Ancient Kingdoms -- Thailand

As I mentioned in an earlier entry, my wife, Ann, left on a long-ago planned three week tour with Overseas Adventure Travel to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam in late January, where – except for the hotels they stayed in – they sort of roughed it, on the go all the time, five short flights, and a tight schedule.  OAT does it right, putting together small groups for these trips and involving them with local people, their families, schools, in addition to seeing the sights. 

She wrote some very descriptive emails to me each night, which we've both edited for posting here. This is the first part, covering her adventures in Thailand.  Over time I will have three additional entries.  Unfortunately her camera was ruined so she had to use her iPhone and as she began to run out of space she emailed the photos to herself.  Because of Internet constraints and the poor quality of some pictures, I've worked with them in Photoshop and hopefully have brought out the best of what she took.

After my unforgettable adventure in India a few years ago, I thought I might be ready for another exotic trip to a part of the world I had never visited, S.E. Asia!  Although years before Bob and I had spent almost a week in Singapore and I had traveled into China, first with a friend and a couple of years later, alone, I was curious to explore four new countries this time, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and finally Vietnam with a group of like-minded travelers.

The travel company called OAT, for Overseas Adventure Travel, had served me well in India and so I booked their 19 day fully escorted trip they called, “Ancient Kingdoms”, taking advantage of their “no single supplement” policy since Bob was not joining me.  I would be meeting the 13 other Americans who would be my travel companions once I arrived in Bangkok.

Our first morning, we all gathered for a 9:00 AM meeting where I met Ole, our Thai Trip Leader who would coordinate every step of the way, and the rest of our group, several from California, six from the Washington/ Virginia area (who all knew one another), two from Ohio and two from RI.  And then there was the lone Floridian, me.  Many turned out to have been all over the world, some retirees from important careers, two Doctors, an Artist, others with a strong yearning to explore new places like myself, but all came to be comfortable fellow travelers, prompt and flexible, curious and intelligent.  As I was soon to learn, we formed into a cohesive group fairly quickly, teasing and laughing and enjoying one another's company.  Although there were 6 of us singletons, we mixed and mingled easily, making the entire experience a pleasure for all.

As soon as our orientation briefing was over, we all piled into the first of many air conditioned buses waiting outside our Hotel to take us to the Royal Grand Palace and Temple of The Emerald Buddha, to see the most sacred Buddha image in Thailand. Wat Phra Kaew is regarded as the most revered Buddhist temple (Wat is Thai for temple) in the entire country.  In fact, the temple does not house monks but rather serves today as the personal chapel for the Royal Family. It was oppressively hot and humid and along with the literal throngs of people – local and foreign - at the Royal Palace, we all slowly shuffled along in the heat, jockeying to take photos.

 

I was expecting to see an impressive Emerald Buddha but have to confess that I had no idea he would be so small and sit so high up on a dazzlingly bejeweled pedestal so far away that craning my neck for a good look was almost impossible.  Of course we were not allowed to take any photos, but in truth there are various suggestions that the statue, about 30 inches tall, is not Emerald at all but rather made of jasper or even jadeite.  The reality is that the Emerald Buddha has never been tested and thus its exact composition is as great a mystery as its origin. This statue, however, is so honored that the King of Thailand, himself, changes the Buddha’s garments with three sets of gold clothing for the three seasons, summer, rain and cool weather.

An hour later, everyone was soaking wet.  I had a paper fan and a very thin cool cotton top on plus a cooling towel around my neck, but it was still a harsh experience and when you factor in major jet lag (we were 12 hours ahead of the East Coast time and had lost an entire day crossing the International Dateline) with almost everyone in my group (except me, coming in by myself at 7:00 AM the prior morning) having arrived in Bangkok around midnight the night before, you can imagine how we were all beginning to wilt!  But the mere mention of driving off for an air conditioned lunch break put everyone back in a jolly mood.

Our first meal together was a delicious lunch at the scenic Mango Tree Restaurant alongside the Chao Phraya River.  This set the tone for the majority of our meals to come, which I must admit were mostly outstanding and featured picturesque settings and good fresh local food.  (Just the day before, I dined alone in the Hotel Restaurant and enjoyed the most incredible Tom Yom Goong or soup which is a “spicy hot” concoction with shrimp, mushrooms, peppers and cilantro which nearly blew the top of my head off followed by a Shrimp Pad Tai that held the prize for the best Pad Tai I had ever eaten!) For our lunch that first day, I had a wide flat fried noodle dish with soy sauce called Pad Si-Ew with tender chicken & a delicious fresh salad.  Yummy.

That night, we all enjoyed a Welcome Dinner cruise on the Chao Phraya River where we were served another beautifully presented dinner with tasty dishes.  Now we were beginning to get to know one another and even remember each other’s names!  It helped that everyone was very friendly and looking forward to our travel adventures together!  Our laid back Leader, Ole, was showing off his delightful sense of humor and we were all starting to relax.

The next day, we had our first really long bus ride to the ancient city of Ayutthaya, a UNESCO World Heritage site that was home to 33 kings from many different dynasties.  Here we visited Wat Yai Chai Mongkol which is flanked by a row of Buddha statues, all draped in their saffron robes.  The original stones were first laid in 1357, yet still functions as a meditation site to this day.  More walking in the oppressive heat, all of us soaking through our clothes, on to explore the ruins at Wat Phra Sri Sanphet, another temple complex.  At this point, we were all looking forward to stopping for a cool lunch break which did not disappoint.  We enjoyed another tasty Thai meal which began with a delicious soup in addition to many varied dishes, served family style.

After lunch we hopped aboard a motorized long-tail boat with a bit of cooling breezes which took us to a small village where we walked to a Muslim mosque and met the Imam's representative, Mr. Mart, for an enlightening discussion & tour of the temple.  95% of Thailand is Buddhist, but Muslims coexist peacefully.  Finally on the bus again for a restful one hour air conditioned ride back to our Hotel, The At Ease Salandaeng. Back in our rooms, with time for a quick shower, we then  met for dinner at Le Siam restaurant. Here we were served the most imaginative looking dishes, such an astounding variety and all tasted as good as they looked.  Margaret, (who came with very old friends from the Virginia contingent), and I soon bonded over beer!  At every opportunity, she and I shared a bottle of the local beer, huge ice cold bottles that neither of us could possibly drink by ourselves, but a treat to split and cheap as dirt.  Every time we ordered one, it cost us each a whopping buck.  In Bangkok, the beer was Singha, Beerlao in Laos and in Cambodia, Angkor beer.  All absolutely delicious (a drink that went surprisingly well with the spicy Asian food) and turned me temporarily from a Scotch drinker into a beer convert.

Another early morning wake up, this time at 5:45, departing our hotel at 7:15 for a long bus ride to meet our sampan paddle boat.  Finally we arrived at the Damnoen Saduak floating market, open from 8 AM to 11 AM, which was jam-packed with other vessels & hordes of people!  A chaotic ballet of dodging boats of all descriptions filled with thousands of tourists taking photos in addition to farmers with piles of food, fruit and vegetables locally grown loaded in their boats for sale.  Here anything your heart could desire can be purchased, all from your boat or walking through the crowded stalls.  Afterwards, we took a short bus ride to see how coconut sap is made into sugar & then a long-tail boat ride into a mangrove forest.  We had a bountiful local luncheon on the water with a refreshing breeze & very, very good food.  And let us not forget that icy cold beer!

Finally we endured a long bus ride back to our hotel with dinner on our own.  This was the first night we didn’t have an organized meal that Ole had prearranged and so I went back to my room to collapse and thought, good - finally some time to myself to relax and pack and have a quiet evening!  And just as I was thinking, who needed to ever eat again after that filling lunch we just had, the phone rang and my beer partner, Margaret, was inviting me to join her and two others for dinner across the street at a French Restaurant which Ole said was very good. So what else could I say but “yes, I’ll be down in five minutes!”  Ole was right; the food was absolutely fabulous, although my Scotch serving was so miniscule and outrageously expensive, that I forswore ordering it again for the rest of the trip. Stick to beer I said to myself and so I did!

Once back in the hotel, the job of organizing and packing everything that had been strewn everywhere for the four nights at The At Ease became a herculean task and I promised myself to not totally ever "unpack" all my things again.  That was a good lesson to learn and one I took to heart throughout the rest of the trip.  Anne and Kevin I later learned Never Unpack, a cardinal rule they follow that makes very good sense!

So now we were getting up even earlier the next morning and leaving the hotel at 7:00 AM for the first of five flights we were to take over the course of the next 15 days, this one to Luang Prabang, the ancient royal capital of Laos, continued here.

Ann at The Norton

My wife, Ann, was invited to her 55^th HS reunion and this is what “Ronnie G.” – the organizer had to say about her: 

In high school, Ann Linguvic, you were one of the most fun and exciting ladies I ever knew.  I, along with many others, never knew what you were going to say, but whatever it was it was Always Great creating lot's of laughter.  I loved to flirt with you and you were a Classic Challenge.

He certainly had her pegged.  She’s still a “classic challenge,” here posing as a Barbie Doll at the Norton Museum Exhibit last weekend, part of their Wheels and Heels: The Big Noise Around Little Toys featuring Barbie Dolls and Matchbox Cars.

Also from the Norton, the last day of their extraordinary special collection (particularly to me, born and raised in NYC), Industrial Sublime: Modernism and the Transformation of New York’s Rivers, 1900-1940. One of my favorites was Jonas Lie’s Path of Gold. (1914) but there were so many to choose from, equally evocative of NYC and the growth of industry during those years. 

Here’s what was said about this particular painting:  In 1914, Jonas Lie traveled to Panama to document the construction of the Panama Canal, which, like the island of Manhattan, was a symbol of America’s industrial might and global power.  Upon his return, he viewed the city with eyes transformed, portraying city canyons and flowing rivers as, what one critic called, “vital forceful constructions.”  In the dynamic of Path of Gold, the viewer gazes longingly on the city in the mist, and, like the tugboats on the river, is drawn, irresistibly, to ply its path to gold. 

Ironically, the painting is from the Collection of the High Museum of Art, Atlanta, Georgia, the city of Ann’s birth and where she was raised.

And, from The Richman Gifts: American Impressionism and Realism, is the unforgettable Rockwell Kent painting, Holsteinberg, Greenland (1933) which as a gift to the Norton is becoming part of their permanent collection:

More on that painting and their current exhibitions are linked here.

And if you visit, be sure to have lunch or dinner at their wonderful restaurant, great food, beautiful surroundings, and a refined ambiance, light jazz softly playing in the background.

An Enduring Friendship

It is one of those times of the year that a sense of sadness sets in.  Ann has been away, visiting her good friend, Maria, who she considers the sister she never had, in Palermo Sicily, staying with her and husband Beny. 

It’s a long story, one best told by Ann.  Maybe I’ll ask her to write something in more detail when she returns, but here’s a summary.  Ann and I met in 1965 when she was hired by the publishing firm I was working for.  She was soon promoted to manage Customer Service and she needed a secretary / administrative assistant.  Publishing companies are notorious about their low pay and the salary she was permitted to offer was really for an entry level – even a less than a full time – employee.  A then 17 year old Maria applied for the job and Ann and she (seven years her “senior”) hit it off.  Ann recognized an inherent intelligence in Maria and vulnerability as well.  Maria’s family originally was from Sicily.  After immigrating, her father worked as a house painter on Long Island.  She had two younger brothers.  No one spoke English in the family, except Maria.  So Maria became the spokesperson for the family, and the family depended on her, to such an extent that it was overshadowing her maturation as a young woman.

Ann became not only became her boss but her mentor as well.  Maria tried to get her own place in New York, to break from the family, but her parents would not approve.  However, they would approve of her finding a job and moving back to Sicily, on her own!  (A place they knew and considered safer, especially with relatives there.)  And that was what Ann encouraged Maria to do, at least temporarily, so should could claim her own life.  I could go into detail as to what happened (Maria’s excellent command of both Italian and English made her exceptionally well qualified for employment there), but I’ll leave that up to Ann if she is so inclined to write.  Maria’s “temporary” relocation to Palermo Sicily became a life, marrying Beny 40 years ago, raising a son, David.  Of course Maria and Beny frequently visited the US to see her parents while they were still alive and to see us, but Ann has made it almost a yearly pilgrimage to be with Maria, her family and friends. 

I went with Ann a few years ago to attend their son’s wedding, but hers is basically a bonding trip for them, no place really for me during three long weeks, so I attend to the “home fires.”  That now means preparing the house for the onslaught of a Florida summer and possible hurricanes, playing lots of piano and reading and some writing, and getting ready for our trip north to live on our boat in Connecticut.   

Although apart, there are now emails and Skype although I prefer the former.  Ann has had good Wi-Fi connections and she has her iPod with her so although apart, we can share our experiences, such as some photos while she’s visited. 

In the “old days,” we wrote letters and post cards, with a rare overseas call (very expensive then).  I remember when we were first married, living on Rabbit Hill in Westport, our first house.

Ann made her first trip to Palermo in 1972.  We had our “first child” a frisky Miniature Schnauzer puppy, Muffin.  We loved her dearly.  I was eagerly looking forward to receiving Ann’s next letter (she had promised a lengthy one in her prior one) so that night I drove home from my office in Westport and opened the door (in which there was a slot for mail), and found the mail, as well as her letter, mostly eaten by our pup.  Especially her letter – Muffin must have identified the scent.  I pieced together what I could. 

While she has been gone the last few weeks, I read a collection of Updike short stories, The Afterlife, and I’m just finishing Julian Barnes’ Nothing to Be Frightened Of which is part memoir, part philosophical treatise on mortality.  In fact, the confluence of reading these two titles during the past few weeks strikes me as being somewhat eerie.  I’ll probably have something to say about them when I’m finished with the Barnes’ book. 

I welcome back Ann on Father’s Day and will await her tales, especially as this year she and Maria made several side trips, one in particular that took her to Milan where they stayed and toured for a few days.  Maria and Beny have bought an apartment there, a home away from their home in Sicily, and the city in which their son and his wife live. In fact, Ann can describe this better than I – this from an email I just received.  It has a surprisingly bitter-sweet ending, one I suspect is unlikely, but?….

We are going today into the center of Milan.  We'll visit the famous Duomo walk around in the more fashionable part of the city with the beautiful designer shops, you know the Worth Ave/via Veneto of Milan.  I love this city & especially the fantastic neighborhood where their apt is located.  Think trees everywhere, outdoor cafes, little boutique filled charming streets, crammed with great restaurants one after the other with food markets, fresh fruit & veg & flower markets on every corner practically!  The upper west side of NY vibe, with a touch more sophistication.  And young people everywhere.  At night, they fill the cafés & restaurants to overflow….They will be living in a real city with every amenity at their fingertips including an extremely efficient subway system right at their doorstep.  They do not need a car to live very comfortably here.  In fact, I may have seen my beloved Sicily for the last time.  Now it will be Milan if I come again!

Anniversary, Time and Again

I started to write this entry, one which was to mark the second anniversary of my open heart surgery. It was to be an upbeat commentary, following upon a wonderful week we had just spent with our very good friends Beny and Maria visiting us from Palermo. But when I sat down to write a draft, heartbreak intruded, perversely imitating the ethos of Exit the King which we saw only a few days earlier.

Last Monday morning we received a call from Suzanne, the daughter of Ann's cousins, Sherman and Mimi, who had suddenly arrived in Florida where her parents now live. We immediately thought of her father, Ann's first cousin, Sherman, who had just been released from a prolonged hospital stay and ninety days of rehab, who can no longer walk without assistance, and has advanced dementia.  His wife of 56 years, Mimi, had been by his side every day and was now caring for him at home with the help of round-the-clock nursing aids.

But exactly on the second anniversary of my being put into a four day induced coma after open heart surgery, Ann and I rushed to the ER of a Broward hospital that Monday night, as it was not Sherman, but his caregiver, his wife Mimi, who had collapsed and was in a coma. Mimi had been like a big sister to Ann, particularly during Ann's first years in New York City when she arrived as an eighteen year old, fresh from high school graduation in her hometown, Atlanta.

They became close companions in spite of the 11 year age difference and loved living in the Big City which was Mimi's adopted town as well. They biked down to hootenannies in Washington Square park in the early 1960s, went to jazz concerts and Operas in the Village, dancing at the Latin Quarter and Roseland, enjoyed folk singing concerts, Shakespearean plays in Central Park, and took trips to Philadelphia and The Cape and Newport, RI together.  Mimi was her mentor to NY life and they became best friends.

Fast forward, closer to the present. Mimi and Sherman had moved to FL part time when Sherman retired from his long tenure (1960 - 1992) as a Physics professor at FDU.  They were happy in the community they chose in Coconut Creek, but rather recently, Sherman was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.  Rather than commit him to a home, Mimi was determined to stay in their complex, selling their upstairs apartment and buying one on the ground floor for easy egress, and hiring competent home healthcare aids for her husband.  In spite of their age (83 and 85 respectively), she was determined to shelter her husband in familiar surroundings rather than consigning themselves to an independent / assisted living facility.  

Mimi was like a force of nature, self actualizing and one always thought indestructible until we got that call last Monday from her daughter, recounting the sketchy facts as she knew them at that point:  her mother had had a very severe headache, and soon thereafter passed out.  It was a severe brain hemorrhage and she was rushed to ER and when we saw her, unconscious, on a ventilator and life support systems, those memories of my own medically induced comma came flooding back.  But this was very different.

We returned to see her on Wednesday. and Friday and during that time, testing for brain activity was negative.  She was moved to ICU and she lay there looking peaceful, even healthy except for the tubing and the wiring that was basically breathing for her and keeping her hydrated.  Their son, Michael and his wife Miriam, had arrived as well and the decision was finally made to transfer Mimi to the Hospice unit of the same hospital and to disconnect her from life support.  Friday was a day of misery for all.  Suzanne and Michael, of course, carrying the brunt of the grief, we and others there trying to support them. but being deeply distraught as well.

Mimi was a special person.  Her home was open to all.  If a foreign exchange student needed room and board for a school semester or even a school year, Mimi would provide it. If there was a foster child that needed looking after, she stepped up.  She sat with friends who needed care, wrote long letters to each and every one of the hundreds of friends she made along the way, her giving knew no bounds; she was larger than life, the last person one would imagine dying so suddenly.  But she lived life with zest and a song, particularly folksongs and Broadway melodies.  Her children set up a CD player at her bedside and we listened to all her favorites while waiting, waiting, for any sign of life.  When I first entered the room, I heard "Don't Fence Me In" being sung.  When she was taken off of life support she died with the refrains of a Pete Seeger folksong in her ear.

Our hearts go out to Suzanne and Michael, such difficult decisions, but the right ones.  We all recognize that Mimi really died the moment of the massive brain hemorrhage and she only medically survived as the 911 EMT was so swift and efficient.

My own memories of Mimi go back now about 44 years, one of my favorite was a vacation the four of us took up to Lake George, enjoying Oktoberfest at a resort and even managing to get them both out on the Lake itself for a boat ride.  And how do we count all the many family gatherings as well, Mimi and Sherman and Suzanne and Michael were always there, at our home in Weston, CT or we at theirs in New City, NY. So many years, so many wonderful memories. 

As King Berenger says in Exit the King, "Why was I born if it was not forever?" Thanks to that play, I've become pretty hung up over how I "spend" my time.  (what an expression -- time as some sort of a currency, only one that you can't make any more of.  We're all born with a certain quantity in the bank, unequal ones thanks to genetics, environment, accidents, and the twists and turns of life, and choices we make.  I guess we "buy time" with medical advances -- I certainly have.)

I suppose that is one of the main reasons I write this blog.It is not only a record of where my time goes, but it also forces me to think about it.  I could more easily just go see a play or read a book, but I would surely forget about much of it and perhaps understand less of it without delving into the details with an essay.  It is of course merely my take on those matters and, to a degree, I probably remember the past here as I want to and record the present as I would like to remember it in the future. It matters little to the world, but as I've said frequently, I write this mostly for myself. 

Others live those moments on line differently.  I don't Twitter, those ephemeral little birds of thought that go out there and then get lost (or is there a database of Tweets?).  Then there is the ubiquitous Facebook which could be easily renamed "Hey, look at me!"  I guess we're all trying to be the stars of our own reality shows.  One could accuse my blog as being just one big self indulgent look-at-me exercise, but I would like to think that the differences (between this, Twitter, and Facebook) are obvious. This endeavor really does involve a lot of thought, albeit perhaps time not wisely spent, so I return basically to the beginning of this entry, anniversaries.

Given my medical history, every day since my heart surgery and comma of four days has been a "bonus" day.  Even before Mimi's ordeal, I was fully aware of the approach of this anniversary during the last few weeks. It hit home as our friends, Maria and Beny arrived for a brief stay with us from Sicily. Only two months after my operation two years ago I had flown to Sicily (where Ann already was visiting her best friend, Maria), to join everyone in the celebration of Maria's son's wedding to Mariana, and meeting Mariana's parents who were so thrilled to have their daughter marry David.  It was undeniable that the two sets of parents had become best friends and loved being together. The year following their wedding was hell as within months, Mariana's mother was diagnosed with cancer and sadly she is also now gone, a relatively young and vibrant woman just turning 60.  All of that just during the last 24 months.  

With Maria and Beny here, we were able to "spend" some quality time with them, including a day on our new boat, the 'Reprise'. Coincidentally, we planned a small trip up the Intracoastal to  Guanabanas Restaurant in Jupiter, one that we had last been to by boat with our friends Cathy and John only a week before I entered the hospital for that surgery which turned out to be much more serious than anyone could have imagined.  (In fact, as we gaily ate lunch with Cathy and John, my "widow maker" artery was already 99% blocked, of course unknown to me, and I was a candidate for a massive heart attack as I munched on my grouper.)

Arriving at Guanabanas with Maria and Beny I could not help think of the irony of being there again, precisely two years later.  How strange it all seemed, but our visit with them was wonderful, the weather finally cooperating for boating, the clear blue water near the Jupiter Lighthouse reminding us of the waters of the Bahamas.

Meanwhile, I conclude this sad anniversary entry with other photographs of Mimi and Sherman, and Ann and I, taken during that Lake George vacation more than thirty years ago.  Although scanned from faded black and white prints (I used to do my own developing in those days), they capture the essence of her personality (she's in the foreground on the right in each).  This is the way I would like to remember her.