"Such a Lovely Place"

Welcome to the Hotel Bangkok!

"This could be heaven or this could be hell," the Eagles sing in their hit song about that diabolical hotel back in California where "you can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave."

For my second English class at Wat Si on Thursday, I gave the monks the lyrics to the song with 17 of the words blanked out. Then I played it on my iPod and asked them to fill in the blanks from a list of the missing words ("highway," "distance," "courtyard," "ceiling," "prisoners," etc.). It was a stretch for them. Last week I did the same listening exercise with Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World," and they enjoyed it so much I thought I would try it again with "Hotel California" which one of the monks suggested (he knew a version by the Scorpions, a German band). For a reading exercise I included interpretations of the song from Wikipedia and Rolling Stone. Later, I had second thoughts about giving young monks a song that could be about hedonism and self-destruction on drugs, "the high life in Los Angeles," according to co-writer Don Henley. But they seemed to enjoy the challenge.

My theme for the two sections was families and I introduced the basic English terms. English is simpler than Thai which distinguishes between paternal and maternal grandparents and has different words for elder and younger siblings. The class broke up into pairs and interviewed each other about their families. Then they each described their partner's family to the class. This practice seems to help them overcome their shyness about speaking English. As fourth-year students majoring in English, their knowledge of grammar is (I think) substantial, but they have had little experience talking before native speakers. While errors abounded, I kept correction to a minimum, more concerned with boosting their confidence than with pointing out deficiencies. Most of them are in their 20's, except for one monk who is 42. They come from all over the Theravadan Buddhist countryside, mostly from rural Thailand but a significant number from Laos, Cambodia and Shan State in Myanmar which has, I believe, a bit of autonomy from the repressive central government. I learned from the presentations that most of the large families are involved in rice farming, but also found that a number of parents are working as school teachers. Many of the students themselves aspire to teach English. I hope I can provide them a good example.

Almost all of the monks have cell phones and quite a few email addresses. I would like to use the computer to extend our conversations outside the classroom, and I have received responses from nine monks who are excited about additional contact. Most of those on email, I discovered, also have profiles on hi5, a popular social networking site in Thailand. Recently, according to one report from Fox News, "a self-styled watchdog group — the Network of Civilians to Protect the Nation, the Religion and the King — said monks were using the social networking site hi5 to flirt with women. One user who called himself 'Monk Chat' sent a message to a woman that said '(I) miss you,' reported Thai Rath, Thailand's top-selling newspaper." In Thai Buddhism, monks, who vow to follow 227 strict rules, must maintain a rigid separation between themselves and women. The government said it would look into the allegation and threatened to block any web sites that "contributed to the deterioration of Buddhism." I trust that my students are faithful to the dhamma, online and off.

My nearly six hours in the classroom went by quickly, although my legs ached from standing up most of the time. I was energized by the experience. After picking up documents from the office I've needed for the new visa, I caught a bus on Bangkhunnon, the main road outside Wat Si and met Pim in Banglamphu across the river. But when we got home I discovered only one document in the envelope; the employment contract I'd been waiting for was missing. When I was offered the job nearly four months ago, I figured that was plenty of time to obtain work papers. Wrong. Thai officialdom is overly bureaucratic and inefficient. Rather than accept the unexpected like a good Buddhist, however, I chew on the bone of frustration. By morning I was ready to give up (again). Hell in the Hotel Bangkok.

Instead, I put on my formal clothes and bussed across town to Wat Si where I plunked myself down into a chair and resolved to stay until the missing document was produced. Everyone in the office was very solicitous. Supo, another of the English teachers, made me coffee. Dr. Siriwat from the psychology department and another gentleman whose name I did not catch looked over the list of requirements I'd been given at Immigration and examined the documents I had collected so far. Yes, they agreed, the employment contract was missing. When Dr. Suriya, the head of the Foreign Languages Department and my boss, arrived, they huddled together to discuss the problem while I stood by without comprehending their Thai. Finally, Dr. Suriya said: "are you free?" I grabbed my briefcase and we took a taxi across the river to Wat Mahathat where the main office of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyala University is located.

While Dr. Suriya went in search of the proper form, I was treated to a cup of iced coffee in the office for international students where I had an enjoyable conversation with Dr. Pramaha Theerapan Nanesuwan and his friend, Phra Bun Tam (whose longer name I did not hear). Both spoke understandable English. Dr. Theerapan is leader of the International Meditation Club along with a fellow named Tony and they regularly hold meetings and retreats for English speakers. Phra Bun Tam has lived and taught in Washington, DC, and San Diego where he studied for a TEFL certificate. His teacher, he told me, had instructed him to pronounce "own" as "ong." Was that correct?, he asked me. I told him no, and we speculated that the teacher must have been from the east coast. Later I was joined by Pandit Bhikku and he took me to another office where we examined forms for a work permit. I must file for it soon after receiving a visa that allows me to work, and it will be undoubtedly prove to be even more difficult and time consuming.

Luckily I'm going on a meditation retreat with Pandit and a dozen other members of the Little Bang Sangha next weekend at a resort on the River Kwai (pronounced "Kway" by Thais instead of "Kweye" as they did in the movie about the bridge). Quiet self-reflection will undoubtedly help me navigate the shoals of frustration. All in all, however, I had a fine day waiting for the document to materialize (after three hours we learned that the man whose signature was required was absent; it should be signed in a day or two). I met an interesting German man in his 70's named Ulrich who had recently retired from teaching Buddhist philosophy at Mahachula and who was now living in an apartment with a sea view to the south "where I have neither a desk nor a computer." He advised me to relax and never, ever act as though I know more or better than the bureaucrats. I'll take that into consideration. At the end of the day I felt that the Hotel Bangkok had once again turned into heaven.

Taking It to the Streets

Politics has gone into the streets in Bangkok and some people are worried. It's scaring the tourists away, reports the The Nation this morning. A week-long anti-government demonstration has blocked traffic on a bridge across from United Nations headquarters here, and Malaysia issued a warning about traveler safety in the city. Indonesia is contemplating doing the same, according to the president of the Association of Thai Travel Agents (ATTA). The is the slow season anyway, and a negative impact on tourism could increase the pain already caused by rising gas and food prices. The non-stop protest, which has drawn up to 10,000 at times, is led by the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) a mixed bag of dissenters whose aim now is the resignation of embattled Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej whose party was voted into office five months ago. According to a story in the International Herald Tribune, the demonstration is "a round-the-clock carnival of protest songs, fiery speeches and -- because this is Thailand -- vendors hawking many types of sausages, smoked squid and green mangoes."

Politics in Thailand is dictated by attitudes toward Thaksin Shinawatra, a billionaire media tycoon who was deposed in a military coup in September, 2006, and his party, Thai Rak Thai (Thais love Thailand), disbanded. His policies, which combined a rural populism with a business-friendly globalism (seemingly an incongruous marriage), angered many urban elites who identify more with the military and the monarchy rather than shop keepers and rice farmers. It didn't help that Thaksin was widely believed guilty (even by his supporters) of financial corruption and vote buying. During his exile, he moved to London and bought the Manchester City football team.

In the December elections, Samak and his People Power Party campaigned openly as a front for Thaksin, and they won decisively, much to the chagrin of the elites. Since the establishment of a constitutional monarchy in 1932, Thailand has had 17 different charters and constitutions. After the 2006 coup, the military junta drafted a new constitution which was approved by the electorate. It contained several articles aimed at punishing Thaksin and his now defunct party. But Samak and his allied politicians announced their goal of amending the constitution to remove the punitive measures. This is what fueled the PAD street protest. And it was this group's leaders, including newspaper publisher Sondhi Limthongkul and Major Gen. Chamlong Srimuang, who led similar protests against Thaksin which brought down his government. Even though the charter amendment move seems blocked, now PAD wants the unpopular Samak removed.

Last Saturday morning Samak went on TV to say the streets would be cleared by force. Police in riot gear surrounded the yellow-clad (to show their allegiance to the King by wearing his color) demonstrators. There was a tense stand-off all day as the crowd grew in size. Finally, in the evening, Interior Minister Chalerm Yubamrung announced that there would be no attempt at a forced removal. Military spokespersons have said daily that there would be no new coup. But unlike street protests on behalf of democracy in 1973, 1976 and 1992, all of which resulted in violence, the demonstrators are trying to bring down a democratically-elected government rather than military dictators. "It's a dangerous trend," said Thitinan Pongsudhirak, professor of political science at Chulalongkorn University.

Thaksin returned to Thailand in February and was greeted at the airport by cheering crowds of his fans. Although he is keeping a low profile, and has vowed to stay out of politics, he is widely viewed as the puppeteer pulling Samak's strings. He is hailed as a savior in the countryside for his pump priming and social spending, but is seen as a villain in the cities. Everyone, on all sides of the political fence, claims to speak for the aging King and the ultimate value of democracy. All enemies are seen as disloyal to the monarchy and subverting democracy. It's difficult sometimes to discern their differences.

I feel perfectly safe in Bangkok. This is a city that has taken the notion of "bread and circuses" to new heights. There are fashion shows and rock concerts on display daily at the Siam Square supermalls to amuse and titillate the populace. Restaurants and street stalls are always packed with international (and intra-national) gourmets. On Saturday, when the protesters and the riot police were starring each other down, Pim and I were in a karaoke room at Major Bowl in Ekkamai, singing our hearts out. Last night we went to see the latest installment of C.S. Lewis' Narnia saga and enjoyed the special effects (particularly the musketeer mice). Thais are used to military coups, rewrites of the constitution, and changes of faces in the government. Only rarely do they resort to violence against their own citizens (unless they're drug dealers or Muslim "terrorists"). Unfortunately, elections and constitutions become trivialized and its hard to see how democracy here can find an institutional form that will merit receive respect from all

Pim and I will move into our new apartment on the 10th floor of Lumpini Palace in Pin Klao at the end of this month. We're renting it from Roger, a graphics designer from Nottingham, England, and his wife Katsuda, a stewardess for Quantas Airlines, who've bought a house 20 kilometers away. When we met them on Monday to pay our deposit, Roger's arm was bandaged from wounds he received by getting into the middle of a cat fight. I liked him immediately when I saw he had Crocs on his feet ("I have three pair; it's all I'll wear," he said). I've only got two pair, but I told him abut the I Hate Crocs web site, and we had a good laugh over that. Afterwards, Pim and I walked across an overpass above the heavily-traveled Boromarajajonani Road (trying saying that with your mouth full) to the huge Central mall where we ate dinner at a Fuji Restaurant. This mall, and its twin across the street, both have large multiplex cinemas showing films in English and Thai. There are hundreds of shops and cafes, including branches of all the Bangkok bookstore chains. A new Tesco Lotus (the British department store chain) and an IT City electronics mall have opened next door. And these behemoths are surrounded by street stalls and shops selling everything from food to clothes at a discount. It's a world of difference from Sukhumvit, my current neighborhood, which has been designed for the convenience of tourists. In Pin Klao there are few signs in English and the trash does not appear to be picked up daily. It's equally urban but a lot rougher around the edges. I should be able to easily get a bus for the relatively short distance to Wat Si in neighboring Bangkok Noi where I teach on Thursdays. Pim will only have to travel 10-15 minutes across the river to her post office in Banglamphu. I would have preferred a town house on a small suburban street, or a cottage on stilts in a village, but this will do for the interim. And I should see a very different side of Bangkok, and Thailand.

As I write this, Obama appears to have won the Democrat nomination, although Sen. Clinton refuses to concede. Will Hillary accept the veep position? If she can get the power wielded by Dick Cheney, it might be a plum. It probably didn't effect the outcome of their race, but there is a fascinating piece on Bill Clinton's disreputable associates and his current activities in Vanity Fair here. Another writer, Chris Hedges, has become the conscience of America (along with Bill Moyers), and there is a terrific piece by him on "The Corporate State the the Subversion of Democracy" here. After reading it, tell me if you think Obama's election will make a substantial difference (certainly he will be an improvement over Bush and the possible presidency of McCain. And John Pilger, along with Robert Fisk the conscience of Britain, compares Obama with Robert Kennedy in a perceptive article here and finds them both wanting. Corporations (the "military-industrial complex" that Eisenhower warned against) are the true "terrorists" of the 21st century world, and defeating them will be extremely difficult. Here in Thailand the government, however, corrupt, responds to its citizens when rising prices cause suffering by devising controls to limit immoral profits. At least under Buddhism, profit is not sacred.

Tomorrow is my second class with the young monks. At UC Santa Cruz, I made a tremendous effort at the beginning of the quarter to learn all my students' names. That will not be easy here. Pim has translated the names of the 61 registered students for me, and already I can see that many if not most names can be spelled a variety of ways in English. On quiz papers and on the email and phone roster I asked them to fill out, names only sometimes match Pim's translation. Then there is the matter of titles. If I want them to call me "Dr. Will," (and informality is not a virtue for Thais), I must address them as "Venerable," "Phra" and "Pramaha," depending on their standing as a monk. Novices can be called "Samaneen."

I collected 17 email addresses from the 27 students in class last week and sent them a general email with a link to the Bangkok Post web site that provides help to students. Five wrote back. Although full of errors, there enthusiastic responses were understandable and encouraging to me. One asked me to call him "Sam." Last week I played "What a Wonderful World" on my iPod (through portable speakers) and asked them to write down missing words to the lyrics on a sheet I provided. Because one of the students mentioned "Hotel California," I've developed an similar exercise for this week using the the Eagles' hit. Given that they're monks, I should probably avoid any hit songs by Madonna or Britney.

As I finish this blog, the monsoon has darkened the midday sky and thunder is rattling my window.

In the Classroom

After much anxiety and a bit of stage fright, I finally made it into the classroom yesterday. Here are my students hard at work on a quiz I gave them to assess their current level of English. Although I explained that the test would not be graded, that I was only giving it to help me determine how to teach them English, they were surprisingly serious about it. Long after I asked them to hand their papers in, some continued to write. There was some talking, and I suspect a few copied their neighbor's answers. From the results, I learned that many had problems with plurals and prepositions and a large number wrote "five-teen" for 15. They were quite good, but slow, in ordering a list of words in alphabetical order.

I have been hired to teach "Listening & Speaking English III" in the Department of Foreign Languages (Faculty of Humanities) at the Wat Sri Sudaram campus of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University, the major Buddhist educational institution in Thailand. My students are all monks in their twenties, most ordained and some still novices, from all over Thailand as well as Laos, Cambodia and Burma. All are fourth year students majoring in English and many will probably disrobe after graduation this year to find jobs in the secular world. My task is to help them communicate with English in this increasingly globalized world where my native tongue is the lingua franca.

Only about half of my 51 students showed up. "It's a tradition not to come during the first week," explained Dr. Suriya, a senior monk who heads my department. I am scheduled to teach two sections between 1 and 6:30 p.m. on Thursdays. Since another professor didn't show up for his class during the first period, students from both my sections crowded into the classroom. The afternoon classes (there are no morning classes, since the day begins after lunch) began after a short Buddhist chant over the PA system. Leaving the two doors open, I also opened the windows and turned on the two fans, but it remained warm in the room. I rolled up the sleeves on my blue dress shirt but did not undo the classy red tie that Jerry had loaned me. Thais expect their professors to look formal. The school term is 16 weeks but the start was delayed a week. Some of the students told me that they hadn't been informed of this fact, and showed up for class last week (obviously they were also unaware of the tradition).

It took me nearly two hours, by Skytrain, riverboat and taxi, to reach the school on the other side of the Chao Phraya River. I carried a heavy backpack crammed with books and materials to use. Arriving an hour early, there was no one in my department to explain the procedures. So, after a snack in the small cafeteria, I went to the office on the second floor that Pandit Bhikku had pointed out as administration (all the signs were in Thai). The monk behind the desk greeted me with "Dr. William!" and showed me where to sign in. He handed me two student rosters for my sections with all of the information in Thai. Obviously this wasn't going to be easy. He said the room numbers for the two sections had been changed from the earlier ones given me, and showed me where they were. Good thing, too, since the room numbers were also in Thai.

Before class started, I visited the library on the ground floor. There were numerous periodicals available, including the Bangkok English language press as well as Time, Newsweek and the Wall Street Journal. A number of monks were seated at an array of computer terminals. I saw a a group of shelves at the back of the room and learned later that the library contained a few of English language titles. There is a listening lab on the top floor of the school, a student told me, but it is never open. I'll have to see about that.

When the students started slowly coming into the classroom, I recognized several from the talk I had given to the English Club several months ago. I learned that the monks lived at different temples all over Bangkok and some had to travel a fair distance to get to school. My introduction had several false starts to accommodate late arrivals. I told them we were all students since I'm learning to teaching English, something I've never done before. Someone hooked up a microphone, which I didn't think I would need, but it gave me the opportunity to strut in front of the class playing the rock star. Next week I think I'll put the chairs in a circle for less formality, and less strutting.

I soon realized I'd over prepared and could never cover the grammatical material in the first unit of the New Headway Elementary text (the students will purchase a duplicated version from the school copy center for under $3). There were two breaks scheduled in the first section, at 1:50 and 2:40, but no one wanted to leave. So I continued to talk, about English language resources in Bangkok (watch movies in English, and listen to songs in English), grades (students are rarely failed in Thailand) and rules (no sleeping in class). My introduction took up the first period, the quiz the second (after which we sang in unison "The Alphabet Song"), and in the third I asked them to break up into pairs and interview each other. They each introduced their partner, giving his name, age, where he comes from, and his mobile phone number to test their pronunciation of numbers (which was surprisingly good). This activity energized them and some of the introductions were creative and funny ("call my friend at any time for money").

At the end of the section time I asked them to write something about themselves for homework and gave them a vocabulary list to memorize and use in five sentences. On the other side of the sheet were the words to "What a Wonderful World." I played them the song by Louis Armstrong on my iPod and asked them to fill in the blanks from a word list. They liked it so much they asked me to play it again. I asked them to give me the names of other English songs they would like to hear and learn.

During the session a number of students let me know that they were in my other section. This threw me into a bit of panic because I'd prepared for two similar sections, not one long five-and-a-half hour class. I went next door into the other classroom I'd been assigned to set up for the second section, but soon learned that I had in fact taught a combined class of two sections (what added to the confusion was that there were 25 students in the classroom, the number enrolled in the first section). So I learned abruptly I was finished for the day, a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hone my skills a second time through.

Downstairs, I looked for Dr. Suriya to get the two documents I needed to complete my application to convert my visa from tourist to non-immigrant "B" which will allow me to teach legally. I gave him the list of requirements two weeks ago after I was turned down by immigration at my first attempt. After a wait of 45 minutes, I discovered that the letter (no word about the requested employment contract) had still not been signed by the dean of Humanities. Pandit Bhikku, my mentor for all this, sent me a "if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen" email two weeks ago. So I've decided to stop complaining about the bureaucratic snafus and accept what comes. I asked Dr. Suriya to protect me if I get arrested for teaching illegally, and his laughter hid a multitude of responses.

Afterwards, I met Pim at the Central Pinklao Mall not far away, and, following dinner and a quick game at Major Bowl across the street, we went to look at an apartment for rent in the multi-storied Lumpini Place. Although about as small as our current one, it's divided into a living room and bedroom, and includes a tiny kitchen. The condo is owned by a British-Thai couple and rents for the same price as my current apartment. The furnishings include a comfy couch and a nice reading chair which tipped the scales in its favor. If all goes according to plan, we should move at the end of June.

Puppets Are People Too

I've been fascinated with puppets ever since an early exposure to Walt Disney's "Pinocchio." How can a lifeless stick of wood, albeit carved and painted, seem so life-like?

Last night Pim and I attended a performance of "The Myth of Rahoo and the Lunar Eclipse" by the Joe Louis Puppet Theatre at the Suan Lum Night Bizaar. Basing their works on adaptations of the Thai epic "Ramakien" (a version of the Indian classic "Ramayana"), here is the lovely Benjakai, the niece of a demon king and the apple of Hanuman's eye, with her two (of three) handlers and a member of the audience. The movements of the puppets, particularly Hanuman, the lustful white monkey warrior, were amazingly real. Each was operated in full view by three classically-trained khon dancers, their movements echoing the puppet's own. Thai theatrical puppetry was invented in 1901 by the legendary dancer Krae Saptawanit, but fell out of favor after World War Two under competition with the movies. Sakorn Yang-keawsot, the son of two members of the first troupe, carried on the tradition which was given a boost when the King in 1996 honored him as the custodian of a dying art form. Performances began at the Lumpini night market in 2001. Given the nickname Joe Louis, after the black American boxing champ, probably because of his Thai name "Liew," Sakorn died last year, but the theatre has been continued by several of his nine children. The performance in the 600-seat theatre was clearly aimed at the tourist market (seats were an outrageous 900 baht apiece), but the audience last night was filled with many Thais and their children. The story was accompanied by a large orchestra of traditional instruments and two singers. I followed the plot easily because an explanation in English was shown on two side screens. After the show, Hanuman and Benjakai socialized with audience members to the delight of all. Perhaps puppets surprise us with their humanness because all too often the humans around us are dead wood by contrast.

The food at the restaurant in front of the Traditional Thai Puppet Theater Company's auditorium was overpriced and mediocre, definitely aimed at ignorant farangs visiting Lumpini. We should have eaten at the Khlong Toey Food Fair. It was held in a parking area at the side of the Queen Sirikit Convention Center, a 15-minute walk from our apartment through the Thailand Tobacco Monopoly's complex of huge warehouses. We walked along the road beside the lovely Benjakiti Park, separated from it by a tall chain-link fence. For some mysterious reason, Thai officials restrict entrance to the park to only single gates at each end of the large rectangle, neither convenient for us. This is no doubt the reason so few people can ever be found inside. The Food Fair was full of yellow booths, chairs and tables, the color for Singha Beer's logo (and also for the King, which is probably no coincidence). On a large stage, a talent contest featured pre-teen singers belting out luuk thung melodies, Thailand's country music. I appeared to be the only farang in evidence. So I toured the grounds taking pictures of the food and the entertainers. Since we'd eaten a late lunch, I wasn't hungry, but I was fascinated by the food Thais eat. There was all manner of meat (plus the insides that do not appeal), including pork balls, as well as fish, crabs, clams, shrimp and squid. A lone booth was selling Indian food with a chicken biryani that looked quite tasty. Besides beer, drinks included coconut and sugar cane juice, all fresh. I even found pizza, but it was a strange breaded dish advertised as originating in New Zealand. The Food Fair was subtitled "& Travel" so besides the Indian booth there was another selling sushi. But there were few takers. From the Food Fair, we headed over to Lumpini, which, since it looked closer than it was, required a short hop on the MRT subway.

A friend from California has written to encourage me to set aside any doubts I may have about my relationship with a much younger woman, and to "go for it!" Acknowledging concerns about age and health which she shares, she suggests: "If we can grab a little happiness, we should." I know, she writes, that "we should get what we can, when we can as long as others don’t get hurt."

I remember reading James Baldwin, I forget which book, telling about love that may only last fifteen minutes but can be as fulfilling as a lifetime relationship. Not a direct quote, of course, but you get the point. Even fifteen minutes would be nice. But I think Willie you must have years.

Stop worrying, she writes, about how it looks or what a stereotype you might be. Sage advice from a wise friend.

Fresh mangoes have disappeared from the street carts, and with them the take-home delicacy of mango and sticky rice smothered in coconut sauce. This was the first year I have been to Thailand when mangoes are in season and they were the icing for me on this expatriate cake I am enjoying. But with hardly a fare thee well, they are gone, a short season indeed. Rambutans and Mangosteens, however tasty and exotic, are no substitutes. Even the delectable litchi (aka lychee) nut fruit which Pim brought home the other day can not take the place of the mango. Noel first introduced me to mangoes and taught me the way he learned growing up in India/Pakistan to cut open and eat them. Pim's method is quicker and simpler. But any way you slice and dice them, the mango is the undisputed king (or queen) of fruit. (I'm still endeavoring to stomach the smelly durian which Pim loves to eat).

I spent the weekend (no Memorial Day break here in Thailand) working on the syllabus and lesson plans for my class which begins on Thursday. I still do not have a working visa but I'm told the necessary documents should be ready when I get to Wat Si (for another trip to the immigration office the following day). After shelling out a considerable sum on printing and copies, I went to Office Depot in Silom on Saturday and bought a Lexmark x2550 printer which prints from the computer, and also copies and scans documents. It was ridiculously cheap, about $50, but the ink will probably cost me my wages as a teacher. I soon discovered that the Mac Image Capture program did not feature optical character recognition (OCR) capability, which is unfortunate since I want to import portions of my text, New Headway Elementary, into files for class handouts. So I'm on the prowl looking for a copy of OmniPage, a program I once had which will do just that.

The PAD anti-government demonstration yesterday drew either 5,000 or 10,000 people, depending on which English-language paper you read. This is the group whose anti-Thaksin demonstrations in 2006 brought down that government and precipitated a military coup. Now they are threatening to take to the streets again until Prime Minister Samak resigns along with over 100 politicians from his party who are pushing a charter revision to protect Thaksin and the administration overthrown by the troops from corruption charges. Samak has offered to hold a referendum on whether or not the constitution should be amended, but opponents say that is an expensive way to delay justice. It's a confusing scene, and there appear to be black and white hats on both sides of the political fence.

There is an interesting article on gas, "Running Out of Fuel, but Not Out of Ideas," in the New York Times by Ben Stein, former speech writer for Nixon and Ford, and the actor who played the science professor on "The Wonder Years." I don't particularly agree with his free market solutions (get oil from coal, pursue nuclear solutions to the energy crisis), but any article that mentions Will Rogers, "Mad Max" Chuck Berry and Neil Young gets my attention. He says that during the Nixon years America got one-third of its oil from overseas. Currently it's two-thirds. And the sources are decidedly undependable (of course it doesn't help that we wrecked the Iraqi pipeline). He also cites America's dependence on huge vehicles, bigger than most third-world houses, for transport solutions.

After all, do we really need to have a 6,000-pound S.U.V. take a 100-pound high school student across town to buy a Diet Coke? Do we really need cars so big that they have flat-screen televisions for the children in the back?

I see few SUVs in Bangkok. Mostly the roads are clogged with taxis, buses, tuk-tuks and an incredible number of motorbikes. Of course we need to lower our energy needs rather than "to drill on the continental shelf, even near where movie stars live," which is one of Stein's suggestions. The Asian solution, at least for the majority, is the motorbike. Imagine, my friends in the U.S., your streets filled with motorbikes rather than SUVs (of course bicycles are better but they are only in the majority in Vietnam).

In the Bangkok Post this morning, the commerce minister floats a plan to patent the monthly full moon party on Koh Phangan when thousands of revelers take various drugs and stay up all night to bay at the moon. He said the idea had already been stolen by the Singapore government for a similar party on its artificial island of Sentosa. Intellectual property experts, however, cautioned that not everything can be patented. But then why, despite challenges from Santa Cruz does Hermosa Beach apparently hold a patent to the name Surf City? Another story in the Post tells of the tribulations of an Afghan journalist who was found guilty of distributing an article that questioned the Muslim practice of polygamy. The penalty? Death. Islam, at least as it is interpreted by numerous religious states, is fast loosing my support. And speaking of the Post, the above is a picture of the lovely lady, surprised by my camera, who sells it to me from her store down the street every morning (along with water, milk, bread and ice cream). She also throws in a Thai lesson for nothing. Mom & Pop stores like her's still thrive on the sois of Bangkok but their existence is threatened, as elsewhere, by the burgeoning chain of 7-11's which are owned by the largest corporation in Thailand. Here is her competition, not far up the soi.

Waiting

Waiting for classes to begin, waiting for more documents to complete the visa process, waiting for news about the fire in the Santa Cruz Mountains where the Kings were forced to evacuate from their Browns Valley home, waiting for Obama and Hillary to settle their differences, waiting for the diarrhea cure to kick in, waiting for the new coup, waiting for the Burmese generals to confess their inadequacies, waiting for Godot.

This week began with Visakha Bucha, which is Christmas and Easter all rolled into one for the Buddhists. The biggest religious holiday in Thailand (even the bars were closed), it is sometimes considered Buddha's birthday, but it actually marks his birth, enlightenment, entry into Nibamma, and death. Visakha is Pali for the second month of the lunar Hindu calendar, but the date varies because different traditions use different lunar calendars. The decision to agree to celebrate Vesak as the Buddha’s birthday on the first full moon of Vesakh was formalized at the first Conference of the World Fellowship of Buddhists in Sri Lanka in 1950. In Thailand, it is a day to meditate, observe the eight precepts, eat vegetarian food, and give generously to the needy.

Pim and I took the bus across the river to Pinklao where we looked at a couple of apartments for rent in the 26-story Commonwealth condominium complex. The dingy studio apartment looked down on a luxurious swimming pool one floor below, while the two-bedroom one crammed with its owner's junk had a glorious view of the rain-swept cityscape to the west. In addition to the pool there was a gym, restaurant and even a putting green. On the bus back to Siam Square we listened to a monks chanting over the PA. We got off at Wat Pathum Wanaram, the temple nestled between the Siam Paragon and Central World megamalls. Like Makha Bucha in February, celebrating the Buddha's first teaching to his disciples, we marched in a procession, holding lotus blossoms, incense and candles, three times around a holy image, this time a "boat" on a pillar in the middle of an artificial lake on the temple grounds. There were tents on each side of the rectangle where it appeared people were making donations and perhaps getting their fortune told. A monk in one tent was delivering a sermon. Musicians in another were getting ready to play. Pim softly chanted a prayer as we walked. After three times around, we laid our blossoms on a pile and stuck candles and incense into the sand in a trough.

I am reluctant to move, having grown accustomed to my small room on the 7th floor at Siam Court where I've lived for nine months. But after next week, both of us will be commuting to jobs on the other side of the city. It makes sense to find a place over there, in Banglamphu or across the river where rents should be cheaper than here in the tourist paradise of Sukhumvit. I've had to convince Pim that we can't afford to buy a brand new place for two million baht in one of the spiffy Lumpini Condominium developments in Pinklao. I dream of a small two-story townhouse in a cozy Thai neighborhood, with security and an internet connection, a place for plants and a spot to park a motorbike. In Bangkok, however, furnished serviced apartments in huge buildings are more common. Having to buy a TV and a microwave might negate any savings in rent. Pim has a refrigerator in storage from her dormitory. In America it was common to pay 60 per cent or more of income in rent; here I've been paying about 40 per cent, so perhaps I can afford to upgrade. Something with a bedroom and a kitchen would be nice.

The many street stalls on Sukumvit, in addition to counterfeit DVDs and CDs, specialize in tee shirts, most with beer logos, geographical icons or cartoons to advertise that the wearer has recently visited Thailand. Often I see shirts which came originally from America. For some strange reason, I've seen a number of shirts that advertise Hollister, the motorcyclist capital of the world. The other day I was amazed to see a woman wearing a tee shirt that read "I am afraid of Americans." I reached for my camera but she passed by too quickly to get a shot. My usual walk down Sukhumvit takes me past the friendly kids with Amazing Thailand!, the official state tourist agency, who get paid 20 baht for every survey they can convince tourists to take (after three or four times, now I politely decline), and past the ladyboy prostitutes who cluster around the entrances to Bookazine and Starbucks. From my perch on the second floor of Starbucks, I can watch them put on their makeup and accost various unsuspecting men. On the corner the tuk tuk drivers flash wrinkled brochures full of naked ladies and solicit rides to a nearby massage parlor. Sometimes I watch the one-legged beggar drag himself along the pavement looking for coins. In addition to caffeine, Starbucks provides the daily English papers and I diligently try to understand the mysterious world of Thai politics.

For example, one of Prime Minister Samak's deputies is in trouble for remarks he made at the Foreign Correspondents Club last year which, in their Thai translation, have been thought by some to be disrespectful to the monarchy. And a 27-year-old Thai man who refused to stand in a movie theater during the playing of the national anthem was arrested recently and charged with lèse majesté, offending the dignity of Thailand's king. He insisted there is nothing in the Thai constitution that requires him to stand. The crime is punishable by up to 15 years in prison. This morning's paper announced that a mass rally would be held on Sunday by the People's Alliance for Democracy (PAD) to protest constitutional amendments proposed by Samak's People's Power Party which they fear will absolve members of Thaksin Shinawatra's Thai Rak Thai Party, dissolved by the 2006 military coup, from corruption charges. According to the story, PAD charged that charter amendments are "detrimental to the country, religion and the monarchy, as well as the people." All politicians and parties in Thailand hide behind the lèse majesté law, accusing their opponents of questioning (or even mentioning) the monarchy. One of PAD's founders is right-wing newspaper publisher Sondhi Limthongkul whose pages have urged violence against anyone who refuses to stand for the anthem. Originally a supporter of Thaksin, Sondi turned against him and huge PAD rallies preceded the military overthrow of his government. But even Sondhi has been accused (unsuccessfully) of lèse majesté. Such nationalist and royalist flag waving reminds me of the anti-communist hysteria in America during the 1950s.

Last week we visited the October 14 1973 Memorial on Ratchdamnoen Road not far from the Democracy Monument which was erected after 1932 to celebrate Thailand's establishment of a constitutional monarchy. On that day the military turned its guns on a crowd protesting the expulsion of student activists upset over the dictatorial one-man rule of Field Marshall Thanom Kittikachon, the prime minister. He was a staunch anti-communist and a loyal supporter of the American war in Vietnam. Over 200,000 had gathered near the Democracy Monument to call for a constitutional government (irony of ironies). In the violent response, a thousand were killed and the King even opened the gates of Chitralada Palace to protestors who were being gunned down by the army. Unfortunately, scenes of bloodshed like this were repeated again in 1976 and 1992. But the memorial stands as a reminder to Thais of what can happen when the fragile balance of nation, religion and king is upset by allowing the military to decide what constitutes "Thainess."

Jerry and I were sitting around the other day talking about friends. I've been reading Follow the Music, Jac Holzman's account of running Elektra Records during "the great years of American pop culture." Many of our mutual friends were interviewed by Holzman's co-author Gavan Daws, a good pal of Jerry's from Hawaii. There are comments by the late Diane Gardiner as well as my friend Pat Faralla who was publicist for Elektra on the west coast, and now, according to rumor, runs a restaurant in Portugal. I particularly liked the story of Paxton Lodge in the Sierras where producer Barry Friedman, aka, Frazier Mohawk, gathered a group of musicians and groupies, including a young Jackson Browne, to recreate the home studio ambiance of Big Pink where The Band made such great music. But the project sank under the weight of drug-fueled madness (Browne's rise began after he swore off drugs). Holzman lost thousands of dollars and Friedman, who helped Jerry find work in Hollywood, now runs a farm outside Toronto.

Corb Donohue, our friend who died of cancer last year, once told Jerry that "there are only 600 people in the world. The rest is all done with mirrors."

I like that.

Jai Yen Yen

I've never met a wall I didn't want to pound.

Thais are different. Unlike me, when they meet an obstacle, their inclination is not to smash it. Rather, they first determine if the battle is worth fighting. Often the decision is "mai pen rai" -- never mind, whatever will be, will be. "You can't fight City Hall" is American advice they could understand. Pim is constantly cautioning me to keep a "jai yen yen," a very cool heart. After a lifetime as a hot head, this is most difficult.

Bureaucracy pushes my buttons. And Thai society is loaded with it. Last week I picked up a letter signed by the dean of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University (getting thoroughly soaked two different times in thunder storms) and took it along with other documents from Wat Si to the Immigration office where I hoped to alter my tourist visa so I could take up work as an English teacher. But the nice lady in the nearly empty upstairs office told me I was missing two documents. I also learned that the change requires that I have at least 21 days left on my current visa, and my count was 23. Pandit Bhikku, my guide and translator, was off meditating in Singapore. So I was on my own to solve this problem. Pim sent me a text message: "Jai yen yen."


The telephone numbers I had for the department chair at Wat Si and the assistant dean of faculty were either incorrect or not working. I called an Indian professor who will teach psychology next term but his English was not up to a phone conversation, even with the assist of a friend. Numbers for two different offices at the school went unanswered. So I had the bright idea of faxing the information I had been given about the missing documents (I even had the Immigration officer's mobile phone number to call for information) and I trudged up to a nearby office with a fax machine. But the fax at Wat Si did not respond. So I went home and took a nap.

In the late afternoon, Dr. Suriya, the head of the department of foreign languages, picked up the phone. "Dr. William," he said. I told him I had a problem with my visa and asked if I could fax the information to him. "Oh no, the fax is not working," he explained. A half hour later, wearing a dress shirt and tie (Thais expect their professors to look formal) in 95-degree heat, I was on the bus to Wat Si. Dr. Suriya listened to my litany of woes and said: "The dean must provide these documents. But he is in Vietnam." Suriya himself is off to Singapore next week. The term, which was due to start May 16, has been delayed until May 26 (Pandit warned me to anticipate frequent unexplained changes in schedule). My first class is May 29 and nothing much can be done before then. Mai pen rai.

One exception to Thai cool heart culture is television. Pim loves the soaps which are full of exaggerated drama, very similar to the Mexican soaps I used to watch in California to learn Spanish. The characters yell and scream at one another in very un-Thai fashion. In one, the bad son of a rich man raped his love object and the series ended with her happily giving birth to their baby. I must have missed something. The shows are either about wealthy hi-so schemers or virtuous villagers, all wearing their hearts and passions on their sleeves. And as in Thai films, ghosts and gangsters are frequently present. There are also a number of Korean soaps that have been dubbed into Thai, but the passions are the same. Last week I introduced Pim to Arnold Schwarzenegger. Over a few nights we watched "Terminator 2" and "Terminator 3" as well as "Kindergarten Cop." She was a bit surprised to find that he was the governor or my former state (so am I, I explained).

Another film we watched on TV that I somehow missed in the theaters was "Idiocracy." This science fiction comedy has the premise that selective breeding (the smart don't procreate while the idiots multiply like rabbits) results in a population of dummies by the year 2500. Is this nightmare unrealistic? I suspect we are headed in this direction. How else can we explain the leadership of George Bush? In a passionate column about the president's recent Pollyannaish statement that everything in the Middle East will turn up roses, Robert Fisk writes:

Where does the madness end? Where do words lose their meaning? Al-Qa’ida is not being defeated. Hizbollah has just won a domestic war in Lebanon, as total as Hamas’s war in Gaza. Afghanistan and Iraq and Lebanon and Gaza are hell disasters — I need no apology to quote Churchill’s description of 1948 Palestine yet again — and this foolish, stupid, vicious man is lying to the world yet again.

The support that brought Bush to the White House, twice (if you accept the Supreme Court's ruling), can only be explained by attributing the dumbing down of Americans to a genetic slide. John McCain, or McBush as he is being accurately labeled, claims the war in Iraq will end with our side winning in 2013 (after eight years of his rule, I suppose). This is indeed delusion or madness. Bush is desperately describing Obama and those who would negotiate with Iran as appeasers similar to diplomats who believed talking to Hitler would have avoided war.

Bill Moyers, in a taste from his new book on democracy, tells it like it is:

The earth we share as our common gift, to be passed on in good condition to our children’s children, is being despoiled. Private wealth is growing as public needs increase apace. Our Constitution is perilously close to being consigned to the valley of the shadow of death, betrayed by a powerful cabal of secrecy-obsessed authoritarians. Terms like “liberty” and “individual freedom” invoked by generations of Americans who battled to widen the 1787 promise to “promote the general welfare” have been perverted to create a government primarily dedicated to the welfare of the state and the political class that runs it. Yes, Virginia, there is a class war and ordinary people are losing it.

But in California the courts have ruled that gay men and women can marry just like their heterosexual counterparts. Ellen DeGeneris is off to the altar with her partner. In Burma the generals are withholding aid from the starving victims of Cyclone Nargis, in China thousands of children were crushed in their schools by a killer quake, and in Israel Bush celebrates the country's 60th anniversary (60 years of oppressing the Palestinians whose land they stole to create a Jewish state) by tarring Obama with the Nazi brush. While I believe gays should be afforded all the rights and privileges of any other group, I wonder how the possibility of marriage can be counted as a victory in the face of so many defeats. How can one maintain a jai yen yen?

Respected political philosopher Sheldon Wolin has written a new book, Democracy Incorporated, in which he coins the terms "inverted totalitarianism" and "managed democracy" to explain the perverted state of corporate capitalism in America. In his review on truthdig.com, Chalmers Johnson (who was a student of Wolin's at UC Berkeley) praises the book as "comprehensive diagnosis of our failings as a democratic polity." One of the tasks of managed democracy is to

keep the citizenry preoccupied with peripheral and/or private conditions of human life so that they fail to focus on the widespread corruption and betrayal of the public trust. In Wolin’s words, “The point about disputes on such topics as the value of sexual abstinence, the role of religious charities in state-funded activities, the question of gay marriage, and the like, is that they are not framed to be resolved. Their political function is to divide the citizenry while obscuring class differences and diverting the voters’ attention from the social and economic concerns of the general populace.”

Once again, a pundit points out the often hidden class war in America. Wolin believes that our political system, dominated by corporations and the military, is “shot through with corruption and awash in contributions primarily from wealthy and corporate donors.” Johnson concludes: "Many analysts, myself included, would conclude that Wolin has made a close to airtight case that the American republic’s days are numbered." This sounds like a book we should all read.

Here in Thailand I am fascinated by the sale of pink nipple cream. I spotted a jar promoting that outcome in a store at MBK, the giant shopping mall. Many Thai women, sentenced by genetics to life inside of brown skin, yearn to be white. There are almost no dark-skinned women in the advertisements you see. The shelves of pharmacies are filled with skin whitening agents. There was a story in the press of a girl who bathed in bleach because she thought it would make her white. As a side note, Thai women do not shave their armpits. They pluck out the hairs with tweezers, one by one. It's a national obsession. Another surprise: You can buy white bread in the stores here with the crusts cut off. Pim prefers it.

From the ridiculous to the sublime: Einstein did not believe in God, according to a recently discovered letter written in 1954 to philosopher Eric Gutkind. In the letter, which sold at an auction in New York for $404,000, Einstein called the Bible “pretty childish” and ridiculed the notion that the Jews could be a “chosen people.” Richard Dawkins, leader of the New Atheist movement, was an unsuccessful bidder. In his voluminous writings, Einstein has led some people to think he is a believer, or sorts. He refers to God as a metaphor for physical law, and in a rebuke to quantum mechanics argued that "God doesn't play dice." His statement that "Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind" has led some to call him as a witness for the religious theory of "intelligent design." But in the expensive letter, the scientist writes "the Bible is a collection of honorable, but still primitive legends," and says the Jewish religion "like all others is an incarnation of the most childish superstitions." Perhaps the most that one can claim now is that Einstein was spiritual but not religious (today's fastest growing sect).

The rambutan is in season and on sale everywhere. It looks like a hairy strawberry. Inside the soft outer shell is a delicious white pulp around a nut that looks a little like lychee. It grows only in southeast Asia and, along with the mangosteen (a purple fruit also seen in this photo) which is also in season, gives the street stalls in Bangkok an exotic character. Add durian and mangoes to the mix and you have a diet unparalleled elsewhere. I find the durian's rotten smell a bit off-putting (Pim loves them) but I could eat mangoes and sticky rice forever. I've recently learned that Thailand has limes but no lemons, even though the word for the small green citrus fruit is manaao which translates as both lemon and lime. Since I prefer lime to lemon juice, I'm sitting pretty here.

I've never met a social network that I didn't like, and I've joined a number of them to, as they say, "network and meet new friends." You can find me on Facebook, Tagged, Twitter, Friendster, Netlog, Tribe, a few local sites like Thailandsocial and ThailandFriends, as well as Yahoo 360 and Windows Live Space, not to mention some dating sites such as OkCupid and ThaiLoveLinks. I tried MySpace for a while but felt dreadfully over-aged. From my very first glimpse of the World Wide Web, I was convinced that this technology would change the way people communicated. It took me longer to grasp the significance of mobile phones, but now I'm a dedicated user. With the internet and cell phones, time and space have become irrelevant. Humans can connect anywhere and anytime (this same ease of use means that over-worked employees must be available 24/7). Many of my friends and three of my four children have not realized this. They think that I have gone to a distant place, like Gauguin to Tahiti, and have thus disappeared from their lives. Even though we used to chat regularly by email and phone when I was in California, now to be out of sight is to also be out of mind. This saddens me. No friend or child is replaceable. I haven't seen Pete for over thirty years, but we chat now by email as if time had stopped. And I've found other old friends through the social networks I've joined, particularly Facebook. Where is McLuhan now that we really need him to describe and explain the new hot and cool interconnectedness of humanity?

Technology is no free ride. I've been suffering from connection problems for several months. The folks in the office at Siam Court tried to convince me that it was my dependence on a Mac that was the problem. Apple is a discriminated minority here. But Pim's PC portable also had difficult with the Ethernet connection in our room. Finally, an "engineer" discovered that the router was at fault. It was tucked in the ceiling of the 9th floor, two floors above me. A new router did the trick and now I can download torrents day and night. I am also trying to understand the new technology that enables mobiles to become modems. It works with the Nokia Pim borrows from her friend, but my attempt to connect my Razr to the MacBook with Bluetooth produced connection speeds too slow to load web pages. The three major telecom firms here in Thailand are all developing new ways to connect laptops to the internet, but the explanations of how it all works (or doesn't) that I've found are still too technical for my limited understanding.

Back in California a few friends kept a no-shoe rule for their homes. Here in Thailand it's a general rule everywhere. Shoes that cannot be taken off and put back on easily are a pain. My new black loafers, aside from the blisters they've given me after being shrunk by the rain, are too sticky. At Wat Si I will need easily removable but suitably formal footwear. Flip-flops or Crocs, which I love, will probably not do. This pictures was taken one weekend at the Chulalongkorn Book Store where the children's reading room was packed.

Tradition!

I used to love the song "Tradition" from the classic musical "Fiddler on the Roof" until I listened carefully to the lyrics. Tevye, a Jewish milkman in a village in Tsarist Russian, has five daughters. They need husbands and the Jew-hating peasants who surround them need scapegoats for their poverty. Survival, Tevye sings, depends on obedience to ancient traditions, like patriarchy and Jewish insularity. But the daughters defy their father and marry for love and the village's Jews are evicted in a pogrom. So in the end, adherence to tradition is no life raft.

In Thailand, however, tradition rules. Yesterday morning, as an armchair tourist, I watched on television the annual Royal Ploughing Ceremony on the field of Sanam Luang across from the Grand Palace. A tradition which may (or may not) go back to the time of the Buddha in India was reenacted before Crown Prince Maha Vajiralongkorn and his wife, and a very select audience. Two sacred white oxen were led around the field by the Phraya Raekna ("Lord of the Plough"), coincidentally the secretary of agriculture, who scattered rice seed that had been blessed the night before from gold and silver buckets carried by four consecrated "angels" (four female employees of the Ministry of Agriculture). Astrologers had chosen the day and time of the Brahman ceremony. After the symbolic ploughing, the two beasts were offered a selection from seven different bowls of food and their choices enabled soothsayers to predict the future. Because they picked rice and grass, it was determined there would be an abundance of food this season and bountiful rice yields. The Phraya Raekna also chose one of three folded pieces of cloth of different lengths. Because he picked the one of medium length, it was announced that this signified an average rainfall this year. At the close of the ceremony, members of the public who had been kept at a distance (hence my decision to watch it on TV) raced into the field to pick up some of the sacred seeds which might help them with the double threat of falling prices and food shortages that economists, using more mundane evidence, are predicting.

Historians cast a jaundiced eye on the notion of "tradition." Most traditions are historical; they had a beginning in time, and were usually developed to preserve the power of elites, either males in the case of patriarchy, or governments like the one in Thailand where to question the alliance of military, merchants and the monarchy is a punishable offense. On the other hand, state rituals like the ploughing ceremony are colorful and fascinating, a field day for cultural anthropologies, even armchair ones. I recall studying political rituals with Tak Fujitani at UC Santa Cruz 17 years ago. Our text was The Invention of Tradition, a terrific collection of papers on the topic edited by Terence Ranger and Eric Hobsbawm. Tak's field of study were the rituals that defined and protected the Japanese Emperor. The Royal Ploughing Ceremony (which is also celebrated in Cambodia) was a big event in 16th century Sukhuthai, but it was discontinued by King Rama VII in the 1920s. It was revived in 1960 by King Bhumibol Adulyadej during the military dictatorship of Sarit Dhanarajata who attempted to unite the country under his "Nation, Religion, King" motto. Elaborate rituals that inspired awe and obedience were the glue that held them together.

If Burma had a king, perhaps the military might be more tempered in its oppression of the people (it is believed that King Bhumibol, AKA Rama IX, has restrained his soldiers several times, in the 1970s and 1990s, from a wholesale slaughter of his subjects). But the last king of Burma was deposed when the British took over in 1885. Now that sorry country not far to the northeast of here is suffering under the double whammy of a repressive military regime and a major natural disaster made worse because of the government's secrecy and ineptitude. In 1989, the ruling junta changed the name of the country to Myanmar a year after thousands were killed in a popular uprising. Much of the world, including the UN, has accepted the name change, but Britain and the U.S. avoid it to support Burma's now almost invisible democracy movement. The generals are currently promoting a sham referendum on a constitution designed to legalize their 46-year domination, but voting is delayed in the Irawaddy delta where a large percentage of the land is now under water after the destruction force of Cyclone Nargis which has killed probably over 100,000 potential voters. The UN and the EU and Asian states should take over and liberate that poor country. But that's about as likely as Bush admitting that Iraq was a mistake.

Claudia had just returned from Burma when our Little Bang(kok) Sangha met on Thursday for a talk by Steve and Rosemary Weissman at the Baan Ari Library. During the Q&A session, she spoke of her anger at seeing the devastation there and the government's inability to cope, and asked the popular vipassana meditation teachers how to handle her feelings. "There is a form of righteous anger," Steve said, "which we call 'wise aversion' to distinguish it from aversion caused by fear and hatred." I was happy to hear them approve of strong feelings provoked by witnessing injustice wherever it is found. This is the teaching from the dhamma that motivates the engaged Buddhism that I like, one that encourages active compassion for others rather than a retreat into nirvanic escapism. Steve from the U.S. and Rosemary from Australia have been leading 10-day meditation retreats for twenty years at Wat Kow Tahm (Mountain Cave Monastery) on the island of Koh Phangan next to Koh Samui (it's no doubt popular with full moon ravers who moderate their partying with a dose of spirituality). Steve spoke to the Bangkok English group about the 10 qualities or perfections: generosity, morality, renunciation, wisdom, energy, patience, truthfulness, resolution, loving kindness and equanimity. And Rosemary emphasize the necessity to balance compassion with loving-kindness, and vice versa. I found their teaching full of simple truths which bear repeating, and the presentation was obviously one they had given many times in the past. The experience of meditating on a Thai island with them would undoubtably be more inspiring than a talk in the big city.

Quite by accident last week, I turned on CNN just after Barack Obama had just won the North Carolina primary. I haven't been very interested in the primaries in America. The seven-year reign of George Bush has made me ashamed to be an American. And the lack of enthusiasm for regime change (why aren't Americans undertaking mass, non-violent protests as they did, successfully, during the Vietnam misadventure?) has convinced me that hope is no longer alive in the country of my birth. Hillary is a clone of Bill, a pro-business, pro-globalization politician who does not have the best interests of the masses in her heart. I didn't think much of Obama, particularly after he disowned his pastor, a man whose right on, anti-American sentiments reflect my own. But I was impressed by the speech I saw after winning in North Carolina. He called himself an "imperfect messager," a wonderful admission to hamstring the mud slingers.

The other side can label and name-call all they want, but I trust the American people to recognize that it is not surrender to end the war in Iraq so that we can rebuild our military and go after al-Qaida's leaders.

I trust the American people to understand that it is not weakness, but wisdom to talk not just to our friends, but to our enemies, like Roosevelt did, and Kennedy did, and Truman did.

That's terrific stuff, coming from someone who has to beat the despicable John McCain to take back control of America from the neo-cons and their ilk.

Somewhere along the line, between all the bickering and the influence-peddling and the game-playing of the last few decades, Washington and Wall Street have lost touch with these core values, these American values. And while I honor John McCain's service to his country, his ideas for America are out of touch with these core values. His plans for the future, of continuing a war that has not made us safer, of continuing George Bush's economic policies that he claims have made great progress, these are nothing more than the failed policies of the past. His plan to win in November appears to come from the very same play book that his side has used time after time in election after election.

It looks like I will register to vote after all.

Next week is crunch time in the race to get a new non-immigrant B visa which will allow me to work and to begin the complicated application process for a work permit before the school term begins at Wat Si (full name: Wat Srisudaram Worawiharn). On Wednesday Pandit Bhikku and I met at the school for undergraduates of Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya University (try saying that with your mouth full), the Buddhist institution that seems to think a Ph.d. from California will be a feather in its cap. Since it was between terms, the campus was like a ghost town, with only a few orange-clad student monks about. I've now got an offer of employment from Dr. Suriya, the head of the foreign language department, which invites me to teach two three-hour classes (or perhaps three two-hour classes, it's not clear) in "Listening & Speaking English III" on Thursday afternoons. After a long wait, the faculty dean at Wat Si signed a letter asking the Immigration Office to convert my tourist visa into a working visa, but the final letter must come from the dean of the university which is headquartered across the river in the precincts of Wat Mahathat. He was not in the office that afternoon and the school would be closed for a four-day weekend to honor the Buddhist quarter moon holiday. Besides, the letter we presented for him contained two different dates. After having the letter retyped and the offending date removed (it was all in Thai so I couldn't read it), we gave it to a typical power-hungry administrative secretary who asked me to call next Tuesday to see if it had been signed (hopefully, with Pim translating). Apparently some students recently have encountered difficulties in trying to convert a tourist visa to a student one, and it's possible the university dean may decline to sign the letter, Pandit advised me, in order to save face. And even if he signs it, the Immigration Office may decide not to honor it. In which case, I must quickly return to Vientiane where the visa application should be successful (though nothing is certain the Byzantine world of Thai bureaucracy). With the visa in hand, then I can seek a work permit. But since I'll probably begin teaching before it's granted, I'll ultimately have to pay a fine.

Since the school term begins at the end of next week, my first class should begin May 22nd. But Pandit, who got his undergraduate degree at Wat Si and who has taught there as well (I've apparently taken his bread-and-butter job away from him this term), warns me that many students frequently fail to show up for the first couple of weeks. In addition, classes are frequently cancelled for the many Buddhist holidays. No matter. I purchased a set of the New Headway (3rd edition) Elementary course books, published by Oxford University Press, for teaching English to non-English speakers, and now I am attempting to turn the 14 units into a 16-week lesson plan, with a midterm and final exam, with points and percentages for grading. As usual in putting together a course syllabus, I waver between improvisation to encourage spontaneity and surprise with the students and a rigid outline which will protect me from indecision and, perish the thought, failure (the west's version of loss of face). Sangha member Mark, who is studying with Pandit, lived in Japan for many years and he gave me a variety of techniques and games to play with students. One that appealed to me involved playing hip hop songs on my iPod and getting them to recognize the lyrics (even I will have trouble with that). Whenever I start to worry, Pandit and Dr. Holly counsel me on staying loose and letting my teaching career be led by the Thai mantra: "Mai pen rai" (which can be freely translated as "never mind, whatever...").