Going for a Sunday Ride to Sagaing

One of the best things that's happened to me recently was meeting my new friend Sai.  He's from Mandalay, in his early 30's and just returned from 10 years studying and working in the United States.  He's a kind, intelligent man with a great sense of humor.  He's homesick for America and enjoys hanging out, speaking English and talking about the United States.  I love his knowledge of Myanmar along with his understanding of an American perspective.

He picked me up last Sunday so we could spend the day checking out the sites.  We started at a local monastery.  To celebrate recent special occasions (father's birthday, sister-in-law's birthday and brother and sister-in-law's wedding anniversary) the family was providing food for the monks at the monastery they "attend".  I put that in quotes because it's not quite the same as when Christians or Jews in America attend weekly services at church or temple, but Buddhist families have relationships with their own monastery and get to know the monks.

On our way to the monastery, we stopped to check out this upscale resort.  Very nice and prices are about the same in the restaurant as the US.  Rooms are more expensive than a comparable hotel in the US.

Sai at the monastery

These are the more senior monks who are also teachers.

Harry is Sai's nephew and attends Montessori preschool at AIS.

This is his big brother, William.  He's one of my first-graders and how I met Sai.

Mother of Harry and William, sister-in-law of Sai.  Beautiful Myanmar woman who exemplifies the beauty, grace and style that is valued here.

The monks range in age but the requirements are the same.  These young boys are students.  Their families choose for them to be monks at this age.  When they are about 18, they will decide if they want to remain a monk for life.

The food looked and smelled delicious.

Monks and nuns only eat once a day, before noon.  On special days, like this one, Sai's family told the monks they wanted to provide food for that day.  They actually provided the money and the monks bought the groceries and cooked.  Sai's family (and the family's servants) helped serve the monks and also ate, after the monks were done.

The food looked delicious but I'd just finished breakfast so didn't eat.  There was chicken, a variety of vegetables, lots of rice, fruit and cake for dessert.  When the monks aren't provided food like this, they take an alms bowl out on the street to silently ask for food.  It is considered a blessing or mitzvah to give food to a monk or nun.  The monks and nuns are not allowed to wear shoes during this time, which is usually early morning and this time of year, very chilly.

When all the food is collected, the monks return to the monastery and all the food they've collected is pooled and then divided equally and eaten communally.

After an hour or so at the monastery, we headed out.  I asked if we could stop at a shop I'd seen that sells wicker chairs like the two I recently bought.  I wanted to buy a foot stool and was in luck.  Found just what I wanted and got to take photos of the nice ladies working there.  People in Mandalay are getting used to seeing Caucasian tourists, but not so much in stores like this that cater to locals.

These young sales people were giggling and trying to hide behind each other for the photo.  They're wearing traditional longye clothing and thanaka on thier faces.

This woman is making a chair like the two I bought from another store.  I got a foot stool to match.  My apartment is now furnished!  Chairs, btw, were $25 each and foot stool was $8.

We continued our drive to our next stop - Sai's family's manufacturing plant.  He was excited to show me and I couldn't wait to see it.  They make plastics for the agricultural sector.  One major product that they were producing that day is batter operated backpacks used by farmers and landscapers for fertilizing, etc.  There are over 160 employees and almost all are women.  We discussed that and Sai explained the women just show up and do the work.  Men tend to argue, fight and waste time more.  The employees were very quiet as they went about their work.  Apparently that's not typical but when an owner and foreigner stroll through, everyone is on their best (and quietest) behavior.  Still lots of smiles for me from the women though, who giggled when I said hello in Myanmar.

After leaving the plant we drove through a relatively new, very affluent residential neighborhood.  It is near the new stadium, which was built for the SEA games.  The houses are each worth millions of US dollars and most are huge since they house multi-generational families.  Land prices here have skyrocketed.  That, combined with hard working people, has created a whole nouveau-riche culture.  Mansions are springing up everywhere.  Some look more like hotels than houses.  Because there appears to be little, if any, city planning many of the mansions are on dirt roads next to scum filled swamps and make-shift housing for those who haven't struck it rich.  

As we moved past the mansions to an area which is more representative of where the workers from Sai's plant live, we passed men playing sepak thakraw.  Very popular in SE Asia, it is amazing to watch.  Normally played with 3 on each side, it is like beach volley ball.  But played with a softball sized ball made of bamboo.  And with a net but you can't use your hands, only your feet or head.  It is amazing to watch and as much as I wanted to take photos I didn't want to disrupt their game any more than I did by just watching for a few minutes.  You can see a sample on this video.

We also passed a boy and girl at a small shop playing some type of board game.  Not quite checkers, not quite chess.  Again, I didn't take photos, although I suspect that while they would have been a bit embarrassed, they wouldn't have minded.  Sai explained to them that I'd never seen the game and was just curious.

Continuing on our way to Sagaing, near Amarapura which is like a suburb of Mandalay, I asked Sai what was going on on the other side of the divided road.  We stopped so I could take photos and we could watch.  It seems an entire village was celebrating that their young boys and girls were being taken to the monasteries to become monks and nuns.  For some children, this is very temporary, only ten days.  For others, it's the beginning of a life dedicated to Buddha.  All Buddhist men are expected to serve as a monk two or three times, once as a child, once as a teen and again in their 20's.

This was in no way a tourist event.  I was the only one snapping pictures.  People did not seem to object and most smiled and many waved.  The rock band on one "float" kicked it up a notch when they saw Sai and I watching and taking photos.  It was the kind of amazing experience that makes me so love living here.

I'm having technical challenges in putting captions to these so I'm going at it a different way.  From top to bottom:  This woman was wearing a traditional longyi and carrying what I assume will be an offering for Buddha at the monastery.

Next, several groups of women were wearing matching longyis.  Members of the same family, I'm assuming.

The next two photos are boys going to become monks.  You'll notice they are wearing makeup and look like girls.  Seems that's the tradition to dress boys like that because that's how a former king dressed.  I don't completely understand it and need to do more research.

Next came a float with a rock band, blasting music.  They were one of 3 or 4 trucks blasting music as the procession moved down the highway.

After the rock band comes the special carts pulled by oxen.  They carry the young girls who are going to become nuns.  The carts and oxen are highly decorated.  There is a company that rents them for events like this.

The final picture is the end of the parade and the traffic which had been backed up as people tried to pass.  This is a major road leading into Mandalay and there were hundreds of people, horses, oxen, etc. walking in the procession.

As the procession moved on, Sai and I got back into the car and headed toward Sagaing.  There's not much to see there, except the hill covered in temples and pagodas.  The views are amazing and this was my introduction to a week in Bagan also filled with temples.

Because I seem to be having technical problems, I'll post the Sagaing photos separately.

Impressions and Memories of the Last Couple of Months

I'm not sure if it's my age or what, but time seems to be flying faster than ever.  It seems as if it's Monday morning and when I turn around it is Sunday.  Since I opted for a staycation over the holidays in Mandalay, I'm enjoying the time to just catch my breath, relax and get caught up on stuff I've been putting off for months.

Before I forget them, I want to jot down some experiences and impressions from recent months.

• Myanmar has struggled over the last decades, politically and economically.  Things are improving but the country's infrastructure needs so much work.  Health care, for example.  As a result of Mark Owen's recent traffic accident (he was hit by a truck while riding his motorbike) I've been asked to put together a policy for the school on getting emergency treatment for injured teachers.  The health care in Mandalay is not the best and getting out of the country is not easy.  

  

  A dog napping on the dirty floor in the hallway of the largest government hospital in Mandalay.

  
  

  

  Getting Mark from the ER and Radiology to get an ultrasound required a trip outside.  Notice the gurney is bare metal. We made this trip more than once, by the way, since they determined he also needed a CAT scan.  That was a brand new piece of equipment.

  
  

  

  The Mandalay airport has jetways but I've never seen them used.  Instead, Mark had to endure being carried up by baggage handlers.  The jerking was not good for his broken ribs and punctured lung.  While Air Asia has jetways it uses in Bangkok and knew that they had someone on board who needed to get off in a wheelchair there was neither a jetway or wheelchair when we arrived.  It took over an hour to get off the plane after everyone else had disembarked and was the worst example of customer service I have ever seen.  Ever.
  

• Sounds always remind me of where I've been.  Most of the time they're in the background and I'm not even conscious of them.  Other times, like the early morning church "bells" and roosters in my village in Samoa, they can't be missed. A sound I'll always associate with Myanmar is that of horns honking.  Because driving rules here are loosely applied, cars, trucks, motorcycles all honk to let you know they're coming up on you from behind.  Or if they see that you might be trying to cross the road they honk to warn you not to.  Or to let you know that they are in the lane next to you.  While I wish AIS was closer to the center of town to make dining and shopping easier, I appreciate the relative quiet of being on the outskirts of the city.
  
  I was surprised and laughed out loud at a sound I heard repeatedly at the Chatachuk market in Bangkok.  Prior to making an announcement on the loudspeaker they would play the exact same bell tones used on cruise ships.  
  
  I still think I'm hearing helicopters when Chinese made trucks go by.  They sound exactly the same.  And at the same volume.
  
  I generally prefer silence to noise.  I've never understood why people walk on the beach listening to Ipods instead of waves.  After a day in a room with 29 first graders, I do not want to go to a noisy restaurant or bar.  I'm looking forward to my fellow teachers returning from the holiday travels but while they're gone I'm enjoying how quiet the apartment building is.
  
• Transportation is my greatest challenge (other than language) in Mandalay.  In Bangkok, you can usually grab an inexpensive taxi anywhere.  Friday and Saturday nights, especially when it's raining are exceptions.  In Mandalay, taxis are expensive and can be hard to get.  Getting a taxi to pick me up at school requires a phone call.  Because simcards are so expensive here (about $250 USD) I don't have one.  I ask a school guard to call for me.  But the guards generally don't speak English.  Usually that's no problem.  They know "taxi".  But if I want to be sure a taxi picks me up an hour from now?  Not possible to communicate.  Usually it takes 15 - 30 minutes to get a cab.  But it's not unusual to take a couple of hours and a few times I just gave up.
  
  If I'm cooking and forgot to get X ingredient it involves a taxi ($10 fare) to drive the 15-20 minutes to the store, then back.  I usually just ditch my plan for dinner.  Or beg another teacher to make a shopping run on their motorbike.  I don't have a motorbike because of the traffic and healthcare situation.
  
  Dinner out generally means hiring a taxi to take me to the restaurant, wait for me, then take me home.  That means the taxi is generally at least twice what I pay for a nice dinner.  I tried having the driver not wait around and had the restaurant call a taxi for me when I was ready to leave.  The driver didn't speak English, there was miscommunication and the normal 15 minute ride turned into an 1 1/2 hour adventure.
  
  I thought I'd reached a solution to my dilemma.  I found a nice taxi driver, who speaks English and was willing to give me a bit of a discount for using him regularly.  Then I had a wallet dropping incident during the recent emergency trip to Bangkok and lost his phone number.  Damn.  U Soe Min, where are you???

  

  I still have not gotten over my fear of crossing four lane roads with no traffic signals and pedestrians don't have right of way.  But I do it.  Because even a chicken has to cross the road.

  
  

  

  Trucks, motorbikes, cars, buses, bicycles, pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages all share the roads.  To get a driver's license you just have to pay a fee.  

Photos of Bagan

I decided to use my time off over the holidays for a "staycation", relaxing and exploring Mandalay. I also wanted to visit Bagan and am glad I did.  Some fellow teachers said they preferred it to Angkor Wat.  Primarily because it is still relatively not overcrowded with tourists.  I'm glad I saw it now since I suspect in a couple of years it will be mobbed.  Here are some photos.

The boat to Bagan took off just after sunrise.

Doing laundry in the river.

The dining room on the boat.  They had surprisingly good and inexpensive hot meals.  I was expecting ramen but it was made to order.

Comfortable seats, not too crowded and plenty of places to sit or walk on deck.

We arrived in Bagan at sunset, 11 hours after leaving Mandalay.  The flight back to Mandalay took 19 minutes.

Let the tour begin!

B

One of the over 3,000 temples, stupas and pagodas in Bagan.  All in praise of Buddha.

A close-up of the carving on the sandstone exterior of the temple shown in the photo above.

They are various sizes and shapes.

Many were destroyed during the devastating earthquake in 1975.

The jugs with conical tops are seen everywhere - public drinking fountains.

Horses and buggies are a popular way for tourists to get around.  They are to Bagan what tuk tuks used to be to Thailand.

Are they starting to all look the same?

Waiting for sunset.

View from the restaurant adjacent to my hotel.  In the foreground is an artificial Christmas tree covered with "snow" made of cotton balls.

Getting close to sunset.  This is the dry season.  Can you imagine how green and lush this looks in the wet season?

The guide who led me up the inside stairs to the top of the pagoda to watch the sunset.  She has four children and is very proud that her oldest daughter is attending university.  She's wearing the traditional thanaka (pronounced tanaKAH) on her face.  It is for beauty and protection from the sun. Many of my kids wear it every day.

The biggest temple (pagoda) I saw was across from my hotel.

One of the columns decorated with mirrors and colored glass.

Happy Ending

Mark is out of surgery and doing well.  All went as planned.  He gets to play Sleeping Beauty in recovery for a couple of hours then will be back in his room.

Mark's Medical Adventures Continue...Bumrungrad Hospital.

Bangkok has created a new form of tourism.  Medical tourism.  Build world class facilities, stock them with top notch staff and charge less than other places and voila, you have yet another reason to come to Thailand.

Bumrungrad International Hospital is considered by many to be the star in the crown of upscale hospitals in Bangkok.  My week in the hospital was at Camillian, which is Catholic and whose mission is to serve indigent HIV/AIDS patients.  If you consider a spectrum of healthcare options, Mandalay General hospital would be at one end, Bumrungrad would be at the other and Camillian would be toward the middle.  Sort of like comparing a fleabag on Route 66 to a Holiday Inn to the 4 Seasons.

It had been a tiring and stressful trip to Bangkok and that was from my perspective.  I can only imagine how Mark was feeling, especially since we discovered that the "pain medicine" he'd been given for the trip were actually antibiotics for the scrapes and cuts on his legs and arms.

We weren't sure where to go.  Mark voted for the clinic where he'd been before.  I voted for the hospital which was next door and had an emergency room.  I'm pushy and mobile, Mark was in a wheelchair.  I won.  In the ER, though, we discovered that Mark was correct.

No matter, the ER staff took his card from a previous stay, entered him in the system, set up appointments and off we went.  Rolling through the air conditioned lobby, subtly decorated with understated Christmas ornaments and flowers was very different than rolling through dirt and fighting dogs in Mandalay.

We were whisked to the 20th floor on a glass elevator.  The only thing that kept me from saying "Holy shit!" when the doors opened into what appeared to be a very large, opulent living room were the number of well dressed people in the area.  That did not stop me from using the f word, very quietly but with great feeling on a later trip on the same elevator.  I felt it was warranted since Mark's wheelchair (with him in it) had just rolled over my big toe.

The decor seems to be going for that "We're not showing off, we just want you to be comfortable and let you know we spent truckloads of money on this place" style of decor.  By far, nicest most comfortable hospital I've ever seen.  Much more like a hotel than a clinic.

First stop was to get Mark's vitals taken in a room dedicated to that.  When they wanted to weigh him, Mark groaned because when he's sitting still the pain isn't bad.  But getting up and down is horrible.  No problem here at Rich Peoples Hospital.  Oh, sorry, Bumrungrad.  He stayed in the wheelchair while the nurses weighed him.

Next, radiology for more X-rays since the ones taken in Myanmar didn't include all his ribs.  A minor technicality.  I was asked to wait outside but from Mark's demeanor when he was wheeled back to me, it was a relatively pleasant experience.

After a few minutes wait and some paperwork we were escorted to the orthopedic surgeon's office.  He explained what he'd seen and what he thought the plan should be.  I asked questions about length of time in the hospital and length of recovery time.  I made sure to quickly let the doctor know that I was leaving for Mandalay and Mark planned to care for himself in a hotel room.

Next we got to visit a very cardiologist.  Because Mark's impact on his chest had been so severe he wanted to rule out any damage to his heart.  A quick EKG later, the all clear on the heart was given.  Because Mark and I both enjoy poetry by Robert Service I couldn't help reminding him of the one about the lady with a boil on her butt.  She went from "doctor" to "doctor" being examined when the final one told her the doctors were out and they were all just painters.

When we were told we were on our way to a third doctor, we both just giggled.  The final doctor was a critical care/thoracic guy.  His job was to determine if the damage to the lung would prevent surgery to the ankle or to figure out the best type of anesthesia to use.

Ok, we had a plan.  Surgery on the ankle on Tuesday, using an epidural.  During one of our waiting periods, we were given room choice options.  I was pushing for the Deluxe Suite on the Premier floor.  Mark was leaning toward something more modest that didn't cost more than a monthly mortgage payment per day.  He opted for a shared room/bath.  The room is very nice and no one is in the next bed so he got a private room (at least for now) for half price.

When the charming ladies provided an estimate of total cost, I thought stroke or coronary would be added to the list of ailments.  And it had to be paid before any treatment began.   That's when the real stress began.  Mark's phone charger was in another bag, which they'd kept at reception.  I would have gone to get it but it was 3 a.m. where he wanted to call and so he wanted to wait.  By that point it was after 7:00 p.m. in Bangkok.  Mark hadn't peed for about a month (and it was in another country); neither of us had eaten except for a small snack on the plane and we were both cranky.

Both of us just wanted him to be settled in a bed where he didn't have to move and could get sone rest.  And some pain meds for him and an adult beverage for me.  Eventually we were taken to his room and worked on getting him settled.  There was much to be done:  blood tests, IV ("you have small veins, let me try again"), etc.

The nurses were kind and well meaning but as in hospitals everywhere when you combine tired, hungry people in pain with busy, tired medical professionals there can be tiny bumps in the road.  I finally went to the nurses station and in the most respectful, polite way I could asked for food and pain meds.  The nurse sweetly smiled and nodded and said "Yes!  Tomorrow!"  I gently tried again.  She kindly responded "Tomorrow!"  She had a bit more of an edge in her tone and she started pointing vehemently at some papers, repeating "tomorrow!  tomorrow!"  I took a step back and tried to consider where our communication had broken down.  I started making eating motions and pointing towards Mark's room.  Then acting like I was giving myself a shot and pointing to his room.  She and the other nurses were excited - how fun, charades at 10:00 p.m.!  They got it though and I discovered she thought I was insisting on getting the paperwork back that she was going to copy.

Five minutes later Mark had food and a shot in the IV for pain.  Since I had no idea where I was going to sleep that night, I wanted to get that sorted out.  I considered just using the extra bed in the room but couldn't afford it.

I got in a cab and found a place to stay.  Mark had stayed there before.  The major appeal was that it's close to the hospital and has both a 7/11 and a Pizza Hut attached to it.  At midnight I was enjoying a slice of pizza and a cold beer.  That's when I discovered I needed to be back at the hospital by 6:30 a.m. on Tuesday.

When I arrived, Mark was up continuing a marathon session of finding a way to transfer funds so he could fork over a large amount of cash to the hospital.  It took a couple of more hours, a laptop and smartphone and the help of Mark's best friends and his investment company but a temporary solution was found, money is being transferred and now it's on to the surgery.

Once we'd gotten cleared for the surgery financially we both began to relax and just spent the time talking.  It wasn't long before they came in to move him to the gurney to head for the operating room.  Luckily, they were able to slide him from one bed to the other which was much less painful than all previous transfers.

I followed along to the door to the operating suite.  Since he was flat on his back I was describing what he couldn't see.  Like the doors to the operating room and the cashiers window just outside it.  We had a hearty laugh at that.  I'm sure these are dedicated health care professionals but there is no doubt this is big business.  There is a bank branch in the lobby with ATMs and a Western Union office.  There are cashier desks everywhere.

Now I'm just waiting to hear that Mark is safely out of surgery.  They said between 1:30 and 2:00 p.m. I'm hoping sooner rather than later.

Another Medical Trip to Bangkok - Mark O Goes to the Hospital

Sunday started out well.  Cool outdoors, quiet and peaceful.  As I was washing some strawberries I heard teachers talking outside so went out to join the group.  They were on the first floor and I got their attention, intending to toss them strawberries.  It took me a moment to realize this was no idle conversation.

Mark O had been riding his motorbike to the grocery store when he was hit by a truck.  In shock, he just asked them to bring him back to school.  The people who hit him, loaded him into their truck.  By the time I got there, he'd been taken out of the truck and was sitting on a (broken) plastic chair, holding a bag of ice on what was an obviously broken ankle.  He also complained of broken ribs.  Mark may not be a doctor but he had correctly diagnosed himself.

Aung Ko Latt, the school director, quickly arrived and we helped Mark into the back seat.  I hopped in the front and we headed to the largest government hospital in Mandalay.  We arrived about noon.  Between then and about 5:00 p.m., while Aung Ko Latt took care of the bureaucracy of police and hospital officials, Mark and I had an adventure.

It started as he was wheeled down a hallway which clearly hadn't seen the business end of a mop in a very long time.  It didn't help that there was a dog wandering along the corridor.  We reached the Radiology Department which was no less clean but didn't have dogs.  The equipment looked antiquated but worked.  I was allowed to stay in the room to keep Mark company.  I'm concerned that now I'll never be able to have children after the radiation exposure.

After X-rays we went off to get an ultrasound.  That involved a trip outside, past more dogs.  We'd learned in the ER that people didn't seem to mind brushing up against Mark's broken ankle so I was his "foot guard".  I'm sure some thought it was some kind of kinky American ritual that when  a man has a broken foot a woman is required to stand with it between her legs.  It was even more amusing for me to take that position when Mark was being moved.

After the ultrasound on the ribs, the tech handed me a clump of toilet tissue.  I looked at him with a "Huh?" expression and he nodded at Mark's gelled and naked belly.  Ah, you assume I'm the wife or girl friend.  I looked at Mark, he shrugged and I started mopping up the mess.  Mark talks a lot about collegiality but I really never thought it would come to this.

After more waiting and foot guarding, more AIS staff arrived.  We looked like a big Asian/Caucasian family with at least 10 of us now huddled around our fallen comrade.

Next on the agenda was a CAT scan.  I wondered if this was where they swung a cat over Mark by the tale, given the state of the rest of the place but we were led to a room and waiting until a large sliding door opened to a clean, chilled room.  In the center of the room was the latest model technology has invented.  It was a brand spanking new open scanner.  It was somewhat ironic that while we waited outside the room, a rat scurried down the hall.

After that test, we finally headed back to the five bed ward to get Mark settled.  AIS staff had brought bedding, bottled water and mosquito netting.  We'd seen several doctors and the last came in to confirm.   1 broken rib, some fluid in or around the lung and a broken ankle that needed surgery.  All agreed that the ankle would be stabilized so that Mark could have the surgery in Bangkok.

During all of this schlepping, we'd been carrying the backpack and extra items that a couple of teachers had thrown together.  It's fun (in retrospect and if you're not involved) to see how people think in an emergency.

How many pairs of shoes does a man with a broken ankle need?  And really, why had I been carrying around half a box of crackers and a bag of pistachio nuts all afternoon?

Mark spent the night in the hospital in Mandalay.  Two AIS staffers stayed with him and although Mark protested that he was fine alone, he said afterward that he couldn't have done it without two locals who spoke the language and were there for him.

Monday morning, people were scrambling to make arrangements to get Mark to Bangkok.  The plan was to send him alone, on a commercial flight.  I was concerned.  Even though the airline promised to take charge of things, sometimes things fall through the cracks.  And with Mark in a wheelchair he really was pretty helpless.  A decision was made to send me along.  A Myanmar staff member couldn't get a visa that fast, so I had to leave my assistant teachers in charge.

I packed in 15 minutes, assuming I'd just be gone overnight.  Remembered at the last minute I needed photos and documents from the school to get my visa when I return to Mandalay and the principal pulled those together.  The driver and I headed to the hospital where Mark was being checked out.  The parents of the man who'd hit him were there to show respect and apology for the problem.  The driver had been held in jail overnight but since Mark didn't want to press charges, he was released.

We had to stop at the police station, though, to make that happen.  Mark and I stayed in the car while the Myanmar staff took care of things.  Then, on to the airport.  We arrived about an hour before the flight.  I didn't have a ticket and the school had been told they couldn't sell me one at the counter.  Not sure what happened but a wonderful Air Asia manager took my passport, other staff wheeled Mark and we had a stress-free passage through immigration and security.  I quickly had my passport back along with a boarding pass.

But now the challenge.  Mandalay has but doesn't use jetways.  We went down an elevator and then walked/rolled across the tarmac to the plane.  We waited in the shade of the wing while other passengers boarded.  Mark and I kept waiting for some kind of equipment that could lift him up to the door of the plane.  Nope, there were four luggage handlers who were going to carry him up, wheelchair and all.

We were both leary but there wasn't a choice.  Luckily, he made it up without incident and after much pain and twisting about, was able to get in his seat.

The flight was fine and we were relieved as the plane pulled up to a jetway in BKK.  And then stopped a few feet away from it.  Yes, steps again.  We were told to stay put and we'd be the last off.  Fine.  Right up until they said there was no wheelchair and he'd have to hop down the stairs.  With a broken ankle (not yet in a cast) and broken ribs.

I refused and the two of us just sat and said "Get a wheel chair."  And they did.  The world tiniest wheelchair which would have been adequate for getting a small person down the aisle of the plane but there was no way Mark would be able to lower himself into it, be carried down and then get back up out of it.  Not having the use of the right leg and the left arm make maneuvering tricky.

We ended up waiting an hour for a regular wheel chair.  Most of that time the flight attendants just glowered at us from the back of the plane.  It was the worst example of customer service and empathy I have ever seen on an airline.  While we were waiting, we tried to make light of the situation.  Mark came up with a new slogan for Air Asia.  Building on their current tag line of "Now everyone can fly." Mark altered it "Now everyone can fly.  Some just can't get off."

Now that we had the wheelchair, the problem was who would carry it down.  Finally, they lassoed four luggage handlers.  Because they were inexperienced and it was a much less than ideal situation, Mark was in excruciating pain by the time we got down.  Where they then asked him to stand up and hop up on the bus.  He was lifted in and off we went to the terminal.  Me, Mark, the wheelchair jockey and a group of pissed off flight attendants.

At the terminal, again we had the issue of the step.  The flight attendants told the porter to shove him off.  After all, he had gravity on his side.  However, the jarring landing would cause not only pain but could cause the broken ribs to do further internal damage.  Mark stood up, swiveled and then just fell back into the wheelchair on the ground.

Immigration and luggage collection were easy since everyone else was long gone.  No one was waiting to transport us to the hospital as planned, so we just grabbed a taxi.  Less than 30 minutes later we pulled up to Bumrungrad Hospital in the Sukhumvit area of Bangkok.

To be continued...

Recent Photos at School in Mandalay

I enjoyed my career as a management consultant.  But I love teaching first grade.  The money is vastly different, but the day to day work is so satisfying.  Even on days when a lesson doesn't work or the kids are on the wild side.  These are photos from Social Studies yesterday.  We are studying world cultures and started with Samoa.  The kids were making candy ulas.  It may look calm and quiet but let me assure, it was nuts.  If I had heard "Teacher Nancy" yelled one more time, I might have jumped out the window.  But really, how can you not love those smiles?