Bangkok: Royal Palace, Souvenirs, and Master of the Piki Nu

I know that time is suppose to fly when you are having fun but the past two weeks seem more like a month. As we return to Bangkok early Friday morning, the Baptist hospitality house seems distant. John Mark and I travel with Dui, Gift, and Dift for our day of tourism and shopping while Granddaddy goes with Preecha and his wife to spend the day with Agan Wan, the former pastor of the Baptist Church in Bangkla who is currently serving as the pastor of the largest church in the country.

The situation in Bangkok over the past several months has been a little dicey. Without going into to much detail, there is a revolutionary group, mostly made up of a rural population, know as the Red Shirts. The two months leading up to our trip riots in the shopping district lead to several people dyeing and several more people being injured. The mood calmed before we left, but we knew there was a slight risk on an incident occurring while we were in the country. We had planned to spend two nights in Bangkok, but on Sunday Red Shirts placed bombs in a shopping building close to where we were when we went to Herbalife our first full day in the country. After one of the bombs went off, killing at least one man, our plans were changed and our time in Bangkok limited. Our first stop of the day will be to the Royal Palace, which is in the safe zone, but to drive there we passed by some of the locations the Red Shirts had been at the months before.

In a country with an excess of Asian architecture displayed in their temples and monuments, the palace is still the most impressive thing I have seen. Dui stays with the car and Gift, Dift, John Mark and I pass the guardhouse filled with armed guards and enter the palace gates. As a student who studies history I want to know the details behind everything, but our time does not permit and my on site study of the limited. Instead I spend my time taking pictures. (By the way I think I have decided to never take a picture of myself in front of something with major historic significance. I may take a picture of the thing that has historical significance, but why would I want ruin good history by putting my fat head in the picture. You all should ascribe to my philosophy as well.) We travel the grounds of the royal palace and I thoroughly enjoy my time there.

When our tour is over we leave the palace and hop on an express boat that takes us to the silk shopping area where John Mark purchases the Thai silk his mother requested. We take a break for lunch (FYI Do not eat steaks in Bangkok) and go to a few more places to by souvenirs for our friends and family. The most entertaining thing about our shopping experience is Gift, who is the master of the price haggle. She goes to work and gets us our souvenirs for cheap. The greatest item purchased was the giant chang (elephant) head that John Mark was able to purchase for 500 BAHT ($15). We take all of our purchases and head to the hotel where we pick up our grandfather and leave our shopping bags and luggage.

For dinner we make the short drive to Dui and Gifts where we enjoy our last Thai meal with the people who have been our best friends on the trip. I have some important information for anyone who thought it was funny that I haphazardly burned my mouth the first full day in Bangkla when I ate the piki nu pepper…I have become master of the piki nu. Yes it is true, over the past two weeks I have conditioned my mouth, stomach, and body to handle the heat of the pepper previously describes as, “A jalapeño, soaked overnight in gasoline, lit on fire, with battery acid poured on top of the entire spicy flame drenched concoction.” To prove to my friends and family sitting at the table that I have mastered the pepper, I take a long red pepper and eat it without a tear, a sinful, or a sip of water. I stared the Satan pepper in the eye and said, “Sure I’ll have another,” without flinching. Everyone laughs as I tell them how impressed they should be of me and Dui is proud of how I handled the spicy food. Before long the night has to come to an end. Dui and Gift drive us back to the hotel and we convince them to let the shuttle take us to the airport in the morning. We all hug and say our goodbyes. I try to hold back my tears but a few fall when no is looking. I will truly miss my friends and count the days until I can see them again. We set the alarm for 3:45am so we can make our 4:30am shuttle. The lights are turned off and we go to sleep in Thailand for the last time.

Bangkla: Tying Up Lose Ends, Surprise for Maw Willis, and Korean Fondue

I tend to remember last days, my last day of high school, my last day of college, my last day of any given job. There is something about the near sight of change that plucks a sentimental string and encourages me to make the most of what is left. While my life is no “Carpe Diem” scene played out from The Dead Poet Society, occasionally, I get it right an appreciate what is around me. Thursday is my last day in Bangkla.

I wake up to the same familiar routine that now seems like home and make a list of all of the things I would like to do before I leave Bangkla: take pictures for Aunt Kaye, scan old photographs of the hospital, visit the Baptist Church, spend time writing at Ran Jeck Cheu’s, spend nit noi more time at the hospital watching Granddaddy. I accomplish all of the things on my list and end the workday with my grandfather at the hospital. I sit and observe as he sees his last patient and walk with him back to the apartment for rest some before dinner.

All my grandfather knows about dinner is that Gai and Et have asked us if they can take us out. Gai shares with John Mark and I that she is planning a surprise for Maw Willis. They pick us up at 6:00pm and take us to an open-air restaurant similar to most of the other restaurants we have eaten at. Waiting outside the restaurant is a small group of people. I see the same look on my grandfather’s face that I saw when we first came into view of the hospital, two weeks before. The surprise Gai has planned was calling three or four of the original hospital staff, all senior citizens now, and having them meet us for dinner. What we did not anticipate was those people would call more people. I watch the group of nine as they crowd around my grandfather, who is thrilled beyond measure at his surprise.

We walk into the Korean fondue restaurant and sit down at four tables that have been placed together. Soon our waiter walks to our table with a large stone pot that has burning wood inside. He places the pot on the table, then places a pan on the pot, a guard on the pan and puts a soup in the pan. The pan has a raised dome in the center. Soon bowls filled with different assortments of meat are delivered to our table. A piece of pork fat is place in the top center of the dome and the meat is put around the rest of the dome to cook. Cabbage, noodles, and carrots are placed in the soup to cook. The meal is one of the most interesting I have ever had. The food tastes good and there is plenty to pass around. As the hospital veterans look at old photos, Et commandeers my camera and spends time photographing the group. Towards the end of the meal Agan Neetat arrives to say hello to everyone. He tells me that the tailor has already finished my coat and gives me a bag with my present inside. We laugh, smile for pictures, and stay later then we intend, but it is worth ti to see how much fun my grandfather has. He comments, “This is the perfect cap to a great two weeks.”

Nahonnyak/Prachinburi/Khawhinson: Waterfalls, Dams, The Tailor, and Church

**I will edit and add picture when I have some more time**

I once read a short book that explained the evolution of going over Niagara Falls in a barrel. While in the beginning a beer keg type barrel was employed, through time and technological advancements the barrel turned into a modernized metal role cage in the shape of a barrel. My question is, “Who was the first person to look at Niagara Falls and say, ‘Yup…I need to go over that…in a barrel.’” One of the most awe striking waterfalls in the world, thousands of tourists flock to it’s viewing decks and ferryboats each week. I have never seen it in person but I have seen the Nahonnyak, Thailand equivalent.

Wednesday morning I wake up to my normal routine. After our morning skype calls, I find a box of old photographs and begin looking through them in search of pictures of anyone I am related to. Before I get very far, I am visited by Agan Neetat who offers to take me and show me around the provinces of Nahonnyak and Prachinburi. I agree and within 15 minutes I am in his truck riding down the highway. While we drive, he spends time trying to teach me Thai, Kou, Kou, Kou (which means white, news, and rice). He also tells me the story of how he was influential in bringing the hospital to Bangkla. When we arrive in Nahonnyak we drive into a national park. As I get out of the car I am told that we are going to see the waterfall. We walk across a parking lot, over a bridge and down some stone steps. When I get my first gimps of the waterfall, my initial reaction is, “this is it?” The fast flowing rapids were very calming and nice, a fact which the many picnickers around me had figured out, but they were simply not the three hundred foot waterfall falling from a cliff, that I expected to see. Though I am confident that I could easily survive a barrel trip down the falls I resign to snap several pictures. I pose for several more photos as Agan Neetat once again produces his Cybershot.

We look at the waterfall a few more minutes and then jump back into the truck. While driving he asks me if I am impressed with my driver, who is 81 and still able to drive. I tell Agan Neetat I am impressed at his skill, which pleases him greatly. We drive further into Nahonnyak and in the distance I see what looks like a giant wall. As we get closer I can see that the wall is actually a dam. We drive up to the top of the dam, that is a kilometer in length. The water in lake created by the structure is low because of the dry season but will rise over the next few months. I am impressed at it's size and make sure I take several picture of it. I climb back into Agan Neetat’s truck and we leave to find a suitable restaurant for lunch. After more searching than either of us desired, we stop at a roadside place with a half basement that serves us a delicious lunch. With our hunger suppressed we get back on the road and drive to the Prachinburi province. The reason for Agan Neetat has taken me to Nahonnyak and Prachinburi is because both places were being considered as locations to build the Bangkla Baptist Hospital (obviously they would have changed the name if it had been in either place instead of Bangkla). We drive through the province, but don’t get out of the truck as Agan Neetat points out several things in the city.

On the trip back to Bangkla I comment on the black coat my driver is wearing. His response is, “You like?! Okay we will go to the tailor, I will get you one made for you.” Even though I try to refuse his offer, fifteen minutes later I have a small Thai man wrapping a measuring tape around my chest and running it down my arms. After I am measured for my coat, we discuss how I will get the jacket that I am told will take one week to make. I write my address down on a piece of cardstock and hand it the old family friend. We arrive back at the hospital, I bid Agan Neetat farewell and I walk over to the apartment to look over my teaching for the Wednesday evening worship service.

Agan Weecahi, had asked me a few days before if I would like to teach on prayer on Wednesday night in a church in Khawhinson. Having spent time reading over a few passages, my grandfather, John Mark and I climb into Agan Weechai’s van and along with Agan Weechai, Voot, and Um we head to Khawhinson. When we arrive we eat a meal together and have a nice worship service. It is difficult, especially after you have just delivered a lesson on the subject, to sit for thirty minutes and listen to prayers in a language you do not understand. I try to stay in a spirit of prayer, but my drooping eyes, and bobbing head are relieved when the service ends. Following the service we spend time speaking to many of the church memebers. The most impressive church members are two young girls, Sarah and Haley. Both girls are in elementary school, fifth and second grade, and speak the best English of anyone I have heard in the country. With names like Hailey and Sarah, at first I think that their father may be American, and they have spent time in the US, but when I as where they are from, I am told, “Thailand.” When I ask the my second question, “Where did you learn to speak English so well,” they respond with, “School.” We sit and chat a bit longer before climbing back in the van, but eventually and return to the Apartment to get some rest before our last day in Bangkla.

Bangkla: The Search, Bird Seed Donuts, and Supachai

I have never actually met Peter Butcher. My mother’s childhood friend, and her partner in crime, I couldn’t recognize in a lineup of two. Having never met him, I know, surprisingly, quite a bit about his childhood. The time he and mom got stuck on a tree limb when they tried to make a pulley system elevator for their tree house, without a pulley, may be my favorite story. I have come to realize that the people you get in trouble with as a child, are also the people who witnessed your greatest childhood moments, for my mother that was Peter Butcher.

On Tuesday morning I participate in my usual routine of reading with my grandfather, morning chapel, and skype calls home. I then begin my search. My mother has told me of a tree where her and Peter Butcher’s initials are carved. I have Granddaddy draw me a crude map on a paper towel, change into shorts and a t-shirt, put on my sunglasses, grab my camera bag, and head out into the city. It took me a bit of time but I finally located my mother’s old house. I walk into the yard and set off the Thailand Home Security System, otherwise known as a dog. I search the yard and the yards of both the houses close by but have little success in finding the tree or even one old enough to have been around when my mom grew up in Thailand. After twenty minutes I come to the conclusion that the tree my mother’s name is on has been cut down.

Instead of returning to the hospital I decide to walk around a bit more and end up at the floating market. I wonder around, moving from stall to stall to see if there is anything worth purchasing. When I come to a vendor making what looks like donuts, I stop and take a few minutes to watch the process. The man cooking the food takes, what looks like birdseed dough, dips it in a liquid batter and puts the whole thing into a fryer. When I ask about the food I am given a sample. The flavor is similar to a deep fried whole grain granola bar, it is delicious and I purchase a small bag of the donuts.

When I return to the hospital campus and to the apartment, we take a few hours to rest before Supachai, and old family friend picks us up for dinner. Supachai was nineteen when he began working in the hospital office. Overtime he became the hospital administrator, and he is now the mayor of Bangkla. When it is time for dinner two black vehicles pull in front of the apartment, a Toyota Fortunner (no it is not a typo there is a toyota vehicle in Asia called a Fortunner) with the Bangkla city seal on side, and a sedan who’s make and model I did not catch. John Mark and I are introduced to Supachai, his wife, and their daughter, and everyone climbs into the vehicles. We drive fifteen minutes to Chacheangsao and to a Chinese restaurant. When we are lead to an enclose air-conditioned room I am surprise, it is the first time I have eaten in a restaurant that is inside and air-conditioned since the Banana Leaf, my first day in the country. As I look around, I notice the restaurant is strangely empty. I ask my grandfather why this is and after a few minutes we determine that the restaurant may have been rented out for us. As we sit and enjoy our meal, I hear stories about my mother, and how I am loud like she is. At the end of our meal a large plate of multi-colored sticky rice and mangos appears and we enjoy the dessert thoroughly. It is a pleasant evening and I am honored to finally have met Supachai, a man I have heard about for several years. We return to the apartment, say good by to new (old) friends and we retire to mine and John Mark’s bedroom where I tell my grandfather and my cousin about my life. It is a great night.

Bangkla Nights: Dr. Harlan Willis pt 1

Possibly the most enjoyable thing about Thailand has been the time spent with my cousin and grandfather getting to know each other better. The nights in Bangkla the three of us spent sitting on two twin beds telling teach other about our lives, have been filled with laughter, a bit of sadness, and a closeness between and grandfather and his grandsons. The Bangkla Nights posts are a result of those nights, they are meant to tell stories of meaning, closeness, and family.

To say everything there is to be said about my grandfather would take an entire book. To say everything there is to be said about the people who’s lives he has touched would take volumes. Since I don’t currently have the time or complete knowledge to write either in these posts I would like to tell you about the two sides of my grandfather I have seen the most while I have been in Thailand. While the two go hand-in-hand and cannot be separated, for the purpose of these posts I will attempt to separate them. The first of the two posts follows:

Harlan Willis M.D.

When his youngest daughter (and youngest child at the time) was only three Dr. Harlan Willis moved his family to Thailand. Following two years of intense language school, learning tropical medicine, and the planning and building of a hospital he and his family moved to the small Thai town of Bangkla. I doubt the first night in Bangkla, sleeping in his bed in a newly built house he had any idea the number of lives he would save.

I remember during vacations to Granny and Granddaddy’s house we would always visit his office. The air-conditioned St. Mary’s clinic, in Brownfield Texas was half way around the world from Bangkla but it is where I can remember sitting on an exam room table while he listen to my heart. My knowledge of my grandfather’s professional work has been his work in his office, the hospital, and OR in Brownfield, as well as his post retirement work in the Lubbock Community Health Clinic. Until the past two weeks the stories I have heard about his work in Thailand have been distant stories about a distant land. But, Ever since we turned onto the Hospital’s driveway on July 20th and he got his first glimpse of the Hospital he helped to build, I have seen a different side of my grandfather. Suddenly the stories I have heard all of my life no longer seem distant but real.

On our first day in the clinic he gave us a tour of the hospital and took us to the Surgery Department. He referred to the building as the inner sanctum. Hearing the excitement in his voice as he told stories of marathon surgeries and how much he loved it, made me feel like I was small child again, hanging on his every word. To hear him tell stories of water shortages, power outages, operations by candle light, the installation of central oxygen, working with his operating team, and to be able to see the places everything took place paints a vivid picture of part of him I have never known first hand.

My grandfather has always told anyone under his teaching that, “Hard work builds character.” I have always taken this lesson to heart, but what he has failed to tell me is how much of his character he put into his hard work. I have never doubted he worked hard, and I have never doubted that he is a man of incredible character but when I look at the Hospital and the countless lives that were changed because of it, I see the character of my grandfather.

While his first night in Bangkla, Harlan Willis, might not have had any idea about the number of lives that would be saved through his work, he most definitely didn’t know that almost fifty years later, he would be at the hospital he built showing two of his grandsons his life's work. And what he didn’t know and may still not, is the impact his work has had on my life. After the past two weeks I am not only more proud than ever to be his grandson, but I am honored beyond words to learn from a teacher of such character.

Koh Chang/Chanthanburi: Monkeys & Elephants, White Sand, and The Dechuay Family

One of my favorite comedians to listen to is Brian Reagan. In one of his stand up routines he talks about astronauts who have landed on the moon having the one-up-story to end all one-up-stories. “Daddy, I made all ‘A’s.’” “Oh yeah? Well, I walked on the moon.” “Sir, you just had a heart attack and almost died…I saved your life.” *cough* *cough* “Well I’ve driven the lunar rover…on the moon.” Since I have never been to the moon, or space for that matter, my one-up-stories have always been lacking…until the day I swam with elephants.

Monday morning, John Mark and I wake up early, get dressed, load up the car, and leave with Dui, Gift, Dift, Apple, and Sky for Kon Chang (Elephant Island). We drive for forty minutes before we come to a shoreline and drive onto a ferryboat that will take us from the mainland to the island shape like an elephant’s head. As we float towards the Island the view is Spielburgesque. As the ocean, mountains, clouds, and mist all combine to make a beautiful panoramic view, I half expect a John Williams overture to begin playing in the background while pterodactyls fly overhead. We arrive and begin driving into the resort community that is filled with European vacationers.

After driving for a few minutes we arrive at our destination, an elephant tour business. We get out and begin to explore, looking at the many different elephants while Sky goes to purchase our tickets, (they charge Thai people half the price of tourists). After taking a few pictures of elephants I notice Dift playing with a monkey. I walk over to the monkey that is chained to a support beam. While I pass my camera off to a man who offered to take pictures for me, I try to get the monkey to climb on my arm, he has different ideas. As the monkey attempts to steal my camera bag and rip it out of my hands, I attempt to pull him off so I can set the bag on a table close by. After I pry the bag away from him and put it down I accept my camera back and begin taking pictures of him. I think he must have gotten mad at me for taking the camera bag away because when I turn my back to him he jumps onto the back of my head. I pull him off and play with him for a few more minutes, but have to leave because it is our tour is about to begin

Out of the group John Mark, Dift, and I are the only ones who will be riding elephants. John Mark rides with Dift and I ride by myself on a fourteen year old female elephant named Pang. As our elephants walk into the jungle I take several pictures of John Mark, Dift, and the elephants. When our path ends and runs into a shallow river with descending rapids, I assume we are going to be turning around and walking back, instead our elephants climb up the river’s rapids (the tour guide called the rapids a waterfall). We climb the river and wind our way back towards the office, souvenir shop, and elephant stalls. When we arrive instead of stopping and getting off the elephants, we continue past the tour headquarters, cross a road, a river (twice) and stop at an elevated platform that hangs over the river. We are told to take off anything we don’t want getting wet. The elephant guides take the seats off the elephants and set them on the platform. When we have discarded our stay-dry items we are told to climb on the bare backs of the elephants. As our elephants walk into the deep part of the river they dip under the water. While John Mark’s elephant just goes up and down in the water, Pang likes to duck under the water and role, making it impossible to stay on. As we climb on and jump off our elephants, the only regret I have is not being able to photograph the moment.

After returning to the our point of origin, we climb off our elephants, look through a few of the souvenirs, and leave in search of a restaurant to provide us lunch. After eating we walk the short distance to a beach we are told has white sand. When we arrive I find it gray sand humors but say nothing. I spend our time sitting in the sand, swimming in the ocean, and practicing English with Apple. In the distance I can see a storm making its way towards the island. We make the decision to leave a little early as to avoid the storm. What we did not anticipate was the line that had formed to the ferryboat. Three hours later everyone except Dui, who has driving responsibilities, has napped, snacked, and finally boarded the ferryboat.

We arrive back at the Dechuay family home at 6:00pm to share another dinner together; I am even given the opportunity to help cook (I grill shrimp on a grill made from half of a metal garbage can a refrigerator coil). We all sit on the floor around a table that is similar to a large coffee table, and enjoy another delicious meal. Two hours later, with our stomachs filled and a little sad that we have to leave our new friends, we climb into Dui and Gift’s car and begin the three-hour drive back to Bangkla. When we arrive at our apartment at 11:00pm our grandfather has already fall asleep. We drag ourselves into our bedroom and fall into our beds with no more energy to spend on the day.

Chanthanburi: The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Seafood, and Night Boats.

One of the greatest experiences I have shared with my wife was a mission trip we took together to Romania, while we were still dating. On one night during our stay in Craiova we had the privilege to attend a weekly college Bible study, at the church we were working with. The Bible study was good, but what was memorable was the time we spent together, hanging out and laughing after our Bibles were closed. Sunday night is a similar night.

After church in Hnonghnea Dui, Gift, Dift, John Mark, and myself make the three-hour drive to Chanthanburi, a coastal province. Once we arrive we go to a church and meet the Dechauy family. The family is one that Dui and Gift disciple over skype. They are our hosts for the next two days and are excited that we have come to spend the time with them. We rearrange cars and I jump into an Isuzu SUV. My driver is a Thai woman who introduces herself and when I have difficulty pronouncing her name she tells me to call her “Sky.” Our first stop is to an old Catholic church. The church is the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, and the current location is one hundred years old and is the largest Catholic cathedral in Thailand. While the structure itself is impressive, the cathedral’s largest tourist attraction is their statue of the Virgin Mary. The three-foot statue stands on display in the front of the church so all who visit can see it and the thousands of jewels that cover it’s surface. Gold, diamonds, sapphires, and rubies drape the impressive statue bringing it’s net worth to an impressive three million dollars. I spend time photographing the statue and many other impressive things in the cathedral.

The next stop is a seafood restaurant where we are served some of Thailand’s best coast foods. I am seated next to a girl who prefers us to call her by the English translation of her name, Apple. Apple speaks the best English of anyone in her family, a result of the Rosetta Stone program she has been using. While we eat the delicious food I come close to having my fill when more food is delivered to the table. When I ask why there is more food I am told that what I had eaten was the first course and that we still had three more courses. I lightly eat my way through the next two courses, but am unsure how I will manage the final. After some time of waiting I learn that the final course was canceled due to the fact that everyone at the table was full and could eat no more.

Following dinner we drive to the hotel to change cloths for our night boat ride to see fire flies (Dui kept referring to them as, “light bugs”). We leave the hotel and go to the home of the Dechauy family, where we all climb into the back of a pickup truck. The truck is older and has a tall cage built around the bed, partially out of old refrigerator coils. We old on the railing of the cage to keep our balance and pull away from the house. After driving a few kilometers we turn off the road and begin driving down a dirt road in the jungle. Fifteen minutes into our jungle trek we disembark from the truck and walk for another fifteen minutes to a river. At the bank of the river are two boats; both look old. After scooping water out of the bottom of one I am assured it is safe and told to climb in. I get in the boat along with John Mark, Gift, Apple, Sky, and our boat’s captain. Fully loaded, the edge of our boat hovers less than an inch above the water. Should the boat turn just a bit to the left or right, it would take on water, oh and there is a small hole in the bottom of our boat. As the others climb into the second I watch as wood on the back of the boat splits. We shove off, scared to death that our feet have touched dry land for the last time. After paddling down the river a short distance and looking at a few fire flies we determine that if we want to live through he night and not swim in the Thai equivalent of the Ganges, it would be best if we turned around and get off of the boat. Finally back on dry land we returned to the Dechuay house and spend time drinking sodas, eating popcorn and embellishing our near death experience. After a few hours Dui, Gift, Dift, John Mark and I head to the hotel and get some rest we will need for the next day.

Hnonghnea: Lost in Translation, and Frog Balls

“Wake up early to warm up your voice, drink something hot, and look over your outline,” the advice given to me by my father before I delivered my first sermon floods my thoughts as my alarm clock chimes at 5:00am. I slide off my blanket and place my bare feet and the red hardwood floors. As I walk out of the bedroom door and begin descending the staircase I am aware of the stiffness behind the scars on both of my feet, a result of my multiple surgery. Sunday morning I am tired, and stiff but excited about the day ahead. I shower and shave, a task I find a bit more difficult in Thailand. With a warm cup of coffee in my hand I begin reading my outline aloud. I am concerned about the topic that I have chosen to preach. The sermon uses multiple passages of scripture and can be difficult to understand in English, and I will be using an interpreter for the first time. After studying my outline, I go upstairs and pack a change of cloths in my backpack, store my computer, change into my slacks and dress shirt and walk out the door.

John Mark and I put our bags in the trunk of Dui and Gift’s car, say goodbye to our grandfather and climb inside. Following the Sunday service we will go with Dui and his family to the Chanthaburi province. We have been invited by a family to spend two days in the coastal province. We make the short drive to the Hnonghnea church and arrive in time for Gift and I to go over the outline I have given her. She will be translating for me. The worship service is quaint but the twenty-five-or-so people in attendance seem to enjoy the music lead by Dui. When the time comes for me to preach the sermon, I stumble my way through my outline, trying to simplify things enough, for Gift to translate, without losing my emphasis. The lack of reaction from the congregation makes me think that I have chosen a topic that has been lost in translation, but Gift and Dui both encourage me that the people understood what I was preaching on. I am excited and encouraged about my message when I hear that a man, who has struggled with an alcohol addiction, approached Dui after church and informed him that the sermon spoke to him and he is going to stop drinking.

After church is over plates and silverware appear and we fellowship (it is always good to use good church words like “fellowship” when you are blogging about church) with one another over lunch. While standing in line to get my lunch I notice a bowl containing fried food in ball shapes. The food has a green substance that can be seen in between the fry batter. When I ask what the food is I am told that it is frog. I ask if it came from Gift’s grandmother’s house. When they inform me that it has I ask if they killed it that morning. When they told me they had, I informed them that I hope it is not the frog I took a picture of the day before. Everyone laughs and we enjoy our meal together. After eating we travel to a house close to the church to pray for a man who has broken his leg and has four pins and a long shaft bar holding it together. We pray for him and return to the church. A few minutes later we climb in Gift and Dui’s car and begin our three hour drive to Chanthanburi.

Hnonghnea/Bangkla: Frog Ranch, Honghnea Church, and Ran Jeck Cheu

I remember the first time I ever ate frog. I was 16 and my family had been taken to the Lubbock Club for Sunday lunch, the only time I ever graced the restaurant on the top floor of the tallest building in Lubbock, TX. Most of the food was to high class for me, and I would have preferred a cheeseburger, but making the best of the situation I decided I needed to broaden my horizons and try something new…frog legs. Most of us at some time or another have seen frog legs on a menu, but have you ever wondered about where those frogs come from. While in the south the only answers I have are professional frog gigers, in Thailand they have another method, the frog ranch.

After a busy morning with Agan Neetat, I rest for an hour before Dui, Gift, and Dift, their ten year old son, pick me up to drive out to Hnoghnea to see their church before I preach in it the next day. Granddaddy and John Mark remain in Bangkla to nap while I ride shotgun in a van full of industrial air conditioners that will be installed in the church. On the way to Hnoghnea we stop off at Gift’s grandmother’s house; the house is next to the house where Gifts was born. After meeting many of Gift’s relatives, I am taken around back and shown several tanks filled with water and frogs of various sizes. When I ask what the purpose of the frogs are Gift seems shocked and says, “To eat!” After laughing, I tell her that she grew up on a frog ranch. We all laugh and are soon back in the van.

After seeing the frog ranch we soon arrive at the church. Gift and Dui took over the abandoned church building three months before after realizing the need in the area. The bottom floor of the building is open air with concrete floors. The top floor is enclosed with the beautiful wooden floors I have grown accustom to seeing. As Dui explains his vision for the church and how they are relying on God to provide, I listen intently. Before we leave the church to return to Bangkla I have the opportunity to meet several church members and pray for a woman who has cold.

Following the short drive back to Bangkla I bid Dui, Gift, and Dift goodbye and check in with my grandfather for dinner plans. Having every meal provided for us we have not yet had the opportunity to go eat a meal at Ran Jeck Cheu. We make the short walk to the restaurant and are greeted with smiles and excellent service. After ordering our food the proprietor retrieves a photo album and begins showing my grandfather picture of other missionaries and people that my grandfather knows. The man finds a picture of my grandfather on his last visit and shows it to John Mark and I. We enjoy the delicious food and the restaurant specialty tod mun kung, a type of shrimp paste that is fried…and delicious. At the end of our meal our money is refused and we return to our apartment. In order to keep good on our word tonight is John Mark’s turn to tell us about himself. We sit and listen to his story then call it a night.

Bangkla: Floating Market, Boat Ride, and Childhood in Bangkla

I read an article once about Frank Lucas, notorious gangster and the central character of the movie American Gangster. The article told about the elderly Lucas. Though it had been years since he had been the kingpin of the New York drug cartel those around him still treated him like an organized crime boss. Men wiling to do whatever he asked surrounded him, he demanded their respect with his very presence. Saturday I met the closest thing to Bangkla’s Frank Lucas

Though he has never sold drugs or been in a gunfight, Agan Neetat, a former schoolteacher in Bangkla, has the respect of many people, and is treated as if he had the last name Corleone, or Saprano. He is an old family friend who is close friends with both my grandfather and my mother. Today we are Agan Neetat’s special guests. He picks us up at our apartment. John Mark and I squeeze into the backseat of a small pick-up and Granddaddy sits in the front seat. While he normally has a drive, today he has taken the driving responsibilities upon himself. The happy older man speaks excellent English and it is a pleasure to speak with. On his face is a permanent smile and he has an exciting personality to match. His main concern is our happiness and he asks us often if we are we are enjoying our time. Our first stop is to the Bangkla floating market. We are told the market is famous and that on holidays people travel from Bangkok to Bangkla to visit it. When we arrive there is a special parking space reserved for us and men in matching Hawaiin style shirts, who work for Agan Weechai, attend to us. As we enter the floating market a Sony Cybershot appears in Agan Neetat’s hand and we spend some time taking pictures at the market entrance. After our photo shoot we pass merchants and many different food vendors and walk directly to a boat on the edge of the floating market.

I climb aboard the small boat unsure of the vessel that is only 2 feet wide. After everyone is seated we pose for a few more pictures and begin our trip touring the Sawai River. There are many wonderful things to take pictures of and Agan Neetat is sure to point out every good photo opportunity. Our tour circles a very large island in the middle of the river. After thirty minutes we stop at a small floating barge to rest and to purchase a snack at a small market. And by small I mean…there are four vendors. We snap a few more pictures and return to the boat to go back to the floating market. As we pass the Victory Statue to Taksin the Great I zoom my camera in to take a picture, when I turn the grip on my lens to zoom out I hear a grinding sound and my lens sticks. I gently manipulate it back into it’s original position, focus on a distant house, and attempt to zoom in. With only having magnified my image half what it is suppose to the lens sticks again. After a significant amount of time attempting to discover what is wrong with my camera, frustrated, I give up and conclude that it is broken. The camera itself still works, and I can use the zoom on the lens if I gently extend it by hand. Seeing my frustration Agan Neetat tells me he is sorry, but I quickly let him know that even though I am frustrated with the camera I am still enjoying the time I am spending with him.

We return to the market and are served a delicious lunch at a table that has been reserved for us (no one else has reserved tables). After eating lunch we climb back into the pickup truck and drive to see former homes of the Willis family. The missionary homes, still owned by the IMB, are, mostly, inhabited by people associated with the hospital. We are granted permission to enter inside the fence to take pictures and are even invited in the first house where my mother and her family lived in Bangkla. I photograph the house inside and out before we move to the yard of the house next door. When my mother’s family returned from the states on their first furlough (state side assignment), they moved into the second house, which has now been painted blue. I try to visualize the stories I have been told about my mother’s childhood and find myself wishing she were with me.

Our final stop before returning to the apartment is to the Agan Neetat’s house. We quickly visit the school, which is directly next door to his house, and then have the opportunity to meet his daughter, Aed. Aed is a childhood friend of my mother’s and I make sure to ask her if she will pose for a picture with me. My grandfather is invited inside to see Agan Neetat’s wife, who is very ill, and John Mark and I spend time exploring the wonderful garden that has been cultivated in the front of the house. After a few moments to two old friends emerge from the house and we return to the apartment. We say goodbye to Agan Neetat, thank him for the wonderful time, and make plans to spend more time together before we return to the states. The morning is frustrating, but incredibly fun, spending time with a vibrant family friend and his daughter, and being able to see where my mother grew up.

Bangkla: Jewelry, and Rock Stars

Have you ever met anyone famous? Sure there was that time in the 80’s where you waited in line all night in your parachute pants, sporting your rocker mullet, just to get the autograph of the bass player from White Snake, but have you ever met someone who was famous that you didn’t have to wait in a line to talk to. On Friday night I had the opportunity to meet a Thai celebrity.

Having returned from the countryside surrounding Phanom we accept an invitation to eat at Agan Weechai’s house. While his wife is out of town at a woman’s Bible meeting, his son had his son’s wife have prepared dinner for us. Gift and her sister, Koy, are also invited to dinner and meet us at the house. While waiting for the food to finish cooking Gift spreads the jewelry she sells out on the coffee table and begins showing pieces to John Mark and I. As we search the jewelry in hopes of finding something our significant others would like, while our grandfather laughs at our attempts to pick out something nice. We each select a few pieces about the time dinner is ready (sorry Ashley no pictures of what I bought you…it is a surprise).

We sit down and are introduced to the full table of people, Agan Weechai’s son Voot , Voot’s wife Um, and Voot’s best friend (who’s name I do not remember at the time). We enjoy the delicious seafood that has been prepared for us. The conversation quickly turns to Voot’s profession, music. We discover that Voot is actually famous in Thailand. He has two band, one a very well known Christian band, Jeremiah, and the other is a Beiges inspired band, named the Begins. After dinner we are shown a few of Voot’s music videos on youtube and invited over to his house next door. I find out that the house next door to Agan Weecahi’s is older and has been purchased by Voot who is in the process of fixing it up for he and his wife to live in. The house is the most western I have seen since arriving in Thailand. He gives us a tour of the recording studio he is building and shows us the features he has been incorporating into his house. I am impressed with how the house looks and the progress that Voot has been able to make in eight months. After touring the house it is time to leave. Voot is kind enough to give us his CD before we get into the car, and even though the words on the album are in a language I do not understand, I thank him for the album and consider asking him for his autograph.

Bangkla/Phanom: Snack Vendor, Café, and Former Patients

My grandfather is Norm from Cheers. Wherever he goes in Bangkla Thailand, or the surrounding area, you can hear people shot out, “Maw Willi!” (they often leave the “s” off of “Willis”). His work and time spent in this part of the country have endeared him to the people of the area. On Friday I have a chance to see firsthand the result of that work. In the morning I take part in what has become my usual routine: wake up at 5:00am, read with Granddaddy, eat breakfast, go to morning worship, and make skype calls home. My grandfather begins his work, with John Mark in his observation role. While looking for photograph opportunities I notice that a man with a mobile cart has parked in front of the hospital and is selling fruit and drinks. I approach the smiling man and begin pointing to the many different fruits. I quickly notice a drink in his cart and ask attempt to ask about it. After little success one of the nurses from the hospital comes outside and helps translate for me. I ask her if the drink is sweet, I am told that it is. I purchase one, place a straw inside the bottle and take my first sip. My initial reaction is shock from what feels like a slimy worm that has traveled up the straw and into my mouth. My secondary reaction is to think, “THIS DOES NOT TASTE GOOD!!” After managing to choke down the first sip I ask what the slimy things are inside the drink and I am told they are some kind of jelly strings. I thank the man for the beverage and retreat into the hospital. After holding the drink for a few minutes I slip away to dispose of it.

With an odd taste left in my mouth I am in need of a familiar drink. I pack up my computer, and head to Ran Jeck Cheu, a restaurant very close to the hospital. The restaurant is an establishment that was often frequented by my mother and her family while they live in Bangkla. My grandfather is well known to the owners, but I am left with the problem of informing them that I am his grandson. I sit down at a table, and after trying verbally communicate with the elderly man and woman who seem to be in charge, I retrieve my computer and show them pictures of my grandfather and mother. The pictures, they understand. I am quickly offered a menu. I tell them, using my charades method, that I am only thirsty. I am brought a coke. I sit down to spend time writing. I assume that the restaurant is a family business and that the multiple young waitresses, who keep glancing over at me, are related to the proprietor. After spending a few minutes writing I hear giggles, I look up to see eyes quickly dart away from me. I smile and continue writing. A few minutes later I notice that one by one the girls are taking turns walking behind me to see what I am doing on my computer. Noticing this, the older woman comes out of the kitchen and scolds the girls in Thai. After consuming my coke, I am brought out a hot green tea; I find the warm beverage relaxing. I finish writing and return to the hospital for lunch, but am refused the opportunity to pay for my beverages. I leave a tip on the table and promise to return with my grandfather.

In the afternoon Gift and her sister drive in from Bangkok and we discuss church on Sunday. Having been offered the opportunity to preach at her and Dui’s church, I need to discuss the subject with Gift, who will translate for me. Soon after we finish it is time for the hospital to close. Gift and her sister remain in Bangkla, while My grandfather and Agan Weechai, take John Mark and I to the countryside close to Phanom to see former patients of my grandfather. Our first stop is to the house of Pim. Pim was a man who was badly injured but saved due to the surgical expertise of my grandfather. He passed away several years ago but we visit his grandchildren who remember my grandfather. After taking a few pictures and speaking with the oldest grandson for a few minutes we leave and to travel to our next stop.

Boowaloy is fifty-three years old. When she was ten she fell off of a house badly damaging her spine, my grandfather saved her life and has remained friends with her. With only minor use of her wrist and hands, she has survived in rural Thailand for fourty-three years. When we walk inside her house, I immediately notice that she looks quite healthy for someone who has been bedridden the majority of their life. I also notice the look on her face when she sees my grandfather. The two spend time speaking and when the time comes for us to leave both have tears in their eyes. Seeing even more of the tangible love my grandfather has, not only for a country, but for the people of that country overwhelms me and I step outside to shed a few tears of my own. As we drive away from Boowaloy’s house my grandfather comments, “This will probably be the last time I will ever see her.” Harlan Willis gazes silently out the window, and wipes the tears from his eyes.

Bangkla: Thunderstorm, Sticky Rice, and 80 Years

After my day exploring the Chachoengsoa I find Granddaddy and John Mark at the hospital. With the work day over we make our way back to our apartment and plan on eating dinner with Gai and Ift, her sister who also works in the hospital. While we wait for dinner a light rain turns into a thunderstorm and begins shaking the house. John Mark and I quickly unplug our computers, as to avoid a power surge. We hear Granddaddy speaking in Thai to someone downstairs and decide to see who it is.

We make our way down stair and see food on our table. Due to in inclement weather Gai has picked dinner up and brought it to us. We eat the delicious food and when we are almost full I recall the sticky rice that Gai purchased for us earlier in the day. I retrieve the three bamboo shoots that contain the dessert and we soon discover three different types of rice; one with a purple fruit (actually I learned later that it was not a fruit but kidney beans), another with tapioca, and a third with something we are unsure about. We break each open and pass them around the table until we have eaten most of the dessert.

With our stomachs full and the possibility of an outing canceled by the rain, we retire to the bedroom John Mark and I sleep in. While sitting on the beds and laughing our way through conversation, John Mark asks our grandfather to tell us his life story. I second the idea and with some hesitation he agrees, under one condition. In order to hear his story John Mark and I promise that we will tell him our life stories (thus far) as well. The night progress and Harlan Willis tells the story of his 80 years of life, while his two oldest grandsons eagerly listen at his feet. After several hours we each go to bed feeling closer to the others.