I am deeply saddened this week to learn of the passing of my best and closest Thai friend after a long battle with leukaemia.

Jan had been battling Leukaemia for around a year now, and was in remission and doing well, but succumbed suddenly on the 19th June.

I’m posting this sad news here on the Eye as I know many other friends, and former colleagues and customers of Jan’s read the Eye, and have lost touch with her over the years.  This is not a full obituary, I don’t feel up to that right now, though I may write a more upbeat memorial piece at a later date – Jan’s irrepressible sense of humour and optimism deserve that effort from me after the many times she lifted my spirits when I was down.

When I first met Jan in 2001 she was working for one of the Chiang Mai English-language magazines as a receptionist, and was nominally a Thai Rak Thai supporter (the political party of ousted Red Shirt Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra).  After a few years of knowing me and a few other farangs that had seen through Thaksin since before he won his first election, she swung completely against him.  For a Thai, Jan was a very liberal thinker politically, and well travelled internationally, having visited, or lived and worked, in over 20 countries, including Australia, New Zealand and the UK …

There were times we were like brother and sister – either fighting like cat and dog (her command of English could be exceptional and native-speaker level when she wanted it to be), or fiercely debating political or cultural topics (and roping in everyone else around us).  At other times, we were the life and soul of everyone’s party, although Jan was far more adept at that than I was.  Nothing ever got her down enough for her to show it in public, though she did share such things with me sometimes, a rare privilege for a westerner who is friends with a Thai they are not (and never have been) romantically involved with.

In 2002, she opened what became a popular expatriate watering hole – the Mask Pub – in Chiang Mai, and initiated the “alternative” weekly bar-pool league, in which the “suh-nooker” was never competitively taken seriously, but a great night out was always had by all.  From the Mask Pub, it was Jan who introduced me to a far wider range of Thai cuisine than I’d ever previously tried, and taught me how to choose Thai foods to remedy various minor and temporary ailments.  During the four years she owned the Mask, I made several good friends there, of both Thai and Western nationalities, many of whom I remain in contact with today.

It may have been a signal of turbulence to come, but in mid-2006, Jan sold Mask Pub and disrupted the habits of most people in my social circle, including myself.  Later in the year she told me she was going to join the yellow shirt anti-Thaksin protests in Bangkok.  For Jan, this became a start to finish cause in the yellow shirt rallies.  She was there for the occupation of Government House protesting against the appointment of Thaksin’s brother-in-law as Prime Minister following the first elections after the military coup, and was present throughout the occupation that shut Suvarnabhumi Airport.   All told, she gave around 30 months of the last four years of her life to removing Thaksin and Thai Rak Thai, and their re-incarnations as nepotistic replacements and change-of-name political parties, funded by Thaksin’s stolen billions.

In 2009, Jan returned to Chiang Mai, opening a guest house, meditation centre, and cafe, in a 100-year-old traditional Lan Na wooden house, in the city centre near the Chiang Mai Gate through the old city walls.  She spent a small fortune repairing and renovating the place, as well as modernising and upgrading everything that could be done without losing the look and nature of the old building.  She knew that western visitors enjoyed the historic buildings of Thailand as much as any other aspect of the country, and wanted to give them something special.  I believe she had achieved this when I last visited her in August 2009.

Very soon after that visit, she received the bombshell that she was suffering from leukaemia, and had to close her new venture in order to again relocate back to Bangkok for treatment and support from her parents and larger family.  We kept in touch, intermittently as her treatment allowed, by telephone, and she appeared to have recovered and stabilised sufficiently, that earlier this year she returned to Chiang Mai.

My wife spoke with Jan about six weeks ago, and reported that she sounded great, and in good health.  Unfortunately I was sleeping off an all night work-marathon and missed the call.  It was the last one she made to us.  News of her death arrived with me via a mutual friend travelling around South America, who had received an email from Jan’s daughter.

Jan leaves behind a teenage son, Zao, and daughter, Zin, two of the greatest kids you could ever meet – they loved Jan the way that every parent wishes that kids would love their parents, and Jan loved them back in equal if not greater measure.  Everything she ever did, she said was for them.   I never knew Jan’s age for sure, but I think she was a similar age to me, making her somewhere around 50 when she died.  Why are the good people always taken early?

Jan, I miss you too much already.  You were always too happy in this life to be happier in the next one, but I wish you every success for it, and may you have none of the difficulties you faced in this one.

Your friend

Garry

Mask Pub Christmas Party 2005 - Jan front centre, author behind her