Tokyo

O.K. I will come clean. The thing that impressed me the most about Japan was the heated toilets with the automatic spray, in three speeds, and your choice of cologne spray!! Why the cologne spray?

This probably epitomizes my thoughts on the city itself. Everything is perfect, as Tokyo fulfills all the stereotypes, at least from what I saw on my one day whirlwind tour. Daniel, I did make my way in from the airport with no sweat ( ok, so I got lucky and got a Japanese guy working for Philips who helped me buy the ticket, find my seat and told me what to see). Since I got off at Tokyo station, I decided to visit the Imperial Palace, just north of Marunouche. Ok, so that is where I ended up but at least I found it. I didn’t even realize Japan had an emperor even though he only has a ceremonial role and the gardens, which were open to the public, were regal as you can see from the pictures. Unfortunately, it was pouring rain on the one day I was in Tokyo but I refused to buy a umbrella for $10 when I could get one for $2 in Bangkok even though I had no hesitation in buying the $3,000 air ticket. I also had no raincoat since my bags were checked through to Canada (or at least LA). Needless to say, I will probably have a cold for the first time in a year, but at least I learned Japan had an emperor, lots of people in Tokyo love to run on the week-ends and the Japanese take a lot of pride in their horticultural and organizational skills. Even though the entrance was free, we still needed to take a plastic ticket and return it when we left. Go figure!

The Japanese are obsessed with cleanliness. The taxi drivers, garage attendants, foremen on construction sites, wore white gloves and were meticulous with their vehicles. I couldn’t believe watching two different taxi drivers wiping down their steering wheels and dashboards. You would never see that in Asia, that is for sure, or at least in the part of Asia I lived in. I had lunch in the Ginza in a diner with about 10 chairs and the woman took pity on me and gave me a spoon. What shocked me was before she handed me the spoon she washed it in hot water…the water was steaming. I haven’t seen that in two years. In Bangkok, there is a red metallic box on the table in ‘diners’ if there was such a thing in Bangkok and you basically use the fork and spoon that have probably never been washed. Even in bakeries they were aghast when I just picked up a loaf of bread with my hands and went to pay for it. When I looked around I saw everyone else had a tray and was carefully picking up their baked goods with tongs. I also handed her the money directly which shocked her. Then I saw other people who put the money on a tray as if the money is never touched by human hands. God forbid dirty hands might touch the bread.

The business district around the palace and the Ginza were very quiet. I was very tired after my overnight flight so I did consider just going back to the airport but decided to see more and broke down and bought an umbrella. The people of Tokyo should thank me because it stopped raining instantly as soon as I passed the woman my money. By the way, when people walk into malls or stores, there is a machine outside that automatically encases the umbrella in plastic. What a waste of plastic I thought, but then I do not even pick up my clothes from the floor or notice it is there!

Having decided to see more of Tokyo with my new unnecessary umbrella, I took a taxi to Rappongi because I love the sound of the name and it appeared in a book I read in Koh Chang. Thankfully it was busy and fun. There was a beautiful art gallery, coffee houses, museums, fancy grocery stores with one orange for about $3.00 and so on. When I figured it was time to go, I saw a distinguished looking westerner having a coffee and reading a book at Starbucks. I asked him where I could find a train to take me back to the airport. He told me he never took a train to the airport, but offered me an alternative and walked me over to the Hyatt hotel where he put me on the hotel bus. When I asked him why he never took the train to the airport, he told me he was always driven and he put his guests on the bus. When I asked him what he did, he told me he was the ambassador from Switzerland!

My Last Class

Last night, just as I was in the business district around Sathorn getting a print out of my air ticket, Yui called and asked me if I could fill in for a language teacher who was sick. The class started in forty-five minutes so thank God for MRT, the subway system. It would have taken me at least two hours to make it on time by car but the subway system is fantastic and I made it just in time for the class. ( with seconds to spare I might add)

In the past, it seems, I always got my ‘next’ job in June, so I never really had the opportunity that Sylvia did in knowing that the class she just taught the last day in June was the last class she could ever call her own. As I told the students last night, they had the privilege or rather I had the privilege of knowing that this was going to be the last class I would ever teach. Unfortunately, they all went to the principal of the school and told him how much they like me and he offered me a job immediately. I gave him my card and told him to write me if he was serious. I also just got an e mail from my “boss” asking me to meet him in Ho Chi Minh City tomorrow but I told him I will either be in Narita or Tokyo. ( Daniel thinks I should go into Tokyo in my eleven hour layover). I am sort of timid about it and think I should probably just take the local bus into Narita ( if there is such a thing) and look at the temples, have lunch, go into a store or two and back to the airport. I am afraid that if I go to Tokyo it will probably be “mi me ben ha”…no sweat but getting back might be sweat!!! Would I ever find the train station again in time to get back?

On another note, Yui told me that in languages, the first thing people acquire is listening and understanding, then speaking, then reading and finally writing. For some reason this never sunk in with me until this last trip to Issan. Instead of trying to figure out intellectually what people were saying to me, I just listened and reacted. I let the sounds wash over me and did not try to decipher what every word or sound meant. I just tried to respond appropriately. For example, people in stores always say ‘dai mai’ which I know means how can I help you but literally means correct? I keep trying to figure out why they are using the words they are using instead of just accepting them, and moving on with my response. It will be kind of interesting when I get back to Canada tomorrow to only hear English or some version of it anyway!

The rice cycle!

It started the way it ended. Remember my first trip to Ayuttaya early last fall when I met that wonderful family. Now fast forward to the last few days when I met another wonderful family in Issan in a town called Roiet ( which literally means eleven gates.) As I was sitting in the park this morning, as usually happens, no always happens, a toothless man starting talking with me, or was I talking to him and before you knew it I was at his house having lunch with his family with me the centre of interest.

As you go down any dirt road in these small towns, I suspect what I discovered is quite typical. Like the Kennedy compound in Hyannis port, the nongchai and piesou etc ( younger brother, older sister etc) live in adjoining houses but I guess this is where the comparison to the Kennedy family ends.

Let me try to describe a typical Thai house in this area, the poorest area in all of Thailand. As you enter the house, and I use enter loosely since there is no door, there are a few low platforms where people are eating, sitting cross-legged or sitting on another platform idly chatting. It seems that all of the extended family is at one house or the other all the time. I was wondering about how they could all be so idle until I started to think about. They plant the rice at Songkran (about a month ago) and then they wait four or five months until they harvest? What do they do in the meantime? Like an anaesthesiologist there are long periods of boredom followed by frantic moments of panic. I suspect with the rice farmers it is not so much panic as hard work getting the rice in before it spoils.

Anyway, back to the house. I guess the two most important parts are at the back where there is the outhouse and elevated seed storage area, always kept under lock and key except when special guests arrive! I did climb up and look in the storage area, but I did not have the heart (or thank God) the need to look at the outhouse. Also near the back could be what is loosely called the kitchen where everything is done in the outdoors and I suspect, for the lady of the house ,are constantly busy preparing the meals .There did not seem to be electricity of any kind or natural gas, except mine perhaps.

The stories that I heard are, unfortunately all too typical. Q, the little boy you see in the pictures lost his parents ( the children of the host) in a motorcycle accident, 2 other children live in Bangkok and the youngest daughter ( who showed me around the farm) lives with the elderly parents to care for them. All of the children ( Daniel and Josh, are you reading this?) support their parents with regular monthly cash deposits.

Each village ( it seems of about 100 houses of extended family) has it’s own wat and crematorium as you see in the picture. Again, as I have asked myself about a million times these past two years, who has got it right? The poor people of Issan who spend the day, cooking, eating, chatting, gossiping, I presume ( about me) or the west where we get up and go and spend our days becoming as alienated as possible from our extended families as we focus on our own families! When I have ever, to speak personally, ever just sat around chatting without an formal invitation of some sort to someone’s house?

On a reflective note, I am also getting to know a little history and culture. You will notice from the pictures that Phimai, also in Issan, looks very much like Angkor Wat even though it predates Angkor by a hundred years. I am beginning to recognize architectural styles and religious iconography. I am also getting to learn a little bit about the history of the region by what I see.

Tomorrow, I am going to try to move my flight date home. One or two more things to do, but they are rather mundane like picking up pants and getting my laundry done, so this will probably be my penultimate blog entry. I do have an eleven hour layover in Japan where I hope to go into the town of Narita ,so as I sit on the plane to LA, I should have some tale or two to tell!

See you all in a few days.

Bay of Pigs-April 1961

Bay of Pigs- April 1961

On the ferry to Koh Larn, I began talking to a guy who told me he was one of 56 soldiers to survive the Bay of Pigs invasion by swimming from Cuba to the United States where the coast guard picked him out of the water near Florida. He told me he was a navy seal who trained to swim long distance and in this case it saved his life. He told me the battalion sat on the runway in Florida for days allowing Kennedy time, he said, to give the exact location to the Cubans on where they were going to land. He said they had no firepower and were supposed to meet up with another battalion bringing the weapons, which, he said, never happened. It was a total slaughter, he said, and needless to say, Kennedy was not his favourite president. From what I know, this story does line up with the reality of the history I have studied.

As I was sitting on the beach, I started talking to a German actress who was doing NGO work in the south of India. She just came to Thailand for the week-end to escape the oppressive poverty she said. As she does these NGO stints, she told me, they all ultimately add to her ability to think introspectively and make her a better actor.

What I am doing in Thailand, you might ask, when I said I was going to the Philippines? The story here is that I went to the Bangkok Post Travel Fair ( largest English language daily in Thailand) thinking I would get some hotels and flights to the Philippines. Instead, I got sucked into going first to Jomtien Beach, where I am now and next to Issan. Why Jomtien Beach? Because the hotel booth said I was getting a penthouse where the shower looked out over the ocean. It was $50 instead of $400 or something like that so I jumped on it. Little did I know that what they meant was that the bathroom simply was glassed in so you could see out and everyone else could see in, but that is not the story. After spending about 15 minutes figuring out how the elevator worked to get to the top floor ( you needed to insert your key into the elevator panel), when I got to my room, I could not open the door. Frustratingly, I went back downstairs and went through the whole process again only to find out the door still would not open. When this happened three times, I asked for my money back. (This always get their attention!) Instead of giving me my money back, they upgraded me to a suite (which, of course, I knew they would). However, the story does not end there. I had a few minor complaints about the suite, so I got a complimentary dinner. At breakfast this morning, the manager personally came up to me and told me he had a sleepless night worrying about the service I was getting.

Now I know why I was woken up at 8 am with 3 people in suits bringing me some fruits and so on compliments of the manager. Why I wondered were they going to such lengths? One of the suits told me he also worked at the Bangkok Post for ten years and asked me if I knew so and so. Because I got my hotel voucher at the Bangkok Post Travel Fair, for some reason they assumed I worked at the Bangkok Post. Having bad publicity is about the last thing a luxury hotel needs at this time in history.

When I got home from the beach today, the suite was covered in real flowers. Frankly, I did not even notice until I read a note explaining they were with the hotel’s compliments. This morning, the general manager told me the hotel car would drive me to the port to get the ferry. Little did I know he would be personally driving it!

Two massages and a business deal!

Before I tell you about the business deal, let me tell you about the fourth sister! Last week in Siam Riep, a fourth sister and assorted nieces and nephews joined us for supper, apparently feeling left out from the night before. The fourth sister was 38 years old, born in 1971. If you know anything about Cambodian history, this was simply the worst time to be born. When I handed her the menu and asked her to pick a dish, she demurely looked down and admitted she could not read, even though she could speak Thai and Japanese, as an aside. She was born when the Khymer Rouge were in power and families were separated, ‘dissendents” sent to S9 and others sent to work at farms outside of cities. Children were separated from parents and often from each other. They worked in the fields all day and were not given any education. She simply never had the opportunity to study.

Now to the business deal. I won’t tell you which country I am in at the moment for reasons which will become obvious, but I am sure this happens in all Asian countries. We made our pitch to representatives from the Ministry of Education and they each took turns reading their prepared comments to our presentation. In fact, they were very insightful and obviously gave a lot of thought to our presentations of a month ago and our written documentation. I saw all of our work for the past number of months simply going up in smoke since they seemed to be so critical. At the end of about two hours of solid critique on their part and no response from us, their chairmen, with a huge mile on his face, told us they were looking forward to working with us. I could believe it. There was simply a cognitive dissonance on my part since I had just heard hours of criticism unanswered. As the meeting adjourned, our country representative got up, shook each bureaucrats hands and offered them an envelope. When I asked my people about it, they told me it was just ‘sop’- standard operating procedure. I am so lucky to be born in Canada!

When I am working in a foreign country, I usually get up at 6, have some kind of meeting at 7 and generally get back to the hotel at around midnight. Asians never seem to stop working….sort of. I am beginning to understand that they waste a lot of time sitting idly, taking massages ( which seem to be part of business) and so on. In fact, they probably do what we describe as ‘work’ in the west for a few hours a day but it takes them 12 hours to do it because of all of the interruptions like eating, talking on the phone, massages and so on. I do realize that they consider this part of work. Maybe we are just too uptight in the west???

My work colleagues took me for a massage in the middle of the day. I thought we were on our way to a meeting and was quite surprised to end up at a massage place instead of the school. It was quite different than Bangkok. In Bangkok, when you go for a massage it is like having a workout but you do not have to do anything. The masseuse does it all as you lay on the table while your limbs are stretched in every imaginable way. Not so in this country.

After paying our 6 dollars at the door, we went upstairs to a public room with about 7 reclining chairs. There were about three guys already there there wearing nothing but the strangest colourful underwear you ever saw and nothing else. I wondered why because in Bangkok, when you go for a foot massage you do sit in one of these chairs but you only get a foot and leg massage so why were they without shirts? I found out.

It was a full massage, but we had to make all kinds of gyrations to make it work. They started on our feet as usual, but then put the chair all the way down for a back massage, then we had to lie the other way for a head massage and s on. Not quite my ideas of relaxation although my colleague fell asleep and snored so loudly they had to shut the door so we did not disturb the next room.

Last night, our Asian partner took me out for supper and, as I guess is customary, took me out for a massage afterwards. This was higher class building with a proper table and private room but instead of cololurful silk underwear we had to wear an adult diaper. A little humiliating to say the least.

Josh, when I get home, you will have to straighten out my body. These massage ladies twist necks ( as I have seen you doing), stick their elbows in groins etc but they did not study chiropractic for four years! Today I can hardly walk and it is a good thing I am taking a plane home. It feels like the same injury I had in hockey a few years ago, if you remember that one.

Next week, I plan to take a little vacation somewhere, either to northern Thailand or Phillipines.. I will let you know and promise pictures.

The tale of the stones

Mysterious, romantic, awesome, compelling are just some of the words I would use to describe the temples in and around Siem Reap. Siem Reap, by the way, means hurray, we beat those damn Thais!

After two days of constant site seeing of every temple and building from sunrise to sunset, I think I have a pretty good idea of the majesty of what I saw and experienced. The driver kept asking me to wake up earlier and stay with him later but I was quite content with what I saw. The towers of Angkor Wat reflected in the basin just in front of the of the western entrance and the apsaras on the wall are, as the master card commercial says, priceless. And who could forget the cluster of face-towers in the corner of the Bayon’s upper terrace…just look at the pictures. As two guys sitting there all day told me, all these people tend to spoil it. Not for me, I’m afraid. Nothing could spoil that very special moment. And who forget the surprise and awe of walking up the stairs of Srah Srang and suddenly seeing the lake in front of you?

Let’s face it, these temples have it all, from the architecture of Angkor Wat itself to Banteay Samre where you almost forget you were in the twenty-first century. The chapels or libraries, as they were called in all of the temples were solitary, quiet and peaceful. If you want to see five hundred year old trees growing out of the ruins look at my pictures of Ta Prohm or Preah Khan. If you want to see an island temple surrounded by water (in the rainy season anyway) look at East or West Mebon pictures.

If you have a religious bent and want to study the iconography from the scenes from Hindu and Buddhist mythology all you have to do is enter any temple and depending on who the king was at the time, you either have the Hindu mythology( if we can use that word) or Buddhist. I tried to take lots of pictures of the lintels and carvings to demonstrate this.

Now the hard question. At what cost were these temples built? Needless to say, it took slaves as well as free men perhaps a lifetime to construct one edifice. Yes, the work was probably meaningful, for the free men anyway, and they could create in all their glory. As for the slaves, not so great, I can’t imagine. I tried pushing some of the fallen stones to see if they would budge, and of course it was impossible. These creations must have been spectacular when they were covered covered in stucco and painted red and white with the diamonds studded throughout.( on the other hand, perhaps they are nicer now in that they look so majestic) .The sandstone left in its pristine form must have been spiritually uplifting and a constant reminder of man’s greatness. The temples were obviously places for meditation, special ceremonies, universities in at least one, an intricate water system in most and a centre of community if not business.

I think, when I see and experience these truly remarkable buildings wonder about what else could have been provided for the common person if the money and effort were put elsewhere such as building of roads or more institutions of learning, or better ways of creating rice planting or how about houses for the farmers??? Of course, I wonder the same things about our arms race in the twentieth century or our monuments to stupidity that only you can judge for yourself.

In this particular case, the king of the day, in making goodness for himself, had these edifices built to gain merit in the afterlife without much thought, I would not think, for the common man. Of course, without these stone temples literally carved out of the jungle where would Hollywood go to make movies like Raiders…What I saw in the last two days absolutely defy imagination…mine or Hollywood’s!

The Three Sisters

Let me try to describe what life is like from a woman’s point of view in a traditional society like Cambodia. Last night, I invited out three sisters who worked in the market just outside of Angkor Wat. They were 29, 27 and 22. They bought one of the stalls just outside of the temple and were selling T shirts, drinks, and whatever else they could get their hands on to sell. Whenever tourists walked by they ran out and attacked like vultures with their hands full of books and scarves. I sat and watched them for quite a while as I drank my coke just inside their stall but out of the way. We got a chance to talk quite a bit because ,frankly, the tourists are way down this year due to the world economy and a variety of other factors and they had time on their hands. In fact, we became quite good friends ( I think) and I took them out for supper. (The bill, Sylvia, for four of us was $8.00)

As we talked, I discovered that there were 10 of them living in one house, the house of the elder sister. In fact, there were mattresses on the floor and often they slept in the same bed. They had two other sisters, a brother and an assortment of nieces. Like my friends in Myanmar who usually take me out on Sundays, we talked about dating, marriage as well as their hopes and dreams. Of course, they all want to get married, but it is not possible, they said, to meet a man because they are too busy working every day from sunrise to sunset (literally because tourists often come to take pictures at both of these times). Where, they said, could we possibly meet a man and since arranged marriages were no longer happening in their family they seemed destined for maidenhood.

If one of the fellow stall owners liked them, they told me, they would never go out on what we call a ‘date’ from the western perspective. That would be unheard of. It would simply not be acceptable, in this small town, as a single woman ,to be seen with a man alone, even in a restaurant. The only thing that made it acceptable last night was that there were three of them and only one of me. They would never be alone with a man until they got married. When I asked them about the subject of kissing, and I mean literally kissing, no hanky panky, they said that would never happen and could never happen. That is something that happens after marriage they told me. Interestingly enough, when I asked them what would happen if things were not satisfactory in the marriage, they said divorce was acceptable in traditional society and is not frowned upon, as kissing would be before marriage.

Women also have to dress very modestly, even to go swimming. I have a beautiful swimming pool at my hotel (sort of) but when it is in the high 30’s any swimming pool is beautiful. When I invited them in swimming after dinner they surprisingly agreed but jumped in with their clothes on. I also saw this the night before when there was some sort of teenage party at the hotel for a birthday or something. The boys were wearing the skimpiest swimming trunks imaginable and the women were fully dressed in all their modesty.

When I discussed this with them, the eldest sister admitted it was quite tough being a woman. She constantly had to worry about what others thought whereas her brother could do whatever he wanted with whomever he wanted. Apparently he drank, played cards and did it all. At the same time, she was paying for his university with the money she made at the stall and like all Asians, giving her parents most of the money to survive as a family. Old age security, in traditional societies ,is having children.

When I asked the older one what her hopes and dreams were, she said buying five hectares of farmland and inviting destitute people to come and work the farm, sell the produce in town and become self-sufficient. She said she had given it a lot of thought and that is exactly what she wanted to do. The elderly on the farm, who could no longer work would be supported by the healthiest and youngest.

Too bad she is not a man…then maybe this dream could become a reality. Now she is just too busy working the stall seven days a week, going home and cooking supper for 10 people, doing the laundry, buying the goods for sale and taking care of her parents…and she is not even the oldest!

Arriving in Siem Reap

Arriving in Siem Reap after a short flight from Bangkok, I was not amused when the motorcycle guy driving me to my hotel kept turning around to show me pictures of his disabled father or grandfather and insisting I hire him as a guide for the next three days because he was so hard done by. Actually, his English was quite good and I would have hired him if he had not been so oppressively’ in my face’ about how hard it was to live in Cambodia. I kept having similar exeriences. Outside of Angkor Wat, I offered a little girl some “coloured" currency because I just finished a coke and she wanted me to buy another one. She refused my charity because she said it was too little. As we drove away, she screamed how mad at me she was! Since when are these little urchins too good to take 25 cents? It was not the fact that I offered charity…it was the fact that I offered too little.

At every tourist stop there had to be dozens of sellers of drinks, postcards (who buys postcards today?), silk ware and T shirts outside of every single temple, and believe me there are lots of temples! Every merchant feels we owe them something because we have a white face. They are the ones with a sense of entitlement, not the old white guys as is the case in North America. They absolutely feel that as a right we owe them money because we are from the west and they have had a terrible quarter century

What about the Vietnamese who lives have been irrevocably change because of the Chinese French and American war? Do they stand at every street corner with their hands out and pick out rich Americans who did so much to destroy their lives? I don’t think so. In fact, they are working so hard it will not surprise me if it is the Americans with their hands out in a generation or two.

And what about the victims of the Holocaust? I cannot recall a single Jewish person who felt the world owed them a living because of what happened between 1942 and 1945. Some, if not all Holocaust survivors were a little to a lot crazy, but just got on with their lives and tried to make the best of it. Why should I give every Cambodian money because their lives were destroyed (by their own people). Admittedly,I do feel sorry for them as I see the maimed with lost legs and arms, deafness, and so on, but I should not feel like I owe them anything. The moral imperative is my own, not theirs!

Having said all that, I just walked into my hotel and a man with his little boy were playing just outside the front portico. When he started talking to me, I said to myself, here we go again and almost ignored him. When he asked where I was from I felt compelled to answer the question and then he replied with and “where are you from?” “Here”, he said,” and thank you so much for visiting my country” he said with heartfelt emotion.

Now, for the stones. They are absolutely either a tribute to man’s highest aspirations or a sign of our colossal egotism and waste. As you can see from the pictures, the temples are magnificent in so many ways, but how many people hours did it take to make these and at what cost? If you look at the iconography on the walls, they are warriors fighting each other with swords and bows and arrows. There are bas reliefs of soldiers offering the heads of the defeated to their king. There are the half naked Aspira dancing ladies, the face of Jayavarman V11 on all entrances showing his making of merit to his Gods ( at the expense) perhaps of thousands of lost lives. His workers literally spent their lives in making these monuments to his greatness.

Again, at least they were involved in productive work, something I am not so sure about when I am harassed at every turn by little girls selling me postcards.

Answer to Ron

Ron asked me how I liked this year compared to last which got me thinking. I guess the most obvious thing is that it is Sunday afternoon and I am not running around some tourist site snapping pictures. In fact, I doubt if I have posted any pictures in ages. When I see things that look like they are noteworthy of a picture, I tend to think I already have one somewhere. I guess, the real reason is I don’t even bother to take my camera with me! When I asked teachers last year what they were doing for the week-end and they kind of shrugged their shoulders as if to say, hanging around the apartment , I was flabbergasted. You mean you live in this interesting city and country and you shrug your shoulders as if there is nothing to do? Now, I guess I am them. I like nothing more than reading the paper or sitting down with a good book than run around the tourist sites, most of which I have probably seen, and more than once. As an aside, it is oppressively hot here and I know I have to go to Myanmar in a week which will be well above forty. You can be sure I am not looking forward to it. Playing golf in the heat is one thing, wearing a tie and sitting in some boring classroom is another.

Having said that, part of this journey is, of course, the people I meet and not the sites I have seen. For example, yesterday, I met a black civil rights lawyer from the United States who was taking a time out in her life and trying to get a job in Asia where she could make a difference, as she said. I met her last November as we were both apartment shopping and then met her again yesterday in a restaurant which provided us an opportunity to talk. There are so many fascinating people I have met who just want to make the world a better place and do not have the typical American attitude that their way is the better way. I offered her a job as our in house counsel in Singapore so it will be interesting if she takes up the offer.Being black in Asia, as she is, is not a help. There is such a colonial mentality throughout Asia that it certainly gives someone like me the upper hand, but we all know how crazy that is.

Which leads me to talk about my job. Last year, as you know, I was the principal of a fairly large international school so my job was easy. I was presented with myriad problems every day and all I had to do was help people solve them. In between, I tried to look ahead and anticipate challenges we were going to have and try to make suggestions to make our school better. The job came to me.

This year my job is somewhat different. I am called the Dean of the Academies and what I do is travel from country to country and school to school to help wherever and however I am needed. I have spoken to parents groups, talked individually with unhappy parents , worked inside classrooms, taught demonstration lessons, written one on-line course with Vicky and some by myself and helped with negotiations when they need an old white guy with grey hair to sit in the same room or play golf with them.

Basically, the job is what I make of it, which, on the one hand, is good, because I can do whatever turns my crank, but bad in that I have to be accountable to myself. I feel guilty if I take a day off. Right now, I am sitting in Bangkok on a beautiful Sunday afternoon as I said, not swimming, not playing golf, not site seeing, but taking a break from arranging interviews for a new school we are opening up in Hanoi ( two in fact). Unlike the principal job where problems just came to me and I had to react, here I have to act and it is the difference between night and day.

The job did give me the opportunity of meeting many wonderful people, I guess a basic theme of this answer to Ron. We have a bunch of Philippinos working at the school and they have to be the most wonderful people on earth. They love music and will at the drop of a hat burst into song. They start every class with a song and there are usually a few more somewhere in between. For some crazy reason, they think I know something and tend to treat me like an educational guru. I guess the colour of my hair, my age and my educational jargon help.

So the theme is, I have even more people this year which is great, I have travelled on the company’s dime to Yangon, Mandalay, Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh, and Singapore and I feel good about myself. What will it be like, I wonder, when I am no longer working? How will I make myself feel good?

The interview

I have just spent the last week supposedly interviewing over 70 ESL teacher candidates for our two new schools in Hanoi.I say 'supposedly' because we advertised on a Thailand Internet site and initially 30 people were invited to my initial meeting and 10 showed up, despite the fact that they all confirmed they were coming. I set up about 7 interviews every day and typically about 3 people show up. My directions cannot be that bad (or could they?)

Daniel is right when he says any North Americans living in Asia and looking for work must be whacked, including myself, I guess.Two men in their forties came in, telling me, in their own words, their sob stories. One has a dying wife and is desperate to make money and the other has a three thousand pound visa debt. Because I am dealing with visas all the time, I could not believe that any visa could possibly cost 3000 pounds. When he saw the incredulity on my face, he explained it was a VISA credit card bill!

Another man who I just spoke to with a PhD in educational leadership told me that another interviewer berated him for dominating the conversation. This was after 25 minutes of him talking non-stop about his present job, Thai politics, students in general and so on and this was before I asked him one question. It was incredible. I wanted to tell him the other interviewer was absolutely right but I could not get in a word edge wise. Luckily the next appointment came and I pushed him out the door. What a nightmare.

I guess my test of whether or not I want to hire someone is their ‘likeability factor.” Do I enjoy spending time with them listening to their stories and so on and am I disappointed when the hour is over? Perhaps that is not fair, but I presume that is how most interviewers do it. You will not necessarily get the best people for the job this way, I suppose, but at least I will have a dinner companion when I visit Hanoi.

For example, there were two black men who I absolutely loved. One was a former Hollywood producer who was articulate, erudite and fascinating. His latest venture was to run the Bangkok Film Festival and another brilliant black guy who was phenomenal with computers. I am sure they could not only talk education but also deliver, as opposed to the PhD guy who actually sounded quite articulate (although quite boring) and I am confident a very poor teacher.

There are also the Asians and Africans whose working conditions in their own countries are so poor they have to move to Thailand where they barely make a living wage but I guess it is better than where they come from. These are really desperate people who keep writing and phoning begging me for a job the day after the interview. I told one guy that if he even responds to my e mail asking me if he has the job he would be automatically disqualified. I have to keep moving forward looking for the ideal candidate.(s)

Anyway, someone is knocking on the door. Got to go. Hope this interview is better!

The ESL Class

Last night I felt like I was in the middle of Maeve Benchley’s novel ‘Evening Class’. Yui, my former Thai teacher, invited me to work with her class and then have dinner with them afterwards.

There was the engineer, who sold huge boilers for factories. When I said to him he must sell one a month he replied; no… one every six months and had to supplement his income selling his tutoring skills in math. There was the really good looking sales executive who had to learn English to advance in his company, a guy who wanted to break away from his parents’ business selling used parts for motorcycles but felt he needed English to do this. In fact, when I went home with him on the BTS, he told me he lived in a house with his parents, grandparents, aunts ,uncles and cousins and could absolutely not imagine ever moving out. When he gets married, he said, the wife will move in with him.

What was wonderful about this class, other than all of the stories I could flesh out, is that it brought together people from all walks of life who were learning English for different reasons. There was the chambermaid who wanted to advance in her hotel, learning English at the same time asthe marketing executive. I imagine their incomes were similarly disproportionate to their job titles but when we went to the restaurant they all shared metaphorically as well as practically, both the food and their stories. In fact, it is a long week-end in Thailand (as well as all over Asia because of the May 1 labour day holiday ) and they were all talking about taking a trip together to the beach.

Two or three have cars and two or three probably can’t afford the price of a BTS ride. One pretty women could not raise her eyes to talk with anyone even though her English was pretty good, I imagine because she somehow must have felt inferior, but she was the exception. It was so great watching and listening to them practice their English and taking such delight in serving me the food and watching the smoke come out of my ears from eating all that spice.

Bangkok is so huge that I will never absolutely know all of it. I am continually astounded by all the areas just off the main streets that I never knew existed. We went to a restaurant called ‘To Sit’ which had a great singer, an outdoor area to eat (which I love since I hate air conditioning) and beautiful trees for shade, although we did not need the shade at night. It was funny when an apple fell on Yui’s head ( at least for the rest of us). Because I walk everyone I would not necessarily ever find these places until these guys drove me.

I am now doing an administrative job; in fact in a few minutes I have about 5 interviews lined up for a new school we are opening in Hanoi but there is nothing like teaching. I know I would be happy spending the rest of my life teaching an ‘evening class’ and learning their stories.

Singapore Nightlife

Last night we went to the Esplanade, a mix of the Sydney Opera House, Harbourfront and Yorkville all in one. 'Cats' was playing in the Opera House section, upstairs two soloists were playing Chinese instruments in an intimate surrounding with about fifty people listening, reading the paper and looking at the display of lamps and otherwise relaxing. In another part of the building there was a smaller theatre like the Bluma Appel Centre which had a reed group playing ( I think bamboo poles or something like that). For the Yorkville part they had tons of restaurants and bars, but unlike Yorkville, it was right on the Singapore River overlooking the Lion, the symbol of Singapore and the lights of the downtown core. There were about twenty photographers with tripods set up taking pictures which I thought was quite an amazing coincidence until I realized they were all int he same photography class.

The thing that amazed me really was how such a small country could sustain such a powerful cultural venue. I am sure that the Esplanade was not the only location for the arts. How is it that this country puts so much emphasis on the arts? I don't really know the answer, but I do know that the majority of the population is Chinese if that has anything to do with it.

After we had dinner at a delicious Japanese restaurant, the teachers took me to Clark Quay, one of the spots the young people go to party. It was the spot that Sam Raffles originally landed at as he came up the river. There was an incredible array of entertainment from a woman doing belly dancing to the loud bars and so on with a location right on the river. In fact, since Singapore is an island ( sort of) everything is on the water. I had a Singapore Sling...finally and it was nothing to write home about. Not sweet enough for my taste.

What I saw is that we could be doing a much better job with our Harbourfront in terms of variety and aesthetics. I also like the fact that there is a taxi stand at every tourist area and people line up in an orderly fashion to wait, and yes, the trains do run on time!

As I drove home I got an incredible cabby who had all of the music from Peter Paul and Mary, Harry Belafonte and so on. He knew the history, background and everything else, it seemed, about each group. I took his number and promised him that the next time I am in Singapore I will let him drive me to Malaysia so I can spend the evening ( 45 minutes really) listening to the music. ( I suppose I could buy a CD). It might be cheaper.

T.V. Star

Last night I was showing a colleague around the Lumpini night market when a reporter and cameraman from the Thailand Tourist Board stopped and asked me to do a little two minute interview/sound bite about what I thought of Thailand since the violence began last week. Since I am used to sound bites, I had no problem speaking in front of the camera. Afterwards, he said I was really professional (which is beside the point actually of why I am telling this story). The point is what I said. Although Thailand is virtually in a state of anarchy and has been for the past number of years, from the farang perspective, life goes on. I live on Sukhumvit, which is like Yonge Street, and as you walk up and down you see people going about their normal working lives. Having said that, at the night market last night there were many shops closed, so the economy is the same everywhere around the world but I assume they were closed because of the economy, not violence or the threat of it.

When I think about what I see in south east Asia, it is surprising or lucky that we are doing so well in the west. Thailand is in a classic state of anarchy, Myanmar has a fascist dictatorship, Singapore is a one party state as Mike is quick to point out, Vietnam is a Communist country where there is no free speech and I have not even begun to describe Laos, Cambodia, or Bangladesh. Maybe what we see here is more akin to the human condition and what we have in North America is some aberration, wrought by a confluence of factors like natural resources, free education and just plain luck. Maybe Hobbes had it right when he said the nature of man is nasty, brutish and short. In this area of the world people are packed into a can like a bunch of sardines and are virtually fighting for some little piece of space. Perhaps we would move to the right if there were a 100 million of us, even though that would probably still seem empty in Canada compared to what I see over here.

I can’t remember when I wrote last or what I said, but I am definitely having fun. Last week I was in Hanoi. My company has formed a consortium and we are opening a few large schools. I had to explain to a board of consultants what international education really is and I gave an absolutely brilliant speech, (I am a legend in my own mind.) It is so easy to give speeches in a foreign country because when the translator is talking, you can gage body reaction, think about what you want to say next and keep your thoughts in order. In addition, as I discussed with my translator afterwards, he really softened a lot of what I had to say so it would be politically acceptable. For example, I said the absolutely first thing I would change would be to rip out all of the podiums where teachers stand and talk to make the statement that the nature of teaching and learning had to change in Vietnam from teacher-centred to student centred. He said something like we might consider removing the podiums in due course or words to that effect. I told them that the afternoon nap would also have to go. God knows how he translated that one.

I am now in Singapore, where there is a one hour time difference and guess what? My cell phone automatically changed times. Wow,:yet when I go back to Bangkok I will have to change the time manually. Another amazing thing. I went down to Singapore on an emptyish plane and had a chance to lay down and sleep after takeoff. Two and a half hours later I heard the pilot say we are about to land. I must be getting as good as Alana in travelling on planes!

How the Americans lost the Vietnam War

I was really privileged to be invited to supper the other night by a high ranking government official. Apparently, when you are invited to a home it is really something special and implies a very distinctive relationship. The meal, like the one I had in the restaurant a few weeks back, consisted of tons of food spread all over the table and you simply picked what you wanted to eat and put it in your one bowl. As the host explained, this is very democratic and you are not “served” as in the west where there is no choice of food.

Having said that, since I was the only ‘foreigner’, I was ‘given’ food which I had to eat because everyone was looking at me. I also committed two faux pas at the end of the meal. There was a huge rice bowl which I ate from directly instead of putting it in my bowl, which is bad enough and secondly, I remember my boss telling me at a Chinese wedding we attended together that you were supposed to decline the rice served at the end of the meal because it was a sign that you were hungry and the food was not adequate. No wonder I was the only one eating the rice!

I asked my host, who was a bit older than me, how he figured the Vietnamese were able to defeat the Chinese, then the French and then the Americans so successfully. He explained that they were simply smarter. For example, talking about food, he said the Americans ate tons of canned goods and then threw the cans outside their quarters. The Vietnamese then put frogs in all of the cans, which of course, eventually rattled. When one frog moved and caused a noise, the Americans came out and started shooting causing all of the frogs to start jumping around creating a tremendous racket and assured the Vietnamese that the Americans would shoot all of their ammunition at the phantom soldiers. Once their firepower was deleted, it made it al lot easier to capture them. He told a lot of stories like this which were quite humorous thirty-five years later, although not to Americans I don’t suppose.

Last night, after dinner, about eight of us went to a karaoke place. If you have never been, you go into a very nicely furnished room where there are couches, microphones and large TV with video and words to the music. Surprising, we ordered a bottle of whiskey and started drinking. Our age range probably varied from 35 to 65 and I quickly realized that the object of the exercise was to make everyone drunk, especially this one poor guy that was going to take up another post in a different country.

Within two hours, one guy fell asleep after vomiting, the ‘victim’ could hardly walk and everyone was laughing uproariously. As I have discussed with Joshua and Daniel so often I just don’t see where the enjoyment comes in???? I am sure you feel like hell the next day, it cost a ton of money, and vomiting does not seem like such a wonderful exercise.

I did not like the way they seemed to be picking on this one guy to drink to oblivion. For some reason, they seemed to respect the fact that I did not want to become engaged and eventually did not try to keep filling up my glass. There are a lot of things I can understand in this world even though I do not indulge or agree with them, but this is not one of them, no matter how much Joshua tries to explain it to me.

I

Pesach in Bangkok

I just got in from my first Seder in Bangkok. If you look up Chabad on the Internet, you will see I had two choices. One a more traditional seder, I thought, around the corner from where I live, and two, a seder in the tourist area where all the Israeli backpackers go. I chose the former because it was around the corner and boy, was I surprised. It was not quite as traditional as I originally expected as the rabbi told jokes, gave a running commentary of the Pesach story and had people read. He seemed to know everyone. Joshua, I am surprised he did not remember me from the time we were in the synagogue.

When I walked into the hotel, it was, at first blush, exactly what I expected, with all of the 'alta kuckers 'sitting around in their wheel chairs and wigs. In fact, it could easily have been Baycrest. The rabbi came over and greeted everyone by name and he was so genuinely warm it was a pleasure. I think in all there was about 150 people and my table was probably a microcosim of who was there.

We had the obligatory Israeli family with the two wild kids climbing over each other for the food and matza. Two tourists ( Cohen) from the United States who just flew in this morning and had to tell us about all of the court cases he had won for the chabad over the past millennium. Beside me was a doctor of a pharmaceutical company who told me he achieved his legacy while he was still alive by creating a herbal remedy for hormonal imbalance that cured everything from cancer to wrinkles and the guy on my other side with the Thai girlfriend was an American businessman who retired in Bangkok and drives everywhere with his motorcycle and girlfriend in tow, I suppose.

When I asked the research doctor why he settled in Bangkok ,of all of the cities in the world he could have gone two, he told me that the city has such vibrancy he would never want to leave and fell in love with it from the first day he arrived fifteen years ago. When I explained this to Gerry or Daniel, they do not understand when all they see is the traffic, uneven pavements and smells. For whatever reason, I also feel the vibrancy in spite of my afternoon sojourn.

For some reason, the government of Canada wanted to see an official piece of paper from the government of Thailand saying how much money they took in taxes from me. Getting this piece of paper was almost impossible if not for a persistent Thai friend who ran from one office to the other getting the run around. Finally, we got the paper, in Thai, of course, and I am sure I will be fighting with the Revenue department for years over this. However, the Seder to-night and the experience this afternoon made me feel right at home!

I do want to go to a Seder tomorrow night in Hanoi, where I am heading, but the Internet is unclear where this will be. Let's see if I can find it with a little help from my Vietnamese friends.

Mandalay...and now you know the other side of the story

I leaned over the sink to brush my teeth with my tie on (I know, what an idiot) and water splashed all over my tie. After it dried (about 30 seconds), there was an ugly jagged line running at the edge of the water mark. When I asked my secretary at school how to get the line out, she told me to just wash it out with a bit of soap…it was only dust. In other words, when the water splashed on my tie it cleaned off a week’s worth of dust and the remaining line was the detritus remaining. It was only then that I started to think about how dusty Mandalay is. I can’t imagine how filthy the rest of my clothes are. Thank goodness I generally don’t notice these things, until now!

When I looked at the bottom of my feet, I seem to have indelible dirt marks. Whenever you visit a pagoda in Mandalay, it is obligatory to take off your shoes and socks. It would be convenient to do so at the entrance of the pagoda, but what you usually do is take off your shoes in the car, walk over some dusty filthy road filled with pebbles that cut your feet, then walk on burning hot tiles permanently etching your feet in a mosaic of filth. It is sort of humorous watching the monks and tourists high stepping over the hot spots like cockroaches scurrying to a meal.

Coming back from the Internet café the other night (which is a story in itself), I took a bicycle rickshaw ‘thingy’ which frankly was very comfortable and nice, until cars and trucks passed by belching their black smoke from the exhaust and practically killing me. I did try to hold my breath until I got to the oasis of my hotel, but 30 minutes was a little too long not to breath. I can’t imagine what damage these fumes are doing to my health and the health of the millions of bicycle drivers who, if they are not killed by a car, suffer an equal chance of a slow painful death from exhaust fumes…or heat exhaustion.

Buses, which are more like the old Volkswagen vans, are filled literally to the rafters with people. They sit in all of the seats, climb to the roof with their goods and hang off the back of the bus. I noticed the other day that at the back of the bus there were people standing interspersed with people sitting at the back edge, I suppose like they pack sardines in a can to make more room.

The Internet, when it is working, at best is blocked by the government which does not allow sites such as blogspot, yahoo, hotmail and so on. However, this week it is hardly the best as they are working on some submarine cable, they say in a notice. I would presume there are important things happening in Myanmar this week that the government does not want to get out, even though God knows they could leave the Internet working and by the time the news got out it would be irrelevant to anyone anyway because the Internet is so damn slow. I wish there was a newspaper I could read to find out what is happening of world concern but there are no newspapers in English, even at my fancy hotel in Mandalay.

When I spoke to a colleague at lunch today, I asked him why he did not like working at night. “I can’t” he said. “Why not,” I said. He responded that the electricity is turned off at night and citizens in ordinary homes to not have access to light unless they have a generator (which is a great source of noise). When I told him how horrible I thought all this was he responded: “compared to whom?”

Priviliege has it advantages

Being in a position of privilege can be quite seductive. Every morning in Mandalay, I am met at the hotel door by my driver who automatically takes my bag and puts it in his trunk. He then drives me to school and passes through the closed gate, opened only for our car, while the other hundred cars have to deposit their kids outside. As kids scramble out of the say, he drops me off precisely at my office door.

On the one hand, I want to tell the driver to let me out where everyone else is scrambling to get into school on time, but on the other hand, I do not want to disrupt his pattern. Now I must know, in my own small way, what leaders of governments and star athletes must feel like as they get everything done for them and all they have to do is show up. You can get to lose the common touch in a hurry. This, added to the fact that I give a workshop every night at the school and the teachers all tend to treat me as some sort of star. They would never dare to disagree, unfortunately .It just isn’t right… but it is seductive. I am beginning to feel as if I am entitled to these privileges because I am white and old.

Hurray for me! Yesterday, I insisted yesterday that the driver drop me off where all of the other cars are parked outside the gates and I walked in, through the gates, across the field full of kids and to my office. I high fived all of the kids, threw a few hoops and talked to some teachers. Wow, now I remember what I love in teaching. It is just plain fun!!!

Today I am playing golf with the husband of a teacher. It will be interesting to see if I pay the 15 dollars for foreigners or they let me pay the 2.50 the natives pay. Let’see.

As it turns out, I did have to pay the 15 dollars a corner. As we drove to the course, we passed rice fields with oxen plowing the muddy fields. There were homes made of ratan along the way and lots of bicycles with drivers overloaded with all sorts of materials. The course was surrounded by mountains on all sides with lots of monasteries doting the hillside. I just kind of wish they spent as much money on themselves as they do on their religion.

When we arrived, we were given an ice cold bottle of water and sunflower seeds to eat. At each three holes we had to sit down and eat all over again. Fruit, nuts, fish, drink and pork( I think). I now know the taste of freshly roasted peanuts by the way. They obviously pick them up from the ground and roast them right in the huts. They were so hot I burnt my hand. They were delicious, by the way.

As I was talking with this business man about democracy, he reminded me that democracy would not be so good for business in Myanmar. Now, at least, they know the rules of the game and it is very comfortable for them. They know how to get licenses, how much to bribe, where to get material, how to exploit labour and so on. ( They have a twelve year old maid, for example). Democracy, he pointed out, would make his life difficult.

As I was driving home in a rickshaw from the Internet café after another futile attempt to use the Internet, the driver begged me to give him $2.00 to take me about 10 miles on his bicycle. I know a driver of a horrible tuk tuk contraption would charge me $3.00. It left me wondering, in this state where no-one would put their money in a bank, if banks exist, nor get a loan from anywhere, how this poor rickshaw driver will every get enough money together to buy a tuk tuk or how the guy selling fruit at the roadside stand will ever acquire enough capital to buy a restaurant etc. I don’t know how the leap is done in North America, but I do know that these people in Myanmar will never escape the cycle of poverty.

Sunday in Migun

As is my usual wont on Sundays in Myanmar, I hired UJoe the taxi driver, invited Nyai Nyai the registrar, as a tour guide and brought along a German professor from the Goethe institute I met in the hotel to explore Mandalay with me. We started in the south end of town visiting with a bronze statue maker and then moved on to the marionette maker. What impressed me most about these two shops was the pride they took in carrying out their family business from generation to generation. At the Buddha factory, the owner not only took hours showing us the process but then brought out books of statues he made and delivered to such placed as Paris. His father taught him as he is teaching his son. At the marionette store, the father was coaching his daughter, an economics student at the university and his son, a high school graduate, to carry on his tradition. In Canada if you want to insure your store or factory closes, just suggest your kids take over!

The marionette guy, by the way, told me he sold most of his product to Thailand, specifically the night market at Chang Mai and the Chatachuk market in Bangkok, in case anyone thought they were buying Thai originals. In fact, they are even marked “made in Thailand”on the foot of the marionettes, he told us, when they get to Thailand. When we asked if he felt badly about this, he pointed to his wallet and said something like “what do I care”.

The hard work and dedication of people to a job is truly remarkable. We also went to an Old Folks Home in Migun, a very big deal since most adults live with their children until they pass away. These old people have to be really desperate to live here, yet the nurse told us she lived and worked here for the past twenty-five years and her patients were her family, her parents and her children. I am not sure I have met such a dedicated person before and I could not get over her infectious smile.

In Myanmar, whenever you visit a Pagoda, you have to take off both your shoes and socks. What do you think it felt like walking up about 100 stairs of jagged rock with bare feet in blistering heat? You are right!. As Josh probably remembers, the kids who try to sell you “stuff” all the way up to the peak speak a million languages and can say; “it is not that expensive” in Myanmar, German, French, English and Thai. They are so cute I could not resist giving them money even though I had no interest in buying their product. I just hope I did not offend them.

Yesterday, I put out a “Friday bulletin” at school telling about the comings and goings of teachers, congratulating kids who did well and so on. A Myanmar teacher reminded me afterwards that writing such things as welcoming back a teacher who just had a baby might not be appreciated. At the same time, a Pilipino teacher asked why she was not mentioned again emphasizing to me the cultural differences even in one school where we have foreign teachers from different parts of the world.

So, what did I learn? As usual, one really has to be sensitive to different cultural mores and only eat peanuts that are roasted.What????!!!!

Ya, had some peanuts in Migun which I had and almost spit out. Did you ever taste a boiled peanut?

Phuket through O'Reilly Eyes

Sometimes it is nice to take a time out with friends. Pat and Frank came over for a conference and I met them in Phuket. Pat's brother Rory had a car so I saw quite a bit of the island. Even though I did rent a car the last time I was there with Daniel, he was afraid to drive with me on the wrong side of the street so we didn't go that far. This time, I saw Phuket town, the southern tip and a few beaches and quite frankly Daniel was right to have given Phuket town a miss the last time we were there. From the guide books I thought it was going to be quite quaint and interesting but it turned out to be uninspiring.

The nice thing about my job is that if I have a phone, I can work, as you can see me in deep conversation with my boss on the beach at sunset. I also got a chance to speak about our on line courses and hiring practices with Pat and Rory who both teach at the university.

It seems that when we were not in the car we did a lot of walking and I saw all of Kata Beach and Patong Beach but now I have to go back to see Phi Phi Island and Simlin Island. There are day trips and I am convinced that they are fabulous so before I come home to Toronto this summer I will return for a few days to see these great islands for themselves.

As Pat said, we could be anywhere as we ate in tourist restaurants on the beach that could have been in Mexico, Spain, or even the United States as we looked out at the ocean. Phuket is nice if you like tailor shops, restaurants, bars and shops but you just can't beat Samet for peacefulness and tranquillity.

I am off to Mandalay tomorrow so I am not sure I will publish another post for at least two weeks but I am looking forward to being "principal for a day"

Singapore Reconsidered

I think I had an epiphany in the bathroom last night at Singapore's Night Safari. The urinals were ultra modern as you can see in the picture, the bathroom was spotless and there was even a simulated gentle rain falling on the roof as if we were in a rain forest. The Night Safari was great, by the way, but I think more importantly, everything worked. People were orderly, the trams and shows started and ended on time and the grounds were spotless.

Perhaps the zoo is a metaphor for Singapore. The buildings are gorgeous and immaculate, citizens are so regulated they are afraid to talk on the hand phone while driving in case of getting caught and paying a hefty fine and my friend would not even wait for me in his car in front of the hotel is case some 'busybody' he said, calls the police.

The cabs are all owned by the government and rented out to the drivers so they are in perfect shape. When I asked a cab driver if he was ever in danger, he said that would never happen in Singapore because any criminal act in his cabwould result in many years in jail. He was not the least fearful.

When I got off at the airport, there was a sign that said:" no taxis may pick up passengers at the departure entrance." Guess what, cabbies obeyed the signs and there was no loitering. In Bangkok, I am sure there are similar signs, but it does not stop me or dozens of other passengers going up to the departure lounge to hail a cab to avoid paying the surcharge for taking a cab from arrivals. The police wave the cabs away but no-one moves until they have a passenger.

In the Singapore airport, I got through baggage, immigration and departure in record time. Everything was orderly. Remember when I talked about only westerners lining up in rows in Asia. Sure enough, when I was leaving Hanoi last time, it was almost impossible, if not impossible, to manoeuvre my way into the line with my suitcase and golf bag. I just pushed in like every other Asian where I could. Wouldn't you know it an uppity British woman asked what I was trying to do and pointed to the back of what I guess was a line. She said you are "British" , you should know better.

Maybe Singapore is the meeting place where east meets west and that is what makes it so appealing. There were hundreds of hawker stalls selling food, as there is everywhere else in Asia, but there is a certificate of inspection on everyone and the food is served on clean dishes.

As I was waiting for my cab this morning, I looked through the tourist brochures and saw tons of museums, walks and attractions. You know what...I can't wait to go back.

Made in Sumatra

I decided to spend the day in Indonesia instead of the few hours I spent on the plane Saturday sitting on the tarmac in Batam. As we were flying into Singapore the pilot got on the speaker and said we were just circling around for a while until a storm blew over Singapore and we could land. About five minutes later he came on again and told us we were going to land in Batam Indonesia to get more fuel. It did seem very odd but surprisingly reassuring since "the landing on the Hudson" A few people did scream when we bumped down but all in all in was quite peaceful.

Today ( Sunday) I decided to take the ferry across to see what I could discover on my own outside of the airplane. It is 45 minutes by ferrry but light years away from Singapore. Singapore is such a modern city. Everything works, the streets are fantastic and you can actually walk on the sidewalks without tripping over the broken stones and the buildings I know Daniel would love.

Batam, on the other hand, is like a third world country. You can see the pictures of one of the towns, the houses just outside of town and the condition of the infrastructure. I have to wonder how this is possible when Singapore, which is in sight of Indonesia seems to have all of the modern conveniences and Batam has none? Surely they have the same resources, weather, types if people and so on or maybe not!

When I went to the market, one of the sellers told me to buy a pair of shoes...they are good, he assured me, because they are made in Sumatra. For some reason, I will always remember Sumatra from my grade five geography class, probably because I loved the name. I have to keep pinching myself that I am actually going to all of these places!

Michal, I took your advice and shelled out the $12 for the best massage in town. Daniel, it was just like the one we saw but maybe nicer, and I even, for a moment, considered letting them put hot rocks on my back, but we shall leave that to Matt. I did, however, go for the "aroma" therapy, so at least I know what that means now. They light a candle with incense and put it in a corner of the room so they can charge you an extra $2 or $3 dollars.

As usual, I rented a taxi for the day and toured the island. There are five golf courses, new homes popping up for the foreigners and so on but for the average guy in the street, life does seem pretty dire.In fact, the taxi driver asked me what Singapore was like as we stood over the ocean looking at the buildings of Singapore. It seemed so surrealistic that he was asking. Something like Plato's cave analogy.

Singapore, on the other hand, seems to be absolutely thriving. There were tons of people on the MRT, the ferry was packed with tourists and everything seems to work around here.

Tomorrow I go to a conference (and I have to pay attention because Tuesday I am leading a session debriefing what we learned)I will keep you posted if I learn anything new.

The tale of the two Bangkoks

The tale of the two Bangkoks, the one I know and the one Daniel introduced me to. If you have the money there is an unbelievable magical Bangkok. Last night we went to Bua in the State Tower. It was probably the most impressive bar I have ever seen in my life and when we talk about high society, this would be the definition of it!

The State Hotel is near the river. When you pull up in the cab about three service men greet you at the door and escort you to the elevators where you are whisked upstairs to one of three of four outdoor and indoor bars. We decided to go to the very top. When we walked out on the deck, there was a breathtaking view of Bangkok beneath us. There were about 50 stairs leading down to the bar. At an upper part of the bar there was a cool jazz band playing with an American black singer. Every other bar in Bangkok goes with the standard Pilipino band.

Down below about 64 floors, you could see the twinkling lights of Bangkok as well as the Chao Praya River. Naturally, Daniel could point out everything to me including which direction we were facing. Even the taxi drivers do not know the direction they are driving. Even though I have almost lived here for two years now and Daniel probably a total of two weeks, he knows more than me.

I am used to the Bangkok below the skyline. The dirty markets, the pollution, the smells of the open charcoal hearths, the heat of the city smacking you in the face, the uneven roads and people sleeping on the streets. At the “Bua” you do not even get the heat. There is such a cooling breeze at this height that seems to never end.

Daniel also introduced me to the Meridien Hotel in the Patpong area, about 50 meters from Patpong but light years away in terms of everything it stands for. At the Meridien we were greeted by the Dutch head of food and beverages who unctuously greeted us, described the various foods on the menu and then instructed about 3 servers to cater to our every whim. When I asked for more bread sticks, the chef came out to tell me there were no more in that shape, but would I accept a different shape made with the same dough? A little different than the old women on the street who pull out their chairs at night and serve everyone from the same bowl!

Even last night, thanks to my friend Jerry, we found a nice Thai restaurant. Across the street there was a very sophisticated “spa”. When Daniel encouraged us to look inside, the spa “treatment” was something like 1000 baht. We were immediately served tea and had the elegant (ladyboy) looking after us and calling us by name. A little different from the spa at most street corners where you go in, lie down on a thin mattress with dozens of other patrons only separated by a thin curtain and the masseuse just gets to work. No tea, no greeting by name and no perfume in the air and the fee is more like 250 baht then 1000.

Even Ayyutya was different when I went with Daniel. Even though I visited all of the temples last year when I went with a Thai family who took along everyone but the grandmother (who was busy preparing our evening meal). Here we seemed to find the most elegant temple that even had air conditioning inside!

I am off to Singapore in about five minutes, but I know that when I get back, I will never again see the Bangkok Daniel introduced me to unless or until he comes back.

Daniel and Alana in Bangkok

There sure were a lot of people at Daniel’s birthday party Thursday night. In fact, I have never seen Hua Hin so busy! I am not sure whether everyone was there to help Alana and I celebrate Daniel’s birthday or were there for the 14th Asian Conference being held from February 27th. Maybe the guys with the suits and shiny shoes were security officials and not Daniel revelers??

Daniel and Alana are easy guests. Sightseeing was a piece of cake as I learned all about the first class hotels Bangkok has to offer as we moved from the Cha Praya hotels

for coffee and reading the paper, to other first class hotels to use the hong nam and so on. Now the only place Daniel will consider staying are at 6 star facilities.( other than my apartment) The Alila hotel, where they stayed in Cha-Am is the fanciest hotel I have ever seen. The coolest thing is the shower head that comes right out of the ceiling in the middle of the bathroom. It is like you are in the middle of a rain forest! Last night we ate in the new Meridien Hotel in Bangkok. Miraculously Daniel found it and it has only been up for two months.

Daniel is a great guy to travel with. You will never be lost. As we were approaching the Alila hotel in Cha-Am, our cab driver had no idea where it was. Even though Daniel had never been there before, he directed him right in. He also has a sense for language and even though he might not be a risk taker and speak, he understands quite a lot of Thai (I think). Actually I am quite amazed at how much he understands in so short a time.

It is a pleasure for me to see Daniel and Alana having so much fun in each other’s company and they seem to make a great pair. Their personalities complement each other, rather well. I guess as a father you take pride in seeing how well your children turn out. I remember being a few minutes late to pick him up at his primary school and he used to cry if I was a minute late. At the airport, when I was a few minutes late he was patiently waiting for me with his Blackberry in hand asking where I was. He looked so professional with his carry-on luggage having just walked off the plane and customs in record time. He was so self-assured. It is also fun to be able to talk about things at some length and not be interrupted by either me going to sleep or Daniel taking a morning business call as we talk on Skype.

I was also so proud of them when there was a mix-up at the airport and Alana had to miss her flight to Australia. They both seem to take it in their stride and simply got the problem fixed and made new arrangements. How wonderful as a parent to see such autonomy and self-confidence in your children.

What am I going to do when they leave? I might have to go back to eating the street food. and staying in 3 star hotels ,God forbid!

Fun, family and Food

When my golf partners took me out for supper after the game one of them asked me what I thought the main differences were between Asians and Westerners. Since we were eating supper, let me tell you what I told them, beginning with food (since we were eating supper at the time!)

In Asia, I have discovered, everything revolves around food. I remember my first week in Singapore I told my boss I wanted to speak with him about an important matter. He responded: “Let’s go eat.” After we ordered the meal and we began to eat, I began to discuss the business matter on hand. His response was; “Wait, when we finish eating.” Eating in Asia is a very ritualistic and one better not break the pattern. For example, when I go to Chinese weddings they always serve white rice at the end, after about 10 courses. The correct response, even if you are starving, is to reject the rice. Why? Because it would be an insult to the host if you had to fill yourself on rice after a ten course meal!

Also in Asia, they bring the food to the table in the order in which it is prepared. There is no European order like soup to nuts. In fact, soup is usually served last, which still blows me away. Asians seem to eat lots of things in restaurants but always in small quantities. When I am sitting with colleagues and there are 10 dishes on the table, I find the one I like and gorge on that, leaving the rest of the eating and tasting to the Asians. I am not a ‘grazer’ like they are.

Social security is a very interesting topic in Asia. I assume you know what the social security plan is in Asia. Have lots of children. There is not one Asian adult I have every met that does not support their parents, even if their parents hardly need their support. Westerners tend to put their old in old age homes and so on. That would never happen here. The youngest generally lives with the parents and does not marry if that is what it comes to or if all the kids marry, the parents live with one of the kids, if not in the same house, at least in the same compound or area in the village.

Their sense of space is also very different. Yesterday, one of the partners touched me on the thigh which had me wondering a bit. Today, another colleague touched me the same way. Either they are expecting to receive their Biblical birthright from a blind Jacob (was it?) or they are just touchy-feely. There is no such thing as personal space. I am going to go to the airport in a few minutes, and I know there is no such thing as a line. I thought Israel was bad, but Asia a hundred times worse. People will bud in, there will be no lines except for western tourists not knowing any better) and everyone will be touching and pushing. Men walk down the road holding hands, as do women for that matter. While waiting at a bus stop or worse, sitting or standing on a bus, there will be people all over you. If you need to maintain the western one yard or one meter of space, never visit Asia…you will always feel uncomfortable.

I also think Buddhism plays a major role in how Asians interact with each other and with foreigners. Since they believe in an afterlife and working towards Nirvana they have to continually make merit on earth. That is why, by the way, I find it so contradictory how they behave at airports, but that is another story. I almost think that Buddhism leads to a certain passivity but in reading Aug San Su Chi’s book ( my apologies for the spelling) she says Buddhists have to make their own destiny.

The most startling difference, though, I think, is western creativity, spontaneity and problem solving skills. These are not highly valued in the east and as a result, Asians make great factory workers and so on, but not that great leaders and problem solvers, in my opinion anyway and those of the leaders who are trying to reform education to make it more western. I certainly hope they do not throw out the baby with the bath water but maintain their discipline, hard work and diligence.

I know everything that I told him is very controversial and open to much stereotyping on my part, but he did ask and I did answer him in the way I have written.

p.s how could I possibly forget about smoking. Asians smoke everywhere. It was sort of shocking for me today in this meeting in a beautiful board room around a mahogany table when the chairmen lit up. They smoke during meals, they smoke in the bathroom and I presume they smoke in bed...to be verified by someone else!