The Chiang Mai Chronicles - May '24
My apologies for the lack of photos in this post. I chose three topics: Immigration, hospitals and my mind.
None of these places allow cameras.
So, I will just start us off with a couple of cat pics. You are welcome!!
One Year Visa Extension
Every time we are in the immigration office or even driving to it, I feel a tiny bit nervous. I don’t speak the language very well. The lines are long, and it is hot outside. I worry about having the correct information and paperwork. Though this time I’m thinking ‘this is gonna be a slam dunk’, but I don’t want to ‘jinx’ it. We have two attorneys, good karma, and a magic decoder ring. A legal team, where names like Johnny Cochran and F. Lee Bailey, come to mind. What could go wrong? I need a catch phrase. “If you can pay, you can stay” (Roughly $500 for each of us)
BTW with a zillion signs that say “no photos” I felt like I got away with something when I managed to take a couple.
It is currently 90 degrees outside and will eventually climb to 105. Hopefully we will have completed our mission by then. Our legal group is kindly waiting outside taking the heat in the ‘pre-line’ line. We were told, if we’d like, we could wait in the air-conditioned inside waiting area. Think DMV. It looked like it would be air conditioned, but it was not. However, there was a very optimistic fan in the far corner of the 100 by 15-foot room with 80 people inside. The outside area had about 60 people. The area was open to the weather but had a roof in case of rain and folding chairs for about half of the people.
As we were patiently waiting, the Jr. lawyer walked inside and then walked towards us. After an hour of sitting, I leapt up ready for the next step in the immigration process. But alas she was just on a bathroom run. We both laughed so I sat down again. Our senior lawyer did the same thing 20 minutes later. It was just as funny that time too. Our ticket numbers were 054 and 055 and as she passed us, she said that they are on number 028 at this point. I re-look at the number on my ticket. Neat.
I found it super comforting to have Ploy with us. Can this be done without a legal team? For sure. I think. Maybe? I don’t want to find out and I will pay for ease, comfort, and a stressless time. Ploy speaks English well and has been doing immigration for 10 years, a seasoned professional I’d recommend. Our experience in getting an entrance visa in Cambodia by ourselves was enough to give us pause.
Eventually she returned and said we are getting close. We gathered ourselves and joined her outside near one of the 3 windows. Ploy, our lawyer, handed a ‘packet’ of info to the immigration officer which included: proof of money in the bank, condo rental agreement, and copies of various forms. After Ploy and the officer conferred on a few things and the packet was reviewed again, were given another set of numbers (in paper form) 939 and 940. We re-entered the inside waiting room. Which had a new set of 10 windows. All the seats were taken so we loitered by the doorway for 45 minutes. I’m relaxed. Our legal team does all the talking for us. I just nod my head with as much hopefulness and respect as I can garner.
I would show you a photo of our Jr. Lawyer, but she is underage and wearing her school uniform. There are moral and legal lines that I will not cross for this kind of thing. As I look up from writing in my notebook I see the ubiquitous 5 clocks with times of cities around the world. I find it pretentious. I did notice they had one clock dedicated to a country rather than a city, China. I assume they would have 5 or 6 time zones due to China’s size. But I Googled it. I learned that China has one time zone. Mark that as a plus for the Communist Party.
This was becoming an all-day event. They close from 12 to 1, so now, it’s lunch time. It’s 103 out so we walked across the busy highway to an outdoor local restaurant and ate a delicious lunch for 3 bucks for the two of us. Then we walked next door to the air-conditioned western coffee shop and had a couple iced coffees for $7. That’s how it is here.
When we returned, within 20 minutes our immigration officer points out we did not have a bank certificate update with today’s date. Hmmmm. My pen rai. (This is a polite ‘it doesn’t matter’ in Thai) So, we all leave and walk, now in 104-degree sun, to Ploy’s car and drive to Krungsri bank located in a mall not too far away. Then, lawyer #2, Diane and I exit the vehicle allowing Ploy to park such that we enter only armed with our junior attorney. I got to know her a little here and learned her name is also Ploy but she gives me her complete name of Pae Ploy which roughly means silk gem. Cool! She has yet to pass the bar but is a legal intern from a local law school. Hence the young look and school outfit. Our legal team has their game faces on, and we all roll up to the ‘Exclusive’ bank line, manned by a teddy bear.
We returned to immigration in Ploy’s car. We resubmitted our packet and all was in order. We said our goodbyes to our legal team, and we were left to wait for our passports with the new visa stamp. This took just under 45 more minutes. As we were waiting, I took more notice of the overhead pages. Every minute or so an extremely loud auto-voice came on and said, “ticket number oh three five, please go to window number so and so.” Then every 90 seconds a guy would say over a mic “Mr. So and So, please come to window such and such. ” But those of us in a group of 20 or so waiting for our passports were gathered around an immigration employee, who I am sure got this job because he had the softest voice. Every 3 or so minutes he would open a glass door and appear with a handful of passports. To make it as difficult as possible to hear, he spoke through a mask. At every name announced, the group of 20 of us would cup our hands to our ears and collectively lean forward. Many times, this competed with the overhead paging. Oh, and there was a crying baby right in the middle of us. I am not making this up. Why these things happen to me I just don’t know. When our names were whispered, we thank him very quietly and left at 3:35pm. We had arrived just before 9 this morning. Mai pen rai.
Have I Found What I have Been Looking For?
Twice I have been asked if I have found what I am looking for. First by my pal Monique, then by my favorite sister-in-law Lisa. This question has stumped me. What I’m looking for, I suspect, is in reality located in my head. Like what’s-her-face and the ruby slippers. I’m closer but I’m not so lofty to think that what I am seeking is enlightenment. Maybe just a blue-collar version with a fine wine. Maybe giving up dependence on a working income was the first step. Though this is only possible when one saves a little extra cash. Living in the slower paced and less expensive city of Chiang Mai helps.
As I’m sipping beer, sitting at a table next to a busy street, waiting for ‘takeout’ food at our ‘go to’ restaurant Khao Tom Baht Diao, I am writing all of this down in my trusty 4″ by 6″ notebook, which I always have in my ‘murse’ along with dry cat food in a resealable bag. I’m distracted by the two women at the adjacent table, not just because they were attractive but because they made me think about Steve Rosse. He neatly ties into this narrative. He has a weekly 25-minute vlog on YouTube that we religiously watch every Friday night. It seems he has found what he was looking for on a beach in a tiny village north of Phuket. It was his life in the US as an editor, author and in the film industry, full of excitement, disappointment, and heartache that prepped him for his ‘Turtle Beach.’ At the age of 66 he lives on $1500 of SSI each month and makes large display turtles mostly out of cigarette lighters and bottle caps that he finds on the beach where the waves crash 100 feet from his front door. He is a man of letters living his happy life.
How does my first 61 years prep me for my ‘Turtle Beach’? We are the playwrights of our 3rd act. What will we write? Huh, maybe the real-world AI, fate, will write it for us. Maybe the search for what I am looking for is like the speed of light. It is mathematically impossible to achieve but lovely to make an attempt in this endeavor to reach ‘blue collar’ enlightenment. Giving up work is the closest I am going to get to giving up all my worldly possessions like a monk is apt to do. I found in my working days, I spent all I earned, (aside from savings). I happily worked half my waking hours in a stressful job. Now, that lack of stress is freeing. I remember the book in ‘The Razors Edge’ where the main character gives up all his wealth in order to reach his goal. His friend begged him to put some money away ‘just in case’. The main character replied, “What would be the point of that?” (I’m paraphrasing)
Having money put aside and gaining interest is super important to me. It is a comfort. I have a dozen excel spreadsheets to prove it. Don’t worry I will not be sporting an orange monk robe, ever. My enlightenment is like glamping, it comes with the finer things in life. Wine, Diane, and song!
Our First Taste of the Healthcare System
Those nurse hats are adorbs! The lobby was, along as the rest of the hospital, clean as a whistle. Both Diane and I remarked that we liked the nurse hats. As a youth, I’m sure Diane dreamed about being a nurse because of the hats. If they had cool shoes, I bet Diane would have been a nurse today.
We walk into the front doors of Chiang Mai Ram Hospital looking lost and confused. Four seconds later a woman wearing a smart purple business suit (skirt and jacket) walks up to us and says in English, “Can I help?” I answered with my intentions, and she led us to the new patient registration desk, attended by no less than 3 women ready to help. I told them we wanted a physical for insurance purposes and a covid booster. We filled out forms and took our place in the waiting room with chairs that demanded that you slouch.
While waiting for our names to be called a staff member walked up to Diane with a card with her name on it. How this occurred was a mystery but moments earlier we had our pictures taken…. hmmmm. Ok, this place is high tech and organized. Three minutes after Diane was whisked away, someone grabbed me for my odyssey. Blood pressure taken, weight and height taken, thus began a much-practiced process. There is nothing like being provided an interpreter to drive the point home that you are a foreigner. So, did some of the nursing staff wear fashionable above the knee skirts? Sure. Is it notable? Well, quite literally yes. It is now. I literally just noted it. As I think about it this would be striking back in the US. Headline worthy. I will contact US hospital marketing with this idea soon.
We end up in the ER area for some of our more extensive testing. I’ve been in dozens of ERs in my working career and this one looks like every ER I’ve ever been in. That, I find is comforting. It is a part of the reason I wanted to go to Ram Hospital. I do notice the absence of security guards, locked doors, keypads and such. I like this too. I hated this while working in hospitals, but I find it a reflection of society where we feel this level of security is warranted. I find it a sad commentary on our society.
Early in this process they hand you this embarrassing little brown paper bag with two empty sample containers. They guide you thru 7 different stations during the morning with you dutifully carrying your ‘bag’. Gawd, really? Somehow every patient seems be holding them both daintily and with disdain.
EKG – Chest x-ray – blood test- urine samples – eye chart (with numbers, not letters) and more. Very thorough! 130/80 in case you are wondering. I get to enjoy a golf car ride back to the main hospital for the prostrate exam. Neat! But at least the nurses wear the cool hats in the main part of the hospital.
This has been an excellent opportunity to get to know my way around in case someday I return in ‘a tizzy’ and will have one less thing to think about. We returned the next day, where Diane was recognized at both reception and by the blood pressure lady.
I have spent an enormous amount of time in hospitals during my career. I just did the math and in 38 years with 25% of my workday inside a hospital it turns out to be 18,000 hours. I am amazingly comfortable in places like this. As I sit near the nurses’ station I observe a Thai version of my former life. A couple of techs are looking up at the ceiling. They were IT guys, doing some maintenance. My mind does flash back to former worries. I take a deep breath and give thanks these are nothing other than harmless, weakening, echos of ghosts that haunt me less and less each day. I dig thru my memory banks for worrisome situations. I worked in ‘Service’ for decades. Every situation was worrisome. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be there. Headaches were what I did. Now I just walk my neighborhood feeding stray cats. My mind is kept sharp by pursuing things of my choice. I maintain a blog and I’m continuing to learn the Thai language.
The records department here is nothing less than incredible. Right from the ‘get-go’ a photo is taken. New patient information can be accessed within 2 minutes by anyone who needs it and has a tablet in their hand. A few mysteries were solved by this observation. The hospital campus was immaculate, and as organized and professional as anywhere I have ever been. Nice. I am comforted and grateful at the same time. Having a hospital of this caliber a 10-minute walk away is a good thing.
Thank you for reading this. To make up for all the ‘words’, I will send out mostly cat pics in my next post…. really!