About Face: Our Thai Odyssey

By Christine Durham

About Face takes the reader on a roller-coaster ride as it reveals the trials, tribulations and highlights of well-meaning but naive expats. They flip-flop from being thrilled with their new life in Thailand in the late 1970s to terror as they find themselves trapped by people in situations that spin out of kilter.

Thought-provoki

• Language: English
• Publisher: Streamline Publishing
• Release date: Mar 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645682519

Christine Durham

Christine, educator, is the author of Doing up Buttons Penguin Australia, Unlocking my Brain Ventura Press, Chasing Ideas Finch Publishing and Insight into Acquired Brain Injury Springer Nature. She has talked about coping with change, and helping students be better, brighter thinkers, both in Australia and around the globe. Christine is the mother of four and grandmother of seven and lives with her husband high on a hilltop among the gumtrees. Christine was a past Victorian Senior Australian of the Year. She has an OAM (Medal of the Order of Australia for her services to education), a PhD and a Doctor of Social Science honoris causa (RMIT).

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ONE: OFFERED THE MOON

Ivividly remembered the day our great adventure started.

JOURNAL: ELTHAM AUSTRALIA

MONDAY 24TH OCTOBER 1978

What a frantic day — so much has happened — it’s all so exciting I just can’t believe our luck — it feels like we’ve won the lottery!

This morning I dropped Helen, Andrea and Ken at school then drove on to uni after waiting in the petrol queue for twenty minutes (another petrol strike day!). Arrived at uni only a few minutes late, left little Rob in the crèche, flopped into the exam room, sat the exam, grabbed Rob, stopped on the way home for a pound of butter and a bottle of French dressing. Rob paid the grocer with a dollar note and was happy to collect the five cents change to put in his piggy bank. I vacuumed while he had his nap then picked him up, all rosy cheeked and sleepy from his cot, then dashed to the children’s school to accompany the school choir on the piano. I’d also carted along my piano accordion to play for the Year Five’s folk-dancing class in the quadrangle.

I was just packing up to leave when the students begged for another turn doing their favourite dance, the Dance of the Seven Steps. I suppose it was the challenge but I’ll never understand why they like this yo-yoing circling dance which becomes more and more difficult as the pace and the actions build up. After the dance is finished the kids were left red cheeked and panting and flicking bits of grit from the asphalt out of their knees, arms and foreheads. I feel dizzy just watching them placing their foreheads on the gritty bitumen at the crescendo of the dance. Surely it must be quite painful! Packing the squeeze-box back in its case, I thanked my lucky stars that this voluntary playing fitted in so well with collecting the kids from school.

The rest of the afternoon disappeared in the usual spelling, tables, reading and piano practice. The girls set the table. It looked great with the new purple floral tablecloth I’d made from a remnant of curtain fabric. The mutton casserole prepared with a packet of mushroom soup was in the oven, and a salad in the monkey-pod bowl. As a very special treat to celebrate the end of my exams, yesterday I’d prepared a chocolate-ripple cake: giving an original gourmet twist to the chocolate-flavoured biscuits, by spreading the biscuits with homemade cherry plum jam before covering the layers with cream and putting them together in a log shape.

I plucked the rollers out of my hair, dashed on some lippy and a smudge of blue eye shadow. I was feeling happy and proud. Another year of study had been completed, plus a colourful new table-cloth and a new invented recipe — Ah, now this is about as good as it gets!

It was a glorious spring evening, and the children, colourful in their home-made woollen dressing gowns, were running about playing hide and seek in the garden below. The sky was crimson, and purple wisteria festooned the balcony, and drinks were ready on the deck when Ted walked in the door. We sat gazing at mauve hills in the distance, a pottery goblet of cider in our hands. I was thinking Phew! What a relief my last exam has finished, when I’d noticed that Ted had a gleam in his eye. Suddenly he announced news that turned our lives around: His ‘Incredible Offer’. He’d been offered the position of Operations Manager with his company in Thailand. In an instant we were prattling with excitement, laughing at the novelty and adventure of the idea.

Only a minute ago life was normal, pleasant and predictable. Suddenly life seemed full of opportunities, adventure and new experiences. Like love at first sight, we fell slap bang in love with the romance of living overseas, totally seduced by the whole idea.

Once we’d calmed down a bit I asked, But is it safe?. I must admit I didn’t know much about Thailand apart from its geographical proximity to Vietnam and a sketchy understanding of the Vietnam War. This twenty-year conflict between North Vietnam’s Communist Government and the Viet Cong, supported by China, and South Vietnam with support from the U.S.A. and other anticommunist allies had officially ended five years ago. Ted had spent the day doing his homework — the whole region now seemed to be stable. Western powers now recognised Vietnam under the Communist Viet Cong, Thailand’s neighbour, Cambodia (renamed Kampuchea by Pol Pot in 1976) was secure under the Pol Pot Khmer Rouge Regime, and the U.S.A. was forging strong relationships with Beijing (Peking).

The other reason Thailand had been in the news were murders and drugs. We’d read the horror stories about the notorious Charles Sobhraj who’d used his charm and a cocktail of poisons to murder young back packers. But four years previously he’d been arrested in India and was now safely ensconced in Delhi’s Tihar jail. We would be safe from Sobhraj. A dinner party topic of discussion was the book ‘Midnight Express’ which had exposed to the world the horrors of drugs in Turkey! But we would be okay, living a quiet family life with young children, far from the world of drugs, safe from harm. Nothing violent could happen to us!

As we talked, we watched the sun touch the trees in the valley opposite, and the shadows lengthened. All at once, without warning, the sun disappeared behind a bank of dark clouds. I shivered and called the children inside. Little did we know the trauma and danger that lay ahead and that repercussions of our experience would cloud our life for decades.

Over dinner we discussed the move with the children, who quickly caught our mood of excitement, thrilled at the thought of flying in an aeroplane to live in the tropics. Ken asked, Can I have a baby elephant for a pet? Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a real monkey! Andrea exclaimed, her eyes shining. We’ll see, came in very handy as a reply. I could see Helen’s excitement at the thought of those trips to the UK and Europe with our ‘home leave’ time and subsidised airfares. We can go and see those things you saw when you were my age, when you went with Nana and Papa and Uncle Marcus. As I lifted Rob down from his high-chair I couldn’t help giving him a tight squeeze. Yessss! Now all my darlings can experience travel. Here, dropped in our laps, is a way for me to achieve this goal.

Our heads were spinning with ideas and plans, and Ted and I didn’t sleep a wink that night. By morning we had a long list of questions. Was this a good career opportunity for Ted? How long would we be gone? How would the children adapt to a new environment? Was there a good school for them? When would we have to go? But the more questions we asked the more our sense of adventure was brought to the fore. Wild horses couldn’t have held us back from this opportunity.

The next few days passed in a blur of excitement. The whole family constantly scrutinized the atlas, as if squiggly lines on a page could answer questions and reveal secrets. It’s inconceivable now, in this age of the internet and cell phones, but back in the 1970s there were very few references or resources available. We managed to find one book in the local library with some information about Thailand (the first Lonely Planet travel guide to Thailand wasn’t published until 1982) but our main source of information was the encyclopaedia.

We discussed all the advantages. What an opportunity for Ted’s career, what an opportunity for the children to attend an international school and travel. How great to be able to save some money to pay off some more of our mortgage. What luck for me to be able to complete my university studies with maids, a gardener, and a driver to take over some of my usual duties? How exciting! Who wouldn’t jump at this chance?

It seemed auspicious that Ted and I still had valid passports from our time in Portuguese Timor. Within the week, Ted and I flew off to Bangkok to consider the work and living conditions, so we could decide whether he’d accept the position of Operations Manager for the Asia Pacific division of this large Australian chemical manufacture.

To live in an exotic tropical land — what a sea change — what a complete and radical transformation from our suburban lives. We didn’t know that the Chinese character for change has two meanings: opportunity and danger.

JOURNAL: THURSDAY 27TH OCTOBER 1978. LOTUS BLOSSOM HOTEL

Last night Ted and I were greeted at the Don Muang airport just like VIPs, and chauffeured through the sultry, exotic night. A sliver of moon illuminated the golden spires of the wats in the temple complexes we passed. The car stopped at an amazing building nestled in magnificent gardens — our hotel.

This morning we were woken by a gentle knock on our door and a table covered with a long, starched tablecloth, bronze cutlery, orchids, platters of tropical fruit and a wonderful breakfast was wheeled in. Ted and I looked at each other and grinned with glee. What luxury! Right off the end of our Richter scale.

Our room is high above the treetops, amongst jacarandas festooned with birds-nest ferns, slender palm trees and fragrant frangipanis. Below, I can see tropical gardens and lakes dotted with water lilies. We’ve woken up in wonderland! I just can’t wait to get out there and explore! Everything is manicured, ordered, swept, and raked. I’ve been intrigued to watch an army of men, stooped over peculiar half-circle brooms, make the surroundings neat, tidy, and controlled. There’s not a leaf out of place. What a world! What a contrast to all those messy gum leaves that constantly gather round the front door at home!

We waited in the lobby for the secretary from Ted’s firm to arrive to show us around for the day. An elegant young lady in a beautiful crepe and lace outfit arrived looking as if she was going to a cocktail party or the races. We were surprised when she approached us and introduced herself as the M.D.’s secretary. The morning passed in a magic whirl as she escorted us round the Grand Palace, then to an elegant restaurant for lunch. We’d never even heard of Thai food, let alone tasted it. In the afternoon we swam and relax around the hotel pool before we were taken out to a sumptuous dinner. What a marvellous day! I hoped I looked calm and collected because inside my head I was dizzy with delight. I wanted to pack up every sight and experience in a box to give to our children back home.

Next morning, when the sky was still flushed pink, we visited the Floating Market. As we walked beside the klongs, people were washing in the canals and eating. Every few minutes someone would catch my eye and smile. While Ted went to the office, an estate agent took me on a tour of the kinds of houses we could expect to live in. They were unbelievably large, air-conditioned with gleaming teak floors. Each house was nestled in its own tropical garden and had a swimming-pool. I also was given a conducted tour and interviews at the International and British Schools.

That evening we attended a seafood banquet at a magnificent open-air restaurant with twenty people from the firm. I heard that a dinner such as this was quite normal as every few days there would be visitors from overseas divisions of the company to entertain. I was seated next to an expat, and we were making small talk when, to my surprise, he suddenly launched into a very earnest spiel about how Thailand was detrimental for marriages, and he seemed to be suggesting that we pack up and go home immediately. (Some months later I learnt that he’d subsequently left his wife for a local lady.) The following day we visited the Sunday Market and the Rose Gardens. How the kids would enjoy the Thai dancing. Even the elephants appeared to be doing their own dance as they slowly swayed from side to side. The palm trees moved and danced, the sunshine danced across the water-lily studded lake, and on the trip back to Bangkok, ideas danced in my head.

The next morning Ted went off to the company plant and offices, and Susan, the MD’s wife picked me up from the lobby. She seemed so assured, urbane, and at home with luxury and servants. The lush tropical plants of her garden made a beautiful backdrop as we had coffee and Danish pastries on her marble veranda. My brain and senses swam; here was a life and a half! She regaled me with tales of how she and her cook would prepare unusual dishes together: it all sounded like such fun! Their home, in a Thai neighbourhood of beautiful homes just like embassy buildings, was rented for them by the company. The spacious sitting rooms were decorated in Thai style, the walls hung with large oil paintings that looked like old masters. ‘Antique’ statues covered tables and shelves and I was especially interested when she modestly said that I’d be surprised if I knew how reasonably priced they were. I wanted it all, the freedom, the garden, the beautiful home, the servants and the ‘antiques’!

A walk round the small air-conditioned farang (foreigners’) supermarket let me see that apart from breakfast cereal being three times the price of a box of cereal at home, everything seemed much the same price as I was used to. As we had lunch at the Royal Sporting Club overlooking the racecourse, I was surprised to see a huge bonfire set up on the immaculate lawns. Susan introduced me to some self-assured acquaintances who explained that as it would soon be Guy Fawkes’ Night, there was to be a bonfire for the club members’ children. In my mind’s eye I could see the hot night, white-jacketed waiters in attendance, sparks dancing from the bonfire — how inconceivable that we could be part of this jet-set!

Her driver drove me back to the hotel where I spent some time window-shopping. The marble arcades surrounding the hotel, had shops crammed with goodies — sapphires, rubies, exotic crocodile handbags, intricate woodcarvings and stunning Thai silk of every hue.Everything seemed affordable. I wandered through the lobby with its high ceilings, ornate decorations, potted golden palms and large floral arrangements of amazing tropical flowers. Returning to our chilled room, I flung myself down on the bed, my head swimming with so many sights and sensations. It was hard to gather my thoughts, but I felt sure we would be foolish if we turned down the opportunity to live here. Ordinary expat life seemed to be extraordinary, and we were being offered an opportunity to live this extraordinary life. Why not take it?

Now I knew that there was no such thing as a free lunch, and Ted was ‘paying’ for our lunch with his experience and expertise working on sophisticated machinery works. We knew that wonderful things must be paid for, so it was almost a relief that there were some drawbacks. The unbelievably heavy traffic made it difficult get about, but we’d have a driver and air-conditioned car. Initially I’d been surprised to see the shabby dwellings but after a couple of days, it seemed normal or at least acceptable, and the crumbling buildings had their own charm. I was even looking forward to pulling out my sketchbook, to draw and later paint some of the old dwellings. The Land of Smiles certainly lived up to its name, and despite the rather basic looking living conditions the Thais’ good-natured approach to life, their obvious enjoyment, their mai pen rai, never mind attitude, and the friendly dazzling smiles showed they had some special secret of happiness. They enjoyed their food. Wherever we went, whatever the time of day or night, we saw people eating food bought from noodle carts in the street. Yes, there were some minus points about moving to Thailand but what plusses!

We were taken to a French restaurant for dinner that evening. The night was warm, the tropical air perfumed, and it was oh-so-romantic to be dancing to ‘Moon River’. Ted sang the words softly in my ear: …you dream maker… Yes, we were hooked. We had to come!

TWO: OUR DANCE BEGINS

Iwent into a flurry of preparations when we returned home from our look-see trip to Thailand. I threw myself into juggling packing boxes for storage, tea chests to be sent ahead by sea to Thailand, and sewing. The sewing machine hummed as I made outfits for the girls. I shopped till I dropped and purchased tropical outfits for the boys — beige safari suits with long pants — wow, and I lashed out on several cheesecloth and broderie anglaise outfits for myself. My pièce de résistance had a handkerchief hem and highlights of hot pink satin ribbon. I’d never spent so much money at one time! I was gob-smacked by my sheer audacity and extravagance but though how stylish we’d look and especially Ted in his new pale blue safari suit.

The children were intrigued to learn about Thai customs and rules of manners. They seriously practiced wai-ing and were fascinated to learn that we had to remove our shoes before we entered a temple. When seven-year-old Ken heard that Thai’s consider the head the most important, the feet the least important part of the body, and that we should never have the soles of our feet higher than a person’s head he was puzzled about what we should do if there were people downstairs and we were walking upstairs! The kids were amazed to learn that touching a Thai on the head was highly insulting and that we must never point our feet directly at anyone.

At last, it was the thirty-first of December, and our grand adventure could begin. Ted’s mum thoughtfully packed an empty shoebox with sandwiches for us to eat in the car on the way to the airport. The company had promised to look after us very well, and we were surprised to find that our tickets were for first class. What a thrill to be unexpectedly invited by the airline staff to take twenty family and friends to the Lounge for refreshments!

Then we were off. We’d only been in the air a few minutes before little Rob was nonchalantly choosing between smoked salmon and oysters for lunch. Luckily the children hadn’t eaten many of those sandwiches in the shoe-box!

As part of my ‘Life into Words’ university studies I was required to keep a detailed journal. This provided an opportunity to observe and record our exciting new life, a record to reflect upon later.

Journal: Thursday 4th January 1979. Shangri-la Hotel Singapore

On New Years’ Eve as 1978 metamorphised into 1979, I tucked the kids in their beds and Rob in his cot in the amazing hotel in Singapore. The plane trip was a dream, and, as we sped through