Melbourne Movie theater, night.
Enter: KATY, all grins, as she is about to engage in a transaction with a person who speaks native English, for the first time in 2 months. She approaches TICKET CLERK, who looks incredibly bored.
KATY: Hello, I'd like one for Quantum of Solace, please (smiles genuinely).
TICKET CLERK: (unintelligible).
K: Hmm? (Slightly confused, but not deterred. After all, it is a bit loud).
TC: (louder) Any coupons or concessions?
K: Uh, no?
TC: Alright, that's one -
K: - Wait, I buy popcorn here?
TC: Coupons or concessions. You buy the popcorn inside.
K: (Still confused, but trying to pretend like it was misunderstood). Ooooooh, no. Well, I definitely want popcorn, but no.
TC: Alright (speaks through teeth), Where would you like to sit?
K: (Long pause, then) Wait, I can choose where I sit, here?
TC: Yes miss.
K: Uhm. OK... Isle? In the back?
TC: Alright. (Then. very slowly, with annoyingly dominant eye contact:) Your film is upstahs, take the lift on the left. (Hands ticket to visibly disturbed patron).
KATY takes the ticket and gets lost looking for the lift, which she knows to be an elevating mechanism of some sort or other, but only after she looks right does she find the elevator. Purchases popcorn and soda with minimal trouble, but for needing to repeat her order three times before the CONCESSIONS CLERK understands that she just wants a fucking diet coke and popcorn. Finally, ticket in one hand, and soda in the other with popcorn under the arm, KATY approaches the TICKET TAKER, and hands him her ticket for Quantum of Solace.
TT: Alright, Quant- oh, wait. This starts at eight THIRTY, miss.
K: Yes...
TT: It's only 8 o'clock.
K: Yes...
TT: (annoyed) The film isn't over yet, I'm sorry you'll have to wait.
KATY looks around to see there is no place to sit, let alone any place to stand without looking totally stupid standing there with her popcorn and soda and movie ticket in the middle of the empty lobby, and how much time do they allow to clean the place? When is a good time to come back? She decides to look around the lobby posters as though extremely interested, until trying again once a group leaves the theater, with 15 minutes before curtain.
NEW TT: Hello. Ah, theater on your left.
K: (Looking at ticket for the non existent seat assignment, and subsequently confused) Uh, sir?
NTT: Is there a problem?
K: Is there, an uh, seat assignment? (winces for fear of yet another crippling are-you-retarded-glare)
NTT: Ah, yea, I'm sorry, I ripped it. Here you are.
K: (relieved) Thanks!
NTT: No worries!
KATY sits in the theater to enjoy Quantum of Solace, from beginning to end, except for the song at the beginning, which totally sucked, and sounded worse than the alley cats in Bangkok fighting. Also was perplexed with the previews, which included one precautionary commercial depicting a girl cutting off her hand in a store because she didn't ask how to use the bread slicer, ending with "It Never Hurts To Ask." ; and a recruiting commercial for Massage Therapy School in Canada. Here KATY thought life and culture in Melbourne, Australia, would be un-interestingly similar to life in America. No extra credit given for figuring out what she thinks now.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Pics
Well here are some pictures I have finally been able to upload, I'm new to Picassa so we will see how it works. It took me three days (as my gchat buddies have seen) to upload, sort, and get these pictures in any sort of presentable order, so I hope they're not too redundant (some of the temple ones probably are, I couldn't stop taking pictures though, every corner I turned was more amazing). I will add more Bangkok pictures to the 2nd one. For the most part they are (should be) chronological, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, Meong River, Laos, Cambodia, Railay Beach, Bangkok. ENJOY!
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| KATY 1 -500 |
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| KATY last batch |
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thais - They're just like US!
This is something I've been wanting to do, but haven't been able to until I got to a place where I could upload photos. There are more, but I can only handle so much photo uploading in one day... so keep your eyes peeled for the installments to follow, of a little chapter I like to call :
They get bored at work!
<--- bubblewrap
They have a tough time spelling foreign words!
They have street carts with coffee! (The cans are used for shaking the milk and coffee and sugar together - yum.)
And they sell nuts on the street, too!
They have organized, clean subways, that run on time-- JUST LIKE NEW YORK!
AND they even commit a fashion faux-paux here and there. Looks like someone forgot his belt at home today, oops!
Thais - They're just like US!
They hang their clothes to dry!
They get bored at work!
<--- bubblewrap
They have a tough time spelling foreign words!
They have street carts with coffee! (The cans are used for shaking the milk and coffee and sugar together - yum.)
And they sell nuts on the street, too!
They have organized, clean subways, that run on time-- JUST LIKE NEW YORK!
AND they even commit a fashion faux-paux here and there. Looks like someone forgot his belt at home today, oops!
They value customer service...
("We Want You Be Happy" aw, shucks)
("We Want You Be Happy" aw, shucks)
And they're up to date on current affairs!
All in all, it's been an easy transition. Who would have guessed they'd be so much LIKE US?
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
fiction
He wasn't a particularly conscientious fellow, but he realized he had perhaps acted improperly when he could not successfully read a page from his novel without unintentionally replaying the events in his mind. Nobody knew about her, anyway, so it wasn't veritably a difficult issue to ignore. He could live the rest of his week as though nothing atypical had happened, which is how he had planned to do it, all along.
But it was the 11th hour, and he was alone in his house, having tea by the fire when the voices started to interrupt Mister Hemingway's. This was when the heaviness suppressed in his sternum crept and clawed it's way out; when the back of his dark heart became the foreground of his consciousness. It happened so slowly, so inching and creepy that he had almost reached the end of the story before realizing he hadn't in fact been reading at all, but listening to the voices, and watching the events unfold like clips of a movie. Random flashes, slowly becoming more prominent than the dream world of The Old Man And The Sea, like static from another channel superimposed over the one you're trying to watch, before it finally becomes the only thing you can see. His white knuckles and the Cuban fisherman; her salty tears came from the ocean. You did not do so badly for something so worthless, he said to his left hand. But there was a moment when I could not find you. Glass shattered, her futile pleadings, his resentment incarnated in his permanent sneer. Flashes. Removed. Watching it unfold between the font on the pages, as though it were another man, another woman, a familiar neighbor or a character on t.v., instead of her.
He shivered violently, as though waking from a dream. He craned his stiff neck toward the fireplace that stomached only embers. "Goddamnit," he whispered. His coughing voice broke the silence of his cabin, and he smirked as he recalled Genesis 1:3. He put down the paperback, and brought his now cold, over steeped mug of tea into the kitchen, turning on lights in each room on the way. When had it gotten dark? He wondered. The still semi-full kettle remained on the burner as he lit the gas stove, taking care to douse the match before disposing of the charcoal stick. She had taught him that. Douse the lit match, like spitting on a cigarette butt before tossing it. She had quit smoking, too. For him. For He spoke, and it was done; He commanded, and it stood fast. For Him. These were some of her last words. For you, she said. It's all for you. He had never seen her cry before that night. He had heard her weep before, in the dark, in bed, when she thought he was asleep. Or maybe she knew, passive aggressive bitch that she was probably did know. He had resented it before, before that night -- their last -- he had realized her big, blue eyes turned beautifully red, the passion behind them, the pink in her nose and the shimmer on her cheeks, she was electrified, and lovely. Beautiful. Begging him. Pleading. Trying to save her life, in his. He was fortunate to be able to tune her out, to better enjoy that picture, to be gazed upon in his mind forever. The kettle's whistle impatiently rose from quiet to loud -- he realized again he had granted her the power of his attention. Methodically, he removed the kettle from the ignited burner to the dead one, taking pleasure in eliminating the gas, and poured the hot water on the wet bag of leaves, releasing other worlds of aroma and pleasure.
The truly terrible thing about it was, he knew that what he did was wrong. He knew when he planned it. When he executed the plan, he even acknowledged his awareness to her as she dared challenge him. Yes, I know, he had said. Repeating mistakes. Perpetuating the bad. She hadn't expected him to realize the connection, the inheritance of habit, doing unto others what you suffered at the hands of another. She was dumbfounded, and even abruptly stopped crying as he was saying it. How could you? Intentionally? Accept it? The truth knocked the wind out of her. She didn't know how to play a game when the other played by different rules. He had always prided himself in being an honest guy. Her cliches annoyed him. It's not my fault you didn't ask the right questions, he said. In all honesty. Truth be told. Truly, madly, deeply. She hadn't deserved what he had to give, but it was out of his hands. Like watching a movie. Someone else. This is not my life. The teacup was full to the rim but too hot to drink, causing him to move with the intent of a tightrope walker back to his easychair. The silence was deafening, as he stared with each step at the trembling tension that threatened to break the water's surface. He could feel his body harden at the potential burns he would suffer with one, false, step.
Once in his chair, he looked at the dying fireplace. The smoking hot mug at his side, he settled in for the fight to finish. He would finish. You are killing me, fish, the old man though. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or calmer or more noble thing than you... he paused. Silence. No static, no pain where there should be none. Just the dying fire, the steaming cup of tea. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who. Everything in it's place. You must keep your head clear. Keep your head clear and know how to suffer like a man. {grin}
But it was the 11th hour, and he was alone in his house, having tea by the fire when the voices started to interrupt Mister Hemingway's. This was when the heaviness suppressed in his sternum crept and clawed it's way out; when the back of his dark heart became the foreground of his consciousness. It happened so slowly, so inching and creepy that he had almost reached the end of the story before realizing he hadn't in fact been reading at all, but listening to the voices, and watching the events unfold like clips of a movie. Random flashes, slowly becoming more prominent than the dream world of The Old Man And The Sea, like static from another channel superimposed over the one you're trying to watch, before it finally becomes the only thing you can see. His white knuckles and the Cuban fisherman; her salty tears came from the ocean. You did not do so badly for something so worthless, he said to his left hand. But there was a moment when I could not find you. Glass shattered, her futile pleadings, his resentment incarnated in his permanent sneer. Flashes. Removed. Watching it unfold between the font on the pages, as though it were another man, another woman, a familiar neighbor or a character on t.v., instead of her.
He shivered violently, as though waking from a dream. He craned his stiff neck toward the fireplace that stomached only embers. "Goddamnit," he whispered. His coughing voice broke the silence of his cabin, and he smirked as he recalled Genesis 1:3. He put down the paperback, and brought his now cold, over steeped mug of tea into the kitchen, turning on lights in each room on the way. When had it gotten dark? He wondered. The still semi-full kettle remained on the burner as he lit the gas stove, taking care to douse the match before disposing of the charcoal stick. She had taught him that. Douse the lit match, like spitting on a cigarette butt before tossing it. She had quit smoking, too. For him. For He spoke, and it was done; He commanded, and it stood fast. For Him. These were some of her last words. For you, she said. It's all for you. He had never seen her cry before that night. He had heard her weep before, in the dark, in bed, when she thought he was asleep. Or maybe she knew, passive aggressive bitch that she was probably did know. He had resented it before, before that night -- their last -- he had realized her big, blue eyes turned beautifully red, the passion behind them, the pink in her nose and the shimmer on her cheeks, she was electrified, and lovely. Beautiful. Begging him. Pleading. Trying to save her life, in his. He was fortunate to be able to tune her out, to better enjoy that picture, to be gazed upon in his mind forever. The kettle's whistle impatiently rose from quiet to loud -- he realized again he had granted her the power of his attention. Methodically, he removed the kettle from the ignited burner to the dead one, taking pleasure in eliminating the gas, and poured the hot water on the wet bag of leaves, releasing other worlds of aroma and pleasure.
The truly terrible thing about it was, he knew that what he did was wrong. He knew when he planned it. When he executed the plan, he even acknowledged his awareness to her as she dared challenge him. Yes, I know, he had said. Repeating mistakes. Perpetuating the bad. She hadn't expected him to realize the connection, the inheritance of habit, doing unto others what you suffered at the hands of another. She was dumbfounded, and even abruptly stopped crying as he was saying it. How could you? Intentionally? Accept it? The truth knocked the wind out of her. She didn't know how to play a game when the other played by different rules. He had always prided himself in being an honest guy. Her cliches annoyed him. It's not my fault you didn't ask the right questions, he said. In all honesty. Truth be told. Truly, madly, deeply. She hadn't deserved what he had to give, but it was out of his hands. Like watching a movie. Someone else. This is not my life. The teacup was full to the rim but too hot to drink, causing him to move with the intent of a tightrope walker back to his easychair. The silence was deafening, as he stared with each step at the trembling tension that threatened to break the water's surface. He could feel his body harden at the potential burns he would suffer with one, false, step.
Once in his chair, he looked at the dying fireplace. The smoking hot mug at his side, he settled in for the fight to finish. He would finish. You are killing me, fish, the old man though. But you have a right to. Never have I seen a greater, or more beautiful, or calmer or more noble thing than you... he paused. Silence. No static, no pain where there should be none. Just the dying fire, the steaming cup of tea. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who. Everything in it's place. You must keep your head clear. Keep your head clear and know how to suffer like a man. {grin}
"A great way to start my day"
Courtesy of Katie O, but out there for the young Millers: Zach, Jess, Andrea, and Luke (even though he doesn't know it yet, this will be his favorite movie of all time).
Gratuitous, this one's on me:
Gratuitous, this one's on me:
I'm doinit
The following was taken from the http://www.dhamma.org/ website. This is something I have always wanted to do, and I think I'll make time to do it in either Aus or NZ... for some reason I have always associated this practice with these locations. Plus, it's free, good for you, and just really really cool.
"Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India's most ancient techniques of meditation. It was rediscovered by Gotama Buddha more than 2500 years ago and was taught by him as a universal remedy for universal ills, i.e., an Art Of Living.
This non-sectarian technique aims for the total eradication of mental impurities and the resultant highest happiness of full liberation. Healing, not merely the curing of diseases, but the essential healing of human suffering, is its purpose.
"Vipassana is a way of self-transformation through self-observation. It focuses on the deep interconnection between mind and body, which can be experienced directly by disciplined attention to the physical sensations that form the life of the body, and that continuously interconnect and condition the life of the mind. It is this observation-based, self-exploratory journey to the common root of mind and body that dissolves mental impurity, resulting in a balanced mind full of love and compassion.
"The scientific laws that operate one's thoughts, feelings, judgements and sensations become clear. Through direct experience, the nature of how one grows or regresses, how one produces suffering or frees oneself from suffering is understood. Life becomes characterized by increased awareness, non-delusion, self-control and peace."
Go ahead, say it. H-i-double-p, i-e! It's all good. I might be annoyed now, but after this retreat, I'll be so zen master you won't be able to tell between me and a grasshopper. SNAP!
"Vipassana, which means to see things as they really are, is one of India's most ancient techniques of meditation. It was rediscovered by Gotama Buddha more than 2500 years ago and was taught by him as a universal remedy for universal ills, i.e., an Art Of Living.
This non-sectarian technique aims for the total eradication of mental impurities and the resultant highest happiness of full liberation. Healing, not merely the curing of diseases, but the essential healing of human suffering, is its purpose.
"Vipassana is a way of self-transformation through self-observation. It focuses on the deep interconnection between mind and body, which can be experienced directly by disciplined attention to the physical sensations that form the life of the body, and that continuously interconnect and condition the life of the mind. It is this observation-based, self-exploratory journey to the common root of mind and body that dissolves mental impurity, resulting in a balanced mind full of love and compassion.
"The scientific laws that operate one's thoughts, feelings, judgements and sensations become clear. Through direct experience, the nature of how one grows or regresses, how one produces suffering or frees oneself from suffering is understood. Life becomes characterized by increased awareness, non-delusion, self-control and peace."
Go ahead, say it. H-i-double-p, i-e! It's all good. I might be annoyed now, but after this retreat, I'll be so zen master you won't be able to tell between me and a grasshopper. SNAP!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Nakhon Si Thammarat say what
Stuck inside a hostel with the Bangkok blues again.
14 hours by train, and I find myself back in the south. These ain't no euro-rail luxury trains, lemme tell ya. I think I saw a couple chicken on this particular overnighter. Ghe-tto. I paid next to nothing for the ticket though, and as the saying goes: you get what you pay for. The floors reminded me of a school bus -- blue linoleum-ish and sticky looking. The seats were deceitfully upholstered like an airport terminal, and harder than the ground. They came designed without the middle arm rest, too, meaning the person you end up sitting next to becomes your snuggle buddy for the night. The windows and doors all stay open the whole trip, and while seemingly unsafe it was better than smelling whatever it was that reeked. From the waist up or more is open air window, which made me wonder if Thailand ever has problems with banditos or thieves boarding the train in the night, since we're going so slowly that it wouldn't take an acrobat to hop on in through the window. But oh wait, the doors stay open too, so how silly of me- they can just walk on in. I'm pretty sure they do... Luckily, I met a couple of psychotic Canadian fellows who were more than entertaining for the night's trip, and they had a sleeper car with a table, couple bottles of thai whiskey, and a deck of cards. They were loud and kept pretending they were American when people would give us weird looks, but I was so bored and grossed out with my cattle car none of that mattered. I can't say I slept at all, but I also can't say I would have anyway. I can say it was WAY better than snuggling with the guy that stank like garbage and had never heard of "personal space" before. Plus, new people are always fun.
Alas, you'll have to pardon my cynicism. I was stuck in Bangkok for much much longer than I wanted to be, and man oh man AM I GLAD TO BE OUT. I assure you though that it was completely safe (probably safer than the train), and that all the tumultuousness was only occurring in the areas of protest, and while it's extremely inconvenient for travelers all over s.e.a., it should only be measured as such. So rest assured.
One perk of being stuck in Bangkok was that I could talk to some locals and get more information on what is going on with the protests. Here, in a nutshell, is what I've learned:
(1) Thailand is no stranger to coups, protests of government, or 'sit-ins'. This is how the people deal with government they do not agree with. The first Prime Minister was instated as a result of a coup, in 1932. I think there have been some 20 or so coups since, but only one has been, as they say, bloody.
(2) This is indeed the first occupation of an airport, but with protests going on more or less ignored for 6 months, who can blame them for wanting to take drastic measures? It seems to me this is an excellent way to get one's government to pay attention to you.
(2.a) IE: Ok fine, you don't want to listen to us? We occupy, and effectively close down the airport. Now, tourists + apathetic citizens + foreigners who depend on that airport to stay functional = angry, now are all calling upon the Prime Minister to do something about it. Whether or not the aforementioned give a shit about the PAD's cause, it's forcing the government to stop turning their backs and acknowledge those unhappy with the way things are going. Very smart strategy for the protesters, because they're insisting that they aren't leaving until the entire government (all of whom the protesters claim to be puppets/corrupt/affiliated with the old Prime Minister) step down and place their positions up for re-election. This process takes up to 60 days, but all they're asking for is new elections for all posts.
(3) This led me to wonder, what is so bad about the new Prime Minister, and why are they asking him to step down NOW, A.S.A.P., and the subject for the PAD is not up for negotiation. WELL I'll tell you. While Thais are no stranger to coups or protests against their government, they are IN LOVE with and utterly devoted to (perhaps to a fault) their King. There are pictures of him EVERYWHERE. You cannot go into a mall, walk down the block, come to an intersection, pretty much leave your hostel/hotel/house/apartment without seeing a picture of this guy. He is pretty sweet looking, he usually has a camera around his neck and wears spectacles. But he's getting very old. His birthday, in fact, is the first week in December* and it's a huge national celebration. Now, the old PM Thaksin Shinawatra was ousted a couple of years ago for corruption, and "replaced himself" first with a literal 'stand-in,' who resigned due to corruption charges in September, followed by this new guy, Somchai Wongsawat (in September), who also happens to be Thaksin's brother-in-law. (Well not technically "replaced himself," but the Parliament that elected Somchai is overwhelmingly made up of Thaksin appointees.) Well becasue the King is in his twilight years, there have been speculations of Somchai and Thaksin luring the young prince to their sympathies, and I'm exhausted just talking about it so I will stop there, allowing your imaginations to fill in why the protestors who don't like anything about these PMs would be upset with the notion that their beloved monarchy could be tampered with.
(4) Turns out the PAD chose yellow to show support for the Monarchy, and that their group consists mostly of the educated, the city-folk, the business men and women of Thailand, whereas the supporters for the current PM (s) are rural country folk.
(5) Most the people I spoke with were not at the Bangkok airport, so that means they aren't politically weighted necessarily one way or the other, because they weren't protesting, but they do live in the city and speak English, ergo are considered educated. These people also responded for the most part indifferently, more annoyed with the disturbance than worried or interested,
and I'm not sure if it's typical Thai-don't-tend-to-speak-out-against-authority (ha you wouldn't believe it, would you?), or that they indeed didn't care one way or the other.
So that is the information I have gathered regarding the protests. If I learn anything more of any interest, you can be sure I will pass it along. For now, I am enjoying this small little town and the relief from stinky & busy Bangkok. I am meeting some of Mac's friends tonight, we're making tortillas and having a little house party, so it'll be interesting to see some of their insights, although Mac seems just as indifferent as the Thai. I will stay here until I figure out where I can go next, without being on the accommodation clock (as he has graciously opened up his place for me until I get things sorted out or until the main airport opens, although now I'm near Phuket so I might head back over there for a bit).
Smooches, and keep the updates coming, I like hearing about what you all are up to. xx
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FN*A lot of people are certain this protest will come to an end by the time the King's birthday comes around for the sake of preventing any embarrassment. It's spoken as fact, because it's beyond any Thai person's comprehension that any citizen would possibly risk embarrassing the King. As I mentioned in another post when I first got here, you can't put money (with the Kings image on it) in your back pocket or shoe, lest you insult Him or the Thais.
14 hours by train, and I find myself back in the south. These ain't no euro-rail luxury trains, lemme tell ya. I think I saw a couple chicken on this particular overnighter. Ghe-tto. I paid next to nothing for the ticket though, and as the saying goes: you get what you pay for. The floors reminded me of a school bus -- blue linoleum-ish and sticky looking. The seats were deceitfully upholstered like an airport terminal, and harder than the ground. They came designed without the middle arm rest, too, meaning the person you end up sitting next to becomes your snuggle buddy for the night. The windows and doors all stay open the whole trip, and while seemingly unsafe it was better than smelling whatever it was that reeked. From the waist up or more is open air window, which made me wonder if Thailand ever has problems with banditos or thieves boarding the train in the night, since we're going so slowly that it wouldn't take an acrobat to hop on in through the window. But oh wait, the doors stay open too, so how silly of me- they can just walk on in. I'm pretty sure they do... Luckily, I met a couple of psychotic Canadian fellows who were more than entertaining for the night's trip, and they had a sleeper car with a table, couple bottles of thai whiskey, and a deck of cards. They were loud and kept pretending they were American when people would give us weird looks, but I was so bored and grossed out with my cattle car none of that mattered. I can't say I slept at all, but I also can't say I would have anyway. I can say it was WAY better than snuggling with the guy that stank like garbage and had never heard of "personal space" before. Plus, new people are always fun.
Alas, you'll have to pardon my cynicism. I was stuck in Bangkok for much much longer than I wanted to be, and man oh man AM I GLAD TO BE OUT. I assure you though that it was completely safe (probably safer than the train), and that all the tumultuousness was only occurring in the areas of protest, and while it's extremely inconvenient for travelers all over s.e.a., it should only be measured as such. So rest assured.
One perk of being stuck in Bangkok was that I could talk to some locals and get more information on what is going on with the protests. Here, in a nutshell, is what I've learned:
(1) Thailand is no stranger to coups, protests of government, or 'sit-ins'. This is how the people deal with government they do not agree with. The first Prime Minister was instated as a result of a coup, in 1932. I think there have been some 20 or so coups since, but only one has been, as they say, bloody.
(2) This is indeed the first occupation of an airport, but with protests going on more or less ignored for 6 months, who can blame them for wanting to take drastic measures? It seems to me this is an excellent way to get one's government to pay attention to you.
(2.a) IE: Ok fine, you don't want to listen to us? We occupy, and effectively close down the airport. Now, tourists + apathetic citizens + foreigners who depend on that airport to stay functional = angry, now are all calling upon the Prime Minister to do something about it. Whether or not the aforementioned give a shit about the PAD's cause, it's forcing the government to stop turning their backs and acknowledge those unhappy with the way things are going. Very smart strategy for the protesters, because they're insisting that they aren't leaving until the entire government (all of whom the protesters claim to be puppets/corrupt/affiliated with the old Prime Minister) step down and place their positions up for re-election. This process takes up to 60 days, but all they're asking for is new elections for all posts.
(3) This led me to wonder, what is so bad about the new Prime Minister, and why are they asking him to step down NOW, A.S.A.P., and the subject for the PAD is not up for negotiation. WELL I'll tell you. While Thais are no stranger to coups or protests against their government, they are IN LOVE with and utterly devoted to (perhaps to a fault) their King. There are pictures of him EVERYWHERE. You cannot go into a mall, walk down the block, come to an intersection, pretty much leave your hostel/hotel/house/apartment without seeing a picture of this guy. He is pretty sweet looking, he usually has a camera around his neck and wears spectacles. But he's getting very old. His birthday, in fact, is the first week in December* and it's a huge national celebration. Now, the old PM Thaksin Shinawatra was ousted a couple of years ago for corruption, and "replaced himself" first with a literal 'stand-in,' who resigned due to corruption charges in September, followed by this new guy, Somchai Wongsawat (in September), who also happens to be Thaksin's brother-in-law. (Well not technically "replaced himself," but the Parliament that elected Somchai is overwhelmingly made up of Thaksin appointees.) Well becasue the King is in his twilight years, there have been speculations of Somchai and Thaksin luring the young prince to their sympathies, and I'm exhausted just talking about it so I will stop there, allowing your imaginations to fill in why the protestors who don't like anything about these PMs would be upset with the notion that their beloved monarchy could be tampered with.
(4) Turns out the PAD chose yellow to show support for the Monarchy, and that their group consists mostly of the educated, the city-folk, the business men and women of Thailand, whereas the supporters for the current PM (s) are rural country folk.
(5) Most the people I spoke with were not at the Bangkok airport, so that means they aren't politically weighted necessarily one way or the other, because they weren't protesting, but they do live in the city and speak English, ergo are considered educated. These people also responded for the most part indifferently, more annoyed with the disturbance than worried or interested,
and I'm not sure if it's typical Thai-don't-tend-to-speak-out-against-authority (ha you wouldn't believe it, would you?), or that they indeed didn't care one way or the other.
So that is the information I have gathered regarding the protests. If I learn anything more of any interest, you can be sure I will pass it along. For now, I am enjoying this small little town and the relief from stinky & busy Bangkok. I am meeting some of Mac's friends tonight, we're making tortillas and having a little house party, so it'll be interesting to see some of their insights, although Mac seems just as indifferent as the Thai. I will stay here until I figure out where I can go next, without being on the accommodation clock (as he has graciously opened up his place for me until I get things sorted out or until the main airport opens, although now I'm near Phuket so I might head back over there for a bit).
Smooches, and keep the updates coming, I like hearing about what you all are up to. xx
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FN*A lot of people are certain this protest will come to an end by the time the King's birthday comes around for the sake of preventing any embarrassment. It's spoken as fact, because it's beyond any Thai person's comprehension that any citizen would possibly risk embarrassing the King. As I mentioned in another post when I first got here, you can't put money (with the Kings image on it) in your back pocket or shoe, lest you insult Him or the Thais.
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