Heart of Golden Rock

During my Myanmar trip I posted one story about my visit to Kyaiktiyo, more commonly known as Golden Rock, but to do this spectacular site proper justice, here are some of the photos from that journey.

Gazing upon the rock itself is an awesome experience, but taking in the view from the top and watching the spectacle of the legions of Buddhists as they make the exhausting pilgrimage to the mountaintop is also a rewarding sight to see.

For a small fee porters will carry your bags up and down the hill. But it’s not the foreign tourists that make use of this service as much as the tourists from Myanmar, who pile as many bags as they can into the porters’ baskets.

Using stretchers, a team of porters will also carry people up and down the mountain. Normally, the only ones that make use of this special service are the physically handicapped or elderly.

Once you have reached the top, there are observations decks on several levels that enable visitors to view the rock and the surrounding mountain ranges.

It’s also quite common to see groups of monks, including novices, making the pilgrimage to the top.

Bathed in light at night, the rock glows with a brilliant radiance.

Offerings of food and flowers are given and sticks of incense are burned throughout the day and night.

People of all ages, from all over Myanmar, make the trip to Kyaiktiyo.

Children sell homemade horns. The sound the horns make is very loud!

At times the narrow road gets jammed with porters and pedestrians, and once in a while a truck will join the fray.

Pilgrims can approach the rock and apply more gold leaf to its surface. Women, however, are not allowed to touch the rock.

There are a few other interesting stupas along the trail to the top.

09:11 PM PST Permalink |

On the Soi again

Back in Bangkok today, strolling past the busy sois, chaotic traffic, and vendors selling all sorts of crap on the sidewalk. I was happy to see my regular fruit vendor on the way to the bookshop: a sure sign that life is back to normal as I return from my latest trip to Myanmar.

I woke up at 5:30 this morning at the May Shan Hotel in Yangon. Started to finish packing my bags and then the electricity went kaput at about 5:45. Not an uncommon occurrence in Myanmar. If you get through a day when the lights do NOT go out, it's pretty much a miracle. I finished packing by flashlight and then rushed downstairs to get the taxi that was waiting to take me to the airport. The Yangon airport is a weirdly organized building with baffling systems for checking in and, when arriving, claiming your baggage (especially, for some reason, on domestic flights). My Air Asia flight left only slightly late and we arrived in Bangkok pretty much on schedule.

But oh, this new Bangkok Airport, the one they call Suvarnabhumi (pronounced: "Soo-wanna-poom"): I don't like it whatsoever. Actually, it's not as horrible as I had feared. Getting to and from this airport, at least at five in the morning and on a Sunday, is fairly painless. More expensive than the trip to Don Muang, but not as bad an ordeal as I had expected. But I detest the long check-in lines and congested areas inside the terminal. Because there is not enough room, you run the risk of being run over by the dudes that are pushing long trains of baggage carts through the terminal. The layout design of the terminal appears to be the work of a blind person. Did no one think of the term "user friendly"? The interior is also dim and spooky, especially in the pre-dawn hours. There is more lighting outside the terminal than inside the building. Very weird. And the P.A. system they use is virtually useless: the murky sound gets lost in the cavernous reaches of the roof. Really, it's almost impossible to understand anything that is being announced. Good things to say about the airport? Umm, let me think. Well, the immigration process was very fast and efficient, and claiming my baggage didn't take too long either. Other than that, poor signage and all those damn shops selling expensive merchandise make want to spit. In fact, I think I did. Several times.

I went straight from the airport to my bookshop, only stopping at Subway for a sandwich (my first meal of the day), and a few bags a fruit from my vendor pal. I've spent the rest of the day catching up on book arrivals, wondering what to do about our leaky air conditioners, and downing several cups of good fresh coffee. Ah, it feels good to be back home again. Myanmar was great - and this was an especially amazing trip - but I love being back and feeling the familiar rhythms of Bangkok.

04:37 AM PST Permalink |

Let's Get Lost

Getting lost can lots of fun. In fact, when it comes to travel, wandering around a strange new city - or village - and losing your way can provide for some memorable and magical moments.

Two days ago I took a boat ride on Inle Lake, the majestic body of water in Myanmar's Shan State. The huge lake is surrounded by a ring of green mountains, but it's most famous for the unique "leg rowers" on its water; local fishermen that use one of their legs to help navigate the boat. There are many small villages dotting the lakeshore, one of which is Maing Thauk. In this particular village there is a lively market, several monestaries (including one "Forest Monastary" at the foot of the hills) and an orphanage for both boys and girls. The orphanaged are run by a very nice man named U Tet Tun. All the children that attend the Maing Thauk orphanage are not necessarily orphans. Some live in nearby villages (many of which belong to the Pa-O minority group) but are either too poor to attend school or live too far from the town itselfto be able to go to classes on a regular basis. So they are allowed to stay at this orphanage and attend school in Maing Thauk.

I had visited Maing Thauk when I was in the area last year and wanted to go back again and make a donation to the orphanage. Chatting with U Tet Tun is also a rewarding experience. To do what he has been doing requires boatloads of dedication and patience. On this day tThe boat driver dropped me off at the lakeshore and gave me vague directions to both the orphanage and nearby monastary. Somehow, after passing the market and the secondary school, I made a wrong turn and got myself totally disorientated. I turned around, to what I presumed to be the correct direction, and looked towards a range of mountains, hoping that orientation would set me straight. Just up the dirt road I spotted two monks walking, but before you know it they disappeared somewhere off to my right. Monks equal monastaries, so I figured if I could follow them, I'd get to where i wanted to go. Forget the yellow brick road; I'll follow the saffron robes.

When I reached the spot where I had last seen them, I noticed a narrow path winding through dense foliage. I saw the two young monks - novices obviously - up ahead and walked quickly to catch up with them. One was munching a bunch of sunflowere seeds and seemed startled when I greeted him in Burmese. I asked him and his partner if this was the road to the monastary, and they applied in the affirmative. I thanked them and continued on my way. A couple of minutes later I passed a village woman who was carrying a basket of produce on her head. I also asked her about the monastary and orphanage, and she directed me onwards. Not only that, she stayed with me (no small feat, seeing as how I'm a very brisk walker) and gave me more exact directions. I thanked her, slipped her some money (which brought a big smile) and within two more short minutes I was at the entrance to the orphanage. I don't think I would have found it - certainly not without making more wrong turns - if it hadn't been for the help of the basket lady and the two monks.

I'm back in Yangon today, hoping to catch up with a few friends, enjoy more fine meals (no matter what you hear, there is some excellent food to be found in this country) and see a new sight or two before I return to Bangkok on Sunday. More stories - and tons of photos - will be coming shortly.

11:49 PM PST Permalink |

The Robes to Mandalay

On the road again today; flight from Mandalay to Heho and a bumpy road into Nyaungshwe. The weather is a bit chilly here, but it's not nearly as frigid as it was three nights ago in Pyin U Lwin. Damn close to freezing. Not the sort of weather that I am used to, and I was glad to return to Mandalay where I didn't have to wear three layers of clothes to bed.

I am almost positive that Myanmar has more monks per square kilometer than any place on earth. The men (and boys) in robes are everywhere! Some monks, the novices, appear to be as young as six-years-old at some monastaries. I spent a good portion of my stay in Mandalay visiting pagodas and active monastaries, and struck up conversations with dozens of curious monks. I brought a book to one of them, a fellow named Sittila, whom I had met last year. Sittila, who is in his late twenties, is a voracious reader and teaches English to the younger monks at his monastary. The first day I arrived, he was not around, having gone to visit Mandalay Hill (a good spot for monks and students to practice their English with foreign tourists), but I caught him the following day.

Earlier today I stopped by a monastary just north of Nyaungshwe, the town closest to famous Inle Lake. This particular monastary has funky looking circular windows and lots of old teakwood carvings. The monks there, most of whom are novices, are very friendly, if not a bit silly. One crew had been assigned "sweeping the grounds" duty, but several of them were taking playful swats at one another with their brooms, and one little kid was playing air guitar with his broom. Hey, who can blame them: they are just kids.

I continue to be overwhelmed by the generosity and hospitality that people here have shown me these past two weeks. I've been invited to homes of trishaw drivers, postcard sellers, and others; most of them offering me a lavish feast that I am sure is not an everyday occurence for them. At one monastary in Mandalay, I was even invited to sit down for a meal with a council of head monks and teachers. I was the only foreigner there on the morning that they dished out food to 2,734 monks. One man at our table told me that he felt lucky to have met me, after I told him that I would get him a book that he had been looking for. But I'm the one that feels lucky for having met this generous man and so many others.

Being on the road in this country also cuts you off from the "real world." This is the first time I've gone online in ten days. Needless to say, I have not kept up with e-mail or current events as much as I normally do back in Bangkok. But through word-of-mouth, and a few glimpses of CNN, I have heard about the bombs in Bangkok, Saddam Hussein's hanging, and Vijay Singh's latest victory. Tomorrow I hit the big lake for an all-day tour, then back to the monastary before sundown for a chat with some of the monks I met today. More soon!

05:09 AM PST Permalink |

Golden Rock Around the Clock
Greetings again from Myanmar! Mingala Ba!

I'm back in Yangon today after a whirlwind tour of Kyaiktiyo (Golden Rock) and Bago the past two days. Amazing sights and scenes, and truly wonderful people along the route. This country continues to impress me in so many ways.

The trip to Golden Rock was especially memorable. I would say that making a trip to this site - a gold leaf-embossed rock that is perched on top of mountaintop, looking as if it might tumble over the cliff at any minute - is the Buddhist equivalent of a trip to Mecca. Pilgrims from all over the country, and overseas, flock to the mountaintop to both gaze at its majesty, as well as to pray and make offerings. I saw hundreds, probably over a thousand people going up and down the mountain during my stay there.

Many Myanmar people trek up the top and spend the night. Foreigners like myself, however, aren't allowed to stay with the locals and must get a hotel room on the mountain or in the nearby town of Kinpun. I chose to splurge for an overpriced room on the mountain rather that take budget accommodation in town for the simple reasong that this enabled me to stay on the mountain and see both the sunset and sunrise. If you stay in Kinpun you must board a horribly packed pickup trek and endure a 40-minute ride either up or down the mountain. And that last truck leaves before sunset and after sundown, so that nixes those plans if you stay in Kinpun.

And even after the truck drops you off at the the mountain base camp, you still face a very steep and exhausting climb to the very top, one that can take an average of 40-60 minutes. You can pay porters to carry your bags, or even lay on a stretcher and have them take YOU all the way to the top. And some elderly or disabled pilgrims do just that. But I saw one man, an amputee on crutches, making the climb by himself. Just thinking about the effort that took brings tears to my eyes. These people are incredible.

When I was coming down the mountain on Friday morning, a Thai tour group was seated behind me. We were all clinging for dear life as the truck slashed and shimmied its way down the mountain road. In between dangerous curves we struck up a conversation and found out that we all live in Bangkok. The group invited to give me a lift to Bago on their way back to Bangkok. The kindness of strangers strikes again. That was a really nice gesture. I accepted their invitation and enjoyed the ride and their company.

Bago wasn't as amazing as Kyaiktiyo, but it did have its share of enormous pagodas (the tallest one in Myanmar), oodles of monks walking around town, and a very long reclining Buddha (longer than the one in Bangkok). It also has more dogs than any place I've seen in Myanmar. But, thankfully, they aren't the menu of local restaurants. Fried goat testicles, yes; but dogs, no.

I'm off in the morning (an insanely early 6:15 AM flight) to Bagan, where I'll ring in the New Year with friends, and attend the annual Ananda Pagoda festival. The adventures continue! And on that note, I wish a very Happy New Year to all of you that have read my blog during 2006. Let's hope for more peace, love, and understanding in 2007.

01:26 AM PST Permalink |

Foreign Phrases

I just picked up the latest album by Yo La Tengo. Great stuff, as always, with material that ranges from sweet melodic gems to feedback-spiced guitar jams. This one also has my pick for best album title of the year: I am Not Afraid of You and I will Beat Your Ass. Ira Kaplan, you are a genius!

I was upstairs in the bookshop on Sunday, trying to fit some more Ian Rankin books on a shelf in the Mystery section. And then my cell phone rang. A chorus of voices speaking something that wasn’t Thai or English greeted me. It took me about ten seconds to realize the call was coming from Cambodia. But who was calling? It was Huot, one of the kids that used to help clean my bookshop in Siem Reap. Since I returned to Bangkok I have continued to help him and his younger brother, giving them money for school and family needs. He had never called me before, so I guessed something was up. Sure enough, the family has had to relocate to Phnom Penh and they need more money to keep the kids in school. No problem, I assured him, expcept that I’m leaving for Myanmar in two days and don’t have enough money to send right now. Wait until next month, I promised, and then I’ll get something to you. But how? There is no way to contact him or his family. No bank account, no phone number, and maybe no fixed address at the moment. Huot will have to either call me direct or go through our mutual friend So Peng Thai (a tour guide in Siem Reap who also used to work at my bookshop) to arrange any further assistance. Not sure what I’ll end up doing, but we’ll have to wait until next month to cross that bridge.

Speaking with Huot brought back those seemingly long-lost Khmer phrases. It was slow going at first, but after the language “kicked in” I started spouting melodic Khmer phrases ever-so-smoothly. Or so I’d like to think. It didn’t help that I’ve been studying Burmese every day for the past six months. All these various phrases and words kept bouncing around in the craters of my cerebellum; Khmer, Burmese, and Thai all threatening to emerge from my mouth at any second. Luckily, I made it through the conversation without confusing the kid too much. But I do enjoy speaking Khmer; there’s something about the breathless cadence of the language that really appeals to me. It’s just all those damn vowels that trip me up.

It just hit me: I didn’t make any trips to Pattaya this year. That makes it the first time since 1992 that I haven’t visited the nearby beach resort at least once during the year. Not that I have any regrets. The appeal of Pattaya’s sandy beaches and seedy bars has long since vanished for me. I used to visit Pattaya frequently when I was a tourist back in the early 1990s, but after moving to Bangkok I found myself venturing over there less and less with each succeeding year.

11:05 PM PST Permalink |

Cool Weather, Cool Taxis, Cool Tunes, Cool People

The weather continues to be cool here in Bangkok, resulting in most of the locals donning jackets and coats for those chilly mornings and evening outings. And I’m about to join them: when I take my morning motorcycle ride I don’t enjoy shivering. Yes, I am that much of a cold weather wimp. I have no desire to see snow or climb every mountain. Even the air-conditioning in most local shopping centers is too cold for my blood.

Taxi drivers in Bangkok are mostly very agreeable and friendly fellows (and for some reason it’s a very, very rare thing to find a female driver). It’s rare that one won’t strike up a conversation and talk to me, usually in Thai, when I am in their cab. This goes against “conventional wisdom” that they are all sullen, shady characters that enjoy taking advantage of tourists. Sure, there are some creeps in the batter, but most taxi drivers (I’ll exclude tuk-tuk drivers from this analysis; they generally ARE crooks) are really nice, polite guys. Earlier this week I had a particularly pleasant conversation with one taxi driver about temples. He talked about how much he liked visiting the old temples in nearby Ayutthaya and other places around Thailand. I concurred, and in turn mentioned the wonders of the pagodas of Bagan in Myanmar and the temples of Angkor in Cambodia. I have a strong distaste for organized religion, yet there is something very magical about Buddhist temples, especially the ancient ones. I never get tired of visiting them and soaking up the history.

It’s rare that I receive actual mail from the postal service. When something arrives it’s usually a telephone bill or coupons from Pizza Hut. But this week the postman brought me a most wonderful package: the new CD, Even if I Fall, from my friend Reina Collins. I’ve known Reina for many decades; going back to our high school days in Orlando (she’s not quite as ancient as I am, having graduated a few years later). Since her days of singing in various clubs around the Tampa-St. Petersburg area, Reina has lived – and sang - in Idaho, California, and now Oregon. For this album she teamed up with Rob Barteletti (who wrote most of the songs) to create a sparking collection of folk-rock tunes. You’ll also hear bits of blues and country weaved into the original material. Supporting the fine songs is a stellar instrumental foundation; bits of dobro, banjo, fiddle, piano, slide guitar, and even cello spicing up the mix. To my ears Reina’s voice has a warmth and tone similar to that of Mary Chapin Carpenter. You can hear samples of her songs on her MySpace site or at CDbaby.com. Links to those sites and for information can be found at:
http://www.reinagcollins.com/

One of my new heroes is Rick from San Diego. I was fortunate to meet this fascinating man when he visited Thailand last month. Rick is 84-years-old and still going strong: traveling the globe, reading books, and playing golf several times each week. “And I still work,” he adds. Further proof that rust never sleeps: got to keep moving!

10:17 PM PST Permalink |

Foods for Thought

I was doing an online check of hotels in Yangon this week when I noticed that one offered its guests “instant laundry.” I can’t wait to see what that service is all about! It reminds of yet another hotel in Yangon that listed “Food Massage” among its guest services. Sounds sort of kinky, doesn’t it?

Speaking of food, Myanmar writer Ma Thanegi asked me to check Bangkok bookshops for a cookbook that she has been looking for. The book she wants, The Cradle of Flavor: Cooking from the Spice Islands of Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore was written by James Oseland, a longtime resident of Singapore. On Monday I popped into the Emporium and checked out the Cookery selection at Kinokuniya, but they didn’t have The Cradle of Flavor in stock. I walked over to the nearby Asia Books outlet but they didn’t have the book either. The next day I went to two more Asia Books outlets, but still no sign of the cookbook. My last try was at the Kinokuniya branch at Siam Paragon, where lo and behold, there was one remaining copy left. I snatched that book off the shelf and clutched it in my arms like a lost kitten, making sure it didn’t get away.

I haven’t met Ma Thanegi in person yet (I’ll rectify that situation when we meet for lunch – and give her the cookbook - next week), but she has answered a barrage of Myanmar food questions that I’ve thrown her way. Clearly, this woman knows her noodles, curries, soups and more. And it’s no wonder; she has written a cookbook of her own, An Introduction to Myanmar Cuisine. In addition to that, she has penned several other books, including the travel tale The Native Tourist, and The Illusion of Life: Burmese Marionettes.

While in Kinokuniya I saw a new paperback on the shelf by Barry Eisler called Blood From Blood. Or at least I thought it was new. A quick perusal of the first page revealed that this was the UK version of an older title that I have already read, called Hard Rain. I was hoping that this "new" book was the UK version of The Last Assassin, Eisler’s latest novel which is still only available in the US as a hardcover. But no such luck. This is the second time I’ve found an Eisler book with an alternate title. I picked up Choke Point earlier this year and realized later that it was actually a re-titled version of Rain Storm. Why do publishers do this? Different covers, different titles; it all gets confusing for us diehard readers. An online check revealed that the trend of re-titled Eisler books is continuing: One Last Kill is the same as Killing Rain. I wonder if there are any authors that are being subjected to this dual-title dilemma.

I had a surprise visit last week from Sochiet, a friend that lives in Phnom Penh. When I first got a message that he had called me, I assumed that he was calling from Cambodia. It was only later that I found out he was actually here in Bangkok! This was Sochiet’s first trip outside of Cambodia, so he was understandly excited and bewildered by the spectacle of all things Bangkok. He found time one day during his multi-day visit to drop by the bookshop and chat for a while. Sochiet, the author of the Phnom Penh Page blog here at Things Asian, was in town to serve as an interpreter and help his mother with some paperwork she needed to file at the US Embassy. She is hoping to get a visa to visit one of her daughters that is living in the USA. Why they came to Bangkok instead of going to the US Embassy in Phnom Penh remains a mystery to me. But I suppose Sochiet will give us more information when he updates his blog soon.

08:33 PM PST Permalink |

Sizing it Up

Size matters. Even in the seemingly sedate business of bookselling, the size of the product is important, yet the choice of sizes is baffling. Most readers are familiar with the popular “pocket size” paperbacks. These are also known as mass-market paperbacks; the sort of titles you see sold at airport shops and in department stores. You want your John Grisham and Danielle Steel; this is the format to expect. Then there is “Trade Size”, an oversized paperback that normally has bigger print and is easier on the eyes. Normally, more “serious” fiction is published in this format. Most new books are still released as a hardcover at least a year before the paperback version appears in stores. This inevitably frustrates some readers who hate waiting a year or longer for the more affordable option ($6-8 as opposed to $20-30) to appear on bookshelves.

Recently, however, some new hardcover books in the UK have been released simultaneously along with jumbo paperback versions. As you would expect, the price is cheaper than the hardcover, but more expensive than that of a pocket-sized book. American publishers haven’t gotten hip to the “jumbo alternative” yet, opting instead for their own bizarre option. This new paperback is the same width as the standard pocket-size paperback, but it’s a few inches longer. What’s the purpose of this new elongated version? Hell if I know. The font size is no larger than that of the pocket size, so it’s certainly not going to benefit those who struggle to read small print. And many readers complain that it’s more difficult to hold in their hands. Let’s hope this new size is a short-lived experiment that soon disappears, ala “New Coke.”

From a retailer’s perspective, this dizzying array of sizes makes shelving the books a headache-laden challenge. There is simply no easy or “right way” to organize them all. In my shop we end up shelving some of the books horizontally and some vertically. The hardcovers are often relegated to the very top shelf. They are just too big to mix with their tiny pocket book peers.

There are many English language books published here in Thailand, but the vast majority of these titles are sold in the large trade paperback size. One exception is the new Bjorn Turmann book, The Karaoke World of Courtous Haire. I haven’t read it yet (but it’s sitting there in my “Read Soon” pile), but the book is set in Thailand, Laos, and Singapore. In fact, Bjorn was just in Vientiane for a book signing, his first such event in Laos. I can’t wait to hear how that went.

Another Thailand-themed book breaking the oversized paperback mold is the new version of Jake Needham’s Laundry Man, which now comes in a handy pocket size. After reading Needham’s popular The Big Mango several years ago, I had neglected to read his other novels, but I liked this one so much I won’t make that mistake again. Laundry Man is also set in Bangkok (expect for a few chapters that take place in Hong Kong) and gives readers excellent literary glimpses of our fair city. It’s refreshing to read a book about Bangkok that doesn’t dwell on go-go bars and drug dealers, but instead offers intelligent and thoughtful looks at Bangkok’s many other pleasures and diversions. The story in Laundry Man is damn good, too. I look forward to reading the follow-up, Killing Plato, and his brand new novel, The Ambassador’s Wife.

More surprises: just the other day I found out that a friend of mine from Orlando, Joe Jervis, has had one of his short stories published in an anthology called From Boys to Men: Gay Men Write About Growing Up. Joe was a customer of mine when I worked at Record Mart and Record City, and later when I opened Murmur Records in Orlando. We became good friends, always staying on top of the latest music trends. During one wild week I think we saw both the B-52’s and Prince in concert. Joe is now living in New York City where he writes the popular blog Joe.My.God. I clicked on Amazon.com and saw the following description of the book:
“More than an anthology of coming out stories, From Boys to Men is a stunning collection of essays about what it is like to be gay and young, to be different and be aware of that difference from the earliest of ages. In these memoirs, coming out is less important than coming of age and coming to the realization that young gay people experience the world in ways quite unlike straight boys. Sometimes the result is funny, sometimes it is harrowing, and often it is deeply moving.”

My fellow Scrooge, Gene Johnson, continues to experience the Christmas music blues. In his latest e-mail Gene reports: “Today I made the mistake of walking through Robinson's looking for a birthday gift for my adopted daughter. The Xmas carols finally drove me out! Humbug.” I’m with you, Gene. I’ve about reached my Christmas music threshold, too. I can’t seem to escape the holiday tunes no matter where I go. But yesterday, when I stopped in a Family Mart outlet, I was treated to the sounds of Mor Lam (Northeastern Thai country music) on the sound system. It was so refreshing I just wanted to stay and hang out there for a while.

09:55 PM PST Permalink |

Jingle Hell

One of our customers, Gene Johnson, dropped by the store earlier this week looking hot and frazzled. This time around he couldn’t blame the heat or traffic jams. “I was just at the Emporium,” he explained, “and they were playing ‘Jingle Bells’ over and over again.” He shook his head and grimaced at the thought of that atrocity. “I had to get of there while I still had my sanity.” And Gene wasn’t kidding; they really were playing an endless tape loop of “Jingle Bells” at the mall. Of course this is Thailand, and you are as likely to hear “Jingle Bells” in July as in December. In the minds of most locals, it’s just another cute song with no seasonal significance.

Even here in predominantly Buddhist Thailand, the general public is not spared the annual onslaught of Christmas music and decorations gone amuck. Thais love festivals and the coming of Christmas just gives them another excuse to redecorate the shopping malls and have more sales. Shop until you drop, baby, that’s the holiday spirit! But it’s not only the shopping centers that are guilty of overdoing the Christmas horror; restaurants and office buildings also pump up the volume and deck the halls. Even in my apartment complex the management perversely decorates the lobby with little Christmas trees. I suppose they think such holiday displays are pleasing to westerners living overseas. They can’t seem to grasp the idea that we aren’t all card-carrying Christians.

Perhaps the most annoying of the local Christmas displays will be seen on December 24 and 25. During these two days the BTS Skytrain system allows local church groups to board the trains and serenade passengers with Christmas carols. No, I’m not making this up; they’ve done this the past two years and I fully expect this “treat” will be unleashed on commuters again this year. But that’s okay; I’ll observe my own two-day boycott and stay off the trains. I fear if I was on the train and surrounded by a group of glassy-eyed Christmas carolers I might do something I would regret. Forget “Road Rage;” I can feel “Jingle Bell Rage” about to rear its ugly head.

Is there anything worse than being bombarded by obnoxious Christmas muzak? Believe it or not, I think I have found such a thing. Ma Thanegi in Myanmar wrote to tell me that one restaurant in Yangon named itself after “Feelings,” that widely loved – and loathed - 1970s hit by Morris Albert. To make matters worse they insist on playing the song frequently for the listening pleasure of their diners. “Myanmar people went crazy over that song and have not recovered yet!” Ma Thanegi laments.

This month’s “Heavy Rotation” Listening List at my place:
Wilco – Kicking Television: Live in Chicago
Guided By Voices – Best Of: Human Amusements at Hourly Rates
Brendan Benson – One Mississippi/The Wellford Boy
Pernice Brothers – Discover a Lovelier You
Love Tractor – Green Winter
Various Artists – Northern Soul’s Classiest Rarities, Vol. 2
East River Pipe – What are You On?
J. Geils Band – Anthology: House Party
Isaac Hayes – Ultimate: Can You Dig It?
Killers – Sam’s Town
Lou Rawls – The Very Best Of
Ben Kweller – Sha Sha
Various Artists – Wicker Park Soundtrack Album
Doris Duke – I’m a Loser
Tim Lee – Concrete Dog
Robert Earl Keen – What I Really Mean
Rodney Crowell – The Houston Kid
Sonic Youth – Rather Ripped
Various Artists – Chess Psychedelic Jazz & Funky Grooves
Guadalcanal Diary – Walking in the Shadow of the Big Man /Jamboree
Gerry Rafferty – Days Gone Down: Anthology 1970-1982

07:40 PM PST Permalink |

Cat Napping

On a typically busy Sunday afternoon at the bookshop I bounded up the stairs, ran into the backroom, and grabbed more coins out of the safe for the cash register. And then I hear the sound.

It was that unmistakable meeowing sound of a cat. And from the loudness of the cries, it appeared to be in distress. But where was this sound coming from? We have a back storage room so I opened that door to see if a cat had somehow gotten trapped back there. I never go in that room - not much is in there besides cardboard boxes and probably a family of cockroaches - and frankly didn't even know if we had a light that I could switch on. I stumbled around in the darkness and didn't see a thing. But I could still hear it. The meeowing was getting louder, but I still wasn't sure if the cat was in the room, up on the roof, or stuck behind a wall somewhere. I meeowed back and the cat answered me. I speak pretty good cat, but I'm a total failure at interpreting the meaning of the various meeow tones. But I did conclude that this was not a happy cat. It wanted out. I left the storage room door open, meeowed some more, but still no sign of any cat, rat, or other critter.

A few hours later I closed up the store, trying to figure out the cat mystery. I went home puzzled and worried. If that cat was stuck in the wall somewhere, was there a way to get it out? I opened the bookshop early the next morning, armed with a good flashlight. I shone the light all over the small room; up in the ceiling, on the floor, in the corners. No sign of any cat. But the distressed meeowing continued. This was driving me crazy.

All I could think of doing was to call Bangkok's pet authority: Laurie Rosenthal, a columnist and writer at The Nation newspaper. Perhaps Laurie thought I was calling her about those Sigrid Undset novels she was looking for a few months back, but I doused those hopes and gave her a quick synopsis of the cat mystery. We traded phone calls and theories over the next hour, while I waited for my morning shift employee, Pomp, to arrive. At that point I went back into the storage room to conduct a more thorough search. I moved boxes, boards, paint cans and other debris away from the walls. One thing that wouldn't budge, however, was an old toilet that a previous tenant had cemented to the floor. I shone the flashlight around some more, following the meeowing, and in one corner of the room I caught a glimpse of some light brown fur. Aha!

It was a tiny little kitten, no bigger than the size of my hand. And it was clearly petrified, huddled in the corner, apparently stuck in a small crack in the wall. I called Laurie back with an update and she suggested that I get some food and water for the kitten. Food? What sort of food? I don't have pets and know next to nothing about what they should eat. All we had in the store were some brownies, along with the guava and papaya that I'd brought with me for lunch. I didn't think that was going to work, and Laurie agreed. I took the cat a dish of water and sent Pomp to the store for some cat food. This was turning into a weird day already and we still hadn't seen the first customer walk through the door.

Returning to the storage room again, this time with the food, I discovered that the kitten had moved from its spot in the corner. I was relieved, having feared that it was stuck in the crack and had perhaps injured one its back legs. I sat the food next to the nearly depleted bowl of water. The kitten meeowed constantly while I tried to calm it down with my own melodic meeows. What else could I do? Sing it a Gordon Lightfoot song?

My business partner Kiwi showed up later that afternoon and I brought him up-to-date on our furry new visitor. He placed a few phone calls to some friends and found one person, Camilla (who works for the "other" paper, The Bangkok Post, who agreed to take the cat. Camilla came by the bookshop on Tuesday and picked up her new pet. A happy ending! But there's still one thing I want to know: what is she going to name this cute little kitten?

06:15 AM PST Permalink |

These Books are made for Reading

At least once a week some first-timer will wander into my bookshop, gawk at the bookshelves and ask: “Are these books for sale?” I’m always flabbergasted: what do they think we do all these books? Do they honestly think that we are some sort of trendy café that displays thousands of books on the shelves just for decoration? I suppose it is trendy to have books on display these days. Something the customer can look at it, but never actually read. Or a sort of prop that gives you an intellectual look, but won’t stain your hands like newsprint.

Maybe it’s our name: Dasa Book Café. I suppose some passers-by think we are simply another streetside café with a unique look. But if I had to do it all over again, I’d huddle with my Thai business partner and insist that we do not use “café” in our name or to use in advertising our business. When we first opened this business almost three years ago we wanted our shop to look nicer than the typical used book store. So we created an attractive design and added features for comfort: a few tables and chairs for customers, as well as a counter with some stools. We serve coffee, tea, and soft drinks, in addition to a small selection of cakes and cookies. The whole idea is to provide a pleasant environment for book readers. What I did not want was for this shop to become some place where people would go just to “hang out.” If a book reader wants to relax with a cup of coffee while they are browsing the shelves, wonderful. But if some dude strolls in and wants to use one of our tables to tap away on his laptop for three or fours hours while nursing a single cup of coffee, that’s going to make my blood boil.

I’m not a gadget guy. I have a computer at home and one at work, but I’ve never owned a laptop, nor a PDA, or even an iPod. So, I have to admit that I’m puzzled by this odd new laptop culture. It reminds me of the Tom Waits song where he wails: “What is he building in there?” When I see those people huddled over their laptops I always wonder: What are they doing in there? Don’t they have homes where they can go to do these projects, or whatever it is they keeps them occupied for so long?

People wonder why we don’t get wi-fi in our shop. And encourage this sort of behavior? No way in hell! You know those “No Smoking” signs with the red line slashed across a burning cigarette? I think I’m going to get a similar one that indicates “No Laptops” and stick that on the front door. Really, these laptop vagrants are becoming a definite nuisance, hanging out for multiple hours at a time, buying a drink perhaps, but never a book.

If we had a large, roomy store with lots of seating, I might not mind the presence of the laptop crowd so much. But our bookshop occupies a narrow building and we have a total of only ten seats for our customers. Needless to say, we lack the comfy atmosphere of a Starbucks. But that’s not our niche. We sell Michael Connelly mysteries and Southeast Asian guidebooks, not frappuccinos and bags of coffee beans. A friend of mine who works at a marketing company gave me his take on Starbucks: “They don’t sell coffee,” he insisted, “they sell space.” That’s an interesting, and possibly accurate, analysis. And I tend to agree: the big draw isn’t their tasty – and overpriced - coffee selection; it’s the comfortable seating and the atmosphere. If customers at Starbucks were forced to stand up at a small counter in order to drink their coffee it wouldn’t have the same appeal, would it?

Okay, enough of this negativity. Thankfully, the laptop loiterers are few and far between, and the pleasant customers are in abundance. Friday was one good example. There was a seemingly endless parade of nice people dropping by the store to chat and buy books: Rick from San Diego (enjoying golf and visiting Thai friends while on vacation), Eric from Austria (entertaining – and frightening – me with tales of life in the Congo), Bangkok’s own Heng Thung (about finished writing his new memoir), Glenda from Malaysia (visiting the city with her daughter and niece), David from Savannah (on his way to Nepal and Myanmar), and a big entourage from Orlando: Summer Rodham with her parents, husband, and three friends. It was great to see everybody, but I was sincerely worn out by the end of that nearly 12-hour work day.

08:48 PM PST Permalink |

Nice Customers…and Annoying Creeps

Most customers that visit my bookshop are very pleasant people. The fact that they read books automatically puts them on a higher pedestal than the average cretin on the street. Working retail enables you to observe a rainbow of personality types; the good, the bad, and the bizarre. The majority are a pleasure to deal with, but every once in a while we encounter some true oddballs or mean-spirited characters.

Take, for example, the guy that came into the bookshop on Saturday. He ordered tea and sat down at a nearby table. Not a minute later, he walked up and told the woman that works for me to change the music we were playing. My employee didn’t know what to say to that odd request, so she looked to me for help. I asked the customer, a man in his early 30s, what he wanted and he repeated his demand to change the music. I told him that I’d be glad to turn the volume down (even though it was far from loud), but that I would not change the CD that was playing. He appeared incredulous. Clearly, he was the sort of person that wasn’t used to having his demands shot down. “I asked you to change this music and you won’t do it?” he sputtered. “No,” told the guy again. “I’ll turn it down but I won’t change it.” At this point it looked like steam was going to start rising from his pointy head. “You need to do what the customer asks,” he declared, before adding, “And maybe you should read some of these marketing books you have on your shelves.” I was about to retort with, “Yeah, those are probably the ONLY types of books that a creep like would you read,” but I just rolled by eyes, turned my back on him, and went back to updating our computer database.

Thankfully, just as quickly as this guy had entered the shop, he slithered back out. I couldn’t believe the audacity of this character, waltzing in and demanding that we change the music. What gives him the right to dictate that? Sorry, but my retail habitat is not a democracy. It’s my store and, like it or not, I set the tone. Small shops like mine are a reflection of the owner’s personality, and the music I play is part of that package. It’s safe to say I’m a bit unorthodox in my approach to business, but I’ve been involved in retail for over 25 years and have a pretty good feel for it at this point. I’m not, and never have been, a believer in that nonsense about “the Customer is always right.” Most customers are wonderful and I will do my best to help them, but there are times when the customer is nothing but a pest and I would rather they stay out of my shop.

And what was I playing that was so revolting to this guy? It was Michael Franti’s latest album, Yell Fire!, which I think is one of the best albums released this year. Lyrics such as: “Those who start wars never fight them/And those who fight wars never like them” set the tone for this decidedly anti-war album. I don’t know if the customer objected to the lyrics, the funky grooves and reggae “riddims” in some songs, or perhaps the “ethnic” nature of the artist (Franti is pictured on the cover sporting dreadlocks). Or maybe he wanted to hear Christmas music or something equally bland and vapid. In that case, head over to the mall, dude, or hang out at Starbucks. Hey, I’m an eccentric, moody bookshop owner and at this point in my life I’m not going to change. And I’m certainly not going to bend over backwards to try and please some assertive creep that only wants to sip a cup of tea for an hour. Go “network” and “party” with your conservative pals, pal, but don’t come back and bother us!

On the subject of Michael Franti, he recently released a DVD called I Know I’m Not Alone. This isn’t a concert recording, but a documentary of a trip that Franti took in 2004 to “hot zones” in Iraq and Israel, including stops in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Here is how the film is described:
“Armed with only a guitar, video cameras and the intent to experience first-hand the human cost of war, Franti shares his music with families, doctors, musicians, soldiers and everyday people, who in turn reveal to him the often overlooked human cost of war. With its guerrilla style footage captured in active war zones, the documentary is unlike the many academic and politically driven pieces in the marketplace, instead offering the audience a sense of intimate travel and the opportunity to hear the voices of everyday people living, creating and surviving under the harsh conditions of war and occupation.”

On the positive side of the customer spectrum, Peter, a nice man who used to work in Cambodia, was also in the shop over the weekend. He and his wife Ursula were customers at my bookshop in Siem Reap during the Cambodia days, but have since moved to Bangkok. After a recent work assignment in Sri Lanka, Peter is now off for a two-year posting in Botswana. Needless to say, he was stocking up on some books to take with him.

I also got an e-Mail on Sunday from Tyson, another fellow whom I first met in Cambodia. After a multi-year stay in Thailand Tyson is now in Singapore, but headed to India and Cameroon, before eventually settling down to do more research work in Surinam. He is another voracious book reader with a keen interest in Southeast Asian history and architecture. But he also is involved in freshwater fish research, thus the reason for his next destination.

02:07 AM PST Permalink |

Young Readers

On Tuesday, December 5, it’s the King of Thailand’s Birthday, which means it’s also Father’s Day here in the kingdom. It’s an official Thai holiday so the usual battery of businesses, schools, and government agencies will be closed. And don’t expect to find any naughty dancing or alcohol being sold that day either. That’s right; most go-go bars and karaoke pits will be closed for the night. But expect lots of fireworks and yellow shirts all over town.

Saturday was unusually busy in my bookshop. Crazy and chaotic most of the time: a few coffee drinkers and laptop slackers hanging out, but mostly cool people buying cool books. It seemed like the flow of customers never stopped from morning until evening. I’m not complaining, for the grand result was certainly profitable, but there were times when I was wishing it would slow down enough for me to crack open a book and read for a spell. That never happened.

One young girl – I guess she was eight-years-old or thereabouts - was shopping for books (Mary-Kate and Ashley mysteries!) along with her parents that afternoon. Before leaving the store she announced: “I like books. Reading fills up your mind!” That might sound like a rehearsed line, or something she heard somewhere, but when she said it, it sounded totally sincere. Well done, young lady, and kudos to her parents for encouraging the reading habit.

I’m always impressed when children or teenagers buy books. In this day and age, with so many other unhealthy diversions and entertainment options, it’s seemingly rare to see kids take an interest in books. But every week I see youngsters coming in the store and asking for books by authors such as Anthony Horowitz, Christopher Paolini, Jacqueline Wilson, Lemony Snicket, Todd Strasser, and R.L. Stine. And then there’s the J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter phenomenon. All in all, it’s an encouraging trend.

Collin Piprell, a Bangkok-based writer with several books under his belt (Yawn, Bangkok Knights, Kicking Dogs), dropped by the bookshop last week. Among the books he bought was a copy of one of his own old essay collections, Bangkok Old Hand. Why buy your own book? “I realized I don’t have a copy of that one, and it’s out of print,” Collin chuckled. Meanwhile, he’s working on a Science Fiction novel and hoping to find a publisher that is willing to unleash it on the reading public.

10:34 PM PST Permalink |

Birthday Barbecue

On Tuesday I celebrated my birthday, adding yet another ring to the tree trunk of my life. Perhaps “celebrate” isn’t the best word to use in regards to my birthday. I tend to inwardly grimace at the thought of getting another year older and don’t usually announce the fact that I’m having a birthday. No parties or cakes for me, just a good meal with friends will suffice. Each birthday is a stark reminder that I’m firmly ensconced in middle age, and the sobering reality is that I’m now closer to sixty than thirty.

I got an early morning phone call from my parents back in Florida. That was a nice way to start the day. Tuesday is my usual day off, but this week, instead of my normal morning basketball scrimmage, I had some business to attend to. I made tracks for the Immigration Department on Soi Suan Phlu in order to get a multi-entry permit for my current visa. Without that important little stamp in my passport, the next time I leave the country my visa would be cancelled and I’d have to start the mind-numbing paperwork process all over again.

While I was at Immigration I ran into Lisl, one of the cool customers that shops at my bookshop. The following day she was flying to England and then on to Scotland to visit her mother, so she needed to get a multi-entry permit for her visa as well. Immigration was more crowded than usual, so we waited patiently in line and chatted about music, books, and travel before our passports were finally returned to us. This has become a very fast process. Only a few years ago, you had to submit your paperwork in the morning and then return in the afternoon (after the officials had enjoyed a long lunch) to pick up your permit.

After Immigration, I hopped on the Skytrain and took that to the Siam Station. At the adjacent Siam Paragon shopping monstrosity I rode a never-ending series of escalators up to the Gram music shop where I treated myself to a double disc Isaac Hayes collection (actually three discs if you include the “bonus” DVD) and a new compilation of old jazz and “Psychedelic Soul” on the Chess label. Naturally, I couldn’t get out of the mall without popping into the Kinokuniya bookshop, and I couldn’t leave without purchasing something, in this case the latest Donald Westlake paperback.

Dinner was spent in the company of my good friends Walter (originally from Alabama) and Jack (originally from Roi Et). We dined at the Great American Rib Company on Soi 36, stuffing ourselves silly with deliciously messy barbecue. Forget KFC: this was real “finger licking good” fare. Despite the predictably odd service and communications problems (even speaking Thai didn’t seem to help!), the overall meal was excellent. I ate more than I should have, but I compensated for my gluttony by walking the rest of the way home from Thonglor.

01:22 AM PST Permalink |