Doggone Hot

Lots of expats lately commenting on the absurdity of the heat these days.  When the locals are even shaking their heads saying “hawn lai” (meaning “very hot”), you KNOW it’s hot.  I find myself humming Cole Porter’s “Too Darn Hot” from the Broadway musical Kiss Me, Kate … (sometimes admittedly doing that bent elbow, loose wrist snapping my fingers to the beat thing they tend to do in Broadway musicals).

Sure, sure, we live in the tropics, so it’s always warm.  After 5 years of it, I’m calling it “warm”.  To the average non-tropically-acclimated person, I can safely describe it as always hot … bringing to mind some days the expression “hot as hell”.  Generally speaking, it’s in the 90s on a daily basis, sometimes high 80s on a comfortable day and sometimes low 100s on a particularly hot day.  And sometimes I feel as though I’m walking around in a giant sauna on days (of which there are many) when it’s just too hot and then the humidity makes it feel even hotter.  Earlier this week it was 92 “but feels like 102”.  (I'd definitely vote "Ugh!" ... every day this week).

 According to weather.com, the humidity was only 66%.  It felt a lot higher than that to me.  And I bet to this pathetic looking dog that I passed by on my way to the noodle shop for lunch … and back … the poor doggie didn’t move at all either way no matter who was walking by him.  He found a shady sidewalk spot and was there to stay.  When the soi dogs don’t even flinch when passersby come within inches of them, it’s a sign that it’s just too doggone hot.

Sometimes when I walk outside and immediately start sweating, I wonder “why the hell do I live here?”  I recall times during our first year in Bangkok (in early 2010) waiting on the platform of the BTS (Bangkok’s “sky train”, an elevated train system that is like a subway, but overhead) with tears collecting on the edges of my eyes as I stood sweating in my work attire and wondering why we have to live somewhere so freaking hot (the overly emotional reaction likely attributable to pregnancy hormones).

Amazingly, the Thai women never seemed to sweat during these city schlepps, even on the hottest of hot days.   This phenomenon possibly attributable to the pace of life here (see posting Sabai Sabai).

To battle the heat, yes, of course, we have air con throughout our house, but not the “central air” systems like U.S. houses have.  Separate air con units jut out from the walls in each room.  In our current house which was built many decades ago, the units are big old off-white things.  We try to use them only when necessary to keep the electricity bill within reason.  There is no question about night time – we sleep every night with the air on, as do our children.  We try to be more conservative during the day, which isn’t hard since we’re generally not at our house during the day and have ceiling fans throughout.  And, generally speaking, household help do not like air con – as they are from the tropics, they are acclimated to always being hot and find the slightest dip in temperature (e.g., below a balmy 85 degrees Fahrenheit) to be cold.  I recall instructing our nanny in Thailand to turn on the air con in the room where she was playing with our then infant to make sure our American-blooded baby didn’t overheat.  

Although it’s hot all year, there are actually 2 seasons: dry (about October to June) & rainy (about July to September) with temps ranging from the 80s to about 110 and humidity fluctuating all year.  When it rains, it RAINS.  The rainstorms can be lovely except for in Bangkok when you are commuting during one.  The drainage systems in some parking lots cannot drain the torrential rains fast enough thereby leaving shallow ponds of water to wade through on the way to public transport from the office.  Not pleasant in the least and the cause of many a ruined pair of shoes.  In Vientiane, the rains are lovely but the cause of even more ridiculous driving than as described previously (again, see Sabai Sabai).  I need to get a photo of the painstaking efforts made to drive motorbikes and not get soaked … the poncho is very popular here, but so many go at it trying out the old umbrella while driving a motorbike … it’s quite a sight.   

Hopefully I’ll snag a photo to post before the rains end while I continue my quest to get through to November and even more so December, when we enjoy very pleasant days with the humidity at its lowest of the year.  It’s warm (in the 80s and 90s Fahrenheit), sunny, and comfortable, thereby making it high tourist season and high happy season for expats.  In Laos, the temperature drops low enough to necessitate wearing a sweater every now and then (into the 50s F).  The Lao bundle up in jackets & scarves and then just add a pair of socks under their flip-flops/sandals to ride out the “cold” days … and they start shaking their heads and saying “nao lai” (very cold).  Meanwhile, the expats smile big smiles, stop commenting on it being “SO HOT”, remark often about the lovely weather, and try to enjoy every moment of the pleasantness before the dreaded months of heat arrive once again.

Sabai Sabai

This blog is going nowhere fast … much like I feel I’m doing when I get behind the wheel of my car and get on the road to anywhere in Vientiane.  Below is a photo of my speedometer struggling painfully to reach 30 km/hour … this is the infuriatingly slow speed at which I’m normally forced to drive while stuck behind one of the myriad forms of transport going absurdly slow, while the one sentence to the Friends theme song, “It’s like I’m always stuck in second gear”, plays repeatedly in my head (and at times I find myself humming it).

 We’ve been back here for nearly 6 months and one of the biggest adjustments for me has been “relaxing” into the pace of life here.  A recording of me while driving would likely play back some of the following:

• [when I’m stuck behind someone going 10 km/hour] “Come on dude, really?”
• [when I’m in a hurry or just annoyed] “OMG, are you [*] kidding me?”
• [when so many different forms of transportation are weaving and crossing in front of me] “Wow, seriously?  Where [*] am I?
• [to motorbike drivers] “You’re crazy, seriously, you’re going to [*] kill yourself.”

The asterisks are obviously where I insert an expletive so long as my children are not in the car (thank goodness I control this as my 3-year-old has even started to say “Come on dude” when we are stuck behind someone.).  Apparently driving here brings out some deeply seeded anxiousness in me as if this monster from living most of my life in the rat race of the Northeast U.S. cannot simply relax and go with the flow (not to mention it’s considered very rude here to beep your horn at someone – can you imagine?).  In one word, the pace is SLOW.   

It was actually during my first trip to Bangkok with Chris in 2001 that I noticed the slower pace.  We took the BTS – Bangkok’s elevated “sky train” (loht fai fah) to different places around the city and I asked him why when we got off the train no one was shoving and pushing us like after exiting a New York subway.  He then told me about sabai sabai (pronounced “suh-bye”).  It’s the Thai approach to the day: relax, take it easy.  You’ll get to where you are going and there is no need to rush there. 

I am not sure what the cultural background of sabai sabai is, but after a couple years in Bangkok I believe there are various practical motivations behind it:

• to avoid sweating in the god-forsaken heat so as to avoid being damp & smelly by the time you reach your destination;
• to be able, as a woman or katoey (a, eh-hem, “he she”), to wear 6-inch high heels even on public transport and even to walk on horrendous sidewalks;
• to be able to gawk at all the food stalls and various items for sale along nearly every sidewalk in the city; and
• to be able to text message at all times, even when driving a motorbike.

It’s pretty amazing, really, to watch sabai sabai in action.  Somehow the tiniest person takes up the ENTIRE sidewalk as she slowly strolls from one side of the walkway to the other with absolutely no regard for the people trying to pass her.  She is usually texting or talking on her phone while looking at the food stalls lining the sidewalk.  No attempt is made to stay to one side of the walk or move closer to the food stall for others to pass.  Sabai sabai.

And the slow pace extends up to Vientiane where we drive at an absurdly slow pace sometimes, especially when stuck behind a motorbike driver who can’t seem to stay in a straight line in the slow lane.  Instead, like the lady on the sidewalk in Bangkok, he drives in a lovely “S” pattern while he also texts or talks on his phone.  During rainy season, he also somehow holds an umbrella too.  In Laos, the saying is “boh pen yang” which means “no worries” or “no problem” or “don’t worry about it”.  Not quite the same as sabai sabai, but similar to the Thai saying “mai pen rai”.  (For example, if you buy some fruit from a food vendor and after putting it into a plastic bag, he starts to put that plastic bag inside a second plastic bag which you’d like to avoid as part of the [losing] campaign to reduce plastic bag use in Southeast Asia, you could say “mai pen rai” in Thailand or “boh pen yang” in Laos to tell him don’t worry about the bag.)

On the road it appears that motorbike drivers here have a boh pen yang attitude towards life.  They dart out from side streets without even a glance for oncoming cars (hence my fourth comment above while driving).  They wiz by your car on the left as you are making a left turn and look shockingly at you if you nearly hit them as “silly you” were only looking at the oncoming traffic rather than checking your left side-view for a random motorbike.  They drive as slowly as they possibly can and look around as if they are window shopping while driving.  They read/send text messages and talk on their phones while driving.  They drive side-by-side each other and chit-chat as they go.  It’s seriously enough to drive one [Northeastern U.S.’er] mad.  

When we moved from New Jersey to Vientiane in 2007, we welcomed the slow pace and easy-going attitude of the people.  I’m not sure what happened but I need to find me some zen and get back to that place from whence I came out of and into what I fear is the stage just prior to road rage.  Maybe I should start chanting these when I get behind the wheel:

• Sabai sabai
• boh pen yang
• mai pen rai  

"When in Rome...", right?

TIL - This Is Laos

I have endless blog topics about living over here, just not a lot of time to sit and write.  But I must share at least a story or two about working in Laos to give you a feel for why I often say “TIL – This is Laos”.  Said with the similar shoulder shrug to the way Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in Blood Diamond said “TIA” to explain the inexplicable … as if to say, this is the way “it” is because “this” is where we are.   In Laos, though, it’s said with a bit more of a chuckle because it’s often used to explain away simply funny, albeit sometimes frustrating, experiences. 

For instance, today I went with one of my Lao colleagues to a meeting at the office of the head of a government department to discuss a land lease for a hydropower project.  The sign on the door where we had to check in with the secretary said “Land Dispute Resolwtion” which reminded me of some funny signs I saw when I went to check out a gym last week (posted below).  I have no idea what the new promotion sign means.  As I have no idea why it’s apparently appropriate to watch TV while discussing an important agreement in a major project in your country.

 

We’d requested this particular meeting about 3 months ago and were informed finally last week that the meeting would be held at 9:00 this morning.  TIL.  When I arrived at work this morning, my Lao colleague said he received a call that the meeting would be postponed until 9:30.  Okie doke – TIL.  When we showed up at 9:30, we were told to come back at 11:00 a.m. because the department head with whom we were supposed to meet received an urgent phone call to handle something urgently.  Right-o - TIL.  When we arrived at 11:00, we were escorted into the department head’s office, where he was seated behind his desk and stayed right where he was … watching a computer monitor which had TV streaming onto it … Thai music videos nonetheless.  TIL.  Once his 3 staff were seated across from my Lao colleague and me at a small table arranged perpendicular to his desk, he continued to watch the music videos.  Wondering if he was going to turn it off, or at least turn the volume down, I noticed one of his staff members looking at him seemingly wondering the same … and then looking for a volume button himself.  Once the head guy noticed his staff member looking at the screen, he somewhat indifferently turned down the volume, as if our presence and this annoying meeting was really disrupting his day of catching up on the Thai Billboard top 40.  Shockingly, the meeting lasted until 1:00 p.m., which is unheard of in a country where people walk out of meetings at noon and no later than 12:30 p.m. as it is lunch time … no exceptions.  Maybe he felt as though he owed it to us to finish the discussion, or he didn’t want us to show up ANOTHER day and thereby interrupt his shows.  I’m thinking the “urgency” at 9:30 might have been that his favorite tune came on and he just couldn’t miss it.  After all, it was Monday morning and this might have been his first chance since he left on Friday to sit and catch up on the hits.  I asked my Lao colleague if it’s normal for the “boss” to watch TV during a meeting and he smiled, shrugged, and tilted his head to one side, as if to say without saying, “This Is Laos”.

Celeb Status & Visa Fun

Sure, we’ve all wondered what it’s like to be a celebrity.  And I’m certain I’m not the only one who’s uttered words to the effect of “I can’t imagine being a celebrity and having no privacy.”  Imagine being followed wherever you go, having photos snapped of you partaking in even the most mundane of life’s activities?  Not even being able to visit a park with your kids without paparazzi clicking away while you try to enjoy some family time?  If you have young kids and want to experience a wee taste of life in the limelight, come visit Vientiane, Laos, and particularly, Buddha Park. 

Just a diversion from the paparazzi parade story for a moment … one of the annoyances of living overseas is having to comply with the visa requirements for the country of residence.  To obtain a multiple-entry visa for Laos (meaning we can come and go as many times as we want on one visa in our passport rather than being required to obtain a new tourist visa at $35 a pop each time we leave the country), we have to go through an annoying, form-ridden, expensive, and tedious process for a special stamp in our passport allowing us to enter and exit at will for one year.  For the multi-entry visa, we have to first apply for the visa and are given a paper that indicates we’ve applied.  We fill out immigration forms to depart Laos, enter Thailand, depart Thailand, and enter Laos, in addition to visa-on-arrival forms for Laos which require a passport photo and $35/applicant.  We then load up the kids in the car for the fun adventure of immigration crossing and drive 20-30 minutes to the Friendship Bridge, a border crossing into northern Thailand.  We go through the Laos immigration (stamp stamp stamp, yay, we can leave Laos!), drive 5 more minutes to the Thai immigration, go through Thai immigration (stamp stamp stamp, yay, we are in Thailand), drive just enough to do a u-turn and come back through Thai immigration (stamp stamp stamp, yay, we are out of Thailand!), and then back to the Laos immigration where we submit our visa applications, photos, cash, and that magic piece of paper noting our application for multi-entry visas and then we sit and wait wait wait.  This is a totally fun and awesome experience with a 2-year-old and 9-month-old.  If you ever are inclined to try it, I highly recommend bringing something that will entertain the toddler.  Thankfully ours loves to look at photos and videos of himself on my phone (vanity I attribute to his Dad).    And hopefully you get to the application window prior to a tour bus of backpackers or Chinese tour groups because if not, the wait will be a long one.  And you’re not waiting at some comfy, café-esque, air-conditioned immigration room.  It’s outside, it’s hot, it’s full of taxi, tuk tuk, and bus drivers smoking and trying to get you to take their mode of transport into town for some exorbitant price.  Like I said, fun.  

So, when the uniformed lady opens the little darkly tinted window and her hand bears the familiar dark blue U.S. passports that you know are unmistakably yours as you are surrounded by European backpackers awaiting red and maroon passports, your heart skips a beat with pure joy at the thought of getting the hell out of this godforsaken border crossing and onto somewhere more fun.   You’ve forgotten momentarily that once you’ve achieved this step, you will apply (or thankfully your secretary will apply) for the muti-entry visa and you won’t have to do this for another whole year!  You’re thinking in that moment, just get me outta here and onto somewhere fun … like Buddha Park.

After our recent border crossing for visa fun, we decided to drive just a bit further past the Friendship Bridge and visit Buddha Park, where we had not been before even during our previous 2 years in Laos in 2007.  We heard it’s, if nothing else, a good place to let the kids run around (sign us up for anywhere with that description these days!).  We arrived and it was as if we were the guests of honor whom the other visitors had been waiting for all morning.

Baby Teagan was passed around from person to person while they smiled at her and said jaht-ay,  jaht-ay (their form of something cute to say to a kid, like peek-a-boo), Logan was touched and smiled at and asked his name, I was photographed by people I don’t know and would have no reason to want a photo of me and my kids … other than that we are falangs (foreigners) and apparently very interesting.  Teagan, sweet and innocent and good-natured, didn’t fuss until about the 25^th person tried to hold her.  Logan, being two and just plain tired of being touched by Lao & Thai people and asked “boy, boy, what’s your name boy?” just yelled, “No” at most of them.    And Chris, in a rare moment of being behind the camera, got a shot of people taking photos of me and the kids (see photos below).  After parting ways with our admirers, they would wai (the Thai & Lao greeting and thank you which is a slight bow, with the palms pressed together like you’re praying) and say kohp jai (thank you), as if we had fulfilled some dream of meeting someone famous … or just plain white.

While I’d love to look like Jessica Alba and enjoy her bank account, I’d hate the perpetual following and photo taking.  But, if I’m in need of a little admiration, I’ll head out to Buddha Park again with the kids.  Never hurts to have a boost to the self-esteem.  I just have to tell myself it’s because they think we are so good looking and not weirdo freaks.  Below are some pics of our fans doting on the kids and of the random paparazzi snapping shots of the whities.