Real Thai food is tasty, though it takes some getting used to. It’s a distant but recognizable cousin to the food you’d get at a good Thai restaurant in the US or Australia. The most similar-to-their-foreign-counterpart dishes are the red curry and spring rolls, though here they are served spicy and lukewarm.
Foods in general here are cooked, served, and eaten at roadside carts. This adds the dubious spice and taste of diesel fumes and street grime, together with the trashy uriney smells of the sidewalks and gutters, to the meals. This becomes ignorable surprisingly quickly. Most people eat about 7 little mini-meals a day (which I like a lot), and very little differentiation is made between times of day and what you eat: a curry is just as fair game for breakfast as for dinner, as are sweet rice-gluten cubes or spicy fried chicken. Breakfasts usually include some mixture of the following: creamy corn chowder, very spicy ground pork, stir-fried cabbage, fried rice, cold corn kernels, fresh fruit, an omelettey scramble, etc.
Many of the foods are very, very spicy. And I mean spicy. It’s generally a diced fresh and/or powdered dried red chilli pepper spice, plus fresh ground black pepper, and various mysterious insidious other spicinesses. The heat is cumulative, though you can usually tell by the second bite whether or not the dish is beyond your abilities. A fried rice meal we had last night, which the cook made super-mild for us whiteys, was still too much for my palate, though we’re both getting much better at eating the hotness.
Other than throat-imploding spiciness, things which we have not eaten and are not inclined to try but which are readily available include deep-fried cicadas, fried shrimp pancakes (made from whole shrimps, with eyes and legs and antennae still in), fried pig-head skin, fried chicken feet, fried internal organs of questionable origin (if you’re getting the impression that they will fry and eat anything, you’re not far wrong), various dried salted whole fish, and this gloppy brown stew that smells like rottenness and has bones floating in it but which the folks in our neighbourhood line up to eat. Other than that, so far we’ve been willing to eat and have enjoyed almost anything safe-seeming that passes our way.
Some of the delights we have most enjoyed so far include: A bagful of golden-brown deep fried bananas, dough-balls, and sesame-covered dough-balls filled with crushed peanuts: fresh dragon fruit with exceptionally pale flesh: a mango possessed of a markedly paisley and oblong shape, splotched and golden skin, and a smooth and non-fibrous texture, whose flavour was especially sweet and reminded us of wild raspberries: a fruit that looks like an lumpy apple with skin like a green pear, the texture of jhimika and a light, mild flavour reminiscent of unripe watermelon and honey: green curry with liver (which we ate around) and little round green vegetables that look like tiny watermelons on the outside and cucumbers on the inside and taste like pumpkin: silver dollar pancakes that are custardy in the middle and are made with coconut milk and either corn kernels or scallions: layered balls of marinated dried coconut, rice paste, and more coconut: little corn muffins with fresh flaked coconut: red curry with bamboo shoots: spicy ground mystery meat with diced mystery vegetables and chillies: green mango/papaya salad with shredded carrots, cabbage, dried roasted garlic, and chillies: stir-fried tofu and mushrooms: lots of thai iced tea (a red tea with milk poured over ice and then with sweetened condensed milk poured over it): chilled lemongrass juice: crispy deep-fried chilli-flavoured broad beans with skins: roasted fingerling sweet potatoes with a very nutty and starchy taste: simple fried chicken done so, so well: a variety of gloppy Chineseish veggie-and-brown-sauce dishes, and more.
In addition to these street foods, there are also fruit and veggie and fish and meat markets, Thai-stocked grocery stores, international (i.e. American, British, Chinese, and Japanese) grocery stores, and restaurants ranging to mom-and-pop to fancy. Petra and I have now frequented examples of all of the above, and can happily report that the fancy restaurant across the street makes a better pasta alfredo than most Italians, and Thai-made baguettes and butter are sublime. As we’re on an insanely small budget, such very expensive luxuries as wheat and dairy products will be infrequently enjoyed. We feel very blessed, though, that what for us is a very small budget is relative wealth in this country, and that we have the opportunity to explore so much of what is available to eat here.
P.S. Yes, our bellies hurt. But we’ll get over it.
ADDED: the sights and sounds of our local pad thai stand!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
bangkok so far
An elephant just walked by. I love it. I’m sitting in a pleasant, air-conditioned, European-style coffee shop (hey, I’m in culture-shock, I need a little jazz and milk to soothe my soul) and I’m looking out over a garden hanging thick with vines and thick waxy-leafed trees and, yes, some lizards, all grown in amongst about two hundred tangled electric wires, then beyond that to a busy street with whizzing hot-pink and yellow luxury sedans and tiny pickup truck/ute busses and myriad motorcycles, beyond that to a tiny sidewalk chicken curry cart, and then to a highrise apartment building with clothing shops on the street front. It’s a fairly representative Bangkok scene: fairly modern, very busy, very full, with some slightly worrisome elements (the wires, the speed of the cars, the dubiousness of the un-refrigerated meats).
Bangkok is really a very liveable city, with excellent public transportation, a lot of activity on the streets, really friendly and helpful and patient people, excellent food, proliferate shopping, very affordable prices, beautiful temples, generally awesome wildlife, and more delights. We could easily have ended up in a worse place: spending time here for a year shouldn’t be too taxing.
The main two downsides that we’ve experienced so far are, most notably, the heat and the mosquitoes. It’s really hot here: it’s been in the upper 90s F (upper 30s C) and extremely humid every day, with hotter and more humid weather supposedly on the way. Sweat just pours off of all us farangs (foreigners), making our clothes and skin very uncomfortable. I’ve been taking about three showers a day. Were we able to walk around half-naked, it might not seem too bad, but the reasonably-conservative dress mores of Thai culture requires much more covering (long pants, often long shirts too, sandals discouraged) than I would choose in this climate. The fact that many stores and offices are aggressively air conditioned makes it very hard to adjust to the heat. And the mosquitoes – well, they’re what you’d expect, but they’re still frustrating. Petra currently has 86 bites on her legs alone. We’re looking forward to installing mosquito netting. We’ll try not to get malaria and Dengue fever, we promise.
But so far these discomforts have definitely been outweighed by the delights of the city itself, especially the tasty food. I suspect I will only come to like Bangkok more as we complete our settling-in tasks and have more time to be tourists and get massages and meditate in temples and bike along rice paddies and sit on beaches and learn to cook and ride on riverboats… the options for fun are almost endless. I already wish we had more time.
Note: these photos are a really bad mish-mash, I’ve been too overwhelmed to really do any photography so far, but at least here’s a glimpse at our surroundings.
Bangkok is really a very liveable city, with excellent public transportation, a lot of activity on the streets, really friendly and helpful and patient people, excellent food, proliferate shopping, very affordable prices, beautiful temples, generally awesome wildlife, and more delights. We could easily have ended up in a worse place: spending time here for a year shouldn’t be too taxing.
The main two downsides that we’ve experienced so far are, most notably, the heat and the mosquitoes. It’s really hot here: it’s been in the upper 90s F (upper 30s C) and extremely humid every day, with hotter and more humid weather supposedly on the way. Sweat just pours off of all us farangs (foreigners), making our clothes and skin very uncomfortable. I’ve been taking about three showers a day. Were we able to walk around half-naked, it might not seem too bad, but the reasonably-conservative dress mores of Thai culture requires much more covering (long pants, often long shirts too, sandals discouraged) than I would choose in this climate. The fact that many stores and offices are aggressively air conditioned makes it very hard to adjust to the heat. And the mosquitoes – well, they’re what you’d expect, but they’re still frustrating. Petra currently has 86 bites on her legs alone. We’re looking forward to installing mosquito netting. We’ll try not to get malaria and Dengue fever, we promise.
But so far these discomforts have definitely been outweighed by the delights of the city itself, especially the tasty food. I suspect I will only come to like Bangkok more as we complete our settling-in tasks and have more time to be tourists and get massages and meditate in temples and bike along rice paddies and sit on beaches and learn to cook and ride on riverboats… the options for fun are almost endless. I already wish we had more time.
Note: these photos are a really bad mish-mash, I’ve been too overwhelmed to really do any photography so far, but at least here’s a glimpse at our surroundings.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
bangkok!
We’re really actually in Bangkok, Thailand. Erika is pleased to report that this city does, in fact, exist. That’s two mythical lands now whose existence she has definitively proved!
I arrived last week to get oriented by the folks running the program that’s funding my position (it’s a little complicated). The orientation has been really really helpful, covering everything from setting up bank accounts and cell phones to language classes,Thai massages, and cocktails.
While I was being pampered and overwhelmed, Erika was holed up in Melbourne at the home of my cousins Nick and Tina, where she began conducting an astoundingly thorough search for English teacher positions in Bangkok. She already has four interviews lined up for this week, and is excited about a number of the jobs. Here’s hoping!
Erika finally arrived in Bangkok Monday morning, since the main business of my orientation was over. She spent Monday feeling hot (it’s really hot here) and sleeping while I house-hunted. We spent Tuesday retrieving our bags from customs, which took 6.5 hours and a number of fees.
Speaking of: this blog should be understood to be written with a certain sensitivity to my professional position here, and that we are… guided in what we discuss by Thai laws and customs, which are not analogous to, for instance, the first amendment. If you don’t know what we’re talking about here, ask someone else, we can’t tell you, as we fully intend to be law-abiding Thai residents.
Moving on – Yesterday we struck gold in the accommodation arena, securing a beautiful, huge apartment right next to my workplace. We move in on Sunday, and I start work Monday. We’ll tell you all about Bangkok and our new apartment and my job and hopefully Erika’s new job too, whatever it turns out to be.
I arrived last week to get oriented by the folks running the program that’s funding my position (it’s a little complicated). The orientation has been really really helpful, covering everything from setting up bank accounts and cell phones to language classes,Thai massages, and cocktails.
While I was being pampered and overwhelmed, Erika was holed up in Melbourne at the home of my cousins Nick and Tina, where she began conducting an astoundingly thorough search for English teacher positions in Bangkok. She already has four interviews lined up for this week, and is excited about a number of the jobs. Here’s hoping!
Erika finally arrived in Bangkok Monday morning, since the main business of my orientation was over. She spent Monday feeling hot (it’s really hot here) and sleeping while I house-hunted. We spent Tuesday retrieving our bags from customs, which took 6.5 hours and a number of fees.
Speaking of: this blog should be understood to be written with a certain sensitivity to my professional position here, and that we are… guided in what we discuss by Thai laws and customs, which are not analogous to, for instance, the first amendment. If you don’t know what we’re talking about here, ask someone else, we can’t tell you, as we fully intend to be law-abiding Thai residents.
Moving on – Yesterday we struck gold in the accommodation arena, securing a beautiful, huge apartment right next to my workplace. We move in on Sunday, and I start work Monday. We’ll tell you all about Bangkok and our new apartment and my job and hopefully Erika’s new job too, whatever it turns out to be.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
since we last talked...
Ok, we have been criminally negligent in updating this blog, but we have good excuses! :)
As Petra mentioned, we were over in New Zealand for Christmas and the wedding of her cousin Chris to the lovely Claire. We had a great time doing weddingy things and exploring the area around New Plymouth, with black sand beaches and very Shire-worthy green rolling pasture lands and the very conical and iconic Mt. Taranaki looming above it all. Are you sure Tolkein never visited here?
From New Years through near the end of January, my mom (Lilli) and twin sister (Lisa) visited! While Petra had to return to work, I had all the time in the world, so I stayed on in New Zealand and they met me there. We traveled by ferry from Wellington on the North Island across the Cook Straight and through the Marlborough Sounds to Picton on the South Island. The ferry ride was gorgeous, with albatrosses and cliffs and mountains and really strong wind to entertain us along the way. But the best part was the incomparable glow of being with my two most beloved people in the whole wide world again after a year's absence. We did a lot of hugging and grinning.
We stayed in a little tiny town called Marahau at the edge of the Abel Tasman National Park on the northern tip of the South Island, at a funny hostel in which we slept in tents pitched on the lawn. We hiked, kayaked, waded in the shallow of the funny tidal bay, drank Tui beer, and had a great time. It was gorgeous.
Then we made our way back to Melbourne (bumping into my lovely fellow Smithie Kate Carson at the Picton ferry terminal, randomly and delightfully), where I attempted to show Lisa and Ma all of the delights of the state of Victoria in less than two weeks. We did pretty well: a picnic with Petra's family, day markets and night markets of the city, the Port Phillip Bay waterfront, the campus of Melbourne Uni (where I had studied this past year), the rain forests in the Dandenongs (where there were myriad wild parrots and we spied the elusive lyrebird), the harsh dry rocky Grampians (where there were wild kangaroos right outside the hostel!), Great Ocean Road (with teal water, stunning cliffs, and wild koalas galore), and a whole lot more. As she was working, Petra could only join us in the evenings. It stayed generally cool for Australian standards, so Ma and Lisa didn't melt too badly. I was very, very, very sad to see them go. But I'm glad they came when they did, since some of those areas have since been obliterated by the bushfires.
The day they left, I started a training course in which I became certified to teach English as a second/foreign language. The course was SO MUCH fun, and I've become very excited about the possibilities for this line of work for me, even if only temporarily.
My plan was to then have a few weeks vacation to myself, see a bit more of Australia before we leave (notably, Sydney and the Red Center, neither of which I've seen yet), but instead I was struck down by the respiratory gods with a really awful pneumonia. In the dead of the dry, hot summer. Go figure. But that had me stuck in the hospital and then in strict bed rest with all of the medicines under the sun and daily doctor's visits for just over a month all told. So I didn't get to have much fun with my vacation. After being released from the hospital's care, I slowly worked on getting my energy back -- it's amazing how quickly muscles atrophy, and the bushfires that burned nearby filling the city with heavy smoke and the 115+ degree heat did not help in my recuperation -- but I can now happily go about my day again and run errands and the like with no problem. I'm cured! :)
Since then, hustled to pack up our apartment, said goodbye to all our dear new friends, and sent Petra off to Bangkok (where she is now) to case the place out and find us an apartment. I've put myself into my Bangkok job search full tilt, looking for work teaching English to little Thai kids, and have a few promising interviews lined up for two days after I arrive. There seem to be a profusion of good apartments and good jobs available, so we're psyched.
I leave for Bangkok in a few hours time, so from tomorrow to a year from now we'll be reporting from Bangkok! Pretty exciting!
Oh, and there was an earthquake here yesterday. 4.7 Richter scale. Just to keep things interesting. :) Occasionally, I wish I had a boring life.
As Petra mentioned, we were over in New Zealand for Christmas and the wedding of her cousin Chris to the lovely Claire. We had a great time doing weddingy things and exploring the area around New Plymouth, with black sand beaches and very Shire-worthy green rolling pasture lands and the very conical and iconic Mt. Taranaki looming above it all. Are you sure Tolkein never visited here?
From New Years through near the end of January, my mom (Lilli) and twin sister (Lisa) visited! While Petra had to return to work, I had all the time in the world, so I stayed on in New Zealand and they met me there. We traveled by ferry from Wellington on the North Island across the Cook Straight and through the Marlborough Sounds to Picton on the South Island. The ferry ride was gorgeous, with albatrosses and cliffs and mountains and really strong wind to entertain us along the way. But the best part was the incomparable glow of being with my two most beloved people in the whole wide world again after a year's absence. We did a lot of hugging and grinning.
We stayed in a little tiny town called Marahau at the edge of the Abel Tasman National Park on the northern tip of the South Island, at a funny hostel in which we slept in tents pitched on the lawn. We hiked, kayaked, waded in the shallow of the funny tidal bay, drank Tui beer, and had a great time. It was gorgeous.
Then we made our way back to Melbourne (bumping into my lovely fellow Smithie Kate Carson at the Picton ferry terminal, randomly and delightfully), where I attempted to show Lisa and Ma all of the delights of the state of Victoria in less than two weeks. We did pretty well: a picnic with Petra's family, day markets and night markets of the city, the Port Phillip Bay waterfront, the campus of Melbourne Uni (where I had studied this past year), the rain forests in the Dandenongs (where there were myriad wild parrots and we spied the elusive lyrebird), the harsh dry rocky Grampians (where there were wild kangaroos right outside the hostel!), Great Ocean Road (with teal water, stunning cliffs, and wild koalas galore), and a whole lot more. As she was working, Petra could only join us in the evenings. It stayed generally cool for Australian standards, so Ma and Lisa didn't melt too badly. I was very, very, very sad to see them go. But I'm glad they came when they did, since some of those areas have since been obliterated by the bushfires.
The day they left, I started a training course in which I became certified to teach English as a second/foreign language. The course was SO MUCH fun, and I've become very excited about the possibilities for this line of work for me, even if only temporarily.
My plan was to then have a few weeks vacation to myself, see a bit more of Australia before we leave (notably, Sydney and the Red Center, neither of which I've seen yet), but instead I was struck down by the respiratory gods with a really awful pneumonia. In the dead of the dry, hot summer. Go figure. But that had me stuck in the hospital and then in strict bed rest with all of the medicines under the sun and daily doctor's visits for just over a month all told. So I didn't get to have much fun with my vacation. After being released from the hospital's care, I slowly worked on getting my energy back -- it's amazing how quickly muscles atrophy, and the bushfires that burned nearby filling the city with heavy smoke and the 115+ degree heat did not help in my recuperation -- but I can now happily go about my day again and run errands and the like with no problem. I'm cured! :)
Since then, hustled to pack up our apartment, said goodbye to all our dear new friends, and sent Petra off to Bangkok (where she is now) to case the place out and find us an apartment. I've put myself into my Bangkok job search full tilt, looking for work teaching English to little Thai kids, and have a few promising interviews lined up for two days after I arrive. There seem to be a profusion of good apartments and good jobs available, so we're psyched.
I leave for Bangkok in a few hours time, so from tomorrow to a year from now we'll be reporting from Bangkok! Pretty exciting!
Oh, and there was an earthquake here yesterday. 4.7 Richter scale. Just to keep things interesting. :) Occasionally, I wish I had a boring life.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
New Years Reflection
Note: I wrote the following several days ago on New Year's Eve, which we spent in New Zealand. I have since returned to Melbourne, but Erika will be in New Zealand for a few days more – with mum Lilli and sister Lisa too! Stay tuned for more tales of our New Zealand adventure in the next few weeks.
I am spending some rare solitary time in New Plymouth in Taranaki, New Zealand. I'd been determined to spend this New Year's Eve day either in the mountains or on the beach. The fact that there were low thick clouds gave me a choice between climbing through fresh cool mountain mist or shivering damply on a sandy towel. Not a tough call. So there I was hiking up a mountain through mossy woods and meadows almost elevated enough to be alpine. The hike was great, despite having several textbook harbingers of hiking unpleasantness:
1) The recent rain has transformed sections of the trail into small rivulets – or riverlets, if you will – which trip charmingly down the mountain and merrily collect in hazardous mud puddles. I am grateful to my Saucony sneakers for dramatically outperforming their job description yet again.
2) My trail guidebook, which in all other cases has inaccurately overestimated the time needed to complete a walk, instead underestimated the time it takes to walk this trail by about two hours. I have decided to attribute this fault to the mud rather than the trail guide or my own slowness.
3) The track promised sweeping panoramic vistas stretching down to the sea. Sadly, I didn't see any of them because the mountain was almost entirely swaddled in cloud cover. I still had plenty to look at, as nothing brings out the greens and yellows in a forest or field like diffuse white light. And I very much enjoyed the lovely fresh air, the novelty of humidity after arid Australia, and the steady stream of endorphins in my blood thanks to prolonged exertion.
Since it was New Years Eve, I gave a shot at solitary introspection while hiking. I thought to myself, "self, it's almost 2009. How have you spent 2008? Are you satisfied that you have made meaningful progress towards your goals for personal and professional development? How are you fulfilling your commitments to your family, your wife, and your world? What do you hope to achieve in 2009?" I answered myself, "2009? Awesome. Hey, that rhymes with 1999, which is in the title of that song, you know? And it's about New Years, too! We're gonna party like its 1999..." and there followed about two hours in which I reveled in the rare opportunity to sing whatever song I liked as loud as I wanted, stumping squelchily up the mountain serenading myself with snatches of everything from bluegrass hymns to Georges Bizet to the Dixie Chicks.
I give it another go after I finish stuffing myself at dinner (post-hike monster appetite). This time I got as far as, "Yeah, I'm pretty happy with what I'm doing. I like spending my work week administering an end to global poverty and my weekends catching up with my cousins. And I'm really glad my job in Thailand will be less admin-focused than what I have been doing. And we're going to Thailand! Awesome!” … before I got derailed again and the next thing I knew I was halfway through the crossword puzzle in my book of French grammar fun.
I'm about to give up on my attempt to productively harness the symbolic significance of today's date. It's not that I'm not in introspective person, it's just that I think by talking to people and right now – again, somewhat unsurprisingly - the "solitary" part of my unfolding reflections is not proving as helpful as I'd hoped. 2009 will come whether I spend tonight meditating or belting on my favorite tunes at the karaoke bar downstairs. Plus, I think I’ve hit the highlights already:
18 months ago we were scraping by at jobs we didn't enjoy and weren't taking us anywhere we wanted to go.
15 months ago we started making big changes.
10 months ago we started new endeavors in Australia, moving closer to where we want to be.
In 2009 I want to keep learning, keep loving, keep achieving, keep growing, and keep LIVING.
It is now 9 p.m., and I'm going to bed. Happy New Year, Everyone!
I am spending some rare solitary time in New Plymouth in Taranaki, New Zealand. I'd been determined to spend this New Year's Eve day either in the mountains or on the beach. The fact that there were low thick clouds gave me a choice between climbing through fresh cool mountain mist or shivering damply on a sandy towel. Not a tough call. So there I was hiking up a mountain through mossy woods and meadows almost elevated enough to be alpine. The hike was great, despite having several textbook harbingers of hiking unpleasantness:
1) The recent rain has transformed sections of the trail into small rivulets – or riverlets, if you will – which trip charmingly down the mountain and merrily collect in hazardous mud puddles. I am grateful to my Saucony sneakers for dramatically outperforming their job description yet again.
2) My trail guidebook, which in all other cases has inaccurately overestimated the time needed to complete a walk, instead underestimated the time it takes to walk this trail by about two hours. I have decided to attribute this fault to the mud rather than the trail guide or my own slowness.
3) The track promised sweeping panoramic vistas stretching down to the sea. Sadly, I didn't see any of them because the mountain was almost entirely swaddled in cloud cover. I still had plenty to look at, as nothing brings out the greens and yellows in a forest or field like diffuse white light. And I very much enjoyed the lovely fresh air, the novelty of humidity after arid Australia, and the steady stream of endorphins in my blood thanks to prolonged exertion.
Since it was New Years Eve, I gave a shot at solitary introspection while hiking. I thought to myself, "self, it's almost 2009. How have you spent 2008? Are you satisfied that you have made meaningful progress towards your goals for personal and professional development? How are you fulfilling your commitments to your family, your wife, and your world? What do you hope to achieve in 2009?" I answered myself, "2009? Awesome. Hey, that rhymes with 1999, which is in the title of that song, you know? And it's about New Years, too! We're gonna party like its 1999..." and there followed about two hours in which I reveled in the rare opportunity to sing whatever song I liked as loud as I wanted, stumping squelchily up the mountain serenading myself with snatches of everything from bluegrass hymns to Georges Bizet to the Dixie Chicks.
I give it another go after I finish stuffing myself at dinner (post-hike monster appetite). This time I got as far as, "Yeah, I'm pretty happy with what I'm doing. I like spending my work week administering an end to global poverty and my weekends catching up with my cousins. And I'm really glad my job in Thailand will be less admin-focused than what I have been doing. And we're going to Thailand! Awesome!” … before I got derailed again and the next thing I knew I was halfway through the crossword puzzle in my book of French grammar fun.
I'm about to give up on my attempt to productively harness the symbolic significance of today's date. It's not that I'm not in introspective person, it's just that I think by talking to people and right now – again, somewhat unsurprisingly - the "solitary" part of my unfolding reflections is not proving as helpful as I'd hoped. 2009 will come whether I spend tonight meditating or belting on my favorite tunes at the karaoke bar downstairs. Plus, I think I’ve hit the highlights already:
18 months ago we were scraping by at jobs we didn't enjoy and weren't taking us anywhere we wanted to go.
15 months ago we started making big changes.
10 months ago we started new endeavors in Australia, moving closer to where we want to be.
In 2009 I want to keep learning, keep loving, keep achieving, keep growing, and keep LIVING.
It is now 9 p.m., and I'm going to bed. Happy New Year, Everyone!
Monday, December 22, 2008
the (other) land of the free*
You may have noticed that I’ve been falling a bit behind on my posts: they’ve been coming out a bit late, and the spaces between my posts have gotten rather lengthy. That’s because for the past few months I’ve been very busy writing other things: namely, applications, because my current job (a maternity leave cover) ends in February. Well, one of them has paid off, and I’ve been offered a very exciting professional opportunity! In Thailand. We’re moving to Bangkok!
Starting in March 2009, I will be working for twelve months with the World Vision Foundation of Thailand, the Thai branch of my current employer, supporting the coordination, implementation, monitoring, and development of their anti-human trafficking programs throughout the greater Mekong region (Note: “human trafficking” is like drug trafficking but with people, and the profit comes from exploiting people's labour rather than from illegal movement or goods: in other words, slavery). The position is based in Bangkok but involves frequent travel to Thailand’s border towns and neighbouring countries (exciting!!) because a key piece is to facilitate communication and collaboration among regional projects. I’ll be focusing particularly on two projects that protect migrant rights and discourage unsafe migration from neighbouring Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam.
Since human traffickers are not exactly the nicest of people, many friends and family have raised understandable concerns about my safety. Fortunately, I will not be engaged in the kind of high-profile bust-ups of billion-dollar sex-trafficking rings that get you targeted by international crime lords. I will be working with victims and potential-victims of human-trafficking, not with traffickers. I will be working largely on community education and development programs: making vulnerable people aware of the threat human trafficking poses to them and encouraging safe and lawful ways for people to make a living where they are, or migrate safely to find work. I don’t expect that anybody dangerous will even notice me, much less target me. Also, although I will be working with World Vision Thailand, the position is funded and administered through AusAID as part of the Australian Youth Ambassadors for Development program. I trust the Australian Government to watch my back.
Erika will of course be coming to Bangkok too, and we’re eagerly exploring things for her to do there. She’s signed up to get TEFL training and certification next month. Also, we’ve recently discovered that Habitat for Humanity has a significant presence in Thailand, and working with them could be exactly what she wants to do. She’s also hoping to explore more outdoor sports opportunities.
Needless to say, we’re extremely excited about this opportunity. It’s pretty much exactly what I was hoping for in my next career move, and I’m thrilled it’s happening so soon.
*Like the US, Thailand calls itself the Land of the Free. This is in reference to 1) the pride that Thai people take in having successfully resisted colonization by Western powers, and 2) a comparative difference in the political autonomy of lower class people in two rival Tai (pre-Thai) city-states in the thirteenth century (it’s a little complicated).
Arthur Winifred "Dusty" Rhodes: May 11, 1917 - December 19, 2008
My grandfather (shown above on his 91st birthday with my cousin Patty) passed away quickly this past week, having lived an incredibly long and rich life, active and mentally acute right up to the end.
I greatly admired my grandfather. Anyone who met him knew that he was considerate, polite, charming, helpful, involved in life, always present. He could put almost anyone at ease, easy with a story or joke in his soft Missourian drawl and a twinkle in his blue eyes. His charm masked a blindingly brilliant mind, with thoughts firmly grounded in practical matters, a strong and determined leader when situations demanded such a role. My grandfather was also deeply committed to his family, always looking for ways to help us, always wanting to know how we were. He seemed to believe that nothing was impossible, that with enough information, the right tools for the task, and enough helping hands we could solve any problem, from drywalling to a broken heart.
He and I shared a love of maps. As Corban noted, his encyclopaedic knowledge of the roads of New England and the east coast was incredibly helpful, and was one of the ways in which he most often shared his love and concern for us all. When my wife and I were setting off on a roadtrip from Boston to New Orleans, he made sure we had a route that took the most beautiful roads, had some picnics along the way, and avoided as many tolls as possible. He made sure we had water and a flashlight. And he was pleased to learn afterwards of the new bridge in West Virginia that not only cut down on driving time, but had a truly spectacular view west down the valley.
You see, he was always learning. Even though, at 92, he knew it wasn't likely that he'd be driving through West Virginia any time soon, he hoarded and cherished facts as much as he did other useful things, like bits of rope and scrap lumber. You never knew when it might come in handy. But our shared love of information went beyond what was merely useful: we would flip through his atlases, or later the online Google maps, revelling in the sheer amount of information represented there and the vastness and diversity of the world's geology and habitations. Through maps, we would explore Europe, retrace his family's travels there, and go off on new adventures through Russia, following the path of the Trans Siberian Railway or the coast of the Mediterranean. When I told him of my planned move to Australia, out came the maps, and together we learned of the continent's sparse population, inhabitable center, and exciting proximity to Antarctica.
His life-long learning extended beyond facts, though, and into matters of conscience. Long an ardent Republican and proud veteran, Grandpa Dusty nevertheless expressed his concern and disappointment with the Iraq War and the general state of today's military. And closer to my own heart, he made sure I always knew he loved and supported me, even after he learned that I was gay. He comforted me when, in high school, he happened to be visiting when I was heartbroken by my first love: 'Tears are tears', he said, and gave me a hug, even though I saw that he was confused. My mother tells me that he took it upon himself after that to educate himself about gay issues, reading materials from PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays), and participating in a church discussion group with the aim of supporting gay people in his community. And year later he warmly welcomed my wife into our family, read from First Thessalonians while smiling proudly at our wedding. Some of my friends were surprised that such a traditional gentleman would be so loving to his lesbian granddaughter, noting that their own grandparents' values had ossified years ago. But knowing that Grandpa Dusty's deepest roots were those of love and loyalty, combined with a commitment to always learning more about the world, those around him, and himself, I wasn't surprised.
My grandfather made the most sense to me after I visited Caruthersville, Missouri, where he was born. There is rich soil there. The land is so flat that you can see the curve of the earth, inviting the observer to imagine what is beyond that edge, and to take a step to see more, and more again. And the deep Mississippi pushes fast and strong along the edge of town, coming from somewhere, going somewhere, with power and boats and people and evidences of northern storms. It is a place to cultivate just such a grounded adventurer as my grandfather was.
It's so hard to speak in the past tense, isn't it? "Admired", "was". They seem wrong, because I still see his best qualities in his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. And I still admire the way in which he lived his life, I still aspire to be as helpful and loyal and full of grace as he. Though it may sound trite, I know that my Grandpa Dusty will live on as long as we continue to learn from him and hold memories of him.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
the races
I now live in a state that has a civic holiday for a horse race. That’s right, Melbourne Cup Day (November 4th, oddly enough – yes I’m late in posting this) is a public holiday that honors the annual, much anticipated, boisterously celebrated pivitol competition of Melbourne’s season of the sport of horse racing. The races are held at historic Flemington race course in the northern suburbs. Everyone gets extremely dressed up (I wasn’t allowed to enter our picnic area with flat shoes – had to be heels), and some people (ladies especially but not exclusively) spend more time, money, energy, and attention on their race-day outfits – especially their hats – than can possibly be healthy. Done moderately, though, it can be a blast. Basically, it’s like the biggest, fanciest tailgate/barbeque party you’ve ever seen. Some people even seem to watch the horses run, but for most the sport isn’t really the point: to see, be seen, hang out with friends and family, and get drunk seem to be most people’s priorities. We couldn’t even see the racetracks from our spot. Personally, I enjoyed making my “hat,” getting dressed up, and spending the day with my cousins and family.
around the bay in a day
My uncle John drove us all the way around Port Phillip Bay last weekend. We’ve been looking forward to this “around the bay in a day” drive since we arrived, and had the perfect weather for it: it was pouring in Melbourne and its suburbs, which kept most people at home. Leaving the rainclouds behind with the city limits, we had the sunny roads and beaches to ourselves.
Three highlights of the day were vanilla slice, the ferry, and the pier: vanilla slice is a classic Australian dessert consisting of a thick layer of vanilla custard resting between pastry slices with thick white sugar frosting on top. As you can imagine, it squirts out everywhere as soon as you bite into it, making it delightfully impossible to eat politely. A small café at the furthest tip of the bay has what is consistently rated the best vanilla slice in the state of Victoria, which largely inspired our trip in the first place. I truly have never had such delicious vanilla slice. It was the best. Lucky for us, upon arriving we got the very last slice the café had, even though it was still midmorning.
From there, we took a 1-hr ferry ride across the channel that joins the bay to the sea, and enjoyed the views out to the Southern Ocean, with nothing but water between us and Antarctica. The fierce currents, stiff wind, pretty little towns, and bluegreen water made for a gorgeous ride.
On the way back home up the east coast of the bay, we stopped in the town of Rye at a pier where I had gone fishing with my Nonno (grandfather) as a child: it was just as I remembered it, with white sand and the clearest turquoise water deepening so gradually that even a toddler can wade out quite far. I still remember Nonno, an ancestral fisherman from Stromboli, taking such great pride in my catching two fish on the first line I dropped.
Thanks, John, for such a great day!
Three highlights of the day were vanilla slice, the ferry, and the pier: vanilla slice is a classic Australian dessert consisting of a thick layer of vanilla custard resting between pastry slices with thick white sugar frosting on top. As you can imagine, it squirts out everywhere as soon as you bite into it, making it delightfully impossible to eat politely. A small café at the furthest tip of the bay has what is consistently rated the best vanilla slice in the state of Victoria, which largely inspired our trip in the first place. I truly have never had such delicious vanilla slice. It was the best. Lucky for us, upon arriving we got the very last slice the café had, even though it was still midmorning.
From there, we took a 1-hr ferry ride across the channel that joins the bay to the sea, and enjoyed the views out to the Southern Ocean, with nothing but water between us and Antarctica. The fierce currents, stiff wind, pretty little towns, and bluegreen water made for a gorgeous ride.
On the way back home up the east coast of the bay, we stopped in the town of Rye at a pier where I had gone fishing with my Nonno (grandfather) as a child: it was just as I remembered it, with white sand and the clearest turquoise water deepening so gradually that even a toddler can wade out quite far. I still remember Nonno, an ancestral fisherman from Stromboli, taking such great pride in my catching two fish on the first line I dropped.
Thanks, John, for such a great day!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
melbourne behind-the-scenes: laneways
Growing up between New York City and Boston, where it is rightly unheard of for a woman to walk down an alley even in midday, it took me a few weeks here to realize that despite its regular street grid, Melbourne’s city center is physically a labyrinth, a honeycomb, a catacomb. There is much more surface area than the outer shell would suggest. Regular pedestrians are just as likely to walk through the blocks than around them: malls, ‘arcades’, ‘laneways’ alleys off alleys provide not only more direct walking routes, but also a host of truly tiny cafes and shops between and underneath Melbourne’s streets, largely sporting quirky fancy fashion or specialist trades like cobblers and the like. At odds with the general Melbournian friendliness, their small size, entrenched clientele, and suave servers makes these Melbournian institutions seem cliquish and uninviting, furthering my wonderment that anyone ever finds these tiny holes in the city’s wall, let alone enough customers to maintain downtown rents.
The laneways, while occasionally very shwank, usually provide a sudden and welcome gritty and odorous counterpoint to the clean sophistication of the sidewalks. Most notable in their contribution to the city’s melody is the insanely good and prevalent laneway graffiti, which has even come to be recognized by some of country’s greatest cultural institutions, and has a considerable artist and fan community (including but not limited to sites like this) despite its often-disturbing subject matter. There is even a laneway art commission, encouraging artists to further contribute to the appreciation of the hidden corners of the city, my favorite of which features gold-plated water pipes: I love not just the beauty of the paintings, but also the mesmerizing shapes of the external pipes (which they can get away with because it doesn’t freeze here) and the general decrepit and shoddy buildings: with its single-thickness dry-mortared brick and cement slab walls resting on loose dirt, most of the city would crumble in a minute if there were an earthquake, flood, or really stiff breeze, further endearing it to me in its ephemerality.
More photos to be added soon. Sorry for not having the time to weed through to just choose good pics.
The laneways, while occasionally very shwank, usually provide a sudden and welcome gritty and odorous counterpoint to the clean sophistication of the sidewalks. Most notable in their contribution to the city’s melody is the insanely good and prevalent laneway graffiti, which has even come to be recognized by some of country’s greatest cultural institutions, and has a considerable artist and fan community (including but not limited to sites like this) despite its often-disturbing subject matter. There is even a laneway art commission, encouraging artists to further contribute to the appreciation of the hidden corners of the city, my favorite of which features gold-plated water pipes: I love not just the beauty of the paintings, but also the mesmerizing shapes of the external pipes (which they can get away with because it doesn’t freeze here) and the general decrepit and shoddy buildings: with its single-thickness dry-mortared brick and cement slab walls resting on loose dirt, most of the city would crumble in a minute if there were an earthquake, flood, or really stiff breeze, further endearing it to me in its ephemerality.
More photos to be added soon. Sorry for not having the time to weed through to just choose good pics.
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