Getting Married in Thailand: A Blending of Cultures

A couple of weekends ago, we attended the wedding reception of a colleague, who is American, and his new wife, who is Thai. This man has been in Thailand for nine years, and works with me as a special education teacher. He and his wife dated for six years. He is 58; she is 35 -- a very common age difference in western-Thai marriages here.

This Thai-western wedding reception was the culmination of many months of wedding traditions and practices here in Thailand. The couple began talking about marriage about a year ago, but the groom had to save money for the dowry first. How much might the dowry be? I guess it depends on the family and the financial status of the man. As an example, when the bride's sister got married last year, the groom (who's also American like my colleague, and makes "a lot" of money by Thai standards) paid one million baht (or a little over $30,000 USD, depending on the exchange rate) for the dowry, but my colleague paid "only" 500,000 baht (he's very open about personal matters!).

Then, a few months prior to the wedding and reception, he and his fiancee went to a shop, rented various outfits, and had "pre-wedding" pictures taken. They dressed in both western and Thai outfits. His fiancee paid a lot of money to have her hair and make-up done professionally (which my colleague disliked; he likes the "natural look," he says). Some of these pictures were a little goofy, but some were beautiful. They also had a "traditional" Thai-style picture taken, with both of them in traditional Thai outfits, her sitting in a throne-like chair, and him standing beside her, holding her hand. According to him, every Thai couple has a blown-up picture of themselves similar to this, hanging over their beds.

A "goofy" pre-wedding picture. The bride is a knockout!

Then came the traditional Thai wedding in early January, held at the bride's hometown in southern rural Thailand. From the pictures I saw and the conversations I had with the groom, it was very casual. There was a wedding ceremony involving blessings from Buddhist monks. Then there was a banquet with hundreds -- if not 1000 -- of people (probably most of the village) invited. Cows were slaughtered, and people spent many days preparing and cooking for the banquet. Similar to Chinese wedding custom, attending guests gave envelops of money instead of material gifts. But again, it was much more casual than we would envision a wedding reception to be. My friend told me that, at his sister-in-law's wedding banquet, there were uninvited guests coming and going. There was even a fight between some villagers at the banquet! Anything goes here!

The wedding ceremony.

The village wedding reception and banquet.

The wedding reception we attended was the more western version that the couple held for their friends and colleagues. It was held at a restaurant that looked like a greenhouse. About half of the guests were Thai and half were expats. It was interesting to see the blending of cultures and its outcome. There was a big billboard of the couple plastered on the wall outside the restaurant, and a stage area set up so the couple could take more pictures with family and friends. The bride's boss gave a toast in Thai, which was translated by an Australian colleague of mine who speaks both Thai and English. Even the groom made a toast, and addressed the issue of children in front of over 100 people! The couple dressed in western wedding garb, and incorporated some western traditions such as bouquet throwing and the first dance. But it was a bit awkward at times -- for example, the couple obviously didn't get married that day, so the bride had a fresh bouquet made just for throwing, and she took it out of its wrapping right before she threw it. Again, it was fairly casual. The dress code was business casual, and only a few men, including my husband, wore a suit. There was a band singing covers of American songs, and the band members were dressed in t-shirts and jeans.

The billboard announcing the couple's reception.

The greenhouse-restaurant where the western reception was held.

The band.

I asked a Thai-American friend of ours about the traditional Thai wedding. She said she (who was born and raised in the U.S.) and her husband (who was born and raised in Thailand) had a traditional Thai wedding. It included the "engagement" in the morning (where the groom asks the bride's parents for her hand in marriage -- in show only for them, of course -- and brings the dowry), then the wedding, and the reception at night (which she acknowledged is also a western tradition).

I really enjoyed the party; I loved how casual and fun it was. It also was a great chance to see another side of my colleagues that I rarely see -- for example, it was funny to see my department chair completely drunk and uncensored. It was endearing to see the Thai people unused to dancing and other western traditions enjoying themselves. My son had a great time meeting and playing with a couple of Thai kids who are nieces and nephews of the bride, even though none of them spoke any English. And of course, the food was delicious and plentiful. I only wish I could've attended the traditional Thai wedding reception to experience an authentic Thai wedding.

  

Mission of the Year: Operation Tax Refund

Shortly after arriving in Thailand in July 2013, we began hearing that the practice of the Thai government is to withhold income tax from international teachers' paychecks, even though they, as expats, should be exempt from being taxed, at least for the first two years they're here. We heard that other international schools in Bangkok did not take taxes out of their teachers' paychecks, but we were subject to the income tax because our particular district did not follow the national law governing the taxation of expats' incomes. Later, we began hearing rumors that we could get the tax money returned to us if we left after two years. But it was all very hush-hush, passed on through soft whispers, with nothing in writing to prove otherwise. It all sounded very confusing and sketchy. I did some research of my own, but failed to find anything conclusive; there were simply too many differing accounts of the "facts" surrounding income taxes for expats.

The ferry boat to and from the hotel.

A few months after our arrival, in the fall of 2013, it became known which faculty members were leaving after two years of teaching here, same as it was this past fall after the contracts were due. I began approaching a few people I trusted to discuss the matter of the income tax, and to find out what's what. I was told that there was "a man" who worked with teachers to get their taxes refunded. I was given just a name, no contact information or website, and told to look him up on social media. Everyone who knew of him learned about him through word of mouth. There were no company websites or public records of any sort with a paper trail indicating that he did this sort of work, or even that he was legitimate. Again, it was all very mysterious and secretive.

I didn't think too much of this whole thing again until after we made our decision to return home this summer. Then I began hearing that other teachers in our cohort who are also leaving this year had begun to contact this man to get their taxes refunded. Because it's not a small amount of money (some people will probably get refunds of between $20,000 to $30,000; for us, it's a bit less because I officially worked for only one year), my curiosity was piqued and I decided to look a little more into it. I spoke to people who had begun the process and to people who left last year about their experiences with this mysterious tax man so far. My husband contacted yet other teachers for contact information because simply looking him up on social media seemed so strange and unofficial. The teachers we contacted actually had his contact information and company website address, miracles of miracles!

Bangkok.

I contacted Tax Man through his website, and he emailed me a couple of days later with an overwhelming amount of information about what he does, how he does it, and testimonials from those he had worked with in the past. He immediately wanted to set up a meeting -- at a hotel, no less -- for that weekend, and included in his email his fees, which are pretty substantial. He also required multiple copies of every page of our passports, employment contracts, and work permits. So we were basically to hand over all our confidential, personal information, along with a huge sum of cash, to a perfect stranger. At a hotel. In downtown Bangkok. After which he could forever disappear into thin air, if he wished.

It takes a lot of trust, or stupidity, however you want to look at it. If this were in America, we would've researched this from every angle, called everyone we know under the sun, and then probably not go through with it because it just seems too weird and underhanded. But this is Thailand, and this is how things are done here. Also, it was comforting to know that this guy has a history of working with teachers at our school, and has a history of successfully getting the Thai government to refund tax money to international teachers throughout Thailand. It also helped that other teachers in our cohort had already met with him, and could tell us their impressions and experiences. Meanwhile, the teachers who left last year with whom I was in touch were keeping me updated on their situations, and they were already beginning to receive portions of their refunds, which was a good sign.

The hotel all lit up.

So we set up a meeting with him. It was all very clandestine -- we were given instructions on when, where, and what to bring. The appointment was for a Saturday afternoon a few weeks later, at one of the most well-known hotels in the world, which is where he meets all his clients. We took a taxi and a train to get to the pier on the Chao Phraya River in downtown Bangkok, with binder clips of documents and a wad of cash in an envelop hidden away. Then we took the hotel's ferry boat to the hotel. With so many modes of transportation, and with everything being so covert, we felt as if we were on a mission, trying to outrun someone in a chase.

We felt completely under-dressed and out of place at the hotel. Everyone there was dressed to the nines -- it's a place where the rich and famous stay and hang out. Rooms there range from $500 to $5000 a night.

At the appointed time, he came through the doors, looking around. I recognized him from a picture online, so I approached him and introduced myself. I wondered for a moment whether I should give him a fake name. But in contrast with all the furtiveness, the first thing he did was give us two cute, green, stuffed bears -- they're from an organization that plants a tree in Thailand for every bear purchased, and he buys them for his clients every year. It was adorable.

He's a British man in his late 50s, an international tax consultant who has been living in Bangkok for 12 years, and has been working with teachers here for eight years. He's quite an interesting man with an interesting story -- he's never been married, but told us of a near-marriage to a Finnish woman when he was in his 20s. He even learned Finnish to move to Finland to be with her, but when he returned a year later, she had moved on and married someone else. She recently contacted him again on social media -- she's been divorced for many years and has a grown son -- and he's thinking about going to visit her again. He quite regretted having lost her the first time, and advised us that, in life, one just needs to choose a direction and move forward with that decision, which was how it was when he decided to move to Bangkok. He was scared and uncertain, but nevertheless sold everything he owned and left his life behind, resolving to make it work in Bangkok, no matter what happened. And here he was, 12 years later, with a thriving tax consulting business, and being sought out by international teachers to help them. I found him to be quite charming and endearing, and straightforward in his interactions with us.

The beautiful lobby.

Our meeting lasted over two hours. He responded quite honestly to all our questions; he had a ton of references and testimonials, and quite a few stories. He told us of schools that tax teachers' incomes, but pocket the money themselves instead of turning it over to the government (which is what we suspect our school does). He told us of government officials in the revenue department getting bribes from schools, and schools getting bribes as well. He told us of others who claim to do what he does, but who simply take teachers' money and disappear. We heard stories of many schools that promise to help teachers get their taxes returned, but don't follow through. We heard about schools and government officials colluding with each other. And he told us of being brought to our school years ago by someone in HR and presented to the faculty as someone who could help them get their taxes back, only to be characterized later by the same person (who appears to be the sweetest person in the world and whom we know quite well!) as an incompetent, dishonest person, simply because this HR staff member had a friend or relative who wanted to make some money off the teachers, so she began directing the teachers to go to her friend/relative instead! Of course, this other person had no idea what he was doing, so he couldn't help the teachers. "Our" tax guy actually advised us not to breathe a word to the school about what we were doing, in case the school tried to sabotage our efforts. He told us of eight years of working through all the obstacles the Thai government has placed before him in an effort to stop him, and all the corruption in the Thai government. Sadly, doing this kind of work has changed him -- he's been hardened, he's become less trusting and more suspicious, and he has come to distrust and dislike most Thai people.

None of this was surprising, though it was extremely disappointing. We had known that there was a lot of corruption in Thailand, but had no idea that it was so pervasive (a few of my students had warned me in the past that Thailand is "very, very corrupt."). To hear that we can't even trust those we interact with on a daily basis was jarring and saddening. To hear that people who are supposed to be helping us would steer us in the wrong direction for personal gain was very disheartening. Since starting my job, I had begun to suspect that anyone with remotely any money or connection in Thailand was corrupt, and this experience only confirmed my suspicions. Even for a cynic like me, this is all a little too much to handle and too depressing to contemplate.

Thank goodness Tax Man also has a great sense of humor, and had a few funny stories to relay. As we furtively signed paperwork and handed over the envelop of money under the table, he wondered what those around us thought we were doing. He joked that people must think he was a stuffed bear salesman as he always gives his clients bears, after which they give him money. He told of meeting with a beautiful, young international teacher, and watching a man watch them intently as she handed over a wad of cash. The man almost approached them, and Tax Man felt certain that the man thought Tax Man was this woman's pimp. He also had been approached in the past and asked whether he was a client's boyfriend. Because he is there practically every day, he told us he recognized a certain woman who was always there, meeting different wealthy men -- a prostitute with sky-high rates. We joked about conducting a poll of those around us to get their perceptions of what was happening.

The atmosphere at the hotel was actually quite pleasant. The lobby was beautiful with lots of light. Tax Man ordered drinks and snacks for all of us. And when dusk descended upon us, a string quartet set up in the lobby to play beautiful classical music. It was actually all pretty magical, were it not for the nature of our business there. As usual, never a dull moment, always an adventure.

The Last Hurrah

Today, the first week of school for the second semester finally ended! It's been rough, having to wake up early and starting work at 7 a.m. again; our three-week break feels like ages ago. As we gear back up to full speed, I fondly think back to the last six days of our 23-day winter break -- blissfully quiet and low-key, which was exactly how we wanted it after spending the previous two weeks traveling around the upper half of Taiwan. The last weekend of the break, however, we did take some time to do some things we had been curious about, and to enjoy our free time while we still had some.

On that Friday (which was only a week ago today, but feels like a month ago), we took our son ice skating. It had been at least three years since he last ice skated, so when we heard that ice skating exists (year-round!) in the tropical climate of Thailand, our interest was piqued. Called Sub-Zero, the skating rink was located in a mall, of course. It was a little strange to see short-sleeved shirts and shorts/skirts on people while skating; I'm so used to seeing everyone bundled up! The price was just right -- about $10 to skate for an hour for two people, including the skate rentals (we also had to put down an additional "skate deposit" of about $8 that we got back when we were done). Overall, it was a fun experience that provided a great workout.

We also had a chance to visit a new bunny cafe that opened right here in our neighborhood in the last month or so. This bunny cafe was originally in the downtown area of the city, but moved to Chiang Mai. The owner of the one in our neighborhood used to work there, but didn't want to move to Chiang Mai, so he started his own bunny cafe in our neighborhood! Unlike the cat cafe we had visited a couple of months ago, the bunnies and humans don't mingle while the humans are eating. Instead, there is a separate space where visitors can get a snack while waiting to go inside to visit the bunnies. Visitors also can spend less than $2 for some special treats for the bunnies. And unlike the cats at the cat cafe that didn't want anything to do with their human visitors, the bunnies were friendly and cuddly, probably because of the treats they were getting. They were so adorable!

On that Saturday night, a friend and I had a girls' night out in downtown Bangkok. We visited a spa called Health Land and got blissed out on massages; hung out, chatted, and shared a slice of blueberry cheesecake at a cute cafe; and had dinner and listened to live jazz at this fantastically quirky place called Iron Fairies. It's a restaurant and bar by night, and an iron factory that makes and exports iron fairies by day. The husband of a friend actually has gone there to do some ironwork. The designer of the restaurant, an Australian who dropped out of school at 14 and who used to be a miner, has an interesting story (like many, many foreigners who end up in Thailand), and is also the designer behind many other unusual restaurants and bars in Bangkok.

It was a very enjoyable evening for the both of us. It had been a while -- since before we came to Thailand -- since I'd gone to a venue like that to relax, eat, and listen to live music. My friend and I ate a scrumptious meal, chatted about everything under the sun, enjoyed the music, people-watched (so many expats there!), and relaxed in comfortable armchairs over drinks.

Now it's back to reality. But posts about our glorious holiday are coming soon as I continue to relive traveling and eating our way through the northern half of Taiwan.  

The Pictures in My Head

When I was a few months pregnant with my son, I went to Orlando, Florida, for a few days for a work conference. My husband joined me for a couple of days and we went to a couple of theme parks. It was...okay -- I'm really not a Disney or theme-park person, but I also was still experiencing fatigue and nausea from my pregnancy. Walking around and watching people, I observed a total disconnect between our established ideas of being at Disney World and reality. Our ideas of being at Disney (most of which come from the media) usually involve good-looking, well-dressed, smiling families with happy, well-behaved children (one boy and one girl, of course) walking hand in hand, posing with the princesses and other Disney characters, and having a great time. Reality, which was what I saw, was a completely different story: the grown-ups, many of whom were unkempt and overweight, looked tired, sweaty, and frazzled; kids were crying and screaming everywhere; and everyone looked like they just wanted to go home.

For most of my adulthood, I, too, had these pictures, images, dialogues, and even movies, in my head about my own life and how it's supposed to be, whether conscious or not. And I'm certain I'm not alone, not even close. Since childhood, we're inundated with messages from our families, the world around us, and the media, about how things are "supposed" to be -- from the smaller, daily occurrences, such as family dinners and the idyllic weekend, to bigger, more momentous events such as the Christmas holiday to childhood to birth and motherhood (the latter two with some of the most unrealistic idealizations I've ever encountered). Then there's life -- in life, we're supposed to (and we're supposed to want to) "accomplish" certain milestones, from getting a prestigious and well-paying job to home ownership to marriage to becoming parents. The list goes on and on.

You know what I'm talking about -- when a catalog arrives in the mail, we leaf through it, imagining ourselves owning the advertised products and how happy we might feel; we think our children's childhoods *should* include certain rites of passage, or they're "deprived"; and when the Christmas holiday approaches, we picture cozy times in front of a fire and by a perfectly decorated tree, under which are stacked beautifully wrapped presents. It is ingrained in us. No, we don't walk around thinking, from the minute we're awake to the minute we go to sleep, "Okay, I'm going to have breakfast now, and this is how it should go...," but I believe our actions and decisions are at the very least unconsciously influenced by these expectations and judgments.

Even my own son already has been susceptible. When he entered kindergarten, he became acutely aware of his small stature because of constant comments from other adults and his classmates. Boys are supposed to be big, and tough, and rough-and-tumble, and he didn't fit that stereotype, so that warranted comments. Some of the boys would tease him for his small size, while some of the girls would pick him up and carry him around, which he detested. He came to believe that "bigger is better," and to see his worth and capabilities through that lens. It was hard to watch him struggle with self-confidence, and even harder to convince him otherwise. Even more heartbreaking: he came to me a few days ago, nearly in tears, worried that, when he begins third grade in the U.S., he won't be able to make friends because he is small for his age. What happened to him two years ago obviously affected him so much that it stayed with him, and continues to worry him.

Obviously, he didn't always feel this way. And neither did I. I didn't always have these images in my head, or at least didn't allow them to "get" to me. But sometime after graduating college, I got the message that it was time to grow up, and growing up meant having plans, setting goals, and accordingly putting my life on a certain path. Over time, I forgot about my adventurous side, my risk-taking self. I grew up.

Just recently, I came across this article discussing the disconnect between our plans and reality, and how setting goals can actually kill our creative selves and push us farther from our goals. The article resonated with me: it articulated for me the reason I had become so goal-oriented in my adulthood -- something I had been unable to put my finger on previously. It also reminded me of my younger self, who allowed herself the freedom of dreaming and imagining, taking risks, and taking each day as it came and seeing what was in store for her instead of trying to control every aspect of the future, which is unforeseeable. This article allowed me to recognize how limiting and damaging our internal life stories can be, and how much unhappiness they can create in us when they don't correspond with our realities, which they usually never do -- because, let's face it, life is messy and chaotic, and the pictures in our heads allow for neither.

These past two years in Thailand have been extremely freeing for my son and me in this sense. For him, he has been free to be himself, short stature and all. The Thai culture is very open and fluid when it comes to gender and gender roles -- we regularly see male students touching each other, interacting with each other, and dressing in ways that would have them getting beaten to a pulp in the U.S. A few older elementary-aged boys we know love toys that are traditionally considered to be "girl toys" in the U.S. -- My Little Pony comes to mind -- but their peers accept it as part of who they are. My son is still one of the smallest and shortest kids in his class, even though he also is one of the oldest ones, but, in a similar vein, it is accepted that that's just how he is, and no one comments on his size. He has been so happy here being accepted unconditionally, and his self-confidence has increased.

As for me, I have felt empowerment and contentment being freed from the confines of my internal expectations and the pictures in my head. Living in a foreign country, and being immersed in a culture -- with everything from language to customs to how people interact with each other to foods -- so foreign to oneself goes a long way to dispel any beliefs one might have of how life should be lived. It's difficult to have preconceived ideas about how something should go when one has no idea of the norm or what's possible.

Being here, I have regained more of my younger self: I take each day as it comes, assess and re-assess what's happening, and go with the flow. Being able to let go of those expectations and assumptions in my head, being able to enjoy the adventure for what it is, and being able to accept the unpredictability of life, has led to more inner peace with where I am and who I am than I have ever known in my life. I have felt more optimistic and hopeful about life than I have in a long time. I am no longer operating out of a fear of uncertainty like I used to.

That's not to say, of course, that getting to where I am mentally hasn't been excruciatingly painful, and that there aren't days when I feel a little tremor of anxiety as I feel the vastness of the future ahead. But there also is a certain comfort and relief in embracing the predictability of the unpredictable, in acknowledging this, and in letting go.

I do admit to feeling a little worried. I'm worried that I will forget all this, all that I have learned about life and about myself, and return to a state of complacency and fear, once I'm again part of the daily grind. I am also and especially worried about how my son will adjust, and whether his newly earned self-confidence will be able to weather any negative comments, judgments, and expectations foisted upon him. The realities of the expectations for a boy in America will be harsh compared to what he's grown used to.

I'm usually not one to set goals just because it's a new year, but if I have to set one for this year, I'd resolve to keep all this in mind -- to remember it and talk about it, and to live it -- when we head home and re-settle into our lives again. I need to, for myself and for my family, but especially for my son -- to know that he still free to be who he is, to learn to ignore and overcome the pictures people will inevitably try to put in his head about who he should be, and to embrace the unknown and welcome life's possibilities, as I had forgotten how to do.