Comin' to America

The stars are amazing tonight. I rode home after dinner and stared up abruptly at Orion's Belt. I've never been a good constellation spotter, but tonight, I felt like I was going to run into it, it was so close.

I've moved, for the third time in Mae Sot. If all goes as planned, however, this will be my next-to-last move. The *real* one will hopefully take place in January when a spot opens up at my little dream studio apartment building above the Japanese restaurant and karaoke bar. I've always wanted to live in a studio apartment. I know - all you impoverished New Yorkers will tell me how actually not cool it really is, to live in a closet, to have your bed blocking your refrigerator and your bathroom basically in your living room. But still, even the name sounds cool to me and I think it will be really fun. Plus, I can order in sushi and entertain myself and others by singing karaoke on the weekends, making it even more enticing.

The cat/house sitting plan that my faithful readers remember I undertook last week, was a near-disaster. First of all, for those who know me well, I am not a huge fan of cats. I have always been a dog person. Cats have always seemed moody and bony and prissy. And they do weird things, like pounce. But, I was willing to lay aside my prejudice and give the species a try. Again, I repeat, it was a disaster. First of all, one escaped a few nights before my friend and their owner was to return. I was frantic. I looked all over the neighborhood for her, calling "here kitty kitty" in Thai and English and asking guards and neighbors if anyone had seen her. I couldn't believe that I lost her cat. It was suggested to me that her sweet-looking Karen neighbors might have dined on poor kitty. I defended them, but apparently, the Karen do eat cat... The next night, the remaining kitty, spastic without her playmate, crawled all over me in bed, prancing on my face, licking my ear, biting my toes. Then in the middle of the night, I awoke to a terrific crash and got up to see the floor fan spinning wildly on the ground. All I can figure is the tiny little cat shimmied up the fan cord and pulled the whole thing down, knocking off the front cover and breaking all the blades off. She appeared rightfully subdued after her little fiasco, but the fan was toast. The weekend was not shaping up too well. I decided it was definitely time to leave, before I burnt my friend's house down.
So, a round up of the week is as follows:
Number of missing cats: 1
Number of nearly-decapitated cats: 1
Number of nights spent protecting my toes from being bitten: 7 or all of them
Number of destroyed floor fans: 1
Number of cats potentially eaten last week in Mae Sot Villa: 1
Number of episodes of 24 viewed in 4 days: 24

Yesterday was an exciting day. I went to Mae La camp to be present for the announcement by the American Embassy in Bangkok that the US will be offering resettlement to anyone who wants it in Mae La camp. (We are actually doing something useful for the world, for a change!) There had been rumors of such a large-scale group resettlement undertaking, and it was alluded to on the BBC, but there had been no official word. So a representative from the embassy, Homeland Security, and IOM (Int'l Org. of Migration) made this big announcement, with upper members of the camp committee and other high up refugee leaders, and then they announced it in four languages over the loudspeakers to everyone in the camp. Of course, there will be a forever long process of applications and interviews and denials and medicals - but they said in effect that 45,000 people will have a shot of getting out of the black hole of the refugee camp and actually have a chance at a future. I didn't even know what to expect when I went, but it was a really exciting morning... My boss and I went around to a few of the camp-based organizations explaining what it all meant. One guy, who has lived in Mae La for 15 years, eyes widened when we said "don't you see? The US is opening it's doors. You can leave Mae La if you want to!" Beaming, he said "Please, I want to go to the America. Can I go? Can I really go?" It was so exciting to be a part of it. This is one of the worst protracted refugee situations anywhere - they can't go back to Burma because they are still in danger and Thailand refuses to allow them to stay. So they are stuck in a refugee camp, unable to work, unable to pursue dreams, leading stagnated lives of unrealized potential. Twenty years some of them have been in the camp; there is an entire generation who only knows life from the inside of a refugee camp. (As regards the title of this blog, I recognize that my musical education has been sadly neglected, so someone should gently correct me if my sorry attempt at a Neil Diamond reference isn't quite working out).

Needing a caffeine boost this afternoon, and forgetting I didn't have my bike, I walked the few minutes up the road to the 7-11 near work to get a drink, planning to take a moto taxi back because it was so darn hot. However, the stupid moto drivers were trying to charge me double the price. I was so annoyed. It was only the difference of about a quarter, but I refused to give in. My bad attempts at being mean and assertive in Thai only amusing them even more, they just kept saying "20 baht, 20 baht" to my "NO, that is NOT the price. 10 baht!". Finally, exasperated but stubborn as ever, I flipped my hair and walked off. A few meters down the road, a man selling hotdogs from a little kiosk off the side of his moto stopped and insisted on picking me up. Apparently, he had heard the whole conversation, felt sorry for me, and came to get me. He motioned that I was supposed to climb INTO the hotdog cart, which I didn't think would work very well, so I hopped on the very back and rode side saddle like Thai girls in mini-skirts do. The guards at work burst out laughing when I pulled up to the gate on the back of the hot dog seller's cart. Joe holding a roasted... wombat

Why I am Grateful

Alternate Title: Why I am Not at All Bitter that I am About to Get on My Crappy Bicycle to Ride Twenty Minutes in 98 Degree Heat to Eat Fried Rice by Myself on Thanksgiving

So, using whichever title you prefer, with arguably more fanfare than necessary, here is my list of things sparking my gratitude today:

- sort of high speed internet

- the opportunity to learn Thai

- that enough people speak English here that the fact that I am really not learning any Thai at all isn't too much of a problem

- 7-11

- the ability to inquire "have you eaten rice yet today?" to find out if someone is hungry

- that men here are confident enough in their sexuality to walk around wearing sarongs as skirts

- internet banking

- Hazel Taste Coffee Shop - complete with WIFI and vanilla lattes that you'd swear came from Starbucks

- the opportunity to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road

- that my new best friend is a cool Korean who was in the Special Forces training to defend an attack from North Korea by... hot air balloon

- the Apple corporation for creating the IPod

- http://www.people.com

- seeing a woman in a burqa talking to a painted-face Karen

- instant messenger and cell phones so I can talk to my far-away boy

- eating for 75 cents

- meat on a stick

- non-meat entities cooked, smushed up, re-formed and also cooked on a stick

- the Mae Sot donut man

- Thai rap - oh, wait, this is a grateful list. My bad...

In closing, I am even grateful for the scary dogs - because throwing rocks at them makes me feel empowered.

Sunday in Mae Sot

I still haven't found a house. I had been staying in a little room in a cute guesthouse until yesterday. It wasn't exactly the Chamber of Commerce poster accommodation perhaps, with it's location behind the police station, in front of the bus station, next door to scary dogs (I still have a scar from the biting event, by the way), and across the street from a prison for the poor undocumented Burmese who were unlucky enough to get caught. The Thai police hold them in Bangkok and elsewhere and bring them to Mae Sot as the last stop before the weekly deportations back to Burma every Wednesday. It's outrageous, really, considering most are refugees fleeing persecution and death from the SPDC in Burma and the Thai government sends them right back over. But back to not having a house. So, I still don't. A friend asked me to cat/house sit for her for awhile, so I've moved to her house - which has turned out to be halfway to Cambodia - or at least that's how it felt last night as I walked the 45 minutes into Mae Sot. It's all fine - I have a bike - until night-time when all the dogs come out. I'm a little scared, I'm not going to lie. There are perks to this plan, though. My friend has a TV and well-stocked DVD collection, and a coffee maker. Really, a few mean dogs can't compare to being able to make my very own coffee on demand.

Work is rather incredible. I feel so lucky to be here, doing this. I travel to the one of the three refugee camps our field office serves a few times a week to interview families and piece together their stories, then recommend what should happen to the foster children. The UN has little "offices" set up in each camp - bamboo structures with thatched roofs, lizards, a long table, and a stack of plastic lawn chairs. It is rather surreal to be in the camps and to observe the strange normalcy of the lives there. Someone plays the guitar nearby, and kids are having a soccer game right outside - their shrieks and cheers pierce through the air every so often. Cars zoom by on the interstate that runs right beside the gates of Mae La camp - serving as an ironic reminder of life continuing right beside the stagnated existences of the 45,000 inhabitants within. I sit with a family and try to understand their history - I've quickly discovered there are no easy, nor right, answers. Ultimately I must recommend a course of action - should the child stay with his foster family and resettle with them to Norway? His parents may or may not still be alive in Burma somewhere - no one has received word from them in 5 years. Do we risk permanent separation from them by sending him to Norway or do we deny him the right to be with the only family he has ever known and leave him in the refugee camp on the hope that someday his parents will return for him? It's rather intense work with long-lasting consequences for all involved. I love it though. There is still so much I have to learn...

Thai lessons are... going. I wish I could say "well", but, considering that people either laugh at me or just look really confused whenever I try to say anything, "well" is probably not the descriptor of choice. I can say some things, like "Today, I went to the farm and saw 2 cows." I can order rice, noodles, chicken and lattes. I can tell moto drivers to slow down. The tonal nature of Thai continues to completely floor me. Like to say "near" you say graie but to say "far", it is... graie. Ha! A tonal difference that I can't even HEAR - let alone SAY - is all that distinguishes one from the other. And I refuse to even attempt to say "banana" because, a tiny little tone difference changes it to, um, "penis". I am certainly NOT risking going to the market and inquiring about the wrong one!

Alright, off to find lunch food. I don't think I mentioned, but the bike I am riding is an absolute piece of junk, but as I am currently residing in CAMBODIA its use is necessary. It was made for a 10-year-old, for starters, circa 1982. Then, the pedals - or something - jerk everytime I turn them. The brakes don't really work - but this isn't of huge concern as I'm nearly sitting on the ground, so stopping shouldn't be a problem. Today, the ride is complicated by the fact that I am in a skirt - I'm not used to biking, ok! - so I can only ride with one hand on the handlebars while the other attempts to keep from flashing all of Mae Sot. It will be a miracle if I make it home in one piece...

A little trip to Malaysia

I like to imagine that I am a Woman of Adventure. A woman not inhibited by schedules and planning and such that consume the thoughts and Day Planners of normal members of society. A woman unfazed by change. However, there was a moment as I wandered - lost - through the narrow, crowded streets of Chinatown in Kuala Lumpur (every town in the world boasts a Chinatown, as it would seem.... except Oklahoma City, perhaps), alone, with all my bags, in Malaysia, at midnight, and nowhere to stay for the night, that a slight tinge of something akin to panic started creeping into my consciousness, and I wished that I had planned for this trip sooner than 12 hours before. Screw spontaneity . (Sorry Mom, I should have been a more cautionary title, such as "Don't Read, Mom"). The hotel I thought I had reserved didn't have my reservation, nor rooms, but suggested a hotel down the street, also with no rooms. The second suggested a third, the third a fourth. By the fifth hotel, exhausted (6 hour car drive to taxi to bus station to taxi to airport to KL to hour long bus before I finally arrived), I slapped my credit card down at a nice hotel without even looking at the price. Usually a ridiculously cheap, seedy-hostel dweller, this was one time where I couldn't have been happier to see down pillows, room service, and cable TV. After my first rather stressful night, I had an amazing stay in Kuala Lumpur. The city is magnetic and diverse and beautiful and chaotic - but chaotic with an almost tranquil order to it. There are two - sometimes three - of the following on every block (and I am not kidding): KFC, McDonald's, 7-11. McDonald's even offers delivery. I ate incredible Malay and Indian food at every meal (except for the, uh, inexplicable stop at McDonald's for one meal. I know, I know - I don't even remember the last time anything from that disgusting, artery-clogging place went into my mouth. For some reason though, so overpowered by desire was I for the taste of a questionable-meat-fake-cheese Quarter Pounder, I couldn't help myself. Don't judge...). And then there is Starbucks (*sigh*...). After restraining and resisting and writing all sorts of diatribes against the unjust role trendy marketing and globalization has had on the local coffee industry in East Asia, my resolve completely and utterly failed me and I indulged in not one but FOUR grande vanilla lattes over the course of the weekend. Ex-pat Western capitalist guilt notwithstanding, I enjoyed every bit of all four.

The trip to the Thai Embassy to apply for the visa was slightly more complicated - at one moment I realized there was a distinct possibility that I would be stranded in Malaysia indefinitely, without a passport. It took all my skills at persuasion to convince the consulate clerk that really, it was in her best interests to process my visa on a Saturday, when, of course, the embassy is closed. On the way back from the Embassy, Trip 1, fearing I would never see my visa, or passport again, I expressed my frustrations to my taxi driver. It, apparently, was my lucky day. Jamal specializes in, ah... assisting, shall we say, with visa/passport complications. Whipping out a business card, complete with a bogus, nondescript company as cover, he promised to deliver my brand new passport and Thai visa to me before my flight left on Sunday. I burst out laughing. I did, however, keep his card. One never knows when one might be in need of a fake passport...

Petronas Towers
I loved Kuala Lumpur. I found the people strong and welcoming, and the city inspiring. I can't wait to plan a real trip to Malaysia now. So, after the whole trip there in reverse (hotel to taxi to hour long bus to airport to shuttle to 6 hours to kill in Bangkok to train to subway to motorcycle to 10 hour bus back to Mae Sot) I arrived at the Mae Sot bus station at 4:30 Monday morning. I fought with a tuk-tuk driver who took advantage of the fact that he could totally rip me off because it was the middle of the night and there was nothing I could do about it. After 20 minutes of bargaining, stomping off, coming back, stomping off again, I realized he had me and I might as well suck it up and pay the $1 and go home (Yes, I know it was only a dollar, but it should have been 50 cents! It's the principle, people!). At least I got to wake up and go to my cool job. Downtown KL - Petronas Towers are the tall buildings in the middle

Just so you know I was really there...

What Catherine Zeta-Jones and I Have in Common

After what has most possibly been the most last-minute, haphazardly planned trip since the invention of sky miles (with my move to Thailand being a close second), I found a ticket, booked a hotel, begged/bullied the Thai consulate and will be heading to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia tomorrow. It should be noted that I, Foreign Affairs major though I was and self-proclaimed Student of the World I might be, do not really know anything about Malaysia and only vaguely had any idea where it is. Only when looking at a map recently did I even realize that it is broken into two parts and, until 2 hours ago, had no idea in which part lies Kuala Lumpur (capital of Malaysia for all of you secretly pulling up a map right now). So, no visual image of Malaysia. I thought really hard but still came up with nothing. Then I remembered that KL is where they filmed "Entrapment" where Catherine Zeta-Jones hangs on for dear life on the outside of the bridge between the Petronas Towers - the world's tallest skyscraper until 2004. And that, my friends, will be me this time tomorrow (though, hopefully I'll be on inside of the bridge). I have to make a visa run - my tourist visa can't be transferred to a work visa until I check in at a Thai embassy outside the country and then come back in. No, it doesn't really make any sense, but rules are rules, Malaysia is Malaysia, and I am the new Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Of Floats and Flowers

Darting to work this morning, with coffee in one hand while the other frantically tried to flag down a taxi-moto, I had the faint impression that I was in Manhattan, running late to work - except here I will hop on the back of a motorcycle after bargaining in Thai for the "not white" price as my driver dodges chickens and random Buddist parades that clog the street every morning and the smell of noodles and fish and curry fill the air. Fine, so the similarities with New York ended with the Buddist parade but I felt like I could have been in Manhattan. Day One UNHCR. I have a love/hate relationship with First Day’s. First day of school, first day of work, first day of aerobics class, first dates - I love the anticipation of starting something new but hate hurdling the steep learning curve that is inevitable in everything new. Today was no exception. I am thrilled to death about what I will be doing, but hate the initial feeling of overwhelmed-ness that hits when I realize how much there is to learn. I spent all of today with a fat green highlighter and extra fine Uniball pen reading stacks of past history of the program on which I will be working and figuring out my role in it. The acronyms alone are daunting – RSD, POC, AGDM, PWG, PAB, LAC. I tend to agree with a Chilean friend who, utterly perplexed by a conversation he overheard between myself and a colleague, finally exclaimed, “Why do you Americans like putting together all those perfectly sensical words into one jumble of letters that makes no sense?” Ah, to sound important, my friend, of course, and to confuse people from Chile. My job will be preparing something called Best Interest Determination (BID - the acronyms never end...) for minors living in the refugee camps without biological parents. I will recommend whether or not they should be resettled with their caretaker/guardian to a third country. Through interviews with caretakers, family members, teachers, and the child, I will try to piece together their story, locate their parents and recommend the best course of action for the child. It is certainly a complex situation without an easily identifiable solution. Some children are sent to the camps by parents in hiding in Burma so they can attend camp schools, some have no idea where there parents are, others are orphans. If the parents are still alive, it is very likely that resettling the child means permanent separation. The ramifications of the decision are clearly enormous, but tracing parents is difficult in all situations and nearly impossible in others with the current crisis in Burma.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to attend one of the biggest Thai cultural events of the year – Loi Krathong – in the first capital of Siam, Sukhothai. Loi Krathong is the Buddist holiday where the Thai celebrate the end of the rainy season and the symbolism of the purification inherent in water. It is a festival to celebrate water and purity. Sukhothai, three hours south of Mae Sot, is the best place in the country to celebrate, so when friends told me they had an extra spot in their truck, I was ecstatic. There are parades in the streets all day long – the royal family is represented, Thai dancers, and others represent various aspects of Thailand’s rich cultural history. Tents and stalls were set up in the thousand year old ruins of Sukhothai Historical Park, creating one giant carnival. As one of my friends commented dryly, “Festival or funeral, the Thai's never miss an opportunity to throw up tents, sell plastic junk, and barbeque”. For weeks women have been making small intricate flower floats with candles and incence (krathongs) that each person purchases for 20 baht (about 50 cents) and release down the river after dark, to pay homage. As tradition goes, if you make a wish as you loi the krathong, you will have happiness all year.

A woman selling krathongs

Making a wish before I loi

J. Crew Thailand?