Jon Junior's cell phone. It went straight through to a recorded message in Thai that said that the number wasn't available and that I should try later. It didn't give me the option of leaving a message or of using a call-back service which would notify me when the phone was available. I used my cell phone to send a text message in Thai, asking for whoever had the phone to give me a call and I'd make it worth their while.
I reached for my MacBook and switched it on, then sent an email to the address that Mr. Clare had given me. While I waited to see if the email bounced back I looked through the letters that Jon Junior had written. There were three letters, mainly just chit-chat about what a great time he was having but that he missed his family and his church.
The first letter contained four postcards – pictures of a floating market, elephants playing in a river, and the Wat Phra Kaew and Wat Arun, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha and the Temple of Dawn. There were scribbled notes on the back – “been there, done that!”
In the second and third letters were photographs that Jon Junior had taken of more tourist sites, including the Chao Phraya River, the Chatuchak Sunday market, and what looked like shots of the street market in Patpong. Jon Junior was in some of the shots, grinning in knee-length shorts and a baggy t-shirt with the Thai flag on the front. His hair was longer and curlier and his skin was more tanned than it was in the photograph that his parents had given me, and he seemed a lot more relaxed, with a broad grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.
I put one of the pictures, in which he was standing in front of a noodle stall, on the scanner and scanned it into my laptop, along with the picture that the Clares had given me.
Jon Junior had obviously been having fun in Thailand.
And he had at least one friend here, because someone must have taken the photographs that he was in. But there was no mention of a travelling companion in the three letters, or any suggestion that he'd met anyone in Thailand.
I sat back in my chair and considered my options.
First, the basics.
Jon Junior had flown into Bangkok at the beginning of January. I needed to know if he was still in Thailand.
I had a good contact who worked for immigration at Suvarnabhumi International Airport. I've not met many Westerners who can come close to pronouncing Suvarnabhumi correctly. There are some in Thailand who think that is exactly why the Thais chose the name, which means Golden Land . Nobody really understood why the airport had been built in the first place because Bangkok had a perfectly serviceable airport at Don Muang. It was fair to say, though, that several wealthy Bangkok families did become noticeably wealthier during the construction of the new $4 billion airport.
I'd met Khun Chauvalit several times through my wife. He's a fan of Chinese art and so is she and we kept bumping into each other at exhibitions and I discovered that he is a big fan of Cajun food and as I'm from New Orleans we had a lot to talk about. During a very long Sunday lunch at the Bourbon Street restaurant he gave me his business card and said that if ever I needed any assistance I shouldn't hesitate to contact him.
I have done just that, several times, and he has always been helpful and never asked anything in return.
I called him on his cell phone and he answered after just two rings.
“Khun Chauvalit, how are you this fine day?” I asked in my very best Thai.
“Working hard for little or no appreciation, as always,” he replied.
He asked me about Noy and I asked him about his wife and five children, and then I got around to the point of the conversation and asked him about Jon Junior.
“He flew in on Delta on January the eighth with a tourist visa. I'd like to know if he's still in Thailand and if so if he'd arranged to have his stay extended.”
“I'm not in my office just now, Khun Bob, so I'll have to call you back.”
I
I reached for my MacBook and switched it on, then sent an email to the address that Mr. Clare had given me. While I waited to see if the email bounced back I looked through the letters that Jon Junior had written. There were three letters, mainly just chit-chat about what a great time he was having but that he missed his family and his church.
The first letter contained four postcards – pictures of a floating market, elephants playing in a river, and the Wat Phra Kaew and Wat Arun, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha and the Temple of Dawn. There were scribbled notes on the back – “been there, done that!”
In the second and third letters were photographs that Jon Junior had taken of more tourist sites, including the Chao Phraya River, the Chatuchak Sunday market, and what looked like shots of the street market in Patpong. Jon Junior was in some of the shots, grinning in knee-length shorts and a baggy t-shirt with the Thai flag on the front. His hair was longer and curlier and his skin was more tanned than it was in the photograph that his parents had given me, and he seemed a lot more relaxed, with a broad grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.
I put one of the pictures, in which he was standing in front of a noodle stall, on the scanner and scanned it into my laptop, along with the picture that the Clares had given me.
Jon Junior had obviously been having fun in Thailand.
And he had at least one friend here, because someone must have taken the photographs that he was in. But there was no mention of a travelling companion in the three letters, or any suggestion that he'd met anyone in Thailand.
I sat back in my chair and considered my options.
First, the basics.
Jon Junior had flown into Bangkok at the beginning of January. I needed to know if he was still in Thailand.
I had a good contact who worked for immigration at Suvarnabhumi International Airport. I've not met many Westerners who can come close to pronouncing Suvarnabhumi correctly. There are some in Thailand who think that is exactly why the Thais chose the name, which means Golden Land . Nobody really understood why the airport had been built in the first place because Bangkok had a perfectly serviceable airport at Don Muang. It was fair to say, though, that several wealthy Bangkok families did become noticeably wealthier during the construction of the new $4 billion airport.
I'd met Khun Chauvalit several times through my wife. He's a fan of Chinese art and so is she and we kept bumping into each other at exhibitions and I discovered that he is a big fan of Cajun food and as I'm from New Orleans we had a lot to talk about. During a very long Sunday lunch at the Bourbon Street restaurant he gave me his business card and said that if ever I needed any assistance I shouldn't hesitate to contact him.
I have done just that, several times, and he has always been helpful and never asked anything in return.
I called him on his cell phone and he answered after just two rings.
“Khun Chauvalit, how are you this fine day?” I asked in my very best Thai.
“Working hard for little or no appreciation, as always,” he replied.
He asked me about Noy and I asked him about his wife and five children, and then I got around to the point of the conversation and asked him about Jon Junior.
“He flew in on Delta on January the eighth with a tourist visa. I'd like to know if he's still in Thailand and if so if he'd arranged to have his stay extended.”
“I'm not in my office just now, Khun Bob, so I'll have to call you back.”
I
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