school turned in to a torture chamber and interrogation centre. Each classroom was a prison cell and as you can see from the pictures the prisoners(or at least victims) went through many tortures. It was an added abomination that they used a school for this terrible work.

I know Jews have done an amazing job with our Holocaust Centres to use them as an educational tool to teach anti-discrimination education. I am thinking specifically about the Simon Wiesenthal Centre in Los Angeles, the Holocaust Museum in Washington or even Toronto’s Holocaust Museum. The purpose is to do more than describe the blood and guts. I don’t know why Cambodia is not there yet, whether it is because the wounds are just one generation old and it will come in time or there is a different mentality at stake at this juncture. It is obviously not for me to judge and I do not know enough or in fact, anything about Cambodian politics do wonder about the political motivation of the party in power and why more is not done.

I can tell you that the scenes from the former school will stay with me for the rest of my life. I obviously have to read about the Khmer Rouge and this period in history to try to get a grasp of what happened. From what little I have read, the cities were absolutely cleaned out with only a few thousand left in Phnom Penh. Once the infrastructure of a city is gone, it takes at least a generation to get back on its feet.

It is still hard for me to understand the sense of the Holocaust where so much manpower was wasted on killing Jews and the same thing obviously happened here for no gain other than terrorism. Pol Pot was defeated within a few years but it has taken a generation to get back to where they were. There were no families spared as I spoke with many Cambodians about this time in history and everyone had someone loved one lost or more accurately, killed.

No problem on spending money on symbols though. The palace, as you can see, is magnificent. The throne room is awe inspiring with its large rectangular hall forcing your eyes to the throne where the king was crowned. No money was spared on the ornate buildings surrounding the throne room and the grounds are magnificent as you look at the pictures.

I was just watching the news about South Africans beating up and killing immigrants from Zimbabwe and elsewhere. When I was taking a boat tour on the Tongle Sap river the shacks on the river that I took pictures had Vietnamese people living in them. Even though this is an extremely poor country where the tuk tuk’s and motorcycle guys accost you by name as you walk out of the hotel they are so desparate for business, there is always a people or a country that are poorer. In this case, it is the Vietnamese.

By the way, I now know how females feel when they are constantly accosted on the street. As I walked out of my room going down for breakfast this morning, three chambermaids touched me and said handsome man. I presume they are looking for some extra income but it certainly makes me feel uncomfortable to be accosted in this way and I am sure women feel the same way all the time. I wonder if I would feel the same way if they were young and gorgeous?

I am at home now and thinking about packing for Vietnam, or should I read a book and relax?