Friday morning at 7:20 we piled everyone into the van, met up with my parents at my grandparents’ house, and began our drive to Kansas City International Airport for our trip to San Francisco.  We had a total of nine passengers, eight check-in bags, a car seat and countless carry-on bags.

This was interesting because most of the travelers are not very frequent travelers these days although all have traveled a lot over the years.  With all of the changes in the flying world these last few years – liquids in 3-ounce containers and zipper bags, remove your shoes at the security check, e-tickets and paperless travel – we allowed plenty of time to navigate this complex world.

Left: Ava “helps” my father carry one of the bags.  This is a classic, 1970s-era “Fly the Friendly Skies” bag that would be a collector’s item if it weren’t so well-used.

The day before the flight, my grandmother was still curious how we would be allowed on the plane without tickets.

Fly the Friendly Skies… of Midwest

The 3-hour flight on Midwest Airlines was smooth enough.  Eight of the group were seated in adjacent seats and one of us – me – ended up on an aisle three rows behind.  Service is pleasant and since the flight is nonstop, it is a good choice between MCI and SFO. 

Ava slept about two hours on the flight, which was a blessing for us.  Emily was pretty antsy, going to the bathroom four times on the flight, probably mostly for the excuse of getting up and walking around.

Right: After her long nap, Ava was in a pretty upbeat mood.

Upon our arrival into SFO, we saw the Airbus A380 – the WhaleJet – which was in town for gate compatibility tests.  It was parked at the American Airlines hangar, or at least what used to be the American Airlines hangar.  I think United either bought it or subleases it these days.

The A380 is a large plane, but isn’t really that much larger than the Boeing 747.  It is just double-deck the whole way.  And that makes its profile look even smaller, in my opinion.  Kind of like a 737 whose proportions are a little off!

Right: We walked down to the baggage claim to discover – surprise! – Uncle Tawn.  He had flown into San Francisco the day before and was staying with our friend Paul.

Emily had been eagerly anticipating seeing Tawn and was very excited.  I think Ava didn’t remember him from our March visit, but she warmed up to him very quickly.

My cousin Brad and his wife Silvia (above, center between my grandfather and sister) arrived on their flight from New York about the same time and collected their bags then met us in the baggage claim just as we finished collecting ours.

It was during their visit to Thailand in July 2006 that I met Ajarn Yai and got started with the English teaching gig.

Below: Uncle Tawn plays with Ava and Emily on the Air Train ride to the rental car center.

Getting the rental cars was a horrendous mess.  We had rented a van from one company and the sedan from another, both under my father’s name so we couldn’t get both cars simultaneously.  It took more than an hour to get through that mess before we headed out to lunch at Peter’s Cafe in  Milbrae.

Left: Jennifer, Ava and Emily enjoy grilled cheese and fries for lunch.  Below: Tawn helps color Emily’s tongue a pretty shade of red.

We drove to the East Bay to our rental villa – a 5,000 square foot (500 square meter) Mediterranean style place in Castro Valley.  This is a really great space and if you need a space for 10-15 people in the Bay Area, I’d recommend it.

I took the lead to organize dinner with several family members assisting in the process.  We wound up with a nice green salad, garlic bread, and pizzas.  Below: the family poses before dinner.

Just four days in the Midwest and I’ve already become a suburbanite, driving my sister to and from school where she teaches in the mornings and picking up my niece in the afternoon from day care and taking her to tap dance practice.  Dance practice was a hoot.  The eighty-something year old teacher is a dance nazi, not allowing parents (or other guests) to peek in the window as it will distract the young dancers.  If you are caught peeking, a blind is closed on the window.

Emily looks pretty cute in her leotard, tights and tap shoes.

As part of my continued efforts to counter the negative publicity that George Bush and the neoconservatives are giving the United States around the globe, I’ve been sending postcards to my students from San Francisco (last month) and now Kansas City.  This is a major operation since it involves forty-plus students and writing messages in both Thai and English.  More English for the older children, less for the younger ones.  I spent several hours this morning at a local coffee shop writing a few dozen of the cards.

The messages I write are varied for each student, so that they aren’t all receiving exactly the same thing.  They include innocuous messages like:

Kansas City is in a rural part of the country.  There are a lot of farmers.  They grow corn and wheat.  They do not grow rice because there isn’t enough water.

People in Kansas City are very nice and are curious about visitors from other countries.  Although many of them have never traveled outside the country, they like to learn about other people’s countries and cultures.

There are no canals in Kansas City at all, but there are two big rivers.  One is called the Kansas River and the other is called the Missouri River.  They are both as wide as the Mae Khlong River [a river near Bangkhonthiinai] but much longer.

Hopefully, this sparks their curiosity about the United States and instill a sense that Americans are generally good people.  This, until we end up invading Thailand in order to bring democracy to Southeast Asia. 

This afternoon I had lunch at a Middle Eastern Restaurant called “Holy Land Restaurant”.  It was quite tasty although I have no doubt that just like the Thai food, Chinese food, Mexican food, etc. that it was very watered down for the local clientele. 

Left: Before the put on these cheesy grins, my parents looked more like a version of American Gothic.

Afterwards, we stopped at a Halal market located next door and browsed the interesting ingredients.  Large medjool dates for $5 a pound!

Tomorrow the whole lot of us (grandparents, parents, nieces, sister and borther-in-law) fly to San Francisco to attend Alex’s wedding.  This will be a lot of fun for us.

Saturday afternoon when we went to the grocery store, niece number one (Emily) asked if I’d make apple pie for her.  Her mother was surprised and asked whether she would actually eat it, since Emily has never shown any interest in apple pie.  It seems that as they are learning the alphabet, Emily’s class has identified apple pie as one of the “A” words.

“Sure,” I replied, “I’ll make apple pie if you’ll help me.”

Sunday afternoon I called in my sous chef and got her started peeling the apples which for a four year-old lefty put her coordination to the test. 

No thumbs were lost and while some of the apples looked unfairly mangled and gouged by the peeler, most of the peel was off.  I sliced the apples and then Emily helped mix in the cinnamon, ground cloves, nutmeg and sugar.

Right: Sous chef Emily with the finished pie, ready to be put into the oven.  Notice the “tattoos” on her arm, a signifier of a kitchen tough gal.

Then we rolled out the pie dough, which I had made earlier in the day and had refrigerated.  Emily’s technique was more “mush” rather than “roll” and the pieces of pasty dough needed some reconstructive surgery when laid into to the pie dish.  Before placing the top layer of dough over the filling, Emily grabbed an apple slice and ate it, pronouncing it tasty.

As the pie baked, Emily peered in the oven window, eager for it to finish.  The pie came out a lovely color and when it was cool enough to do so, we posed for some pictures.  After dinner was finished and it was time to cut and serve the pie, Emily decided that she didn’t want to have any pie because she doesn’t like apple pie.  No amount of reasoning would appeal to her: “But these are the same apples that you ate before we baked the pie, and you liked them then!”  No, I don’t like apple pie.

Left: Emily and Chris cut the pie.  Below: Ava poses with the pie, too.

The pie was left for Jennifer, Kevin and me, which was perfectly okay.  Especially since it turned out very nicely with a flaky, tender crust and cooked but not mushy apples.  Below: The finished product.

The Honorary Royal Thai Consul in Kansas City (yes, would you believe there is one here?) is an outgoing and intense middle-aged woman with strawberry blond hair.  When I arrived at the Consulate, I discovered that it is an ordinary suburban Johnson Country house near 103rd Street and Mission Road in Leawood.  The only thing distinguishing it as a Thai Consulate was the Thai flag (below the US flag but above the Kansas flag) and the Royal Government crest hanging near the front porch.

When I rang the doorbell, the Consul popped her head around the door and invited me in, explaining that there was a bit of a crowd inside.  The crowd was composed of her five strawberry blond children ranging from two in diapers to perhaps six or seven years old, and a docile golden retriever who also seemed strawberry blond in color.

The process of getting my non-immigrant business visa for the next year took all of five minutes and the Consul worked at a standing desk in the living room which contained her official government stamps and logs.  She reviewed my application while shooing the children from the living room and apologizing for one’s stinky diaper. 

On the wall over the sofa were portraits of His Majesty the King and Her Majesty the Queen.  A statue of a traditional Thai angel sat on the desk and the third wall had framed copies of the royal decrees proclaiming her to be a consul, all signed by the King.

Curious, I tried to broach the subject of how she had become an Honorary Consul.  She answered, vaguely, that she has been doing business in Thailand for many years and knows the royal family.  As she finished preparing the visa, she asked whether I had seen the King recently (on the television at the recent ceremony to install the new giant swing in front of Khrungthep’s city hall) and how did he look (pretty well, given that he is eighty this December).  She enquired after the Queen and the Crown Prince as well, which was funny because she asked in a way that made it sound like perhaps I ran into them on a regular basis.

In less than ten minutes I had my visa and was on my way, a much easier and more interesting process than if I had FedEx’ed my passport and application to the Houston Consulate.