four kids, two fishes

When you are in this "business" sometimes you "give til it hurts" if you know what I mean. Sometimes you might feel like the only thing that you have taught someone who doesn't have much is how to "take"; and that can get to where it hurts also.It isn't that you "expect" something in return. At least you shouldn't.

But sometimes...

I just will mention that the fishing boats hadn't gone out in about seven days. It happens every month. A few days before the full moon, they stop fishing for about five to seven days. I guess the bottom line is that it gives the fish population a break, as well as the fact that when the moon is full, apparently the fish "catch on" and avoid being caught. So it is not a very productive time to fish.

We have to plan ahead now, because our cats eat fresh fish. They didn't always. Stinkey and Miss Dufus "grew up" on canned food. But when two or three "street cats" infiltrate the ranks, things start to change. And since we lost Dinkey, and then Boomerang, these guys have just started to enjoy the finer things. And we can (usually) get fresh fish for about the same price as canned food.

Like I said, when the full moon is coming up, I have to plan ahead. I buy as much as is available that I can fit into my little refrigerator's freezer. This amounts to about five or six kilos, as long as it doesn't need to be defrosted. And that will often get us through long enough until the boats go out.

This time, though, there has been a bit of a problem. I guess the boats have been going out for two days already, but still no fish (pla lang) available that my cats like (and we can afford). There are many fishes that are expensive. And many that have such a lot of bones, or bones so tiny it is a waste of my time. My kitties have been without real fish for two days. I tried to get fish yesterday, and failed. Again today.

Miss Dufus and Stinkey can manage the first day. They will eat the canned for a day, no problem. And day number two, Miss Dufus will still eat it, but Stinkey goes into rebellion and refuses the canned stuff. She is a more fussy eater anyways. She will eat some of the dry stuff, and then after that goes outside, or goes back to bed. And gives me this look "why are you doing this to me?"

I didn't mention Little. Or Mr. Little as we call him. Mr. Little was trained by the great and powerful O.K. (whose picture still adorns the top of this blog). OK, my love, and my street kitty who could out scrap all who took him on, except the last one-- kidney disease. OK trained Little (by example) how to eat a raw fish (the whole thing) or a raw squid (with the evidence of a permanently stained black spot on his nose). I think they particularly enjoyed the thievery. The Burmese ladies lay the fish or squid out in the sun on frames strung with screen or string mesh in order to dry and then store it. And these guys were pretty adept at getting away with one before anybody could catch them or throw something. So Little likes fish. Real fish. For awhile, he tolerated the canned. But now, he just turns his nose up and walks away.

And don't get me wrong, Little LOVES to eat. Everybody tells me he is fat, but I say he is just well rounded. And has long fur. But he won't eat just anything. He wants fresh fish.

Little has not, therefore, eaten for two days. I confess, he does eat dry food. But it is really only a filler, and a time waster to tide him over for the fish. I did everything I could today to get some fish. One of the kids told me this afternoon that there have been a lot of sharks in the water yesterday and today, and so the smaller fish are scarce. So Little has had no fish.

The kids across the street were my last hope. I had already asked the "fish lady" (my Burmese neighbor who is my 'liaison') for fish. Yesterday, and twice today. But nothing. And when the last kids left today (from coloring,and my little Burmese English student) I asked Pipo if they had any fish at her house. She said "I don't know. I will ask." Everybody knows my kitties and knows why I want fish. Like I said, I had already asked the fish lady, who, like Pipo is Burmese, and is somehow connected to Pipo's mother(sister? aunt?). So there was little hope, in my mind.

I opened a can of food for the kitties' evening meal. Miss Dufus ate a little, Stinkey less, and Little...well you know.

We sat down to watch our Tuesday night Thai movie (another story, another day). And the show was noisy at parts, but all of a sudden I could hear someone yelling my Thai name "PaDeng! PaDeng!" When I finally realized this, we shut off the movie and I went into the room with the sliding glass door.

There stood four little Burmese kids, grinning, shouting my name. I said "What is it?" They said, "the fish came already!"

They were holding a bag with two small Pla Lang. Not too small. Just the right size that would make three kitties very happy this evening. I said, How much? And they said, "No, we give them to you." I could only smile and say thank you. I went and put the fish on to boil.

A little later I realize the kids were still playing on the porch (as is common at our house). So I went and took this picture, and asked about the fish. I guess some body's "elder" got some fish today. And they said, "He gave us one fish for every two kids. Hence, four kids, and two fish. They had two small fish. And they gave them to us.

And see their reaction.

Mr. Mike's Wild Ride

We started with a plan. Our work permits were approved, and our 90 day requirement for reporting in to Immigration had arrived. The plan was simple enough, we thought. Pick up the work permits at the employment office, which is just across the road from Immigration. Then go to Immigration, present them with the required work permits, and waltz out of there. And Mike thought we might be able to be back home by noon. We have plenty to do at home.

But of course that was only our plan. The Employment office was a little crowded. Lots of law changes in the new year, the lady explained. One older Thai lady expressed her aggravation loudly, and everyone smiled (as they do here) and she was helped in short order. Don't want those older (or squeaky wheels) people(and a teacher to boot)to wait. But it wasn't too long for us; we paid our money and went across to Immigration.

The office was changed. No counters, lots of desks. All new faces. This was not a bad thing, as far as I was concerned. The officer there before did not like me, and her being gone was ok with me. We were called to the desk to say what we came for.

"90 day" was our reply. I got out the passports and the work permits. The clerk started looking through our passports, flipping the pages back and forth. She looked confused. She brought over the supervisor. He asked if we wanted to apply for a visa extension? I said no, just report 90 days. He said, "Your visa expires today, or you must go out and come in to extend it for 90 days." I said "No, the Embassy in Florida gave us a one-year visa."

The Officer said, "At the airport they give only 90 days. If you want more than 90 days you must go out and come back in, or apply for an extension. Let me get the list of requirements." Now I must explain the list of requirements for a visa extension is never short, and never easy. And would have been impossible to do in one day.

So these were our options: 1) Overstay our visa, for as long as we could get away with it, without being deported. Cost, 500 baht per person, per day. Not really an option, but I just wanted to show you our options. 2) Apply for an extension today, which was not possible to complete the paperwork, which included a letter of approval from the Provincial government.or 3) Cross the border into another country for any amount of time, even five minutes, and automatically be able to stay for 90 more days (we have a multiple entry visa, and as long as we go OUT every ninety days, we CAN stay one year.) Since we had driven to Ranong before (but never crossed into Burma) we decided this would be the best option.

We decided we needed to drive back home, leave the cats in a better position (food, litter box) than we had when we left in the morning (expecting a quick trip over to Phang Nga and back).

One way trip to Phang Nga Immigration, one hour. Return trip, one hour.

Back home, made a quick sandwich. Took care of kitties. Burmese lady showed up wanting to sell me some fish. I told her I wanted it, but did not really have time to "receive it" right now. She told me she would ice it for me so I could get it in the morning. Thank the Lord I did not mess with the fish at that time. We left some lights on at the house, and took off.

I suppose it occurred to both of us that there might be some time constraints at the border. But do borders ever close? We really had no options, so neither of us brought up our concerns, but the truth is, individually, we both prayed along the way: "Lord, if there is a cutoff time, let us make it there in time."

We drove. And drove. It seemed like every big truck there is in Thailand was in front of us, and always on a curve with a blind spot. We left the house at 1:30 pm. The drive to Ranong from our house was, we estimated, three hours. We were driving into Ranong at about 4:15.

As we pulled into the gas station at the pier, a guy walked up to the car. Made the motion with his hands (assuming we could not speak Thai) showing someone "stamping" something, presumably a passport. We nodded. He asked if we had a ten dollar bill (USD) because Burma Immigration would require it. Assured us that if we didn't, he did. We got to Thailand immigration office about 4:25PM. They checked us out of Thailand.

Going to Burma to get your passport stamped, at least at Ranong, requires a short boat ride. You get on a boat in Thailand, ride to a "passport control" for Thailand,
ride on to a "passport control" for Burma, and then go on to Gaw Thaung, where you check in at the Burmese Immigration, pay your USD $10 (it has to be a beautiful bill--any markings, inks, defects, not acceptable.) Then you get back on the boat, go back to the passport control for Burma and get released, go back to the passport control for Thailand and get sent on, and return to the mainland, where you must check in at Thailand Immigration, get your passport stamped and accepted back into Thailand for 90 days. No problem.

Before we left on the boat from Thailand, the boat man again asked about our ten dollar bill. If we didn't have, he did. He would sell us one (each) for 450 baht. Well, the current exchange rate is 30 baht to the dollar. So he was wanting to charge us about $5 to exchange our Thai money into a $10 bill. Give him $15, he gives us $10. This seemed steep to me. And we would have had to do it, if I hadn't still had some US money stuck in my purse from our furlough. I got out a $10 bill. He examined it. Said "no good" and showed me a magic marker marking on the corner. I put it away. I had one more. I showed him that one. It had a red ink mark on it. He said, "no good." The only other thing I had was a twenty. It looked pretty sweet to me. I showed him that one. "OK. OK." He said. "That one OK." Thankfully we could pay for both of ours together.

We climbed onto the boat. Actually, we had to climb onto another boat that was in the way of our boat, and climb off of it and onto ours. These were like the long tail boats that the smaller fishermen use, with a motor with a long propeller that he would use to steer. This was not a "group charter" or anything, just us, the boat "captain" and the man who we made the arrangements with. To tell you the truth, I was concerned that they would drive us out to a secluded place, tie us to pieces of cement, throw us over, and grab my purse (he knew I had at least twenty more US dollars, even if they were ugly!). But after I saw out on the water that this situation was occurring all over the place. Many boats crossing the span between Thailand and Burma. A lot of them with Burmese people, larger groups than our boat. And I suspected they were NOT paying the 300 baht per person that we were (in addition to our $10 for the Burmese Immigration). But once I got over these aggravations, it was a pretty nice trip. Sunny day, a cool breeze out on the water. "Zooming" along at a reasonable clip, no water leaking into the boat, no sputtering motor. Another boat almost kept pace with us, with six or eight Burmese passengers. Looked like a family heading back home maybe. The two boat captains knew each other, and chattered back and forth once or twice when they were close enough. Really a pleasant ride in the late afternoon out on the water.

We pulled up on the Burma side, amidst a multitude of other boats, just like ours. They banged and bounced against each other, with nobody too concerned about it. The captain tied up the boat, and hurried over to help the lady (me) off the boat. You would think they would have a pier or something. I guess this was the economy section, because we had to climb out of the boat, again onto another to get to shore, then stumble over algae covered rocks, broken "red bull" and beer bottles, and then CLIMB over the hand rail at the edge of the water. I was so glad I had worn my "exercise" stretch pants under my skirt that day!

Another guy came up to us. Asked if we had copies of our passports, we said no. He said he would get them for us. So we went with him to a copy store just behind Burmese Immigration. All along the way, guys are cat-calling at us. "Give me a souvenir" "Do you want a souvenir" "want to buy whisky or cigarettes?". We ignored them. The guy got our copies(we paid him for them of course) we went through Burmese Immigration where the officer carefully examined the twenty (it passed) and shoved it in his drawer. Another guy typed us into the computer, gave our passports back to the officer with the cash drawer, and he stamped them-- oh, that desired stamp we had been waiting for! We turned and headed back to the beach and the boats. Several of these fellows who had been following us started getting loud as we got back to where we had to climb the handrail. "Where's my souvenir? I gave you money for a souvenir! You took my money!" I looked at one of them in surprise, and I think they were looking for a reaction or an altercation. The boatman grabbed my hand and started helping me back over the rocks, and we climbed onto another boat to get to his boat. The souvenir scammers were still hollering, "where's my money? where's my souvenir??" But by now we were safely back on our beautiful boat.

And we were off from the Burma coast. Now I really appreciated the boat ride. By now it was 5:30, the sun was low on the water. We admired the view. Another man was riding with us on the return. A Burmese man who worked taking people from the Thai side out to a casino. He gave the boat man a few baht, and he dropped him off on the Thai side at either an island or close by coastal section after we had passed again through the two passport controls.

We got back to Thailand, climbed over the boats to get back to land, checked in at Thai Immigration and filled out our "arrival cards," got "mug shots" by Thai Immigration cameras, and paid the boat guy.

Mike stopped him to ask a question. "What time does Thai Immigration close? What time do they stop stamping passports to leave Thailand?"

"You can come into Thailand any time." He said. "There are tourist arrive many hours. But they only stamp for leaving until 4:30." "Four thirty?" Mike asked. "Chai" he said. (Chai means 'yes'). We looked at each other. "Thank the Lord."

We gave the man who sold us the ride the 300 baht per person a gospel tract, and left the pier. We stopped and ate some "khanom jin" at a stand right across from the pier, knowing it was another three hours for our trip home. While we were enjoying our food, the captain of the boat walked by, apparently getting off work. "You! You!" He called out to us and nodded a greeting. He was amused that these two foreigners were eating at a little food stall that he must have frequented. He nodded at us, thumbs up, that the food there was good. We agreed.

It was a long drive home, same situation as the ride up, only in the dark. But the Lord was with us, it was tiring, dark, but uneventful. Not always the case on the rural, coastal roads.

Back home, our trip had been another three hours, exactly. We left Ranong at 6:45, we pulled up to our house at 9:45. Twelve hours from our original departure that morning. The kitties had to manage with only dry food for dinner, but I think they were relieved that we made it back home. Actually, so were we. But it was only with the Lord's help(Psalms 37:3-5). More lessons learned that day. More adventures and lessons to come, I am sure. Thank the Lord, my husband sure can drive.