Elsie arrived in Bangkok in 1987 virtually kicking and screaming, determined she was only coming for six months. She'd left a tight-knit Scottish community and close friends and family, her child was just 13 months old, and she was seven months pregnant with her second.
Elsie's Story
by Ann Leander
Acclimate, May 2009
"I hated it!" she recalls. "I was so lonely." Elsie cried every day—everything was so strange. She felt all Thais stared at her—this white woman with the huge, fat belly. She missed her friends. She missed her mother. There didn't seem to be anyone she could relate to. "I didn't belong in this world of pampered, expat women, with their maids and drivers, and so I shunned them." She recalls a day when she dived into a bush to avoid a woman she knew and got covered with scratches. "That's the state I was in!"
Motherhood hadn't come easily to Elsie, either, having previously worked as an account executive in an advertising agency. She was career-driven, but her husband Fred loved his job and they both knew they had to be practical: he could earn more money, and he couldn't get pregnant!
Fred loved Bangkok from the start and thought Elsie was a "complete wimp." He was very ambitious, so when he was offered another contract, Elsie reluctantly agreed to stay on six more months…and cried a lot more.
They moved into a little flat close to the Bangkok Nursing Home, their second child was born, and Elsie was still miserable. But then, she joined BAMBI (Bangkok Mothers and Babies International), and suddenly life got bearable. "I was connecting with other mothers in similar lonely situations, and I was making really close friends at last." Which was just as well, because Elsie was pregnant again.
The natural birthing scene, now so readily available here, was yet to be discovered by the big Bangkok hospitals. But she'd had one baby abroad and knew the ropes and fought the establishment every step of the way. 'Breast is best,' her mother had always told her. But in those early days only a few very brave people breast-fed in public. "I was once thrown out of a department store for discretely—and I mean discretely—feeding my baby in their coffee shop. I was told it was 'unnatural.' (A few Thais learned some new Scottish swearwords that day!)"
After five years on contract, Elsie's husband was offered a salaried position with an oil company, and they could at last enjoy long-term financial security and paid education for their children. By now, with one four-year old, one toddler, and one baby in nappies, Elsie was beginning to appreciate the joys of maids and a driver. One more baby arrived shortly after.
There were now four boys—Peter, Michael, Richard, and Andrew—and they were growing up fast. The family moved to a bigger house in Thai Village, close to the boys' school. By this time, Elsie had well and truly 'acclimatized' (as they say in Britain) and was taking an active part in school life. Her husband coached a Bangkok Soccer League team, and because they were always short a referee, she trained and qualified for the job! It was great for a while, father coaching, boys playing, mum blowing the whistle. But it didn't go down well when she awarded a penalty to the other team that cost the match for their team. Elsie laughs, "Too much friction, so I quit!"
Later, when the boys had taekwando lessons at home, Elsie's natural curiosity took over, and before long she had earned her second dan black belt. She had certainly blossomed and realized the life of an expat wife offered endless possibilities: she sold carpets, joined the St. Andrews Society (and later became chieftain), opened a delicatessen, sold advertising for a magazine, became governor of a big international school, did flower arranging, fed stray dogs…. Husband Fred complained: "Can't you just go shopping, like other women do?"
And he hadn't even reckoned with her art. One morning in 1993, Elsie turned up for coffee at a friend's house and realized she had come on the wrong day: an art lesson was in progress. "Come and join us!" the friend offered.
Elsie declined "Oh no, I'm rubbish at drawing. I couldn't…"
"Of course you can—everyone can draw. Art is in the blood," the friend urged.
So Elsie picked up a pencil and joined in. That day changed her life.
She was eager to try new media and experiment with subjects. Art took over her life. Eventually she even started teaching at an elementary school and offering private lessons at her home.
The children were growing up. Elsie was well and truly established. She loved Bangkok; it couldn't get any better. So she was horrified—and so were the boys—when Fred was offered a promotion in Jakarta. "No way!" she said. But that answer worked as well this time as it did the last. They left Bangkok after 18 years.
The first six months in Jakarta were difficult. Fred built a studio for Elsie in their garden, and she tried to paint her frustrations away. "I hate it here," she wrote to her mother. "I meet people, but I don't like any of them."
"You will one day," her mother replied.
Gradually she got closer to the people she met through art classes and football, and of course, mother knew best. They were wonderful. Life began to improve. The boys were settled and she was happy again. Jakarta was great.
A shocking turn
Then early one morning the phone rang. Elsie could not believe what she was being told. Fred? An accident? He was an ex-saturation diver and had never stopped diving. He was planning a world record dive in the Philippines on a submarine war grave. But the worst had happened: Fred had died diving in the Gulf of Thailand.
Elsie's mother and some of her family came out for the funeral in Bangkok. The cremation was traumatic. Son Peter delivered a moving speech at the memorial service that left no eye dry. After the ceremony, they all went round to The Londoner Pub.
"You'll come home now, won't you?" her mother asked. Elsie thought about it. She was 50. Her sons were born here. She'd spent nearly half her life in Bangkok. Most of her friends were here. "Mum," she said, "This is my home."
It wasn't easy, though. She thought: What will I do? The boys are all gone: Art is what I do. Can I make a living at it? So she opened a little art studio where she hoped to give other expat women and men the opportunity—and the encouragement—to draw and paint. It was working pretty well, but space was limited. So she took a big risk: she found a fantastic place, on the ground floor and with huge windows that was three times bigger. She wanted it to become part of the community, accessible to all nationalities and ages.
Today it's very popular. Over 40 artists and art students come every week. She provides the materials and gives lessons if they want. There's always coffee on and the daily paper lying about. It's so relaxed that people just wander in and sit with a cup and enjoy the atmosphere.
Elsie has always kept up with her first artistic love: the canvas. Her current paintings are bold, vivid impressions of the rickety, run-down side of Bangkok. The oil is rich and textured, and if you step back feel you're in her street scenes. Over the years she has tackled many different subjects through various media and exhibited her work as well. "My art may never make me rich and famous," Elsie says. "But who cares? I'm enjoying myself. Pop in and see me sometime. You'll always get a warm Scottish welcome...and a cup of coffee."
She has a final word for women new to Bangkok: "God knows, it can be a hard place to settle, but look what you can do if you try. I consider myself so fortunate. I'm still learning and finding new challenges. (Or driving everyone nuts!)
If I'd stayed in Scotland, I'd be doing housework and complaining about the weather."
For more information about art classes, check out www.attic-studios.com.