A Lull

[Above photo: What a bucolic view of the world. How very different it seems today. Clearly, it was difficult to keep the deer out of the classroom.]

20 October 2019

I had a good and varied time in Chiang Mai on Sunday. I switched hotels from the Empress to the Sumitaya, a smart, modern, clean, and economical enterprise in the middle of Old Town. While the quarters are small, they are well-designed with lots of wood and metal and glass, all very functional. It has all I need for $29/night, including breakfast and much better wi-fi than the Empress.

I wandered about, getting lost quickly which was fine and fun. I visited a number of ancient wats (temples), noting in one that a gift left for the Buddha was one cigarette with a box of matches on top of it, mixed among the candles and flowers. At one gloriously gold wat a group of 50 monks were chanting and meditating, eventually circumnavigating one of the glittering stupas several times while reciting prayers. Sunday, today, is a massive night market with many streets closed off so I strolled for hours, buying a few gifts and eating street food. I had the best spicy sausage and the crispiest gyoza, washed down with fresh coconut milk.

I then went to the Ta Pae Gate, one of the 4 gates to the city, where there was a large celebration with music, flowers, military in dress whites, and hundreds of Thai men in yellow shirts.  All was in remembrance of the good deeds of the prior king of Thailand, who died 3 years ago today. Understanding no Thai (except “Ja” and “Kap bon krap—Thank you”) I didn’t last long with the speeches. On the way to my hotel, I passed a sports bar and stepped in to watch Japan crush Scotland in the Rugby World Cup, played in Japan. No alcohol is served on Sundays here, so I had a Diet Coke. Then to the hotel for a shower and sleep.

The following day I again wandered about Chiang Mai, a place of coffee houses, “tourist information” shops, restaurants, and temples. This time I took my good camera and managed a few shots I liked. I wished I had more time (and energy) to leave town and trek or see more remote parts of N. Thailand but it wasn’t to be. At noon I settled into a coffee shop-café for lunch and at 12:15PM it began to pour. A torrent. It continued for 3 ½ hours, by which time the street in front was 8” deep in water with a significant current. As the rain let up, the street drained and I meandered back to my hotel, collapsing early.

The flight the next day to Yangon was painless. I was surprised to feel my shoulders drop as I stepped off at Yangon International, back in familiar territory. The Thais were as pleasant and helpful as possible but it was relaxing to lose my alertness as I returned “home”.

It is strange, owning neither a car nor a house, anywhere. I’ll need a car in Maine, eventually, but it is lovely not to have the expense of one here. My driver’s license expired in September and, being over 70yo, I cannot renew it online. I’ll head to Maine first to renew it. Otherwise I cannot rent a car, etc. Cripes, what a nuisance.

At the airport I jumped in a cab and was rushed to a conference venue where I met the Vice-President’s wife and gave a talk to 200 people about principles of behavior management at the MSEA annual conference. MSEA is the Myanmar Special Education Association, a local NGO that trains special ed teachers, since the government doesn’t. There isn’t an occupational therapist or speech therapist in the country.  Behavior management isn’t my forte; I’m largely self-taught. It went well enough, I think.

The next day I hopped a plane for Nay Pyi Taw for the second half of the conference. This was pretty impressive, with the Vice President and the Union Ministers (top dogs) for Health and Sports, Social Welfare and Resettlement, and Education all present and giving talks. I met a lot of interesting and committed people with some requests for help. Two women approached me on behalf of an organization they have started for orphans; one had lived in New York for 9 years. Really? What was she doing there? Her husband was the Myanmar Ambassador to the UN. It really was a star-studded cast and all smart, thoughtful, strategic, and kind people.

Tomorrow is graduation. I’ll do feedback with the students in the morning, take them to lunch and at 3PM we’ll descend on the University of Medicine 1 for the ceremony. The Rector and Pro-Rector will be there, as well as the US Ambassador and other dignitaries. I’ve written a speech I like so I’ll probably use it for my blog entry next Sunday. I have crafted it too much, so now I must read it. I’d have done better to just get main topics and wing it but the words and ideas have become important to me so I don’t want to miss any.

My major concerns are: Must I wear my polyester black taikpon (jacket) or can I wear the nice light brown cotton one I just purchased? Am I acknowledging the guests in the correct order? And, mostly, I don’t want to cry as I might in such a situation. It does feel as if these are my children and they are leaving home. I’ll miss spending time with them. It has been an incredible experience for me; I think it has been for them, as well, in different ways. More later.

Since I’m of the age when I’ll need a black suit, I went to a tailor yesterday who was recommended to me by one of my students. The tailors are renovating their shop so I went to their home, a huge mansion in a lovely leafy part of town, down a quiet road. After ascertaining what material and color I wanted—wool, medium-weight, charcoal—, how many buttons on the sleeves, what kind of a vent, pleats or not, wide or narrow lapels, and on and on, he began to measure me, shouting out the numbers in Myanmar to a woman copying them down. The long and the short, I’ll get fitted in 10 days and have a beautiful fully-lined suit in 4 weeks. $177. I saw some of their work and it is exquisite. I may have them make me a sports jacket and some trousers, as my wardrobe at home is old and purchased pre-lung cancer when I weighed 15# more.

The experience recalled the tale of my father going to England in his bachelor days and having a number of 3-piece suits made for him. Before 1929 he had enough money so he didn’t think he’d have to work. He went to medical school to be a “gentleman doctor”, my mother thought. When they met at Columbia P&S, he had a Chrysler touring car, a 40 foot yawl, and a mistress in an apartment in NYC. My mother “encouraged” him to divest himself of the mistress and the automobile.  They used the yawl in the summers to sail up the coast to Beach Island. But when the market crashed, he lost every cent. My mother said it was the best thing that ever happened to him, always looking for the pony when she’d fallen into horseshit.  Her attitude was admirable and he did move on to support our family nicely until his early death. But he always wore his suits—I don’t know if they were Saville Row but they fit him beautifully.—to work.

It’s time to retire, so I’ll post this as is. It feels rather flat but I don’t have the juice to pump it up.