Bangkok hits

I'm not even going to try to say anything new about Bangkok. Millions of travelers (including most of you) have already experienced this pulsing, organic capital on the banks of the Chao Praya River. I say 'pulsing' because light and sound careen off the soaring, windowed walls of skyscrapers, down along the elevated Sky Train tracks and vibrate among the temple towers and tin market shacks. I say 'organic' not in the environmental sense, but to evoke an image of the vibrant green of the tropics meshed with the tentacles of urban sprawl all seen through a steamy haze of wet season humidity.

Bangkok is a living city, and there's nothing cooler than a living city, where history can co-exist with people who are alive right now, and need to get from point A to point B, find a podiatrist, buy toothpaste and hold down a job. As with many living cities worth a visit, the modern and the traditional meet in Bangkok in fascinating ways. People make sweet offerings of bottled sodas (complete with straws) as well as incense and marigolds at neighborhood shrines. Ronald McDonald's hands are molded into a respectful greeting at the door of his restaurant. The malls and the old-style markets are both packed, as are the temples and the bars. Writers much more skilled than I have pointed out Bangkok's seeming contradictions through the years (see the lyrics of "One Night In Bangkok" from the musical Chess for a nice summary), but what do you expect of any place after customs melt, blend and change over centuries? It's simply a function of being alive, organic, if you will. And, as previously mentioned, Bangkok tops the charts in that particular category.

It has also, apparently, inspired an outbreak of purple prose, so I'll back down a bit and resort to a list of Bangkok's greatest hits as experienced by K and me over six days, much of which was spent at a teaching conference (useful, but not your typical Bangkok, although the Royal Orchid Sheraton is quite a lovely experience, I won't lie...), with a few days at a much more low-key hotel in the exact middle of the Red Shirt demonstrations near the Democracy Monument. Impassioned speeches and calls to action (in Thai) added to the uplifting soundtrack of the trip, which also included international backpacker techno tunes and traditional Southeast Asia stings.

Suan Lum Night Bazaar--Come for the cheesy T-shirts and faux ninja stars, stay for the fish spa! Bangkok's biggest and most wholesome (ie: lots of Gucci knock-offs and not a pimp in sight) night market might be a tourist magnet but it attracts plenty of Thais looking for bargains in the four square blocks of flea market tents. Interspersed between the "teak" Buddhas and racks of flip-flops are islands of calm that offer massages and spa treatments for the price of a Starbucks latte. The fish spa, my personal favorite, features a jumbo tank of those little sucker fish--and they're not just for algae anymore! Your dead foot skin is a tasty alternative, and they detach from the glass walls of the tank in droves as soon as you stick your tootsies in. It feels like an assault of tiny pecks, super ticklish at first, soothing after awhile (pictured left are my very own feet, mid-spa). Also highly recommended: 60-minute foot, neck, shoulder and head massage for $8.

Jim Thompson's House--Who doesn't know a Jim Thompson? This particular Jim was an ex-CIA agent turned textile promoter who came to Bangkok, re-introduced the Western world to Thai silk, cobbled together a compound of eight gorgeous traditional Thai houses then disappeared without a trace in the hills of Malaysia. Conspiracy theories abound, to be sure, especially given that his sister was murdered the same year. The latest, though, is that he was accidentally hit by a truck driver who hid the remains for fear of reprisals. The fascinating back story adds allure to the small museum, Thai art exhibit and pleasant cafe his former residence has become, thanks to preservation efforts by his foundation and the Thai government. K and I were told by fellow tourists that the house was "expensive but worth it." It cost $3 to get in, which hardly breaks the bank in my book, but whatever. It was worth it, especially the ancient Chinese porcelain training potties and the warm wooden floors.

Wat Pho--You haven't lived until you've seen a Buddha recline like the one at the famous Wat Pho. His golden ear alone is almost as tall as I am. All told, the famous mega statue stretches 46 meters (that's 101 feet!) from headdress to heel. Also at Wat Pho are beautiful tiled prayer halls, playful garden statues, lavishly decorated monuments to various kings, and rows and rows of smaller, upright Buddhas in various states of repair, about 390 in all!


Cooking with Angsana--It has long been my dream to 1) go to Thailand and 2) take a cooking class. On our last day in the city, K and I visited the home of Angsana, a Thai cook and savvy businesswoman who has set up a cooking school in her back room. Like the more institutional set ups, Angsana buys the raw materials. Unlike the bigger schools, K and I did all the chopping, pounding, slicing and dicing ourselves (pictured below left). Not to mention the shrimp-head-decapitating, deveining, peeling and sauteing. And the mortar and pestling. And the wok-frying. In other words, we actually cooked for three hours with a chef on call to demonstrate, give advice and step in before a certain someone (me) scalded the heck out of the coconut milk. For one-on-one Thai cooking instruction, there's no one better in the city, I'm sure. Angsana charges a reasonable rate for a private lesson (K and I paid about $60 each, which included a cute apron, recipes and, of course, all the supplies for our luscious three-course meal). Unlike chez Jim T., Angsana really is pricey for Thailand, but K and I both agreed it was well worth it (and $20/hour seems reasonable for private cooking lessons) as well as respectful of Angsana's time. Plus, we were both in awe of her business model: offer a service people want and will pay for, host it in your home, do something you enjoy all day, all within three steps of your two year old and elderly mother. What kind of dream job is that? We were happy to add to the win-win-win of it all.

Tuk-tuks--I heart tuk-tuks! Scooters with a back seat zip around Bangkok with death-defying speed (when not caught in traffic jams). For a mere 90 cents to $3.20 per ride, they are an excellent deal as well as great fun. Again, the Lonely Planet is unnecessarily dismissive, in my opinion. Sure, the drivers will quote a ridiculous price up front, but the law of supply and demand (tuk-tuks are everywhere) gives the rider the upper hand in negotiations, and almost every price comes way down. We also gladly paid a bit more to prevent a "stop" at the cousin or uncle's store (also best negotiated up front). In the end, haggling for a tuk-tuk ride proved more efficient than the regular taxis. The taximen of Bangkok are either the only professional drivers in the world who cannot navigate the major landmarks of their own city or (much more likely in K and my opinion), intentionally get lost to run up the meter. We found, mysteriously, that metered taxi rides cost about the same no matter where we were going. Strangely, once we adopted a tuk-tuk strategy and decided on a non-metered price up front, the taxi driver never once lost the way.

Though there are worse things than getting lost in a city like Bangkok. In a few days, we could only scratch the surface. Which only means there will be more to do next time...Any suggestions? Please leave them here!

A burj by any other name...

This Saturday, the JV girls softball team that I coach had a double-header against our "cross town" rivals in Dubai (and the only other softball program in the country). The girls went 1-1 with a strong second game. Our two new pitchers (8th graders) are off to a solid start, and we have a shot at victory when the opposing team visits us on April 8.

But that is not the main topic of this post. The main topic of this post is our planet's newest tallest building, which dominates the view from the softball field at the American school where we played. Last year when our teams faced off on that same field, the tower was known as the Burj Dubai, and was still skeletal at about the 145th floor. This year it loomed over us throughout the day, the hot sun blazing off its smooth, glassy surface; its tower rising into the sky, a good 1,046 feet taller than its closest rival (the Taipai 101).

It also had a new name.

The Burj Dubai was renamed the Burj Khalifa sometime between the summer of 2009 and its opening on January 4, 2010. This is also, as you might recall, about the same time that Dubai's debt crisis hit with forecasts of gloom and doom for this once-shining light of x-treme capitalism. Burj is the Arabic word for tower. Khalifa is the name of the president of the UAE and the head of the royal family. Of Abu Dhabi. Not coincidentally, said sheikh had just approved a $10 billion transfer into Dubai's empty coffers.

Those of us who heard of the renaming and know a bit about politics in these here parts laughed ruefully at the news. Because the UAE might present a united front on the international stage, at, say, the Olympics or the U.N., but back at home, the emirates lead decidedly separate lives. They have their own royal families whose hands-on style of governance is a constant reminder that this country remains a patchwork of tiny sheikhdoms. Renaming Dubai's symbol of economic prowess after the sheikh of Abu Dhabi is tantamount to renaming the Boston Red Sox, the Boston Yankees. Yet as extreme as this comparison may seem to baseball die hards, it only hints at the vast amount of crow that had to be eaten by Dubai in order to suck it up and agree to the name change. You can only imagine the conversation as it unfolded. I've attempted to recreate it here, cutting through what must certainly have been days and days of ornate Arabic and desert etiquette.

Abu Dhabi: We have about $10 billion lying around and for the good of our collective image, our honor as Emeratis and to keep the creditors from tearing us all apart bit by bit, why don't we lend it to you. More tea?

Dubai: Don't mind if I do. Here, try some dates. Wow...that's really cool of you guys. How can we ever repay you?

Abu Dhabi: These dates are delicious! Well...there's just this one little thing...

And so the Burj Khalifa was born. No one has yet added 'The biggest naming gift in history" to the list of the tower's many world records, but it must be up there. So far, the Burj has been plagued by vacancies (30,000 apartments and nine different hotels!) and dodgy elevators (which, when not stranding tourists between floors, shoot up and down at speeds of 60 km/hr). But, it IS the world's tallest building. At least until the next one comes along...

Life as pi

Today is March 14, otherwise known as Pi Day. As you surely recall from middle school math, pi describes the ratio of a circumference of a circle to its diameter and begins with 3.14 (March 14, 3/14, get it?) Math nerds love it for its irrationality, meaning it can't be expressed exactly as a fraction. Some even memorize digits of pi as a sign of numerical prowess. I like that it's called a transcendental number. There is a technical math definition behind the word transcendental as used in this case, but the metaphorical implications cannot be ignored, especially when you realize that pi is a mathematical constant that never ends and never repeats. 'Nuf said.

Pi Day, and pi, has long been beloved of my sister Bec, who got married yesterday. (There was even a pi-shaped ice sculpture at the reception with a -.o1 underneath, a charming and geeky tip of the hat to the actual wedding day, 3/13) Like all siblings, Bec has been a constant in my life. As the next in line in the birth order of our sprawling, often irrational modern family, she was my first experience as a big sister. Whenever I hear third-trimester moms marketing the role of older sib to a dubious first born, I have to smile. Whatever my parents said to me as a two-year-old worked like a charm. I have inhabited the role of big sister so thoroughly I shudder to think of landing in any other spot on the family tree.

That being said, the marriage of one of my little ones is an occasion for some serious nostalgia, not to mention a poignant twinge, as the number of family members who share my last name dwindles. (In fact, as of today, I remain the only hyphen-less R of my generation.) It was impossible to look at Bec, dressed up in a bridal gown and ballet flats and not remember the girl who crawled through the bushes and backyards of our neighborhood, began a life-long love affair with baseball at age 10, and blazed a trail of extroversion through her young adult years until our family bulged at the seams with FOBs (friends of Bec) from all corners of the globe. Being at Bec's wedding was better than a college reunion, in that it featured multiple layers of her life through the years. As a sister, I've had a front-row seat for most of it. It was cool watching her flit between groups, all gathered to celebrate her big day. Family buzz about Bec's wedding has always featured big crowds. The actual event was so much more intimate than we had all pictured, not because there weren't 200+ people on the guest list, but because they all seemed to get along so brilliantly.

Bec is the sister I am closest to in life experience (we are only two years apart, attended the same schools and have traveled to many of the same places), but perhaps farthest away from in personality. With her, though, it has never mattered. We have always been the best of friends. It's like that, I think, with family at its most functional. Or maybe it's like that when you meet someone the day they are born and live with them for the next 18 years, building each moment on a solid foundation of love and exuberance. You take the same life experiences and live them different ways. You develop wildly divergent gifts and talents. You connect about some things and seem to live in alternative dimensions about others. So many changes, beginnings and endings, seasons, years and eras. What's one wedding but another decimal place in the string of life's memories, never ending, never repeating...and yet remaining a constant that defines reality, independent of time and space. Totally transcendental.

Just like pi.

Congratulations Bec and Chris...you are off to a great start!

RR of...

It's been almost two years since I headed out into the Great Unknown of Arabia, anticipating a move to a place that seemed foreign and a bit forbidding. I wasn't sure about the locals, as interested as I was in getting to know them and perhaps smashing a few stereotypes along the way.

This week, I found myself right back where I started from, anticipating another move as a stranger in a strange land. I'm heading to a place where the locals are just as foreign, where the role of religion is just a wee bit menacing, and where the native dress is both fascinating and very odd.

This June I'm leaving the familiar mellow of Abu Dhabi. And moving to Texas.

It's true. This Californian-Persian Gulf transplant is putting down roots in the Lone Star State. Lest you think I've completely lost my mind, I'm going to Austin, which is weird, wonderfully progressive and full of likeminded teachers. But it's still Texas, as many a relative has helpfully pointed out. It's the state of W and high school cheerleading scandals, chainsaw massacres and cowboy boots, big chili cook-offs and big hair.

And then again, to veer away from the knee-jerk reaction, it is also the home of the country's first out lesbian mayor (Houston! True!), a world-famous music festival (Austin) and the Alamo. What more do you need?

I'm happy about teaching at a school from the same network as I taught before and even happier to be switching subjects. I'll be teaching 6th grade nonfiction studies, a fancy name for history with a focus on writing and researching (all topics close to my heart). I'm excited about the position, excited about the school (which is in its second year), excited about moving to a place where I can serve low-income students of color AND bask in the sunshine most of the year. As a former San Franciscan, I am continually awestruck by the size of an apartment I can get for under $1,000/month (and Austin is considered woefully pricey by Texas standards). I'm also excited to know a few folks in town, former colleagues who share my educational orbit.

Right now, from a safe distance of 8,000 miles, everything looks rosy. It will be very hard to leave Abu Dhabi when June rolls around, but I also know it's the right time. I'm ready to meet the natives...