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IN THIS ISSUE

• Pat Moore spends a week in Thailand
• Frank Sterle suffers from long-term depression
• From the archives, another story from Dalton Deedrick
• Don Henderson forwards some blonde jokes
• Tom Williamson recommends a website

Pat Moore leaves Hong Kong for a week in

THAILAND

After having read about Asia for many years, it was exciting to be in beautiful and exotic Thailand for an interesting and relaxing holiday. We had completed the China project, said goodbye to William and Bob, who had to get back to Canada, and now we were visiting another south-eastern country.

Thailand is almost too much for the eyes as the golden domes gleaming in the sunshine are spectacular. We decided on a taxi ride around Bangkok to get a feel for the city, and we certainly got a ride - bouncing around on the three-wheeled taxi as the driver wound in and out of the busy traffic. We arrived at our hotel feeling terrible as the taxi driver was a smoker and we could hardly breathe, and we were glad to relax and cool down on a very hot and humid day at our air- conditioned hotel. Tired from a day getting to the Hong Kong airport, the flight, and the bumpy ride sightseeing around the city, we reserved a late dinner by the pool with a dinner show of beautiful graceful Thai dancing.

Laundry Day

It is extremely hot and humid in Bangkok so I suggested an early morning call to get a good start on the day. Mary and I had worked together, along with William and Bob in China, but I had never traveled with her before. I discovered that she had a different idea of visiting Thailand when she said she had planned on sleeping in most of the days. That was fine with me as I was quite happy to plan an all-day trip upriver to visit a snake farm. I wanted a few eelskin items for myself and daughters, such as purses, briefcases, etc. It was fascinating to see life along the river, where a great number of people work, live, eat, bathe. wash their dishes and do their laundry. I enjoyed an interesting but uneasy day at the snake farm as I was uncomfortable seeing all the snakes being bred and harvested for the making of eelskin leather.

Washing elephants in the river

That night Mary and I had a very strange experience about 2 a.m. when someone knocked at our room door. Thinking it might be an emergency ,we opened the door and were surprised by two women asking if we wanted company. I had deliberately made reservations at an international Western hotel that advertised superior security. After sending the two beautiful young women away, I phoned the manager, who offered to change us to a deluxe suite for the rest of our stay. They moved us the next morning to a very large two-bedroom suite with a beautiful view overlooking Bangkok, a balcony, and filled to overflowing with fresh fruit and flowers.

River Market

After a hot and strenuous day riding elephants and helping at the river during the elephant washday experience, we relaxed in the cool of the evening with a dinner on the river at the floating market. Like our dinner on a floating market boat in Victoria Harbour, there were many foods that we did not recognize. We relied on the cook to point out what he thought we would like and just closed our eyes when we took a bite. Most of the food was very highly spiced, so that helped. We had a wonderful evening gliding along the river in the early evening, watching the lights of Bangkok come on, and eating until we were satisfied, listening to music as it drifted along the water. We asked, but were never able to find out where the music came from, but it was delightful to listen to.

Thailand Countryside

The next day I arranged for a non-smoking driver and interpreter for a scenic drive around the countryside, which is beautiful and impossible to describe. Pei was marvelous as a guide and he was able to point out all the interesting historical sites, the flowers, the gardens, the Buddhist monks and their temples and shops, where we could find the famous Thai silks, and the famous Thailand sapphire jewellry stores. Mary wanted to do some extra shopping, so I invited Pei to lunch, and he explained the menu and we had a great hot pot meal. A large pot is placed in the centre of the table on a cooker and all the ingredients ordered are placed into the pot to cook. You fish them out and enjoy. It was delicious, but I was glad to have Pei suggest what to order as Thai food is very, very hot to the taste.

Over lunch, Pei looked a little sad and shared a personal story with me. He had a wife and two children; and a mistress and one child, and now his new girlfriend of a year was pregnant and he was concerned. I was astonished, first that he shared such a personal story, but confused because he looked too young to have that many personal problems. The Thai are a very beautiful people and because of the humidity, their looks belie their age. When I inquired about his age, I was surprised to find he was 49! I had thought he was about 30 years old as he looked so young and handsome, with very fine features and smooth skin.

We talked a bit about his beliefs, and he explained that in his culture it was permissible to have many relationships as long as he was able to provide for them. His personal monk had just told him that he was not providing well enough for all of them and the monk would not be able to guide him in his journey toward enlightenment until he figured out how to solve the problem. The thought crossed my mind that he might be asking for money, but he assured me that he just needed someone to talk to as he was depressed as he tried to figure a way out of his dilema. He stated he was very happy with the fee we were paying him and as we were also happy with him as a guide, promised to hire him again. We then made arrangements for him to take us down the coast for a couple of days to see the countryside and to the resort at Phuket, a beautiful spot right on the sea.

We only had a short week to see Thailand but we came away with the impression of a very beautiful, colourful, complex country. There were extremes of wealth and poverty, but the people always smiled and looked happy. The area around the hotels was always very clean, but going out at 4 o´clock one morning because of the heat and humidity, I discovered that the poor and homeless people who had died through the night were swept up before the rest of the city awoke, to give the impression of no problems.

To see Pat´s pictures of Shanghai, go to http://members.shaw.ca/vjjsansum/ or http://nw-seniors.org/stories.html

Frank Sterle writes about dysthymia: "A type of depression involving long-term symptoms that keep you from feeling good."

(UN)HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

If society wants mentally-sound, functioning youth - and, therefore, adults - we need to establish a progressive governmental act that would see high-school education curriculum include mandatory courses on child psychology and rearing that would commence at, perhaps, grade 11.

Unfortunately, many people do not think before they act and are procreating without a sufficient capacity to raise normal, happy offspring. Thus, dysfunctional offspring - not to mention future bullies, racists, and even violent criminals - are being created.

Such education should be instituted, especially considering the fact that a child is vulnerable to a dysfunctional thought process in later years because of even small flaws in their rearing during their first six years of life.

All of which is where I, and the times of each year I should be happy and celebrating, come into the picture.

Although matters may one day permit me to have hope for an enjoyable future for myself (indeed, I have survived the first half of my life, and I intend to survive the remainder in the best spirits possible), I face dismal facts in my life. I have a malformed heart valve and will certainly, say all relevant doctors, (within the next eight years or so) require replacement of that valve. My rib cage will be sawed open, my heart will be stopped, blood flow will be bipassed around that faulty valve, and, likely, a pig´s heart valve will replace my flawed one. Worried? No, for I believe I´m in some form of denial. Anyhow, logic dictates that I cross that proverbial bridge when I reach it, if I ever come upon it. Doctors - even in numbers - are known to be mistaken at times.

Nonetheless, it seems that although my parents, who themselves endured very hard lives, seemed to do their best at parenting, they did not provide emotional stability. Needless to say, I´ve had little appreciation for my corporeal existence. Sadly, I must also admit that Father´s Day and Mother´s Day are, like my own birthdays, devoid of any authentic appreciation. This is no surprise to me: childbirth is a self-serving endeavor; after all, no parent-to-be thinks, "I´m going to do a potential infant a favour and bring him/her into this world."

Perhaps obviously, I prefer that my birthdays (every November 17th, ironically the day after which a widely-unrecognized Greek terrorist group named their organization) go unnoticed, for I cannot help but cringe whenever someone wishes me a happy birthday. And Christmas time is the same: I return "merry Christmas" wishes, but I don´t really mean it, for Christmas is not a merry time for me. And the fact that I have a roof over my head and enough to eat only exacerbates my guilt complex, for there are too many deserving souls out there across the globe who have only misery for Christmas (not to mention that many go hungry most of the year).

But then there´s the incident involving my former shrink and the thoughts I have, often enough, of my precious pet feline, Mimi. My shrink pointed out to me that I actually smiled when I was talking about Mimi, and he noted that he had not seen me smile except when I talked about my beloved cat, my current life´s only real bright spot.

I must emphasize, though, that I do/did (my father is deceased) love my parents, and I do/did not ceaselessly blame them for their past parenting. Nonetheless, there just doesn´t seem to be any real reason to be happy about the anniversary of the day in 1967 on which I was brought into this world.

Self-pity? No, I don´t think so. Self-absorbed? Perhaps. However, this is simply the way I feel.

From the March 20 issue of 1999, here is the beginning of a story by Dalton Deedrick about one of his experiences as a volunteer dentist:

WAR AND CHAOS IN SOUTH-EAST ASIA

For those of us who have lived all our lives in a country where life goes on in a predictable, safe, hum-drum fashion, it is a sobering revelation to see the dark side of the human condition in other parts of the world. As a Rotary volunteer, I was assigned to work for a month in a dental clinic in a refugee camp in the Philippines. What a remarkable experience it was.

Most of us have forgotten the history of that era, so I´ll review a bit of the background that explains the mass exodus of thousands of Asians in the years following the Vietnamese war.

With the withdrawal of U.S. forces in 1973, South Vietnam was quickly turned into a communist state, though most of her citizens hated the new order. The communists began to push into Laos and Cambodia, the latter already being involved in a war with Thailand. To further complicate matters, the horrendous Pol Pot regime began in Cambodia, a reign of terror that lasted four years and resulted in death by execution or starvation of nearly one-quarter of its population. In any of these countries, anyone deemed "an enemy of the state" could be summarily executed, or whisked away to a fate unknown to his or her family. Prime suspects, of course, were those who had supported the South Vietnamese cause, or who had been sympathetic to whatever regime had preceeded new governments in the small nations.

It was no wonder that hundreds of thousands of people, terrified by the reprisals facing them, were all frantically trying to escape their homelands. This desperate flood of humanity washed up on the borders of Thailand, Hong Kong, Indonesia and the Philippines. None of these countries had the resources to cope with such an influx of unwelcome guests, and it was not long before most of the avenues of escape were being barred.

To bring some order into this maelstrom, the United Nations set up a high commission for refugee relief, and began to administer camps where these people would be safe until they could be relocated. All of the developed countries were urged to make way for immigration of these people, and most of them, often with reluctance, established quotas that they would accept. The United States had by far the largest quota, then Canada and the European nations. At the time I was in camp, 700,000 had already gone to the United States, and another 200,000 were on a waiting list. Scandinavia had filled their quota, and other countries were near their limit.

With that brief background, let´s get on with life in the camp to which I was assigned. Marong was a quiet little fishing village on the Bataan Peninsula, north of Manilla and Corregidore, and just below Subic Bay and the big Clarke air force base. The camp contained 14,000 refugees, a mixture of Vietnamese, Laotian, Thais, and Cambodians. The coastline was the nearest landfall for any boat which sailed eastward from Vietnam, so this camp had a very high percentage of "boat people." About ten of the boats were hauled up from the beaches where they had landed, and lay about the camp as a silent reminder for anyone who might have forgotten the terrible details of their final voyages.

The housing consisted of block after block of long two-storey buildings, divided into rooms 10 by 20 feet. There was one family or blended family to a room, so that there were at least six to ten people occupying the space. Truckloads of food arrived daily from Manila, paid for by the United Nations, and each family unit sent a representative to the central distribution area to pick up their daily ration. There would be some tinned goods, and lots of vegetables and fruit. Nutritionally, they were well looked after.

The average time spent in camp was about ten months, and during this period there were mandatory classes. Before leaving, each adult was expected to have completed 420 hours of instruction in "English as a second language," 180 hours of "Cultural Orientation," and 150 hours in "Pre-Employment." The children had school classes. The teachers were Philippine nationals, and though I don´t doubt their dedication and sincerity, I sometimes wondered at the results of their English lessons. I certainly had trouble understanding them in daily mess hall visits!

The "Cultural Orientation" instruction included such subjects as carpentry, business machines, tailoring, dressmaking, and familiarization with household appliances common to us. Many had never seen an electric stove or a refrigerator. The "Pre-employment" time was credited to them for cutting grass, doing daily food pick- up, helping in the hospital and dental clinics, and generally keeping the camp tidy. In the latter category, they succeeded admirably.

To be continued.

We have not had any blonde jokes for a while, so these from Don Henderson are

REAL GROANERS

Did you hear about the two blondes who froze to death in a drive-in movie? They went to see "Closed for the Winter."

Did you hear about the near-tragedy at the mall? There was a power outage, and twelve blondes were stuck on the escalators for over four hours.

A blonde was driving home after a game and got caught in a really bad hailstorm. Her car was covered with dents, so the next day she took it to a repair shop. The shop owner saw that she was a blonde, so he decided to have some fun. He told her just to go home and blow into the tailpipe really hard, and all the dents would pop out. So the blonde went home, got down on her hands and knees and started blowing into her tailpipe. Nothing happened. So she blew a little harder, and still nothing happened. Her roommate, another blonde, came home and said, "What are you doing?" The first blonde told her how the repairman had instructed her to blow into the tailpipe in order to get all the dents to pop out. The roommate rolled her eyes and said, "Duh, like hello! You need to roll up the windows first."

A blonde went to an eye doctor to have her eyes checked for glasses. The doctor directed her to read various letters with the left eye while covering the right eye. The blonde was so mixed up on which eye was which that the eye doctor, in disgust, took a paper lunch bag with a hole to see through, covered up the appropriate eye and asked her to read the letters. As he did so, he noticed the blonde had tears streaming down her face. "Look," said the doctor, "there´s no need to get emotional about getting glasses." "I know," agreed the blonde, "but I kind of had my heart set on wire frames."

A blonde was shopping at a WalMart and came across a silver thermos. She was quite fascinated by it, so she picked it up and took it over to the clerk to ask what it was. The clerk said, "That´s a thermos ... it keeps some things hot and some things cold." "Wow," said the blonde, "that´s amazing. I´m going to buy it!" So she bought the thermos and took it to work the next day. Her boss saw it on her desk. "What do you have there?" he asked. "Why, that´s a thermos ... it keeps hot things hot and cold things cold," she replied. Her boss inquired, "What do you have in it?" The blond replied, "Two Popsicles, and some coffee."

A man entered the bus with both of his front pockets full of golf balls and sat down next to a beautiful (you guessed it) blonde. The puzzled blonde kept looking at him and his bulging pockets. Finally, after many such glances from her, he said, "It´s golf balls." Nevertheless, the blonde continued to look at him thoughtfully and, finally, not being able to contain her curiosity any longer, asked, "Does it hurt as much as tennis elbow?"

THIS WEEK´S SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Tom Williamson forwards a link to a video of a flight to 70000 feet in a U-2 spy plane:

http://propilotnews.com/2009/07/high-flight-really-high-flight.html

Do you remember "Harbour Lights", or am I just older than all my readers?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JS6CkpXmORA&feature=related