Chapter 1: Bangkok BoundI was staring into the computer monitor at work when my phone rang. Even though it was not a complete surprise, my husband''s question startled me. "Want to move to Bangkok?" Three months earlier, Randall had received a job offer to go to Buenos Aires, Argentina. We''d drunk champagne on Friday to celebrate the news, but the following Monday, the offer had been rescinded. "Is it for real this time?" I asked. "It''s definitely going to happen, and fast. I have to be in Bangkok in four weeks." It was early July of 2005, which meant moving the first week of August.
The thought of moving so fast was overwhelming. What would we do with our house? What about our belongings? I was at the mercy of Randall''s job with no say in the process. Randall was a natural-born risk-taker who often leaped ahead of me and looked back to make sure I was following. I was just the opposite: cautious, easily frightened, and slow to decide. "How long would we live there?" "Three years. We could travel to Vietnam, Cambodia, Singapore, and Japan. What an opportunity!" Clearly he was excited, while I felt a mixture of fear and hesitation. Randall had worked a lot of overtime the past year to advance his career at a major oil company.
Top-performing employees were rewarded with overseas assignments. The move to Thailand meant a promotion, but it was happening so fast. "We won''t know anyone, or speak the language," I said. "It will be an adventure," Randall replied. "This is the chance of a lifetime. I''ve been working for the company for twenty-four years, and this is the only foreign assignment available for someone with my qualifications. They owe me one after Argentina--and I''m not going to get another offer." I was conflicted.
I would have been more comfortable living in South America, since I spoke fluent Spanish. I''d learned Spanish during my junior year abroad living in Madrid in 1971 and felt more familiar with Latin culture. I had many Latina friends and knew I could easily blend into the local scene. I''d heard Buenos Aires was similar to a European city and I''d dreamed of leisurely afternoons sitting in cafés and sipping espresso. I could also envision our son, Kris, thirteen years old, becoming fluent in Spanish and flourishing in a Latin culture. He loved Mexican food and was already studying Spanish in school. In Thailand he would be navigating unfamiliar territory. Like me, Kris was slow to accept change, and transitions were hard for him.
"What about the cultural differences?" I asked. "I don''t know anything about Thai society or customs." At fifty-four, confronting the unknown felt daunting. And there was another complication. I had a serious lower back problem that I had been coping with for the past eight years. Degenerative discs. I had grown used to carrying an ice pack and a little blow-up chair pillow wherever I went. I managed the pain with physical therapy and medication, but I was worried about the long flight.
And what if my back got worse in Thailand? I trusted my doctors in the US but didn''t have a clue about the Thai medical system. Where would I turn if I needed help? This might have been a concern living in Argentina too, but I would have felt more confident about navigating their health system. "Let me think about it and call you back." I said. "I just need time to think," I said. Randall''s silence spoke volumes about his impatience. I swiveled my chair to the window, phone in hand. It''s true that we''d been talking about living abroad for twenty years, but we had never actually done it.
On our last vacation, we''d chartered a sailboat in Tonga and swum with the whales. It was all very exciting, but that had been a two-week vacation, not a long-term commitment. I paused to consider my options. Maybe Randall could live abroad and I could stay here with Kris. But I knew that wasn''t going to happen. I couldn''t imagine living alone again after twenty years of marriage. When mutual friends in my folk dance group first introduced us, I was lonely and looking for a companion. An avid cyclist, sailor, and hiker, Randall was five-eleven, lean, and fit, with thinning brown hair and striking light blue eyes that gleamed when he was outdoors in nature.
I was five-seven and slender. I liked my appearance--dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and angular features like a woman in a Modigliani painting. Even through Randall was seven years younger than me, just twenty-seven at the time, he seemed older and more responsible than most men I had met. He was not afraid of commitment and wanted to settle down. Initially I was terrified to make a commitment. I wanted the intimacy but was afraid of losing myself in a relationship. Eventually I followed my heart. I loved him and wanted to be with him.
After six months we moved in together, and a year later we married. "You hate your job." Randall countered [[stet]]the empty conversation. He''s right about that, I thought. I was sick of my job as a nonprofit fundraiser for a mental health crisis center. I had settled into a fundraising career out of convenience, doing the same monotonous job day after day. I''d been there five years and had recently contemplated leaving. Still, I liked having the routine of working.
In Thailand I wouldn''t have a job because spouses of employees weren''t allowed work permits. What would it be like to have nothing to do? "If we moved to Thailand, you wouldn''t have to work," Randall continued. "You could do anything you want. I''d kill for that opportunity." Looking around my office, I realized he was right. I was stuck in a dead-end job with no prospects for change on the horizon. I looked out the window. I took a deep breath and summoned my courage.
Even with my doubts, I yearned for change. Maybe this was the opportunity I was looking for. I felt a rush of adrenaline, and my heart was pounding. "Okay, let''s do it," I said. "Really?" "Yes." I am the type of person who, once I cross the threshold of my fear, becomes very focused. It''s like a light switch has been turned on, and I can see everything more clearly. Randall knew this about me.
Even though I was still nervous, I wanted to live in a foreign culture. Randall and I were in agreement about that, but we approached our decision-making process differently. Once aligned, however, we made a formidable team. And once I made a solid commitment, I moved forward with purpose. For the first time I felt a trickle of excitement. "It''ll be fantastic!" Randall said. "You won''t regret it." "We''ll need to discuss this with Kris tonight.
I''m not looking forward to that." "It''ll be okay," he said. Eager to leave my job, I walked downstairs and gave my boss two weeks'' notice.***I left work that same day at about four thirty to pick our son up from middle school. Kris ran toward the car when he saw me. At five-five, he had sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a mischievous demeanor. Tired after our respective long days, we were both quiet. I turned into the driveway and let Kris out before pulling into the garage.
He headed to his room to play on his computer. I didn''t fuss at him to do his homework since I didn''t want an argument before dinner. I dropped my things by the front door and headed into the kitchen. Randall walked in at about six thirty, and I called Kris to the table. Randall and I both wore serious expressions. "What''s up?" Kris asked, observing our concerned faces. "We have something to tell you," Randall said. "You know how I''ve been wanting to get a foreign assignment? Well, since Argentina fell through, they''ve offered me a job in Thailand.
Your mom and I talked about it, and I decided to accept the offer." "We''ve always wanted a chance to live abroad." I interjected. My tone was upbeat, hoping to persuade him. "What?" Kris exclaimed. "I don''t want to go. I won''t know anyone." He pushed away from the table.
"What about Austin? I don''t want to leave my best friend." "We can arrange for Austin to visit this summer," I said, hoping that bargaining chip would make him feel better. "We could take a vacation, and you could show him around." Randall put his elbows down and leaned forward against the table. "You''ll make new friends," he said. "It''s a chance for adventure, a chance to see the world. We may not get another opportunity like this." "So you''re saying we have to go?" His voice rising.
"Do I have any say in this, or are we going no matter what?" "We''ve made our decision," Randall said. "We''re moving in August. I know it''s quick, but your mom and I are sure we can make it happen." "You don''t care about me!" Kris stood up and pushed away from the table. "Well, that went well," I said sardonically. Next thing I knew, Randall was knocking on Kris''s bedroom door. I don''t know what they talked about, but when they emerged from behind closed doors, Kris looked resigned. After all, he was our son, and like it or not, we had been talking about this for years.
He had known about Argentina and probably guessed that a move was inevitable. No longer upset, he seemed quiet in his resolve. Perhaps he was taking his time to adjust to the idea. We each took a serving of salad, bread, and cold chicken, and we ate in silence.***The following week, I concentrated on finding a school for our son. The most likely choice was the International School of Bangkok (ISB), since most expat families sent their kids there. ISB began classes the first week of August, so I immediately submitted his application. In addition to selecting a school, we had to prepare our house for rental, which meant clearing out all the furniture and the garage, a near-impossible task in just three weeks.
I thought about all my mother''s things packed in boxes in the garage. She''d died five months earlier in January at age ninety, and I still wasn''t ready to sift through her belongings. "What are we going to do with all the boxes in the garage?" I asked. "Everything will have to go int.