Don Wai Market: What IS That?

I love a good farmer's market. But I've always taken for granted knowing all of the things that were for sale. A trip to Don Wai is a trip to the exotic: sights, tastes, and oh my god smells. Don Wai is a large marketplace on the banks of the river not far from where we're staying. Wanpimon rode with us in a van the University had arranged for us, and was kind enough to patiently wander through the market as Betsy and I stared, sniffed, and puzzled over the various offerings. Fish, as befits a riverside market, dominated the olfactory senses.


We opted not to sample the fare, but greatly admired the presentation. Vegetables of all shapes and colors were lovely, but it was the variety of exotic fruit that really caught my eye.


While Wanpimon enjoyed an Oreo shake, Betsy and I wandered the stalls and tried not to look like clueless tourists. Which, of course, we are. Luckily, the Thai people are gracious, and if they made fun of us, it was behind our backs (and well-deserved).

One Day in Bangkok

Being faithful readers of the NY Times travel section, Betsy and I know how to get the most out of 36 Hours in X. In this edition, X is Bangkok, where we've had a quick visit to Mahidol University, a new study abroad partner for Wheaton. I had a good conversation with Associate Dean of International Affairs Charles Windish, an ex-pat from Georgia Tech who has lived in Bangkok for nine years. But it was his incredibly capable assistant, Wanpimon Senapadpakorn (I love Thai names; they completely flummox the spell-check) with whom we spent more time. The day broke down into four memorable chunks, which I'll separate into four posts, as there is a good chance I'm going to fall facedown onto my keyboard any moment (delayed jet lag, I suspect), and small slices seem more manageable.


The lovely and fashionable and helpful Wanpimon and me at Don Wai Market.

Incredibly hot and incredibly big

We landed in Bangkok, got through customs, found all our bags, including the suitcase full of protein, and located a driver with our names on a placard. A long 45-minute ride to the hotel took us to the far side of this enormous city where we were deposited in a small "training hotel" run by Mahidol University's International College. This is where their tourism and hospitality students learn the trade. So far, I'm giving them an A for friendliness. An A for the room, too. Very nice. I am glad we are not visiting a school that trains hairdressers or veterinarians.

Time for bed after 20 hours in a plane and 9000 miles of travel. Funny, it really only felt like 7500.

Zzz for me. Pictures of Bangkok tomorrow.

Location:Bangkok

Thus far

At 6:30 pm EST, somewhere over Alaska, my watch battery gave up the ghost, done in, I think, by the imminent crossing of the International Date Line. I know how it feels. It's an unsettling thing to know that you've lost a day.

This is a quick post during a short layover in Tokyo, during which Betsy and I enjoyed pizza and edamame. We also hunted for a watch battery, but were unsuccessful. I guess this country doesn't know much about electronics or something.

Least favorite moment of our travels thus far? We walked out of JFK to get a cab (because the Air Train had mysteriously stopped working). We went to the cab line and the woman working there asked where we were headed. "Holiday Inn Express," Betsy replied. "Closed," the woman said. "It flooded". Betsy and I stood there, speechless, calculating our next move, when the woman said "kidding!" and opened the car door of the cab that had pulled up.

Now let me ask you: On what planet is that funny?!? Not the one I inhabit.

Other than that, things are fine. Off to board the flight to Bangkok.

Location:Tokyo Narita Airport

Last Minute Stuff

Most recent additions to the suitcase o' protein? Dental floss for Professor Kim and very high-heeled shoes for student Marijose, who apparently has found that her "kira" (the Bhutanese national dress for women) drags on the ground.

As busy as I am, at least I'm not planning a wedding with a guest list of about 600,000 (the population of Bhutan, all of whom will be attending, watching, or at least thinking about the King and his bride). They're a fine-looking couple, by the way. I wonder where they're registered.

My sister-in-law Joy wondered about the whole "Thunder Dragon" thing. The people of Bhutan call their kingdom "Druk Yul," which is Dzongkha for "Thunder Dragon." Thunder dragons are creatures that apparently have appeared in the sky throughout Bhutan's history. We don't have them here, unfortunately. We have seagulls and pigeons, which really don't inspire greatness, but are probably quieter, and eat less, than your average thunder dragon. The King is known in Bhutan as the"Druk Gyalpo" or "Dragon King."

Speaking of dragons, that's where the name of the Bhutanese airline comes from: Druk Air. Druk Air started operating commercial flights in 1983, using Bhutan's lone airstrip. In 1987, it purchased its first jet at a cost of $25 million, which required the country's first-ever commercial loan. When Bhutan purchased two Airbus A-319s in 2003, it was the single largest purchase the country had ever made. The first one arrived in the country on the 19th of October, 2004, a date chosen by a Buddhist astrologer as a particularly auspicious day.

When planes fly into Paro, they follow a flight path through the Himalayan Mountains (on a clear day, you can see Mt. Everest). The pilots navigate a narrow stretch that brings the planes through steep turns, low enough that apparently you can see the nervous expressions on the faces of people who think they're about to be plucked from the earth and eaten by a thunder dragon, until they realize it's just the old Airbus, coming in for a landing.

I've watched this a few times on YouTube, just to prepare myself for the experience, figuring if I know what to expect, I would not be overcome by panic and could instead enjoy the view (of people's kitchens through their windows). This logic may be flawed, as watching something on YouTube from the comfort of my kitchen is probably a pale substitute for the real thing. I don't know. I'll keep you posted.



Tomorrow night: JFK. Wednesday/Thursday: Bangkok. Betsy has the snacks, we've got two iPads and a bunch of movies between us, and I'm packing the Ambien. And tucked safely in the cargo hold: a suitcase containing dental floss, high-heeled shoes, a hundred and one protein bars and one Wheaton blanket, destined for the land of the Thunder Dragon.

Protein Mule

That's what I am: transporting 25 pounds of protein-rich snacks to the other side of the world. What does that look like?





Carbs would be lighter, but apparently those are easy to find in a place where each meal involves rice, and my students need protein to sustain what Professor Kim notes is their high metabolism.

This is the work of a dean of students: carrier of Clif Bars, lifter of Lunas.

Shopping for the King's Wedding

It is very difficult to shop for a head of state, especially a Buddhist one. What do you get for the man who has everything and wants nothing? A man who measures the wealth of his kingdom with the phrase "Gross National Happiness"? After much discussion at Wheaton, we decided it should be something Wheaton-specific so that His Majesty will know his alma mater wishes him well on this most auspicious occasion. I poked around in the Wheaton bookstore a bit, and considered a very nice pair of shot glasses.



Then I thought, maybe his lovely bride, Jetsun, would like some Wheaton paraphernalia as well. And being 21, the same age as a lot of our students, I thought perhaps a Wheaton t-shirt. How about this? I asked Jim.




Or these?



The final decision was a nice woven Wheaton blanket. But then the next challenge: a card. Next time you're in a card store, browse through the wedding cards and imagine picking one out for the king of a tiny Himalayan country where people still dress in traditional garb and polygamy is acceptable. Would it be this?



Or maybe this:



You see the problem. I settled on...none of them, and instead wrote a note on an elegantly simple blank note card. It took all my energy to resist writing something fun or clever. He is, after all, a revered and benevolent king whose father basically made himself less important to Bhutan by creating a democratic government (still a work in progress). See? There's that whole Buddhist thing: less is more.

I hope he likes the blanket and perhaps enjoys explaining to his bride why it appeared among their gifts. "Aaahh," Jigme will say, remembering himself as a lad of 18. "Norton, Massachusetts. I remember the Honey Dew Donuts shop".