For example, I have Internet access, allowing me to send this humble dispatch. The dial-up connection is painfully slow, however, and my surfing privileges are limited to websites advertising Thai Boxing, gambling on Thai boxing, and a Thai version of Facebook aimed at procuring Thai massages (sensual and standard).
I am allowed out of my cell daily, but only several times a day, to play volleyball, snorkel, swim, or use their draconian fitness center (free weights, running machines, stairclimbers and stationary bikes, but no pilates…so much for human rights). I am also occasionally free to roam the perimeter of the expansive and surprisingly well-manicured grounds. Because of my miniscule prison outfit, though, designed ostensibly to prevent the concealment of weapons, I have been forced to endure a rather extreme case of sunburn. Only the most basic of sun creams is provided.
Rest assured that I am being fed. While there are only a few mess halls in the camp, I get three square meals a day of standard Thai fare—pad thai; fried prawns; a small variety of curries with minimal protein selections such as chicken, beef, duck, or pork; an only adequate supply of rice and noodle dishes; and a modest number of extremely spicy yet surprisingly delectable soups. At times, dear friends, I feel the soups are all that keep me going.
One positive note is that the $20 U.S. I had with me at the time of my detainment converted into $220,000,000 Thai Baht, and this gets me some of the essentials such as Marlboro cigarettes, Singha beer, black market fried Calamari (not even on the standard menu), and an occasional Thai massage (standard).
My captors encourage mingling amongst the captives through activities such as movie night, Thai kick boxing lessons (either kicking and boxing or being kicked and boxed), macramé, sailing (within prison zone 1), and more. Thus far, my spirit has been too drained from the hectic daily routines to even commune casually with my fellow inmates. I have been fortunate to meet a tough but otherwise lovely young Singaporean woman, however, whom I have befriended and with whom I have shared the occasional Krabi Colada (named after the province in which our prison sits, it is a nearly unbearable concoction of moderate grade rum, coconut milk, and pineapples). It’s almost as if they try to Krabi Colada us to death here, but this may just reflect the massive availability of coconuts and pineapples and the correspondingly cheap price of the same.
My friend and I have occasional thoughts of attempting escape by various means such as slowly tunneling our way through the fine grained beach or faking gastric distress from a particularly spicy batch of Tom Yam Kung and requesting a transfer to Chiang Mai, where conditions are reportedly better. More likely, however, we will bide our time, do as we’re told, and hope against all odds to someday be released to our respective home countries. At present, we are too sapped of strength and too full with Thai food to try to run. Perhaps tomorrow, between breakfast and brunch or sandwiched between aerobics and my kayaking lesson, I can stealthily escape these evil despots who so cunningly confuse the mind and its will to escape with fleshly delights and sumptuous desserts.
I love you, and am thinking of you in these dire times. Please write a letter to your Congressman demanding my eventual release, and also say a prayer for my weary soul (I don’t want to be a burden, though, so don’t pray too hard).
If there is anything I have learned during my ordeal it is that when we are faced with diversity only then do we learn how strong we are.
Your loving friend and brother,
Jon “Pad Thai” Stang