December 11, 2022
Today from Bangkok
It is hot here, in this country of wellness, of tourism, and of retirement incentives. The sun is veiling behind an endless haze, and at night the temperatures don’t glide lower than 28 C. Summertime in December.
A few Japanese passengers had boarded the plane to visit relatives. They insist on speaking Japanese with their plane neighbor. When to arrive, is it 20:00? But no, no, this can’t be – think “juu roku,” 16 o’clock it is, much earlier, much sooner. The traveler gently strokes her stomach, “baby, baby,” she delights in sharing. Oh yes, “omedetou, omedetou,” something appropriate to respond to and easy to remember. “You speak Japanese?” “Iee, iee, chotto, chotto…” The temperature climbs with the plane moving, the expecting mother constantly using her fan – “atsui desu, atsui desu” indeed.
They promised to be at the airport to shuttle arriving scholars to the hotel – “Whatsapp when you arrive!” “Whatsapp – we will pick you up.” But where are they, the terminal is large, and nobody to be seen with the expected sign. Meeting point, yes, off to the meeting point. An hour later, the driver arrives with a smile.
After checking in to the hotel and taking the elevator up, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” Taking the elevator down, the radio comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.
A light meal, where to find a light meal? The first hotel restaurant, closed, the second hotel restaurant, closed, time to find something outside. Food stalls, food stalls, and more food stalls – Indian style, caution is warranted. Then this nice little coffee shop – a simple meal, an order, eat, then pay – in exactly this sequence. Don’t they take credit cards? Not a problem, they smile, over there, the money machine, outside, cash a few Bangkok Baht, and back to the restaurant. The meal comes to about $1.50, but there is no change for what is equivalent to a $20.00 bill. Communication gets more difficult, but there is always GOOGLE translate, “Come back tomorrow to pay,” she types with a smile, “I will have change then.” Such entrusting people here in this city. Back up to the elevator, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.
The next day is once again payback time – but there is still no change. Only for small amounts. Not a problem; there are other places to eat, such as the delightful noodle place around the corner. Order, eat, pay – in exactly this sequence. Only the cook does not have enough change. He smiles and disappears for a while, then comes back with change. Off to the coffee corner with confidence. Finally, paying up what is owed.
Time to celebrate with coffee and cake. The cake looks delicious, but instead of coffee, they bring hot water. “Coffee… coffee, please?” Not a problem, she nods with a smile and brings coffee overlaid with ice, ice one should be cautious about in this country. Oh well, here is still the hot water, there is cake, and there is a smile. Back up the elevator, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.
There is a beautiful swimming pool visible from the hotel window. The water shimmers and invites for a jump on this hot day – but there is never anybody at or in the pool. Could it be a trap? Would the water suck you up, swirl you around and push you to the floor? Who knows? Nobody dares to try. Better take the elevator, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio…” we only get this far, Carpenters.
Time for the conference – by invitation only. It is the chairperson’s event, the former politician, representative, delegate from Thailand – his mission is nation building, nation building via wellness. It is not the blue zone; it’s the “golden zone” in Thailand. They discuss wellness, they discuss the microbiome, and they discuss centenarians. A young moderator sits patiently on the podium, her skirt barely covering her knees – oh no, she can’t show her knees, quickly comes a helper rushing a blanket that will cover her knees.
Then come the dignitaries: The current foreign secretary from South Korea, the Minister of Social Development and Human Security, an assistant director from the WHO, the former Minister of the Ministry of Public Health, the Deputy Director-General of the Department of Health, they soon join in to talk about wellness – after all, they all are the chairman’s personal friends. Scholars come from San Diego, Sweden, Italy, Singapore, India, and Iowa. They hear about the possible, the probable, and the preferable.
They emphasize prevention here, not just curing a disease; they emphasize whole-person wellness, not just disorders. Walking barefoot outside in the morning to absorb the earth’s minerals, breathing the fresh morning air, maximum oxygen released from the trees. Moderation, so spoke Buddha, everything in moderation. The Mediterranean diet, metformin, and sleep, eight hours of sleep each night.
The conference ends, but the chairperson, representative, Harvard and Oxford graduate invites for a final luncheon. It’s down the elevator once more, and the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” Everybody is singing along by now. But they never make it to the sha-la-la-la.
The chairman is late because the former prime Minister had suddenly been hospitalized, an emergency, and the chairman had to pay a visit first. But now he wants to know more about his guests from far away. He complains that his phone only holds 30,000 addresses – he needed a second cell phone. Contact him via WhatsApp, his number written on the napkin,
This is a town of contrasts, where traffic jams are standard, where the people smile and talk about wellness, here, in this golden zone of self-prescribed healthiness and happiness.