Singing In the Rain

At age sixty-one, I’m learning a new language. Why? l live in northern Thailand. The culture here is generally gracious and playful, and it would be fun to be able to participate more in what’s happening around me. Speaking Thai is a good way to do that.

But studying Thai means learning to sing a very long song.

That’s because Thai is tonal. It is sung-spoken. So, in addition to memorizing words, I must also learn a word’s tone on “a scale” in order to sing-speak and be understood.

The scale has five tones: high, low, rising, falling, and middle. For example, “kau” pronounced with a short rising tone means “he” but said with a longer falling tone means “rice”.  The syllable “maa” can be pronounced five different ways and mean five different things--I think. Even with my limited Thai, I could give you a lot more examples. If you’re confused, mai bpen lai (no worries)—so am I.

As you can imagine, tones lend themselves to a lot of word play that Thais enjoy, and also make for sophisticated poetry and literature. But tones can be baffling to those learning the language. The more I study, the more confused I am. For the past ten weeks, throughout the rainy season, I have been studying for a total of one hundred twenty hours (not counting homework). Singing, confused, in the rain.

My teacher, Ahjaan Noi, keeps saying, “ Thai ngai! (Thai is easy!)”

But Thai is not easy. When I visited America, my native country, this past summer, many people asked casually if I’d learned to speak Thai, “Asian” and/or Taiwanese, yet? For the record: there is no language called Asian, just as there is no tongue called European. German, French, Hungarian, Polish and a host of other languages are spoken in Europe. Asia is home to Mandarin, Malay, Khmer, Hindi, English and myriad other tongues. (There is no language called Taiwanese. I don’t live in Taiwan so there’s no practical point in learning the languages spoken there right now. But I digress.)

Thailand is in Southeast Asia; Taiwan is an island off eastern China

Laughing Man Taxi

It's 9:40 pm. I'm in a Lexus that won't start. It's blocking cars in the parking lot of my condo building. My plane leaves Chiang Mai in an hour. On top of this, I couldn't drive even if the car did start. Here in Thailand everything traffic related is the reverse of what it is in the U.S. so I don't drive.  And in any case, I don't have a Thai driver's license. Not that the latter matters too much since I suspect that many people who drive here don't have one either. But you get my drift.

However, mai bpen rai (no worries) as the Thais say. I'm not alone in the car. Mr. Pradit, the taxi driver, is repeatedly turning the key and grinding the starter. It sounds to me like we're out of gas. I say so. Mr. Pradit ignores me and keeps grinding the starter. Thai men, like males everywhere, do not seem to enjoy when a woman tells them that they are out of gas. A security guard approaches us, smiles, and tries to help start the car by shifting it into neutral and grinding the starter. No luck.

Mr. Pradit gets on his cell phone. Excitedly, he tells the person he is calling what has happened and what he wants. I know enough Thai to understand that he wants the person to come to where we are  and drive me to the airport in his car. I can hear the person on the other end speak Thai in a tired sounding voice. He doesn't sound too excited about coming to take me to the airport.

Mr. Pradit is insistent. Then he hangs up. "I call my brudder," he says, "to come take you airport."

"Mr. Pradit, I can just catch a songtauw (pick up truck taxi) down the street." I am concerned about how long it will take Mr. Pradit's less than excited brother to arrive to take me to the airport.

"No." Mr. Pradit says this as if I have just suggested something preposterous. It is a point of pride to him to get me to the airport by 10 pm, the time we had arranged. The security guard comes by again and calmly offers to help. Together, he and Mr. Pradit push the Lexus to the curb alongside the building and out of the way so that other cars can exit the lot. Before they start pushing, I offer to get out of the Lexus to make it easier to move. "No," insists Mr. Pradit again in a way that indicates that what I'm suggesting is absurd.

"Really, Mr. Pradit, it didn't sound like your brother was very excited about coming out late at night to take a strange farang (foreigner) to the airport. "How old is he, anyway?"

Mr Pradit says, "He two year older than me--72. He use to hold high position in government."

Mr. Pradit is my regular daily ride to and from the international school in Chiang Mai where I work five days per week. He also sometimes takes me to the airport. There is nothing on the car that identifies it as a taxi and there is no meter. All rides are negotiated. And Mr. Pradit is a bold driver even by widely accepted Thai "drive like a bat out of hell" standards. Think New York taxi driver and you get the idea.

Why do I ride with Mr. Pradit, you may wonder? Well, no taxis in Chiang Mai have meters. All taxi rides are negotiated. And unlike many taxi drivers, Mr. Pradit is extremely punctual and reliable. When he can't give me a ride, he takes great pains to arrange that his son will do so. Mr. Pradit is also remarkably kind. This probably is what I like the most about him. He has located obscure items in shops when I've mentioned offhand that I was looking for them. He's also helped me install light bulbs and water heaters in my condo. To top it off, Mr. Pradit is funny, speaks English well, and laughs a lot, although I notice that he's not laughing about this situation.

Looking at my watch, I see that it is 9:50. "Really, Mr. Pradit, I think I will get a songtauw." Just then, his brother pulls up-- in a Lexus. He nimbly jumps out.  Like Mr. Pradit, he moves and looks much younger than his age. Both brothers are very trim and stylishly dressed. Not appearing terribly excited to see us, he speaks to his brother and then asks me if I speak Thai. "Nitnoy kah (a little)," I say. After that, he converses in Thai only with his brother. I am whisked away in the brother's Lexus with Mr. Pradit at the wheel. We make what must be the fastest and most hair raising trip I have ever taken to an airport. I arrive at Chiang Mai International precisely at 10 pm.

Mr. Pradit is beaming. "See. I tell you I get you here on time! Make sure you tell Nat." For some reason, at this moment, after a race to the airport, Mr. Pradit is thinking about Nat? It must be another point of pride.

Nat, my fellow partner in adventure who accompanied me to Chiang Mai, knows Mr. Pradit. The three of us have taken taxi rides together on many occasions. Nat especially likes to tease Mr. Pradit about his driving. Mr. Pradit especially enjoys pretending that he doesn't hear Nat or that he doesn't understand English that well. When Nat and Mr. Pradit are together, they remind me of Laurel and Hardy. Taking my cue from Mr. Pradit, I too pretend that I can't hear and don't understand English that well when they are together.

Upon my return from travelling, during my first ride to school with Mr. Pradit, I ask if he was in fact out of gas that night. He tells me that he and his brother, after dropping me at the airport, went and got several litres of gasoline in containers and retrieved the Lexus that was out of gas at the condo.
"Your brother didn't sound too happy that night, no?" I ask. "No. He wasn't." Mr. Pradit laughs.

"But he didn't have any choice, did he? He had to come to help, yes?" "Yes. No choice." Mr. Pradit laughs again. Such is the nature of Thai family obligations. We ride the rest of the way to school in contented silence. Mr. Pradit seems pleased that I as a farang at least now understand this much about Thai culture. And that I have learned this lesson from him.

Hand to Paw

Venomous cobras, water buffalo, elephants, geckos, pink dolphins, goats, and dogs--those of you who read this blog regularly know that I write often about my experiences with animals in Asia. And for quite some time, I've been thinking about how to connect animals and humans in a way that is almost unknown here.

Therapy and service dog programs are in their infancy in Chiang Mai, Thailand (and I suspect in most of the rest of Asia). In fact, I have lived in Asia for almost four years and haven't spotted a "seeing eye" dog yet. 

The calming benefits of therapy animals and the usefulness of service dogs are taken for granted in the West. There are a lot of people in Asia, as in the West, with disabilities who would benefit from therapy and service animals. They are much needed in this part of the world.

I've been a counselor for a long time but it doesn't take counseling experience to recognize the calming effect animals can have on humans in a variety of settings. My first exposure to this effect was back in college when as a docent for the Lincoln Park Zoo in Chicago, I took parrots and ferrets into a children's hospital. Although the ferret was a tad cranky and the parrot had talons that required respect, the kids were delighted when we showed up. 

A second exposure was on a flight I took years ago on a small commercial airplane that ran into a lot of turbulence due to a thunderstorm between Erie, Pa and my Detroit destination. Fortunately, one man on the plane had a therapy dog. As the plane rocked and dived, all of the passengers strained to observe what the dog was doing. When we saw that he was stretched out on a seat soundly asleep, the humans collectively breathed a sigh of relief. If the dog was chilled out, things couldn't be that bad because animals have instincts about impending disaster, right? Every time the plane shuddered or swooped, all eyes turned to the dog. He remained asleep. As it turned out, things were pretty bad. The plane experienced numerous malfunctions and the thunder storm was so violent it forced us to land in Cleveland instead of in Detroit. But the dog was relaxed through it all and therefore, so were we.

During the years since that flight, I have seen therapy and service dogs in action in America at facilities for Alzheimers patients, at schools, and in nursing homes. The animals' effect on  humans in these settings is always the same. People relax. Animals' unconditional affection is powerful.

I now work at an international school in Chiang Mai that has a 60 hour community service requirement for high school graduation and as a counselor wanted to help students find community service placements. But more to the point, I wanted to create interest in establishing a community service project  at the school whereby students could interact with and assist animals. A service minded parent who loves dogs organized a community service fair with some help from me. The fair was held at the school last October.

Seventeen local service organizations including the Chiang Mai Care for Dogs Foundation sent representatives to the fair to recruit student volunteers. Care for Dogs provides dog rescue, sterilization, vaccination, adoption, and outreach programs designed to help the large stray dog population in Chiang Mai. Since many Thais bring soi (stray) and other unwanted dogs to the Buddhist temples throughout the city, Care for Dogs has organized a temple outreach program called Hand to Paw. The program connects middle and high school students (with school assistance) to temples so that kids can help monks keep temple dogs healthy and not reproduce.

The Hand to Paw outreach coordinator is happily passionate about dogs and her work. Appropriately, her name is Joy. She represented Hand to Paw at the service fair and brought a charismatic therapy dog who was the most popular guest there. Later she met with an interested teacher and me to discuss the ground work that needed to be done to establish a student chapter at the school. She also met with the head monk at the temple (or wat) next door to my school and investigated the size and health of the temple’s dog population as well as the monks’ receptivity to student helpers. Joy learned that there were 8 dogs residing at the temple and that the monks would welcome help from the students. While we are still working on establishing a school chapter, eventually, the dogs, monks, and kids will connect for the benefit of all.

In preparation for starting a Hand to Paw chapter, I recently took an on-line Animal Assisted Therapy class through Pet Partners (formerly The Delta Society). Lots of American occupational therapists, counselors, nurses, and social workers took the class as well. One fellow student, Karen Donnick, shared the following powerful story which has made me even more determined to give animal assisted therapy a jump start in Chiang Mai.

"On our visit to the Naval Hospital, while visiting in patients' hospital rooms, a doctor came to us and asked us to visit a young family in the intensive care unit. Not being sure what to expect I took the time to wipe my dog down with Nature's Miracle Pet Wipes from head to tail, including paws. He had been bathed prior to visiting, but I wanted to remove anything that he may have picked up visiting in the patients rooms. The doctor escorted us into one of the cubicles in intensive care where three small children were huddled together in a chair. Their mother across from them was in the hospital bed connected to an IV and all sorts of monitors. The children's father was in the Navy, deployed, and their mother was alone with their children and seriously ill. The hospital staff was waiting for a family friend to come and collect the children. These three children had been at the hospital traveling with their mother from the emergency room to being admitted into intensive care, and they were beyond control. The eldest was 5 years old."

"The staff was at their wits end how to control these children, as they ministered to their very ill mother. They had exhausted their supply of peanut butter crackers, candy and cookies. We visited in the intensive care with the children until the family friend arrived about thirty minutes later to collect them. As I started to leave with a very sticky and exhausted golden retriever, the mother beckoned for me to come closer. I hadn't paid much attention to her the entire time we were entertaining the children and I was thinking about returning home and bathing the dog. I was amazed by her appearance when I approached her. Her skin was yellow and she looked gravely ill. "Thank you" she said, "I haven't allowed myself to be sick until today. You and your dog are angels, for the first time in months I could concentrate on me and not the children. " Then she hugged my dog and started to cry. "I am terrified that I am going to die." She hugged my sticky dog and cried for about three minutes. Then we quietly left. As I was driving home I wondered who was most moved by that experience. Sometimes the patients inspire the therapy team. It is experiences like this that keep me coming back with my special dog."

For more information about animal assisted therapy and Pet Partners, please visit  www.petpartners.org

For more information about The Care for Dogs Foundation and its work in Chiang Mai, please visit www.carefordogs.org

Winning and the Luck of Being Invited Back

Nat Hix has luck that borders on the supernatural. When I told an acquaintance that Nat always wins, he scoffed, "I'll bet he cheats". What this person didn't know is that with Nat's luck, cheating is completely unnecessary.

Even though he can't spell, Nat invariably wins at Scrabble. He also beats everybody at Monopoly, Backgammon, and Parcheesi. All board games as a matter of fact. How about electric games, you ask? What about Wii bowling, Xbox 360 tennis, or Zuma? Or anything else that involves a monitor?

Don't even think about it.

When you watch football games with him, don't be tempted to bet for the team he opposes. At the last minute, despite the fact that his team is impossibly behind, it will win with several hail Marys.

Our friend Steve hosts an annual Academy Award party. The gathering is black tie, has great food, and features a contest that involves selecting the winners in each of the Oscar categories. The person who guesses the most Oscar recipients wins. Steve warned me that he's always the champion of the contest. "I don't want to burst your bubble," I said, "but since you invited Nat and me, this is not your year. Don't take it personally. No one in his family will play any games with Nat with the exception of his son, a relentlessly optimistic young man who harbors the competitive hope that he will someday beat his dad at something."

Portrait of a lucky man

"Actually, I'm the one who always wins. I'm a pretty lucky guy," Steve smiled, clearly skeptical.
His optimism was short lived. A few days later at the party, as it became clear that Nat was going to win in all categories even though he hadn't seen most of the nominated movies, our normally upbeat and chatty friend grew quiet. When the party ended and we took our leave, all Steve could say was, "I used to be that guy."

Since Nat never loses, he does not understand the agony of defeat. Nor does he understand why people no longer ask him to join in any reindeer games. Surely people want to play a competitor who will give them a good game, says he. Yes, say I, but they also want to believe that they can win. Once they play you a few times, they realize they have no chance. It's no fun playing when you know before you start that you are going to lose.

Not convinced by my argument, Nat was later shocked to learn that a group of his buddies in Hong Kong had stopped inviting him to their regular poker games. Sure, he was still welcome to join them for drinks and dinner but poker? Cards ceased to be a topic of conversation when he was around. Shortly before we moved from Hong Kong to Thailand, he jokingly asked one of his buddies,
"Don't you guys play cards together anymore?"

"Sure," his friend shot back. "We just got tired of you taking all our money."

Nat couldn't believe his ears. "Connie," he said later, "I can't
believe they don't want the challenge of playing someone who will give them a good game." All I could do was roll my eyes.

Upon moving to Chiang Mai, Thailand, Nat made friends with a group of guys, both Thai and farang--that's Thai for foreign-- who invited him to play poker. This time, however, he asked me what
his strategy should be. It seemed he wanted to be invited back.

Ganesha: the god of luck

"Let them win once in a while."

"Oh, I can't do that. It's just not who I am."

"Well, after you win a few, excuse yourself and go to the
bathroom."

"I can't do that either. Guys want a chance to win their money back. And they don't like it when you disrupt the flow of the game."

"But you and I both know there's no chance they're going to get their money back."

"Yeah, but they don't know that."

I rolled my eyes.

Off he went that night to the poker game. But he returned uncharacteristically
early.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, I decided to play the usual way and as usual, I was winning.That's when the guys decided it was time to take a break and get some drinks at the corner bar. Apparently, it's Thai custom that
the oldest person pays when groups go out. I was the oldest. Everyone started ordering drinks. Guys who hadn't even been at the game showed up. And there was this special "buy two beers get
one free" deal so everyone was ordering two beers."

"Did you ever get back to the game?"

"No. I left while I still had money for the taxi. I paid a lot more for drinks than I won at cards."

"Sounds like they got their money back and then some," I said, somehow without rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, but you know the good news?"

"There's good news?"

"I'll definitely be invited back."

(This is a repost of an entry published about a year ago. It is an advisory to all of Nat's football loving/can't wait for Super Bowl XLVIII friends in America and elsewhere.)

Elephants Heal

Linda is down by the river laughing and bathing elephants. We're in northern Thailand at an elephant conservation park an hour outside of Chiang Mai. The valley here looks like it's right out of southern Wisconsin (except for the elephants.) It's hilly country covered with green forest. There's also a river that is brown and swift because it's the rainy season.

I'm sitting on a covered skywalk enjoying watching Linda enjoy herself. Linda and I are both widows. She is in her second year of grief and I am in my sixth. We are both our usual edgy selves. But all told, we seem OK. Maybe we are--especially here in this sanctuary.

It's cloudy. The mist has lingered all day-rising and then falling around the tops of the hills. There have been brief periods of rain. I've been here before in a different season when the sun beat down relentlessly and penetrated me like an x-ray. The clouds and rain feel better.

Our guide told us that there are now 34 rescued elephants and two babies who were born here. One is about a month old. There are also 450 dogs rescued in Bangkok from the gruesome dog meat trade. Plus a hundred water buffalo. There are lots of cats who have a their own place to live separate from elephants, dogs, and water buffalo. Cats come and go as they please and and so their numbers are hard to come by. I don't really need to know how many cats there are. It's just pleasant to see them.

A group of very sour smelling tourists have just surrounded me. They are speaking a European sounding language I don't recognize. Some of them are eyeing me. Or rather, hungrily viewing the comfortable wicker chair on which I'm sitting. Such acquisitive eyes!

Linda and I will be spending the night here in a hut. After most of the visitors leave when it grows dark, maybe we will hear the elephants snoring. The elephant sounds I have heard so far include trumpet, growl, roar, gurgle, and squeak. I'm a sound junky and want to hear more. And like elephants, I have poor eyesight, but keen hearing and a good sense of smell. Plus, I never forget. At least, I never forget when it comes to voices. Some people remember faces. Not me. Faces come and go. But voices. Those stick. And the voices of elephants are especially memorable.

I'm listening to those voices as well as the sound of splashing, gurgling, and laughing as people are filling buckets in the river and throwing the water on the elephants to bathe them and each other.

The elephants come here in various states of abuse but a tiny woman with a large heart named Lek Chailert rescued them and started a foundation/park to save elephants in Thailand and nearby Myanmar. In addition to saving elephants, this park supports the local economy by providing a consumer for locally grown produce (elephants are vegetarians and eat a lot every day) and giving jobs to unemployed mahouts (elephant handlers) who also mostly happen to be refugees from Myanmar.

Linda and friend

All the elephants have stories. Linda and I have been able to walk around and meet and touch and communicate with the animals who are highly social and tend to live in families or with female companions. All the elephant females (our guide calls them ladies) have friends and the babies are protected by mommies and nannies. If there is any potential threat to a baby, there is much trumpeting and jostling as the females form a protective circle around the little one.

Mommy, nanny, baby

The three rescued males are kept chained because they are so aggressive they hurt the females. But the female led families visit the males and keep them company so they don't get too lonely.

One lady we met on one of our walks was Mae Tee who was born between 1945-50. Her name is the Myanmar Karen ethnic group's name for river. She was forced into logging in Myanmar and was made to take amphetamines so she would not stop working. This overwork has left her with stiff wrist joints and deteriorated ankle joints. As a result, Mae Tee is unable to lay down so she only sleeps a couple of hours every day while standing and putting her head in a wooden headrest the mahouts have constructed. She goes to the onsite elephant clinic twice a day to get treatment for her injuries. Mae Tee's best friend and companion was an elephant named Mae Kham Geao who died a year ago and is buried on the facility. Mae Tee visits the grave each day and doesn't tend to roam too far away from it. I now foster Mae Tee in memory of my mom who died a few years ago.

Mae Tee

Another lady we met was Mae Jokia who was blinded in both of her eyes by her logging mahout. Born around 1960, she suffered a miscarriage while pulling a log uphill. She wasn't allowed to stop working to see if her calf was dead or alive so she sat down and refused to get up. And that was when her handler blinded her by hurling rocks into her eyes.

Mae Jokia

There are many more stories about the elephants who are now in this place where they are loved and cared for. And being healed. Linda and I fit right in with the rescued creatures here for in fact, we are being healed as well.

Share and support goodness. Learn more. Donate. Spread the news. Foster an elephant. Visit.
www.elephantnaturefoundation.org

Number of elephants left in the world

Same Same But Different

Customer service operates differently in Thailand than in other places I have lived. This is not necessarily a bad thing.

“Come get money,” the female voice on the phone insisted. It's not often that I get such messages. Usually, I’m being asked for money when someone I don't know calls. 

“This Centahl in Kad Suan Gaew. You buy watah bottah Satooday. Leave cawd.”

I checked my wallet. My credit card was nestled in its usual spot. Remembering that I had shown my Central Department Store discount card at the time of the purchase, I checked for that. It was next to my credit card.

The voice continued. “You leave change. Come get. Bling passplawt.”

 So that's where all my money had gone. I hadn't picked up my change when I bought a cheapo water bottle. 

"Where I go?” I asked. Kad Suan Gaew is a big place.

“Custoomah Soovie.  Second flah.”

“OK. OK.” Since moving to Chiang Mai over a year ago, I have taken to saying many English words twice like the Thais do. This provides a certain rhythmic comfort--kind of like a small child gets from rocking back and forth-- and gives me the illusion of fitting in. 

I have also learned to speak English Thai style because my Midwestern American is often incomprehensible to Thais. This involves dropping verbs from sentences whenever possible and using the present tense when I keep them. In the Thai language, verbs aren't conjugated. The present tense is always used. Time is revealed through contextual words like leuw, (already), ja (will), and gamlang, (doing now). 

 I get refund already; I will get refund; I am get refund now.

Northern Thai style English--Chiang Mai where I live is in northern Thailand-- also means substituting the letter “l” in the place of “r” in many English words. “Rice” is “lice”; "fried" is "flied". 

Yes, it felt odd the first time I ordered "flied lice" at a restaurant. But no complaints. It’s been easier to adapt my English than to learn Thai. 

Eager to reclaim my money, I allived at the Central Department Store, housed in Kad Suan Gaew, a mazelike and moldy mall in Chiang Mai. Kad Suan Gaew translates as crystal garden market but it's actually a dark and ponderous structure built out of brown bricks in the Lanna Thai way. 

Kad Suan Gaew houses a lot of shops that sell plastic knickknacks, designer knock offs, pirated dvds,  and cheap phones.

It also has a dank movie theater and a bowling alley that has seen much better days.

Many of Kad Suan Gaew's corridors lead nowhere. There are entire wings that house nothing. Before entering Kad Suan Gaew, it's important to know where you are going because it’s easy to get lost there.

I walked around the second floor of the Central Department Store. No customer service.

"Yuu tiinye (where is) customer service?" I asked a clerk behind the jewelry counter who was looking at photos on her phone. She smiled at me and pointed up. "Third floor?" I asked. She nodded and returned to her phone. 

Sure enough, on the third floor there was a long customer service counter. Miming a conversation on the phone, I showed my passport to a tall older woman behind the counter and said "Refund." Three young female clerks immediately appeared. In Chiang Mai, when a job needs to be done--any job--it is done by groups of employees. I was told by the tall woman to go to the far end of the counter and to take a seat. She and the three other clerks followed, smiled at me, and spoke Thai to each other on the other side of the counter. After a few minutes of this, the tall clerk, who spoke pretty good English, asked me for my passport.

There were the usual multiple copies made. I was required to sign them. Then the tall clerk disappeared. I waited. In Thailand, you either get used to waiting or you flee the country. (Please note: you won't be able to flee quickly because you'll have to wait and sign a lot of forms.)

But no worries. Those customers who are waiting--basically all customers--are offered seats by banks, government offices, cable and utility companies, hardware shops, furniture malls, department stores, and so forth. Frequently, beverages are offered, too. 

The tall clerk returned with five more copies of my passport. These required my signature. Then she left. An officious woman vested with the authority to carry refunds marched over to me with an envelope. And forms. These also required my signature. Then the refund bearer slowly counted the money. Based upon the amount I was about to receive, I had given a 1000 Thai Baht note ($30 USD) to make a 100 Thai Baht ($3 USD) purchase but had not realized it at the time and left without my change. 

Since I had used my discount card, the store had a procedure to look up my telephone number and contact me to return the money.

But Thais haven't quite worked out the procedural glitches for many other things like on-line bill paying, internet banking, applying for visas, connecting subscribers to cable, and using credit cards. Thai ways are not efficient by Western standards. Many Western expats consider Thai ways to be dysfunctional.

But Thais value relationships more than efficiency. They are so social that it is impossible to be anonymous here in the manner that is common in the West. I suspect that Thais would consider a society where people can be anonymous to be dysfunctional.

Thais in Chiang Mai like to do business face to face. It's unusual to resolve problems by phone or email here. Conducting all business face to face is time consuming and often frustrating for Westerners, especially for type A driven Westerners like me.

But then something happens like a department store calling to return forgotten change. Or a cafe owner chasing after me to return my left behind umbrella. The cable company asking that I come into its office to give me a refund because it has calculated an overcharge. A computer shop owner carrying my broken printer to another shop because she cannot fix it.

And all of this is done cheerfully.


"Same same but different" is something Thais often say. It means that whatever is said or done is true. And the opposite is true also. It's a way to maintain harmony and equilibrium. Everyone is right. No one is wrong. Perhaps this mentality is why Thais are known for their tolerance. 

So the Thais cheerfully and patiently tolerate farangs' (foreigners) need for efficiency while conducting business in their own highly social style. 




                                         Sometimes efficiency discussions get heated in Thailand

Trendy Chiang Mai

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know Gally.” 

“Yes. Yes, you do,” Paul said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gary is coming back from Australia next week.” 

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

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

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

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

No wonder everyone in the restaurant had been so interested.

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

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

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

InterNations: A Good Way to Meet Expats in Thailand

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goat Story

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

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

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

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

Traditional spirit houses 

Spirit house figurines

Modern spirit house near trendy Bangkok hotel

I will get to the goat story. Promise. 

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

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

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

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

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

What a weird question, I thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, smiles flashed all around.

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

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

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

So far, this has worked well.