Day before Songkhran

P1050856 Back from our Songkhran getaway, I’ll give you the first of two entries, this one dating from last Friday. 

Roka’s best friend Stacy arrived on Thursday from Portland, Oregon.  About a month ago Roka asked if I’d take Stacy sightseeing, since Friday would be the one day when Roka was still working and would be unable to show Stacy around.  I agreed and met up with Stacy at lunchtime.

Also, in a bit of serendipity, I met up with another friend who is visiting from Phoenix, back after an eighteen month absence.  The three of us had lunch before Marc headed off to run errands and Stacy and I caught the canal taxi into the old city.

It was hot and sunny on Rattanakosin Island but with a stiff breeze.  The air was unusually clear, not only for this normally smog-choked city but also when considering that a landfill fire had been burning for five days in an adjacent province southeast of the city.

To take advantage of the clear air, we headed to Wat Saket, also known as “Golden Mount”.  This is the highest geographic point in the city, a man-made hill and the only hill in Khrungthep.  The current chedi dates to the reign of King Rama V, who enshrined a Buddha relic belonging to the royal family there in 1877.

Right: View of Wat Saket from San Saeb canal.

In the temple grounds at the base of the hill  there was a Songkhran festival underway, a display of traditional new year’s activities.  Students from a nearby school were wearing traditional outfits, pouring jasmine-scented water over the hands of their elders, washing Buddha images, and playing jump rope and other games.

P1060043 A reporter and cameraman from channel 7 news was on the scene, filming the water blessings.  As I stepped behind the cameraman to try and get the same shot, the reporter said to him, in Thai, “Why don’t you move for that farang behind you.”  To which I repled, “mai pben rai” – no worries!

As soon as she realized that I understood Thai, she decided that she would interview me.  Camera rolling, Stacy and I participated in the water blessing ceremony, pouring water on the hands of the seated elders and wai‘ing them.  Then the reporter asked me a series of questions about why I was interested in these traditional ceremonies and what I though about Thai culture.  I stumbled my way through the short interview, amusing everyone as I went along.  Tawn will be checking with his media clipping service to see if I made the evening news or not.

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After making our media appearance, we climbed the double-helix staircases to take in the view.  The breezes were very cooling at the top of the 100-meter tall hill.  Standing in the shade, all of my sweat dried up.  While not nearly as impressive as the view from the top of the Banyan Tree or Baiyoke 2, there was still a nice view of the old city.  Below, my telephoto lens is maxed out to take this picture of the residence portion of the Grand Palace.

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We enjoyed the view for a while, took some pictures, and watched as the temple assistants strung strings around the chedi so people could attach bills as part of a special collection for charity.  Temple bells, prayers written on the copper clappers, chimed in the wind with a hundred different voices.

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Staying in the shade as much as possible, we walked down Ratchadamnoen Avenue (the Champs Elysees of Khrungthep) past the Iron Pagoda, Democracy Monument, and October 1973 memorial, before catching a taxi to Wat Pho, the Temple of the Reclining Buddha.

P1060080 Since it was already late in the afternoon, the crowds of tourists had gone and monks and laypeople were busy setting up the temple grounds for the Songkhran festivities. 

A pair of novices, aged about eighteen and ten, took a break from shoveling sand to shore up the poles holding the fluttering flags and were making sand sculptures. 

“What are you making?” I asked.  The older one traced a pair of eyes and patted a nose, answering, “The Lord Buddha”.  The younger one smiled as he worked on his mis-shappen hill.  “A chedi!” he responded, confident that his claim could not be disproven.

We continued on, visting the main statue hall where the 46-meter long Buddha in repose never fails to amaze, his serene expression inducing a similar response in most visitors. 

Dwarfed at his side, an artisan made repairs, carefully adding leaves of gold.  Working at no particular hurry, he added one small square after another to the Buddha’s right thigh.

Ignoring the touts and vendors outside the temple, we walked to the nearby pier and jumped aboard the next river taxi.  Dozens of tourists, afraid of missing their stop, stayed crowded at the rear of the boat.  We pushed forward towards the bow, where the crowds were thinner and the breeze more enjoyable.

We eventually made our way back to my condo for a quick chance to freshen up, and to give Stacy an opportunity to meet Tawn.  Then we were on our way via motorcycle taxi to meet Roka, Ken, Markus and Vic at a nearby Thai restaurant.  The motorcycle taxi was a bit of a cheap thrill for Stacy.

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It made for a very pleasant end to the afternoon.  Unfortunately, Tawn did not join because he had dinner with his school friends.  After I finished dinner with my friends, I walked 100 meters down the street to the Chinese restaurant where Tawn was eating.  Their food was just arriving so I stayed and visited, although did not eat.  Pim had brought her daughter Tara with her, who was enjoying playing with her Uncle Tawn, below.

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Off to Bang Saphan for Songkhran

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When it starts getting this hot – that construction workers are lazing about in whatever shade they can find, then you know that Songkhran (Thai New Year) is about here.

Tawn and I are driving down to Bang Saphan, about 480 km south of Krungthep, to spend the first three days of the five-day holiday.  There’s lots more I’ve been meaning to write about, and I’ll get to that upon my return.

Meanwhile, happy Songkhran to you!

A Telling Story – Teenage Castration Debate

File this under “Strange But True”.  There is a debate going on in Thailand between health authorities, teenage transsexuals, gay rights groups, mental health professionals, and anyone else with an opinion on the issue, about whether or not teenage boys who identify as women should be allowed to undergo surgical castration.

What’s interesting about this story, apart from the novelty of it, is that it really offers a lot of insight into Thai culture and the condition of gays and transsexuals in this country.  Without getting into too much detail, let me see if I can give you some meaningful insight:

 

The situation

30070266-01 In the past few weeks it has come to light that some clinics are performing surgical castrations on teenage boys who say they identify as women.  The rationale for performing the surgery is that by removing the testicles before puberty or before puberty is complete, the more masculine characteristics such as deep voice, pronounced Adam’s apple, broad shoulders, muscular development, facial/body hair growth, and eventual male-pattern baldness will be avoided.

Right: A ladyboy shows up at a Thai army conscription center, trying to defy the government’s ban on transwomen participating in military service.

This surgery, which can cost as little as 5,000 baht (about US$160) has apparently been performed with parental consent, presumably from parents in the countryside who do not know much about the issues involved and just want their sons to be happy.  It has also possibly also been performed on teenagers who do not have parental consent. 

The Public Health Ministry intervened and announced a ban on the surgery, apparently for patients of any age, while the issue is sorted out.  Additionally, the Ministry reiterated that the penalty for performing this surgery without parental consent could include revocation of medical licenses, a year imprisonment, and a fine of up to 20,000 baht.

 

Questions Raised 

The outing of this subject has provoked debate among disparate groups.  Questions that have been raised include:

Are teenage boys emotionally mature enough to make the decision to be castrated?  What risk of damage is there physically – e.g. hormones, bone development, etc.?  Do young gays feel like they have to do this in order to be accepted – i.e. better to be a transsexual rather than a gay man?  Is withholding the surgery making the transition into the correct gender more difficult later on and if so, do we have a right to deny people that choice?

 

344285131_5ee72d3ce0 Sorting Through the Issues

Unlike in many other countries, young men in Thailand often seem to become aware of their non-heterosexuality at an early age.  This may be for a variety of reasons, including the general tolerance of gays and transvestites in Thai culture, as well as their greater visibility than in some other countries. 

Left: A Thai “ladyboy” performing in one of the cabaret shows for which Bangkok is famous.

Saying that Thailand is more accepting of gays and transsexuals is actually a broad generalization and really ignores some important complexities to the issue, but I’m not going to get into that right now other than to say that – broadly speaking – Thais are more accepting of transwomen (people biologically born as men who identify as women) than they are of gay men.

The committee that recommended the ban suggested that there are potential physical health issues that can occur because of prepubescent castration.  While I’m no doctor, a poke about the internet didn’t turn up any especially notable issues.  Castrated boys are likely to grow taller because testosterone slows long bone growth, and they will likely have less body strengths and overall muscle mass, but it doesn’t appear that there are major health risks associated with the surgery.

From a mental health standpoint, there may be more serious concerns.  The biggest is around whether or not a teenage boy who may opt for the surgery does so because he actually identifies as a woman.  In many western countries, extensive psychological evaluation is undergone before permission is given for gender reassignment surgery.  That may not be the case in Thailand and is certainly not the case for teenage castration, which is seen as giving similar results as a sex-change operation.

Something I’ve learned is that for young men who identify as not being heterosexual, there is a lot of – not quite an accurate term but I’ll call it “peer pressure” – to identify as a transsexual.  There are many reasons contributing to this, but in general there is a lack of viable role models for gay men.  The ones that we see very prominently on TV and in movies are almost always extremely effeminate and are usually the butt of jokes.  They’re either “bitchy queens” (pardon my language, Grandpa) or sissies.  But what we don’t see are examples of gay men who conform to more masculine standards of appearance and behavior.

(Side note: I realize that by making these generalizations there is the potential to open up a huge debate about gender and sexual identity and what “masculine” and “feminine” really mean and how those identities are constructed.  For the purpose of this blog, I’m going to just stick with the traditionally constructed definitions and apologize in advance to anyone I offend.)

“Someone would choose to identify as a transsexual even if that wasn’t how they really felt, rather than identify as a gay man?”  This may sound unbelievable to you.  It sounded unbelievable to me, too, when I first heard this theory put forth.  But a friend shared this observation made by a ladyboy friend of his: 

“I figured it would be easier for me to be with a man by being a woman, than if I remained as a man.”

Gay Thai men I know have confirmed that when they were younger and defining their identity, there was a lot of pressure from some of the other boys to identify as ladyboys and transsexuals.  As Tawn explained it, there was a conflict there because he knew he wasn’t a woman, and yet there weren’t any clear role models of masculine gay men.  Because of this, I’d say there is a reasonable doubt to be had when it comes to the question of whether teenage boys are ready psychologically to go under the knife.

 

That leaves us with the final question, of whether or not we have the right to withhold this procedure from a young man who does accurately identify as a woman, forcing him to develop into a masculine body that will make it more difficult for him to claim his correct gender identity as he later transitions towards being a woman.

This is a difficult question, I think.  If the medical questions can be put to rest, and there is a way to legitimately determine that the young man does indeed suffer from gender dysphoria, a condition brought on by a “mismatch” of the body’s sex and the person’s gender identify, then maybe we should allow the surgery to go ahead, easing the transition from man to woman. 

If those questions cannot be adequately answered, then I’d agree that it is best to make young men wait before taking so irreversible an action as castration surgery.

What do you think?

 

As an interesting side observation: this entire discussion in the Thai press has not addressed the issue of young women who identify as men at all.  On the gay Thai chatboards there has been debate as to whether breast reduction surgery for young women faces the equivalent questions, medically and morally, as does the castration of teenage boys.

 

A weather momento of my grandparents

P1050999 Yes, as the thermometer shows, it is hot season.  And just like hot season anywhere in the tropics, heat comes with rain which the humidity gauge (what do you call them, humidimeters?) shows, too. 

Interestingly, we’ll get more of the rain when rainy season begins around late June so don’t let this 100% humidity scare you away.  It does get worse!  Or, at least, wetter.

There is a little story behind this retro-fifties combo temperature and humidity gauge.  This hung in the Merriam, Kansas home of my paternal grandparents for as long as I can remember. 

Being midwesterners, the weather was always a topic of interest and concern.  Letters and phone calls pretty quickly addressed the recent and current state of the weather, often offering comparisons to extremes set in previous years:

“Lots of rain, the most we’ve had since the spring of ’73…”

“Don’t recall a snow before Halloween except that October after we moved into the house..”

On the coasts, where people see themselves as so much more sophisticated than the people in “flyover country”, the arrival of weather as a topic is a clichéd sign that the conversation is about to die a sudden death or get bogged down like a superpower in a third world nation.  Not so in the midwest, where weather is front and center in the evening newscast and equally prominent in conversation and correspondence.

Now that I’m here in Thailand, I miss those detailed weather reports.  I know there is more going on than, “Very hot with a chance of rain.”  I feel a breeze… is that a low pressure system?  From where?  How can people live without knowing?

In the final fourteen months before I left the US for Thailand, I lived in my grandmother’s house.  By then she was in assisted living until she passed away three years ago this summer, preceeded by my grandfather fifteen years before that.  As we cleaned up the house and sorted through their things, this thermometer struck me as a small keepsake that would remind me of my grandparents.  It was also a little piece of my fourteen months of being a Kansan.

 

Ride finds combines and, eventually, Hell

Sorry for the delay in writing.  My computer’s hard drive, which I swear I’ve been cleaning up and organizing all along, nonetheless reached 95% capacity and until I offloaded some of the contents onto DVDs and external drives, I was unable to edit the video I wanted to attach to this entry.  I finally had some time to do that and am ready to write this post.  For some reason, I just can’t allow myself to post too out of order so various events from this week will trickle out over the next few days.

Ride Area Overview Last Sunday morning, Stuart, Markus and I went riding in Minburi.  There was a 70km ride scheduled with the Thai Cycling Club in an area south of the city, but those rides move really slow and make lots of stops.  Not wanting to be beholden to a hundred other people, we opted to set out on our own.

This was Stuart’s second ride with me and his first as a proud owner of a new bicycle.  The previous day he had rented a bicycle from Spiceroads, a company that does very good bicycle tours.  He was so dissatisfied with the quality of the rental bike that when he met me at the bicycle shop for a little browsing he had, unbeknownst to me, already decided to buy.  And I thought I’d have to cajole him a little!

The ride site was, as usual, the rice paddies and surrounding countryside in Minburi and Nong Chuk, northeast of the city although still within the Khrungthep province, pictured right.  It took about an hour to get there, since we were looking for a well-placed wat (temple) at which we could park.

We did find a quiet country wat and pulled in and took the bikes off the rack.  I asked a dek wat – literally a “temple child” or assistant to the monks, who in this case is a man in his fifties – whether it would be okay to park there for a few hours.  He said it would and when I asked whether he had ever had any farang bicycle riders come through the wat, he surprised me by saying that it happens a few times a month.  He also kindly suggested I move my car to a spot that would be in the shade when I returned and asked me to make sure the doors were locked.

We set out along the northern of the two roads that border khlong San Saeb, the same canal that the canal taxi boats run along inside the city.  From there we headed down some small soi that led through vaguely residential areas.  These roads are familiar territory as I’ve been down them several times before.  We worked our way to “the invisible lake”, below, a rather sizeable body of water that doesn’t appear on either my road atlas of the greater Khrungthep area or on Google Maps, although the satellite view does show it.

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The lake is on private property, which is probably why it doesn’t appear on the maps, but there is no fence so Markus suggested that we try to ride around it.  I’m always a little hesitant to leave public roads and venture onto private property.  While Thais in general aren’t the shotgun-toting type, I’m a big believer in property rights and respecting them. 

We headed out and found the path pretty rough and, about a quarter way around (a little past the promontory you see in the picture) the paths became impassable and because of some reverse irrigation, very muddy.  Actually, the gears and brakes of my bike were clogged with mud and straw making it necessary to do some dirty cleaning.

P1050921 Along the way, we encountered some cows.  Taking care to not spook them, as getting gored by a cow is not my idea of fun, I stopped to take a few pictures of a trio of calves who were resting nearby, left.

They were really cute.  When Tawn saw this picture he announced that he wanted to adopt them.

We continued, leaving the lake and more developed areas behind for the open rice fields of Nong Chuk.  Before you know it, the trees and scattered houses (many no more than shacks) gave way to a view of endless green meeting the big sky a long and hazy way off.

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In the midst of this we stopped to investigate a park that is under construction, below.  Being built by the local Buddhists in a largely Muslim corner of the province, it will eventually become a wat but for the time being will be a park honoring a revered monk.  Much of the compound is being built in a basin that looks like it might have been intended as an irrigation lake.  Speaking with the construction foreman, I discovered he was proficient at English so I asked a few questions, answered a few questions, and enjoyed the ice water his wife offered us.

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Below, architectural detail of the statue that is being constructed in the picture above.  While I originally assumed it would be an image of Buddha, as is the white one in the saffron colored robe, it turns out it will depict a revered monk.

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P1050929 In front of the statue was a platform that had been set up with offerings, above.  It seems that there had been a ceremony the previous day (or maybe earlier that morning) to dedicate the whole affair. 

The flower arrangements were amazing, depicting many traditional forms and mythical creatures.  The main one, pictured right, has a bull on top (a nod to Brahmanism) with the creatures depicting the Chinese zodiac around the base. 

This was the centerpiece of the offerings, a white cloth suspended overhead on a network of white strings that connected all the offerings to the new statue. 

These strings are used in Buddhism, during various ceremonies, to literally connect participants to a venerated object like an image of the Buddha, in essence combining their collective prayers.  Sort of a Buddhist prayer daisy-chain.

In the picture below, the image of Buddha is shown in a traditional seated posture with a multi-headed naga, or mythological deity in serpent form, forming a protective hood over him. 

P1050932 As the story goes, the naga Muscalinda protected Siddhartha Gautama as he meditated under the bodhi tree.  After forty-nine days the heavens clouded over and it rained for seven days.  Muscalinda sheltered Gautama from the elements as he attained enlightenment, becoming the supreme Buddha (or “Awakened One”) of our age.  How’s that for a little Buddhist history you may not have known?

In any case, the detail of this arrangement is incredible.  The heads of the naga are made of rolled leaves, the mouths lined with small purple flowers and the teeth made of jasmine.  Only the tongues are not natural, made using red ribbon.

I’m fascinated at how there are so many elements of Buddhist mythology that trace back to Hinduism.  No surprise of course, as Buddhism was born in a Hindu society and Gautama’s family would surely have been Hindu.  But the liberal borrowing of creatures and stories is interesting.

We continued our ride and stopped for a bowl of noodles at a small nondescript restaurant at the intersection of two equally nondescript roads.  Despite the unremarkable restaurant, the bowl of pork noodles was really tasty and at twenty baht would almost be worth a ride all the way back out there!

Heading north, I wondered about Wat Peuchamongkol, a temple I’ve been to on two previous rides with Spiceroads.  It is a temple that has an amusement park-like depiction of heaven and hell.  While I had the name written down, like the lake this temple didn’t appear on any maps.

Rather serendipitously we ran into it about fifteen minutes later, a stroke of luck and nothing more.  I watched the bikes while Markus and Stuart went to hell and then, on my recommendation, heaven.  Afterwards, we stopped at the vendors in the car park – this is something of a tourist attraction – and had cold drinks.  Stuart fed the fish in the khlong to earn some merit.

P1050940 This being summer break, the temple had plenty of naen – novices – running around.  It is common for young men in Thailand to spend a period of time in the monkhood before their early twenties.  This is done in order to earn merit for your parents, enabling them to be reborn in a better position – defined as being closer to enlightenment – in their next lives. 

Traditionally, this is done during the rainy season when the monks would return from their wanderings to gather at the temples so as to avoid treading on newly-planted rice in the fields.  In modern times, it is common to do it during school break, sort of a religious summer camp.

There were ten or so novices, four of whom are pictured right, playing around by the vendors, considering which treats they’d like to buy.  While their heads and eyebrows were shaved and they’re undoubtedly receiving some religious instruction, they were behaving every bit like young boys: loud, rowdy, and aggressive.  One of them had a small metal object in his hands and when I asked him what it was, he responded with the Thai word borrowed from English, la-zuh

Sure enough, it was a small laser pointer.  The boys all laughed as he projected a red spot on a fellow novice’s forehead, another interesting if unintentional allusion to the Hindu roots of Buddhism.

Riding in the countryside provides an unlimited number of opportunities to appreciate the blessings of my life.  One was this couple paddling by the temple in their canoe, their stomachs distended, a possible symptom of hepatitis B.

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It was a little past noon and the sun was hot and high.  Even trying to drink a lot of water and reapply the sunscreen, it was getting uncomfortable, so we headed back towards the car which was still ten kilometers away.  Along the way, even though according to the map we were still inside the province (although near the edge) we passed this “Welcome to Bangkok” sign, below.  There’s quite a bit of growth on the sign that looks like moss.  The sign does face north…

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P3300069 On the final stretch, we noticed a large amount of smoke rising from the fields to the east of us.  We turned down into a small housing development – a single soi with shoulder-to-shoulder one bedroom single story houses – until we found the fire trucks.  One of the locals explained that there was a grass fire behind the houses and the firemen were trying to fight it from there.  One of the trucks left and we passed them later as they tried to find another path to the fire.

As we spoke with the residents, a small crowd of children gathered.  The boys are always more outgoing than the girls, so when Markus pulled out his camera they ran up to pose for a picture, above.  I made multiple copies of the photo today and will mail the copies to them, in care of the neighbor in the picture who gave me his address.

This is always the best part of exploring outside of Khrungthep.  There are so many friendly people who are excited and curious about strangers: Where are you from?  How long have you been here?  How do you like Thailand?

I’ve never met a people who are more genuinely flattered that people choose to visit their country.  The jaded natives of Khrungthep and tourist towns aside, Thais are generally very proud that their country is such a popular destination.  I wish Americans were a bit more welcoming of visitors.  The xenophobic streak that seems to be on the rise in the U.S. will only be detrimental to the country’s future.

Lest this descend into politics, let me conclude with a video of the rice harvesting we saw.  This is the end of the primary rice growing season in Thailand and we saw a lot of combines while we were riding.  Here’s a short bit about that:

 

Beignet Attempt

DSCF6787 It has been a quest… a dream of sorts, really… to create my own beignets.  It stretches back even further than our trip to San Francisco in March 2007 where we had a divine Sunday brunch at Boulette’s Larder at the Ferry Building featuring Garam Masala beignets.  It stretches all the way back to a previous visit when they had Chinese Five Spice beignets.  Crispy, hot, yeasty, without a drop of oil on the napkins lining the serving dish.  In short – deep-fried perfection.

Let’s take a closer look at those:

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They just look amazing, don’t they?

Ever since I tasted them, I decided that I wanted to try making beignets, too.  Key acquisitions in order to do this: a stove with good heat control and an oil thermometer.

Every recipe I found for beignets online seemed to be a copy of the exact same recipe.  Either everyone in the world makes beignets the exact same way or there’s some serious plagiarism going on.  To top it off, all these recipes called for seven cups of flour.  Seven cups!?  I’m not feeding an army here.  If two cups of flour will give me buttermilk biscuits for four, I certainly don’t need seven cups for my beignets.

Still, never having made beignets before I didn’t want to start experimenting yet.  Caving in, I measured out my seven cups of flour.

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It also contains yeast, water, shortening, sugar, eggs, salt, and evaporated milk.  Theses were summarily mixed together.

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Then placed in an oiled bowl and allowed to rise overnight in the refrigerator.  Even at the cold temperatures, the yeast was prodigious and I was getting a little afraid that I would be woken up by the beeping alarm of my refrigerator door once it had been burst open by the overproductive dough.

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With Stuart’s help taking pictures, I rolled out the dough.  Here is a point where the recipes diverged ever so slightly.  Some said “roll to 1/8 inch” while others said “roll to 1/4 inch”. 

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When it comes to dough, doubling the height is a big different.  I started out with 1/8 on the first third of the dough and opted to cut out rounds rather than squares, just for the heck of it.

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I then heated the oil to 180 C.  Even with an induction stove it is really tricky to keep the oil at a steady temperature as once it heats up, it takes a while to cool down even if it is off the burner.

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Finally, the temperature was right and I started adding beignets.  The first few bobbed immediately to the surface, when it was my understanding they should stay submerged for at least a little while before coming up for air.  We cooked several batches, testing as we went.  The 1/8 inch beignets seemed to cook too quickly so we tried some at 1/4 inch.  These were a little better.

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After several tries, the cooking seemed to come out a little better.  I think that the oil needed to actually be just a little cooler so they didn’t cook too fast.  There were also some experiments with folding the dough several times to create layers but all that seemed to do was create tough beignets.

Here they are, served in the style of Cafe du Monde in New Orleans, a trio under a dusting of powdered sugar.

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My conclusion is that the dough itself lacked flavor and complexity.  I think if I had made a starter and let it ferment for a few hours, the beignets might have had more flavor.  Also, a bit more salt would have helped.

Ultimately, though, I’m not sure I’m cut out for deep frying.  Even with the air purifier running all night and the kitchen exhaust fans running the next day, the house has had the lingering odor of donuts.  Maybe I can get an outdoor stove and cook on the balcony?

 

P.S. Just a note on the Xanga spell check: why are words like “thermometer”, “gay”, and “I’d” not in there?

 

Downstream Recycling

It was a computer-free weekend for me, thus no new entry until today.  Sometimes I feel like I spend too much time in front of the computer, since my job is entirely based on working on the computer and I have several projects (including this blog) that see much of my “free” time spent staring at the screen.

So this weekend, I opted to take a break from the computer.  I did all sorts of exciting things including making beignets, going on a long bicycle ride, and catching some sort of digestive discomfort.  Maybe I should have stayed in front of the computer, huh?

Anyhow, getting back into the swing of things, here is an entry based on some observations I made about recycling in the Big Mango:

 

When I first moved to Khrungthep, I was appalled by what I perceived was the lack of any recycling.  In fact, on my first trip back to the US, I filled one suitcase with large plastic water bottles (the 5-gallon size, cut in half so they could nest together).  It was only later that I discovered that recycling does happen here in the Big Mango, but it is so-called “downstream” recycling.  This means that I can throw my rubbish in the bin without a care in the world, and someone who makes much less money than I do, will sort it all our for me.

Since discovering that, I started to separate the items that were readily recyclable and place them in a separate bag or container, so they would be easy to find.  Also, all of my table scraps and vegetable peelings are put in a milk carton in order to keep the rest of my rubbish clean.

P1050787 But I didn’t realize just how much recycling is actually occurring until the other morning when I was up early.  There is a large condo complex, some thirty stories, kitty-corner to ours and three mornings a week the rubbish collectors arrive. 

Long before sunrise, they are banging around and making noise, but I never really saw what they were doing until one morning when we had the perfect convergence of factors: the sun was rising earlier, they were running behind schedule, and I was up extra early.

What I saw was eye-opening and gave me a much greater appreciation for the extent to which recycling does take place.

The rubbish collectors actually open every single bag of refuse and sort through them.  On the back of their truck are bags into which they sort just about everything that could be recycled: glass, plastic, newspaper, cardboard, etc.  All of the plastic bags – including the ones in which the rubbish was disposed – are collected for recycling.  It has to be one of the most unpleasant jobs I can imagine and one of the most labor intensive, too.

I shot some video of the process:

This just reinforces for me the importance of keeping my refuse as clean as possible.  It also makes a good case for using the shredder for any documents with personal information on them.

 

Reduce, reuse, recycling: the Three R’s that we’ve all learned are the cornerstone of environmental awareness.  Of course, there should be a fourth R preceding the others: rethink – as in, rethinking processes and systems so they are less consumptive of resources in the first place.

P1050822 It seems that “just saying no” to plastic bags has become the cause de jour all around the world.  Designer “I’m Not a Plastic Bag” tote bags are being sold for top dollar, supermarkets offer reusable bags, and t-shirts have been supplanted in the world of freebie giveaways by canvas and cloth bags stamped with promotional logos and environmentally feel-good slogans.

In January, Beijing joined the list of municipalities imposing some sort of ban or restrictions on the use of plastic shopping bags.  I was in Hong Kong at the time and read an interesting article about the ban in the South China Morning Post.  The article quoted Li Wei.  “I like the idea of limiting the use of plastic bags because it is a good think for society.” said the Beijing office clerk, “But why should I, a small citizen, bear the extra inconvenience?”

That quote leads me to wonder whether or not these types of initiatives are really that effective.  Do they really make a difference?  They don’t seem to actually change any of the fundamental behaviors of people.  We still drive too many cars, live in houses that are larger than we need, consume all sorts of things that are wasteful and extravagant, etc. 

200px-Earth-Hour-Logo A good example of questionable benefits was the recent “Earth Hour” – a movement to have everyone switch off their lights and electrical appliances for one hour the past Saturday evening. 

Maybe the value is more symbolic than anything else, but when there are official t-shirts for sale from the website, candlelight weddings and outdoor broadcasts by the Weather Channel using only LED lights, I’m inclined to view these efforts as gimmickry rather than anything meaningful.

Another very important point to consider is that some of these efforts are affected by the agendas of their sponsors, more so than honest goodwill and concern for the environment.  See this interesting media criticism by Andrew Bolt. 

As they say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  Maybe these types of events and actions are those single steps.  But until I see people in Western countries showing up at their city planning commission and saying, “Yes, I’d like more mixed-use, high-density development, please” or, “Instead of adding another lane to that freeway, why don’t we add bus rapid transit service?” then I’m going to be skeptical that we’re really rethinking the fundamentals of our relationship with the world around us.

 

Visitors from NY

Over the last week we’ve had a trio of visitors in town from New York City: Malcolm and Sally and their friend Biing.  Malcolm is a film maker whom I met working about six years ago at the SF International Asian American Film Festival.  We’ve stayed in touch since then and I’m very glad they had the opportunity to come visit.

Their friend Biing arrived first, two days ahead of them.  Malcolm put us in touch and he was able to join us last Saturday at Pune’s farewell party.  Having never met Biing before, I was initially concerned whether he’d feel comfortable at a dinner party that was half women and the other half gay men.  Within thirty seconds after meeting him I realized my concerns were misplaced.

Pune decided to cook for us, as she’ll be heading off to her new life in Germany soon and won’t have the opportunity to cook for us anymore.  The menu was Thai: spicy ground pork dip (with pita bread, the only non-Thai item), rice noodle nests and chicken red curry.  Tasty!

Below: Pune toasts the pita bread; Tam goofs around.

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Below: Tawn and Issara, Tam’s childhood friend.

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Above: Tawn and Bing.  Below: Pune poses with the food, Tam, and Frederic.

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Above: Me, Tawn and Biing.

It made for a very fun Saturday evening and, thankfully, one that wasn’t too late.  Sunday morning we were up at a reasonable hour and picked up Biing at his hotel for a trip to the Jatujak Weekend Market.  We started on the food side of the market, technically another market altogether as it is open seven days a week.

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We bought a range of tasty food including a mackerel in curry and a stir-fried pumpkin and egg dish, above.

Below, Biing enjoys the food.

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P1050816 Right, outside the market we saw a group of young men in painted faces out to advertise some product.  Don’t know if they were looking so down because of the weather or because of the product they were advertising, but they were definitely sad clowns.

 

 

 

P1050818 Tawn tried on some shorts at a tiny vendor’s stall in the market.  There was no changing room or even a changing corner, so the vendor had an elastic-waist skirt you could wear to cover yourself while slipping shorts on and off.  At one point Tawn almost forgot he hadn’t put his shorts back on and started to remove the skirt!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

During their time here, I was able to meet up with Malcolm, Sally and Biing several times.  Finally, Wednesday evening Kobfa, Tawn and I joined them for dinner at Tae Ling Pling then met up with Vic on top of the Banyan Tree hotel for drinks.

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Above: Tawn and I wait at Surasak station for our guests to arrive.  Below: On top of the Banyan Tree Hotel from left to right, Biing, Vic, Tawn, Kobfa, Malcolm and Sally.

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The view:

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Cheers!

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Between work and my visitors, I haven’t had as much time to update my blog, Facebook, etc.  But that’s okay as it was a fun time.

 

Pumpkin Lasagna, Redux

A few months ago I experimented with a recipe in an Australian food magazine for pumpkin lasagna.  While tasty, the results were a bit bland with the pumpkin itself tasting flat.  Last week I decided to give it another try and see if I could bring out something more in the flavor.

Using butternut squash instead of pumpkin, I baked the squash until tender and then mixed it to a pulp in my Kitchen Aid.  The original recipe didn’t call for anything more than a modest amount of salt and pepper.  I added more salt and also added curry powder, cumin, and a pinch of cayenne pepper.

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For the cheese-based filling, I tried a few different things.  For starters, I used a combination of jack and cheddar cheeses instead of mozzarella for a sharper flavor that would complement the spices.  Additionally, I used a healthy dose of cracked black pepper and ground New Mexico chilies, which add fragrance but not a lot of heat.  The ricotta I bought was drier than I’m used to, almost like feta cheese, so I had to add water to it so the no-boil noodles would have enough moisture.  Two eggs were added to bind it together.

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Everything was assembled in the lasagna dish and then topped with more of the cheddar-jack mixture.  I covered it with aluminium and baked for one hour at 160 degrees celsius.  After removing the cover, I gave it another thirty minutes until the top was golden and the cheese was melted.

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After removing the lasagna from the oven, I melted a few tablespoons of butter with some ground walnuts and fresh sage leaves and then poured the mixture over the lasagna.

Below, our table setting.  Wouldn’t I like you to believe this is a typical weeknight dinner?

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And the results of the effort, a much more flavorful and substantive pumpkin lasagna.  Next time, I’d like to try adding back some of the mozzarella to the cheese mixture, though, to get added stringiness.

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