IT FILTERED: down to us very slowly, as usual. By the time it reached me, dripping sweat and staring at the wall from my desk, the manic shouting, the slogan-chanting, the clash of sweaty singlets against riot shields, had decreased to a murmur. The first thing I noticed was that the Thai teachers had the television on in the staffroom. The sound was off. They'd had it on occasionally when the Thai boxers were competing in the Olympics, but never otherwise. Odd, but not anything worth investigating. Then, later in the day, an email from a friend in Singapore:
Wow, Bangkok looks pretty exciting at the moment.
What? No it doesn't. I followed the links and there it was: the People's Alliance for Democracy had taken Government House and the government TV station, and blocked all highways into and out of Bangkok.
Now, I've made my thoughts on PM Samak known elsewhere in the blog; if the protesters succeed then good riddance to bad rubbish (just to recap: he's a television chef. The prime minister of a significant nation has two - count 'em - two cooking shows each week, as well as a celebrity talk show). Will it succeed though? Probably not, because the army isn't willing to back the protesters, and nothing ever happens in Thailand without the army weighing in. Let's hear it for military dictatorships posing as functioning democracies to receive millions in US funding and snap-happy tourists! Hip-hip!
But what amazes me is the Thais' deep love of a good coup.
Bear in mind, this is a land in which, if it weren't for the blare of traffic whistles and the whine of two-stroke engines, the roads would be almost silent - no-one ever, ever dares to use their car horn. A land in which people never, ever raise their voice, except via a karaoke machine. Where conflict is simply bad form and to be avoided at all times. It's simply not done. And yet, and yet: they're not just willing, but eager, to congregate en masse every couple of months to depose and behead the current political leader.
I had always wondered what it would be like to live through a coup, attempted or otherwise. I imagine that in a smaller town with a more excitable populace, say Phnom Penh or Port Moresby, that the reverberations of the revolt would ripple instantaneously throughout the city. But in a metropolis the size of Bangkok, with a people as fiercely, stubbornly calm as the Thais, the coup basically boils down to a few half-excited conversations with friends around the city:
"Hey! There was a coup today!"
"What? A coup! Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Wow."
"..."
"So..."
"How was work today?"
There's not much else to say.
Wow, Bangkok looks pretty exciting at the moment.
What? No it doesn't. I followed the links and there it was: the People's Alliance for Democracy had taken Government House and the government TV station, and blocked all highways into and out of Bangkok.
Now, I've made my thoughts on PM Samak known elsewhere in the blog; if the protesters succeed then good riddance to bad rubbish (just to recap: he's a television chef. The prime minister of a significant nation has two - count 'em - two cooking shows each week, as well as a celebrity talk show). Will it succeed though? Probably not, because the army isn't willing to back the protesters, and nothing ever happens in Thailand without the army weighing in. Let's hear it for military dictatorships posing as functioning democracies to receive millions in US funding and snap-happy tourists! Hip-hip!
But what amazes me is the Thais' deep love of a good coup.
Bear in mind, this is a land in which, if it weren't for the blare of traffic whistles and the whine of two-stroke engines, the roads would be almost silent - no-one ever, ever dares to use their car horn. A land in which people never, ever raise their voice, except via a karaoke machine. Where conflict is simply bad form and to be avoided at all times. It's simply not done. And yet, and yet: they're not just willing, but eager, to congregate en masse every couple of months to depose and behead the current political leader.
I had always wondered what it would be like to live through a coup, attempted or otherwise. I imagine that in a smaller town with a more excitable populace, say Phnom Penh or Port Moresby, that the reverberations of the revolt would ripple instantaneously throughout the city. But in a metropolis the size of Bangkok, with a people as fiercely, stubbornly calm as the Thais, the coup basically boils down to a few half-excited conversations with friends around the city:
"Hey! There was a coup today!"
"What? A coup! Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Wow."
"..."
"So..."
"How was work today?"
There's not much else to say.
We didn't make it to the jungle last weekend; instead we went out with Jen and Clarice and a few others, celebrating Jen's birthday at the Flying Chicken outside of town. This place - it is easily the restaurant most likely to end my long stint at vegetarianism.
Not because the food's particularly good, you understand - it is very good, but so are most places in Bangkok - but because when your chicken is cooked, they cover it in brandy, light it on fire, put it in a slingshot, and fire it to a waiter waiting on a unicycle, who deftly catches it with a spike on the top of his hat.
I'll wait here while you read that again.
Done? Yes, it's amazing - more amazing because there are several choices as to how your chicken is caught, including having a second waiter on top of the first waiter's shoulders (who, just to repeat, is on a motherfucking unicycle), more amazing still because we didn't get to see it at all. We missed the entire affair, as we were subjected to VIP treatment (read: locked in a karaoke room and subjected to endless balloon animals from a drunken Thai clown).
Still, it managed to be bizarre. The Thai clown was amazing with the balloons, creating really complex designs like a small piglet wearing sunglasses (!) or a poodle wearing sunglasses (!) - well, okay: the truth is he did all the standard designs and then used a small balloon to make sunglasses for them. It was pretty enthralling after a few whiskeys, though. And we chucked on a good mix of mopey Thai karaoke dirges for the Thais in attendance and the 'Ghostbusters' theme song for the rest of us ("I AIN'T AFRAID OF NO GHOST!"). And when the chickens were finally delivered to us after their flight, they were presented standing up like little dolls, with a flower where the head should be, and a little American flag in their little roast chicken arms. It was creepy.
Sunday we hung with Aaron, who informed us that he is, after much debate, leaving his job and joining us on our long road north. Excellent! My dream was always to lead a communal trip, picking up people along the way - I watched The Muppet Movie far, far too often in the lead-up to this trip (sing it with me now: 'Movin' right along, dun-de-dun, dun-de-dun, footloose and fancy-free...'). Our last month in Bangkok is upon us, the road stretches before us like a dream, and soon we will be carried along it like leaves in a stream.
But for now we work, and watch events in Bangkok unfold. On Tuesday, the day of the revolt, my last class was interrupted after twenty minutes by a loudspeaker announcement; the children stood suddenly and ran out; and, mystified, I retired to the staff room, slumping in a heap behind my desk. Bill, a veteran of many years teaching in Thailand, turned around to me and smiled.
"I love it when they have a coup," he said, "We all get to go home early."
Viva la revolucion!
Lachie
"I love it when they have a coup," he said, "We all get to go home early."
Viva la revolucion!
Lachie
