Thai Relations, Part Two: Opening a door to Magic
- Ami Ji Schmid
- 5 hours ago
- 11 min read
Meditating at the Phang Tru temple in the Kanchanaburi district on the evening of Monday the 2nd of February, 2026 proved auspicious.
It was one of four Buddhist Lunar Holy Days that month, this one on a waxing moon. My homestay co-host offered to walk with me to the local temple for the evening meditation. Inside, there were two monks and a group of women who I learned were staying at the temple for a time, studying. They offered me food and drink, talked and laughed. One of the monks spoke some English and attempted to clue me into what we'd be doing. I gathered that the older monk sitting next to him was his teacher, and he (the teacher) would be guiding us (in Thai) into a silent sit.
Sitting in silence, I considered my sit ordinary. There was no lightning, no illumination, no message of Wisdom. It was... quiet.
Walking home I reflected on the uniqueness of this meditation. It was a different kind of "quiet" - an uninterupted quiet. Even when my physical body ached and I needed to change position, even noticing sounds from outside the temple, even being aware that I was sitting amonst others, this sit held me in stillness. It was the kind of stillness that invites a previously closed door to open.
When I arrived at my bungalow at TB Campo, there was a text on my phone from my cousin. Barry is the eldest of Uncle Dave and Aunt Nancy's three children. I imagine that Barry found and sent a picture from Uncle Dave's things - a picture of what looked to be an older version of the aunt I was searching for. In the picture, she is standing in front of a picture of her younger self, next to a young version of our Uncle Richard.
"Do you know her name," I asked Barry. "Ying," he replied and added, "I believe" (as he wasn't sure).
Then he sent two more pictures...
"This is so helpful, Barry," I wrote. He sent three more pictures...
Though it was close to midnight for me in Thailand, I forwarded the pictures to my host, Teerawan. At some point that night or the next day, she forwarded them to her partner, and my co-host, Mr. Satid.
That night during my online Meditation Family sit, I felt a sense of letting down, of joy rising, of magic unfolding.
The next night, Mr. Satid shared the pictures with his co-retired ex-partner cop who had come over. I watched as the two studied the pictures and made phone calls.
Mr. Satid tried to read the license plate on the pick-up truck parked behind the fence in one of the pictures of a house across the street from the temple gate. He explained that if he had been able to read the plate number he'd probably have been able to trace who owned (or had owned) the truck. Meanwhile, his friend recognized the temple gate in the picture, searched, and found the town it was in. Teerawan walked into the scene and pulled the location up on Google Maps. It was an hour's drive away. She arranged with Mr. Tin to drive me there the next day.
Mr. Tin and I arrived at the house address and saw the temple. Mr. Tin wanted to look around the neighborhood and talk with people still there. No one who we talked with recognized the picture of "Ying."
I felt drawn to the temple. From inside the temple gate, I took a current picture of the view that may have been shot years ago by Uncle Dave.
Mr. Tin and I walked around the edge of the temple's wall, unsuccessfully looking for my Uncle Richard's name. "I think it was removed" I told Mr. Tin (via Google Translate). Later I would learn that when Ing (not Ying) moved out of the village, she did indeed (as is the tradition) take "Uncle Dick's" marker with her.
Inside the temple walls, I again felt drawn... this time to a small group (of three men) sitting on the stairs. I walked over and sat down with them. Ms. Google Translate helped relate my story to them and I showed them the picture of "Ying." They spoke between themselves in Thai. One got on his phone...
He stood up, got on a scooter and left. The other two motioned for me to stay put.
The man on the scooter returned, followed by a woman on a scooter. She looked at my pictures, looked at me, smiling, gestured for me to stay put, and scooted away. She returned, walking next to an older woman, Ying's older sister, Sunee. Only, it wasn't Ying's sister... it was Laing's sister ("Ing" for short).
Sunee, now in her mid-80s, confirmed (through the younger woman) that Ing had lived in this town (in Kanchanaburi, west of Bangkok). This was their hometown village. They had all grown up here. Ing had not moved to the Bridge over the River Kwai; she had moved away from it. Sunee conveyed to me that she had known my dad and Uncle Dave. She told me that Ing lived in Pattaya (south of Bangkok). Then, without warning, she picked up her phone and called Ing. I heard Sunee speaking in Thai.
Later, while Ing and I reminisced about these first moments, I learned that Sunee had told Ing I was Dick's daughter ("because she thought you looked like Uncle Dick"). When Ing had asked how old I was, Sunee had said, "about 35." Later, Ing told me, they both laughed when Ing told Sunee I'm 67.
After thier initial discussion about who I might be, Sunee handed the phone to me. "Hi, Ing," I said, "I'm Sam's daughter. "I'm not very good at English," she said, "It's been a long time. I've forgotten." I didn't want to make her work hard at communicating so I jumped to the point. "I've been looking for you," I said, "May I come see you?" "Yes," she said, "Come tomorrow." We hung up and I stood, awed and shocked, feeling a bit like a wet rag.
The group of people who had gathered around started to disperse, smiling, laughing, speaking in Thai. The younger woman (who had brought Sunee back with her) wrapped her arms around me. "You have done a good thing," she said.
Mr. Tin and I drove back to Phang Truat. He had taken Ing's phone number and (back at home) called her to find out where her location was in Pattaya. "North Pattaya," Ing told him. She did not know her address. I went to my bungalow, opened my laptop, and booked a 3-day stay at a hotel in north Pattaya.
I made arrangements with Mr. Satid to take me to the bus the next day. "I'm not good at navigating the bus system on my own," I told him, "Would you help me?" Mr. Satid was a gem among the shining gems of TB Campo in Phang Truat. Teerawan, Mr. Satid and his ex-cop-friend, Mr. Tin and his Muslim girlfriend from the south, the community of neighbors looking out for my welfare, and the monks and women at the temple... all unsuspecting conspirators to opening this door to magic. I was going to meet my needle-in-a-haystack Thai Auntie.
Before I move futher into this truly phenomenal story of finding my Auntie Ing, I will share with you about my stay at the TB Campo homestead in Phang Truat in the Kanchanaburi region of Thailand.
When I first arrived, I was given a cottage that I loved...
...until I realized the bed was hard as concrete. I asked if there might be a mattress topper and was told to move into the next cottage where the mattress was cushy.
My bungalow had all the modern amenities any traveler in Thailand could want - AC, WiFi, sheets, blankets, towels, toiletries, hangers, electicity - as well as a private outdoor shower. I LOVE outdoor showers.
In the video (above) I was wearing a Joan Armatrading t-shirt. Years ago, I was staying at Melody's house and needed something to sleep in. She gave me that shirt and it became my (almost) forever pjs. Unfortunately, while wearing it, I accidently layed on sticky fly paper (at some point after the video), couldn't get the sticky out, and ended up throwing away my Melo-Joan-shirt. While it was hard for me to let go of a beloved item, it's sweet to see it again here.
That first day, I was overtired and grumpy and probably complained about every little thing. I was disturbed by the many flies in my bedroom and was given sticky fly paper, a conventional plastic fly swatter and an electric fly swatter. That'll show them flies who's boss... until I got caught up in the fly paper. I was pissy about living in this serene setting with loud thumping techno music blasting over the fields from an abandoned temple and asked my host to drive me to the (extremely) loud music, where I kind of demanded the man turn down the noise. Later, I researched and learned that in rural Thailand, playing loud music—including modern techno, electronic, or amplified traditional "Luk Thung"—when experiencing good fortune is a cultural expression of "merit-making," celebration, and "sanook" (the Thai pursuit of fun). When villagers believe they have received good fortune they often hire a sound system to play at maximum volume, sometimes from dawn until midnight. Well damn me.
Soon enough, I was wooed and calmed by my generous and kind hosts, the friendly villagers, the laid-back farming lifestyle, the buzzing of bird song, and the daily red sunsets over rice fields.
There were a few outdoor kitchens at TB Campo. I recorded a video tour of the one regularly used by my hosts and me.
The kitchen was always open, with free coffee and food in the fridge and on the table. Mr. Satid cut and prepared a fresh coconut (from the coconut tree by the kitchen) with a straw in it, that I'd find waiting for me every morning. I was invited to daily lunches with the "workers" and nightly sharing over drinks. I tried a plum liquor that Teerawan's sister had made. It was delicious. I was invited to pick fresh herbs and vegetables from the garden and fruit from the trees and cook my own meals whenever I wanted to.
I was offered a bicylce and a scooter to use anytime of day or night. The grounds were well cared for and beautifully planned, strewn with canals filled with fish and water lillies.
At one point, I was treated to a personal Thai cooking class. The class spanned from shopping and foraging for ingredients to cooking and then eating. The process took all day, maybe 6-7 hours. I arranged pictures and video clips using a simple format (with no music) to make a 10-minute video of the day. Maybe you'd like to listen to some background music while watching the cooking class video. If you'd like the recipes, I will be happy to share them (just ask :).
Here's some music that may make for good background listening while watching the 10-minute Thai cooking class video...
We are the World (USA for Africa)
To open the Thai cooking class video, click on this link: https://youtu.be/35icuTolmzM or on either of the two embedded pictures below.
On my last day at TB Campo, I woke early to watch the sun rise...
...and released some of Michelle's and Jessica's ashes into the water. Mr. Satid was my witness and videographer.
Mr. Satid drove me to the Kanchanaburi bus station and helped me purchase the correct bus ticket to Pattaya.
I was able to load my luggage onto the bus early and arranged myself comfortably, legs propped up onto my stacked suitcase and backback. It wasn't until we left the station that I realized my bus (for the six hour trip) had no toilet. This proved slightly problematic, till I figured out I could squat between unused seats to pee into an empty container. We do what we need to do.
My new modern hotel-home in Pattaya was quite different from the rural village and family-style bungalow life I'd just left. The advantage was of course that it was only a 30-40 minute walk to where Ing lived.
The owner of the hotel insisted on driving me to Ing. Once on the road, she couldn't quite figure out the directions, stopped on a side street, hailed a motorbike, handed the driver directions via Ing-on-her-phone, and off I went.
Ing's younger sister, Ampon, was waiting where the motorbike dropped me off. Ampon (who spoke only Thai) smiled broadly as we quickly walked to see Ing. I was happy to meet this woman - Ing's younger sister - though the focus of my rising anticipation was not on her. It was on meeting Ing.
When I arrived, Ing and I reached toward each other, holding arms, looking into each other's faces. "Sam's daughter," Ing said. "Sam's daughter," I confirmed. We hugged and... sobbed.
We held each other tightly and sobbed loudly without reserve for as long as it took to release all the loss we had both endured. We sobbed for all the lost and found hope that was bubbling up. We sobbed for the surprise and wonder of this profound coming together. It was a big, loud, long sob.
Then we sat and talked, laughed, and planned.
I remained at the hotel I'd already booked for the full 3-days. Then, I moved into a hotel around the corner from Ing. I paid for a one-month stay.
The Nantana Hotel was literally around the corner. Every day, I walked around the corner to Empon's house where Ing lived. Some days Ing walked to my hotel and we sat by the pool in a shady spot that seemed prone to catching breezes. Every day we talked for hours, laughed, cried, and shared stories. Ing did not know that Dad and Uncle Dave had died. Over the course of the month, we grieved together. Many times over the course of the month, our story was rehashed - the story about how I looked for and found her. Every time the story came up, we looked at each other - real people in the flesh - and cried.
I brought my laptop to Ing and showed her pictures of my family, of Dad and Uncle Dave in the States, of Dad as he aged those last years.
Ing brought out a box of photos that she had not been able to look at since "Uncle Dick" died. (She called my Uncle Richard/ her husband "Uncle Dick").
Our visits brought up a lot of feelings. Ing talked about being 24 years old when she met Richard. She talked about their 30 years together, and his words of appreciation about their time together that he shared with her before he took his last breath. She shared about her years of grieving after "Uncle Dick's" death (in 2002) and how she (still) talks with him. She shared how surprised and happy she was that Dad and Uncle Dave continued to visit her (for a month every year for 10-12 more years after Richard's death). She shared about the year they told her they were too old to continue the trip to Thailand and would not be visiting again. She shared how, though she knew it was not logical, she waited for all of them to return.
Throughout the month, I met Ing's family. They were people who had more stories about Daddy-O and Uncle Dave. They were aunties and cousins I didn't know I had. They were people I now love.
In the next blog, I'll share more puzzle pieces to this story of knowing my dad and uncles through another's eyes, and deepening relationships with long lost family.
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