Me At Angkor Wat, Cambodia (Sort Of)

Click to enlarge
This is pure kitsch, or worse. Still, I like it. I've installed the photo in a frame and am now displaying it in my bedroom in Arizona. I visited Angkor Wat in 1999, when it had just become safe to do so, and before the tourist hordes descended. It was one of the magical experiences of my life.

Signs of Old Age

Because I'm blessed with good health and a considerable amount of energy, if left to my own devices, and aside from the inevitable quick look in the mirror, I'd never know that I've become old. I could easily fool myself into thinking that I'm still in young adulthood trying to figure out what I want to do in life. However, outside stimuli are a constant reminder that I've aged and that for me, this is the last act (and I hope a long one) of the play, with no encore allowed. Here are some recent happenings, and my reactions to them, that provide me with a reality check of my advancing--and some would say, declining---years:

1. As I walk on the soi (side road) in front of my apartment, which is filled with friendly street vendors, most of whom I know, I'm greeted and addressed as "papa," ("Sawadee krup papa! Sabadii mai papa?") Thais use "papa" as a term of respect and affection for the elderly.

2. On the same soi, the bar girls whom I pass on the way to the skytrain, long ago
stopped greeting me at all. They recognize that I'm too old to be a prospect.

3. On the skytrain, which is almost always crowded, I'm now regularly offered seats by both young men and women. At first I was angry---how dare they think that I can't remain standing for a few minutes. Then, not too long ago, a severely wrinkled, shrunken old Thai lady, at least 80 years of age, offered me her seat. I went into shock and couldn't even utter "mai pen rai; yaa lamback luey" (a very polite way of saying "thank you, but please don't bother"). Nowadays, as I've come to accept my chronological status in life, I'm mildly annoyed when no one offers me a seat.

4. In Shanghai (May 10-16, 2006), I visited a not very good English-language bookstore. One of the books that looked interesting was 101 Things To Do Before You're Old and Boring. Too late for me---I'm already there, so I didn't buy it. (Actually, the book is written for teens. The author explains to his youthful audience that there's nothing worse than being boring, expect being old and boring.)

5. When a new issue of The Arizona Lawyer arrives, I suspect that, like most members of the bar, in a harmless exercise of schadenfreude, I turn first to read the list of lawyers who were recently disciplined by the supreme court. Now, I turn first to the list of recently deceased lawyers. Unfortunately, my contemporaries are beginning to be well-represented.

6. One of the two English dailies in Bangkok, The Nation, contains a column of that day's celebrity birthdays. I usually recognize the names of those over age 50, but I almost never know anyone younger.

7. I just received an invitation to my 50th, yes 50th, high school reunion.

8. I think twice before buying a bunch of green bananas.

9. The aphorism goes: "Life is a journey, not a destination." At my age, it's more destination than journey.

10. I was in a restaurant that had an attractive seniors menu for those 65 and older. I offered to provide the waitress with proof that I was over 65. She told one look at me and replied: "That won't be necessary."

To be continued....

Over the Pacific on United--May 16, 2006

On the flight, 10 1/2 hours from Shanghai to San Francisco on United, I wasn't expecting much. After all, United doesn't have a great reputation and is in bankruptcy. Unfortunately, not even my very modest expectations were met.

The plane, a Boeing 747, was old and showed its age. The interior was drab. However, I wasn't prepared for the pathetic cabin service. I was traveling business class, which was staffed with about six cabin attendants. Their average age must have been close to my own 67 years. Nothing wrong with us oldsters working; I, for one, don't require a beauty-pageant crew in their 20's. In fact, I admire older people who continue working, or who seek new employment in their retirement, and I've seen many fine examples of really great older workers (e.g., my local Safeway, my bank). The key, however, is to work. These United ancient ages just didn't want to work; it was clearly a bother, an annoyance to them. All but one was overweight, and one of the biggies was actually obese and spent most of the flight sitting on a crew jump seat in front of me, eating. Some didn't bother to wear makeup or groom their hair. Yes, sorry for this comment, but they looked like a bunch of old hags. Yet, this would have been okay with me, if their attitudes didn't mirror their appearances.

Early on in the flight, they let it be known, not so subtly I thought, that they didn't want to be summoned by the call button. I think they were recalling lessons learned in flight school a generation ago, that their main function was to provide for the passengers' safety (I supposed that, if there were an emergency, I'd end up taking care of them), and that serving coffee was only of secondary importance. In other words, it was sufficient for them to know the location of the life jackets, not the coffee maker.

When, maybe 1/3rd into the flight, one of them came around to pour water, and I didn't have a glass, she chastised me and told me to make sure that I kept my glass throughout the flight, because, she said, it was "hard on her old bones" for her to walk back to the galley (maybe 10 feet away) to get a glass. Up to now none of them smiled; now, neither did I.

As for the food, it was your typical coach class meal, nothing more, served in the familiar TV trays, except that they did put a cloth cover on the seat tray (big deal!), and provided us with a printed menu, which, I thought, was classy until I actually viewed the food dropped in front of me.

By the end of the flight, I felt sorry for them, for United, and for America. It's sad to see people working without any enthusiasm, beaten by the system so to speak, just putting in their time "retired in office." I know they've lost their pensions, health benefits, and taken substantial cuts in salary. Still, as long as they choose to work in this job, they have the ability to be professional and do a good job. They have alternatives other than taking their disappointments out on the passengers. As for United's management, I'm sure they're spending countless hours and lots of money trying to honestly resuscitate their airline. Little do they realize that it's hopeless with cabin crews like the one on flight 858. Finally, as a loyal American, I like to think that we excel at anything we do, that we are the leader, the model for others to emulate. Why can't the U.S. have either the pre-eminent, or an eminent air line, flying across the Pacific? But, we don't, and anyone who has flown the trans-Pacific route a few times, knows that such Asian carriers as Singapore Air, Cathy Pacific, and Thai Air, are super flying experiences that United passengers can only dream about.

What I like about the free market system is that I have a choice. I don't have to fly United again, and I won't. I don't wish anyone ill, but it wouldn't be such a bad thing if United were liquidated by the bankruptcy court and joined the history books with such carriers as Pan American and Eastern. Some new U.S. carrier should be given the chance to fly United's routes to the orient. It can only do better. One thing I'm sure of: none of the cabin crew from my flight 858 will be found on any new airline.

I like to be balanced, so here's two really good things about the flight: the business class seats were very roomy, far apart, and comfortable, and there was no turbulence during the long flight.

Wiwat's Graduation-Chiang Mai-April 8, 2006

Even though Wiwat attended college in Chiang Rai, his graduation ceremony took place in Chiang Mai, the year following the completion of his bachelor's degree. This was for the convenience of the crown prince. Every college graduate in Thailand, of which there are tens of thousands per year, personally receives his diploma from a member of the royal family, an honor that is universally respected and is a major, perhaps the major, event in their lives. To make this task possible for the royal family, the ceremonies are consolidated so that this year, all of last year's graduates from the north of Thailand, converged on Chiang Mai. There being no building in Chiang Mai large enough to hold the graduates and their family and friends, only the crown prince and the graduates themselves witnessed the degrees being bestowed, although an abbreviated few minutes could be viewed on TV during the nightly royal news program. On graduation day, the assembled throng sat on the grounds of Chiang Mai University and had a big picnic. Most brought their own food, but there was plenty for sale from vendors also. It was April 8, a Sunday, and extremely hot (April is Thailand's hottest month).

Left: The lucky few got a spot under a temporary
tent



Wiwat's family generously offered to share with me whatever food they brought with them from Chang Kom, which is near the Laotian border, but having eaten Lana food when I visited their village several years ago, I politely declined.













Wiwat, now about 23 years of age, looked resplendent in his graduation attire, as did his friends. I don't know how I fit in, but they wanted me to get in a picture with them. In the group picture, left, Wiwat is the last person on the right in the front row.

The custom is for family and friends to give their graduates a bouquet of flowers, and vendors set up numerous stalls to sell gorgeous fresh flower bouquets at a price of about US$5 each.

One of many stalls selling traditional graduation bouquets

All graduates received at least one bouquet

I had already attended a graduation at Chulalakorn University in Bangkok, and I knew about presenting flowers to the graduates. But Jamnong told me about a friend of his who made bouquets out of money, the gifting of money being a part of the Thai graduation tradition also. I was going to give Wiwat a cash gift anyway, and the idea of combining the money with the flowers appealed to me, although I had no idea what it would look like. I placed my order with Jamnong about a month prior to the graduation and waited. Fortunately, Jamnong offered to carry the money bouquet for me to Chiang Mai from Bangkok.

Jamnong & Nui Arriving at the Chiang Mai Airport with two money bouquets from Bangkok in hand--one for them, and the other for me, to give Wiwat at his graduation in a few hours. Nui is about three months pregnant with her first child.

I was pleasantly surprised at how creative and beautiful the bouquet looked. The flowers themselves are made from 100-baht notes (each note about US$2.50).

I first met Wiwat in Bangkok, about six years ago, while he was visiting Jamnong and Nui. They're not related, but they come from the same village, a strong tie in Thailand. Wiwat's mother died when he was young and his father, an impoverished farmer, couldn't afford to keep and educate Wiwat, so, at age eight, Wiwat entered the monkhood and, until age 18, lived and was educated at the local wat (temple). At age 18, he left the monkhood and traveled to Bangkok to find a job. He must have done well at the wat, because when I visited Chiang Kham in Phayao province, a photo of Wiwat with one of the revered monks, was on display at the wat. Unfortunately, he did not do so well in Bangkok, where he worked for, and slept in, a small electrical manufacturing shop of some sort, put in inhumane hours, was treated badly by his boss, and was paid about $125 a month. While working, he tried to continue his education at the free university in Bangkok, but, after a while, exhausted, he returned to his village. Bangkok proved too much for him.

I saw Wiwat again sometime later, when I stayed with Jamnong and Nui in their village during Songkran. I also met Wiwat's father, step-mother, and extended family. I knew that Wiwat wanted to go to college and that there was no apparent way for him or his family to pay for it. At that time, I didn't speak Thai, but Jamnong's English is quite good and he acted as translator. I had concluded the night before, that I wanted to pay for Wiwat's college tuition and Jamnong told me about how much it would be for a four-year degree course in Chiang Rai, where Wiwat wanted to attend one of the liberal arts colleges. I was amazed at how cheap it was; books alone at a US college would cost more. It was a go, provided Wiwat and his family would agree to pay for his living and incidental expenses. At a meeting with Wiwat, his father, and Jamnong, at Wiwat's house in the village, I made the proposal and explained the terms. They accepted, and so it was a deal. Wiwat would start school immediately.

The procedure was simple. For four years, Wiwat sent the tuition statements to Jamnong in Bangkok, who would show them to me. I gave the tuition money to Jamnong and he would transmit it to Wiwat, who would obtain a receipt from the school, send it to Jamnong, who, in turn , would give it to me, at all times translating the Thai for me. Each semester, Jamnong gave me Wiwat's grade transcript and explained to me the courses that Wiwat had taken and the results, mostly A's and B's. Wiwat worked some and, from time to time, returned to his village to help his father in the fields, but he studied diligently and consistently and finished his degree on time. Because Wiwat doesn't speak any English, and because I was just beginning to learn Thai, we didn't communicate much, even though we "spoke" over the phone several times a year, sometimes with Jamnong translating, and at other times directly, always an uplifting experience for me inasmuch as Wiwat always told me, in Thai, diplomatically, how well I was speaking. When graduation day finally arrived, I met Wiwat's family for the first time in five years and we had a grand time eating and talking at the ceremony.

Above: Wiwat's Dad (standing)

Right: Nui's Mom

Wiwat's Step-mother, Wiwat, Me, Wiwat's Dad, Nui's Dad

We were seated near the entry road to the university, where the crown prince's motorcade was to pass on it's way to the graduation hall. Police, security officers, and the army were plentiful and selected students lined both sides of the road. The police announced over loudspeakers that we should be ready for the crown prince. We waited, and about 20 minutes later, the police announced that the crown prince was delayed and that we would be told later, when he would arrive. By this time, I had been in the intense heat for many hours with little shade and, even though I had had a lot of water to drink, I felt a little weak and decided to call it a day and to return to my hotel in the center of town near the night bazaar. Jamnong and Wiwat found a cab for me, which I happily entered.

On the way back to my hotel, I passed through the most severe electrical thunderstorm that I can recall experiencing. About half a block in front of the cab, I saw and heard, for the first time in my life, lightning descending and knocking out a power line transformer. The streets quickly began to flood, but the biggest danger was the high wind felling trees and blowing sometimes heavy debris onto the cab's path. There was nothing I could do about it and I was more relaxed while it was occurring, than I was afterwards, or now, reviewing it in my mind. Fortunately, the storm ended quickly and I was safely back at the hotel. I found out later from Jamnong, that a few minutes after I left the grounds, the storm hit there also and they scattered in trucks and whatever else they could find. Wiwat proceeded indoors to wait for the crown prince and his diploma, but for the rest of us, the graduation was over.