Nothing to to

Nothing at all.

Thinking about my immigration annoyance this morning, it's a minor annoyance in someways but still an annoyance. The annoyance centers around a 30 day extension of my just about to expire 60 day tourist visa to Thailand. That's when I remembered another time, nearly 6 years ago, when I was applying for my first 30 day extension here. I was sitting with my new crew of friends on the front step/porch of the PJ Drinkwater convenience store on Loi Kroh Soi 1 in Chiang Mai. This was a funky little place located just south of Loi Kroh road, east of the moat.

The front porch, as it were, of this little store was about 3 by 4 meters and had a couple of tiny round blue, green and yellow vinyl covered tables and about 10 small blue, green and yellow vinyl covered stools randomly arranged by whim. This spot was a friendly gathering spot for many of the local farang (a Thai word for foreigner) which also doubled as a jumping off point to the local entertainment zone. It was owned by a Brit, Andrew, who oddly enough had a mix of helpful friendliness coupled with a fairly violent temper. The friendliness side of his personality drew people to his little store like flies. We'd sit there some nights drinking beer bought in the store (makes for a really cheap night out at 30-40฿ -about $1.00 back then ) into the wee hours, while everyone told their stories of travel and homeland.

Front porch at PJ's

Anyway, one regular there, John, from Australia, was going on about how sweet a life he had. He had been on a medical pension from Australia for nearly 10 years at that point and had been utilizing local visa agents to continue his stay in Thailand. He was bragging about how his sister was taking care of any paperwork required by the Australian government, and the aforementioned agents took care of all his local paperwork and visas. He looked at me and asked if I had anything important to do (I was still sort of a newbie and as such a target for this sort of question) and I told him I had to go and get a visa extension – he looked around at the assembled drinkers and said “See, see! I don't have to do anything at all and he does” as if pointing out what a fool I was for having things I needed to do. I know that wasn't his intent, he was just trying to make his point of doing nothing at all (a glance at Bruno Mars) while others have to do things of import.

Okay, now onto my thesis here: I don't want to do things either. Think about how freeing that would be. No visa extensions, no tax filings, no travel arrangements, no banking, no government forms to fill out so we get our pensions/subsidies so we can pay rent/mortgages – eat. No car repairs, flat tires to fix or even light bulbs to replace. No laundry to wash, whiskers to shave, breakfasts to cook (actually I don't mind that one). And most importantly – no news to read or concerns for the outside world.

None of that seems possible of course. Or is it? If I were to find that idyllic spot on some sandy shore where the monthly payment came out of my bank account without having to do anything, that would work. A life where a low cost (a really low cost) accountant or some other qualified professional, handled all the necessary tax filings, government communications, banking functions and all the other minor and major forms and certificates we need to fill out, file, submit and authorize to function, without knowing any of it was happening at all (all prov subsidies would disappear along with GIS so low cost of living is important in ideal land). And with an account already set up online where not only plane tickets are purchased via a pre-existing account but any visa requirements/needs are completed in the background as well. And a local hired to do most of the suitcase packing would be cool too.

I still like going to local markets so I'll keep that one, as well as the breakfast cooking one, I don't see those as obligations or things to do, but as joys. Of course the “ idyllic spot” requires much more defining such as: not so isolated as to isolate social needs, proximity to an airport, local markets and the like. More on this later.

It is worth noting that John, the Australian who instigated this story, was on a medical pension from Australia because he was deemed an incurable alcoholic. Yes, go ahead and read that several times, it takes a bit of effort to believe it but, it was, at the time he was “diagnosed” allowed in Australia. They had a far left government at the time and this sort of pension no longer exists but, he was grandfathered into a lifetime exemption from life. It is also worth noting he was in his late 40s, looked as if he was in his late 60s and is dead now having drunkenly fallen off his motorbike.