Buhay Bangkok

 

I have not given much thought on my birthdays ever since I turned 30. But this year, my wife Lizl was more excited than me in planning a celebration, especially since my birthday fell on a Saturday. Infected with her enthusiasm, I also started to plan. How about a weekend getaway? Somewhere outside of the city? We’ve already gone to historic Ayutthya and the flesh market that is Pattaya (uh oh, bad move!). Chiang Mai is too far away. Phuket is pricey, so does Samui. And what would we see in Kanchanaburi, that old bridge built by POWs? Ho-hum. Hhmm…Hua Hin? I was about to say this to my wife when the hammer fell:

 

I have work on my birthday (!).

 

Turns out the NGOs in Bangkok will stage a series of conferences on that same weekend and come up with some statements and resolutions for the ASEAN Summit the following week. SEAPA’s contribution would be a screening of the docu-film “Burma VJ”, a recounting of how DVB, an Oslo-based independent Burmese broadcasting outfit, covertlycovered the Saffron Revolution in 2007. The only available spot was Saturday, 21 February, 6-9 pm. There goes my weekend getaway!

 

Anyway, Lizl and I just came up with a Plan B. We’ll stay in a hotel in Bangkok. Instead of surf and sand, we’ll have a swimming pool. In between, I can go to work. OK then.

 

The eve of my birthday, we went to Central World to catch a film. Would it be “Valkyrie”, “The Reader”? We ended up with “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”. And what a film it was to see a day before one turns a year older! We both sat there carried away by the story of a man who ages in reverse. The subtext are the same themes you try to avoid thining about when you turn 37: Age, youth, memories, and yes, as a memorable quote in the film reminds us, opportunities both taken and missed. It was a sobering night, to say the least, with all these thoughts swirling in my head even as we went to sleep that night.

 

The following day, we checked in at the Grand President in Sukhumvit Soi 11. Lizl liked the place. We were there in December when they slashed their rate by half. We ended up in a suite, with a separate bedroom and a kitchen. It was already February but, owing perhaps to the financial crisis, the hotel still maintained its promotion, a suite for just THB3500.

 

But as our scheme unfolded, I started getting stressed. Lizl and I found ourselves transporting the whole gang, including the yaya, to downtown Bangkok, with all the matching luggages and sibling spats. Then when we got to the hotel, we were checked in a suite not to our taste. The place smelled of sweaty feet (must’ve been the moldy carpet) and the bathtub was dirty. So we called up the front desk and asked for a change of room. The exchange between me and the reception guy took 20 minutes; we simply could not understand each other. Why, oh, why do these hotels not hire frontliners who can speak better English? And why, oh, why have I, after three years of living in Bangkok, not yet learned to speak decent Thai?

 

Call time for us in the crew for the film screening was 5 pm. It was already quarter to 5 and no response yet from the front desk regarding our room transfer. My boss already called me up. The trip to Chulalongkorn University, the venue of the screening, from our hotel in Soi 11, on a Saturday afternoon, might take at least 30 minutes. And we still havent’t changed rooms. While we were waiting, the kids have gone to the pool to take a dip. At the stroke of 5, finally, we were informed the new room was ready. Pack up again, cross the courtyard to the other wing. We found out the room was on the second floor, nothing much to see on the window. But at least, it was cleaner and smelled fresher. Good enough. Once everybody’ settled down, Lizl and I hurried to Chula. Do we take a taxi or the BTS? Rama 1 Road might be choked with traffic jam, so we opted for the Skytrain. It meant walking for more than 200 meters to the mouth of the soi and the nearest BTS station (Nana). At Siam station we got off. 5:10 pm. Lizl bought some snacks and munched while we took a taxi that will bring us to Chula. Oh by the way, Chula’s a big university and within its enclosure is the Economics building beside which was the auditorium, the venue. I lost all appetite already. The taxi turned left on Phayathai Road and we counted the gates of Chula (based on Nu’s improvised map). Is this it? Is there another gate over there? Wait, I can already see Rama 4 Road. “Liyaw sai! Liyaw Sai!”  (“Turn left, turn left!”) I screamed at the driver. Once inside, we cruised slowly. Finally, the auditorium!

 

There, the College of Economics building. There was a sign that said “Burma VJ” so we followed it and ended up in the 2^nd floor where the faculty room was. Hmm, did someone from the Burmese Embassy sabotage our signs? I ended up calling my boss, who gave us directions. Finally, we spotted my Burmese colleague, Nai Nai, who led us to the right place.

 

When we got there, it seems everything was already prepared. Good. I’d play receptionist then. Lizl was also shanghai’d into doing frontline work. No sweat. It was easy and fun. Just smile at the arriving viewers, greet them, hand them a copy of the annual report which I helped write (“Empty Promises”) and ask them to register. For around 90 minutes we did that, to the sound of camera clicks as Nai toyed around with her new digicam, catching us at inopportune moments.

 

I was able to relax only when the film started. Nai and I stayed 10 minutes more at the front desk for any latecomers. Then I went in and joined Lizl. It was cold inside. The auditorium had a seating capacity of around 700 or so. We filled up a third of that. Not bad. I had seen the film already, but it was good watching it again, this time, with Lizl, sharing with her a slice of my work. We had a working date.

 

Three hours later, after a brief Q & A with a representative from DVB, the viewers slowly made their exits, depressed by the state of affairs in Burma, while me and the rest of the SEAPA crew packed up our stuff. With all things done, we walked from the building to the university gate, under the trees and lighted lampposts. “We’ll find a spot somewhere here,” I jokingly told my boss and his wife. But it felt good, strolling with my wife, along a quiet university road.

 

Hey, we haven’t had dinner yet! Once out of the gates, the blare of Bangkok came back. We were able to get a cab and we went back to Soi 11. Rosa Bieng, a Thai restaurant, was still open. Lizl loved it there. The food was good, the price, better. The owner must be a toy train buff. There are model trains everywhere. There’s even a diorama depicting railways in the Alps. Well, at least the diorama featured mountains, their sides cut by railroad tracks, leading to tunnels. The mood was relaxing as the adrenaline drained out of me. I can feel my birthday at that point. Just sheer understated pleasure…the food, the jazz from the live band outside, the subdued lights, and Lizl’s presence . I wanted to have a drink, whether red wine or just a beer, one for the road, one for my 37^th birthday. But it was already 11 pm and the restaurant was closing. We paid the bill. Reluctantly, we stood up and left the place.