I woke up at 6 AM.

White light was seeping through the gap in the curtains. Yesterday’s fatigue was still there. But my body was ready to move. I thought, “Since I’m here, let me take a walk,” and laced up my sneakers.

A 28-Degree Morning Walk, Alone

Behind the hotel, a wide road stretched out before me.

Rush hour hadn’t started yet. The cars and motorcycles moving along it seemed unhurried. But there was greenery. Trees lined the road, and the air felt heavy and damp. It was different from a Japanese summer morning. The humidity itself was different—the kind that clings to your skin. The temperature was already 28 degrees. The sun wasn’t out, clouded over, but the sticky heat was unmistakable.

Soon after I started walking, I heard bird calls.

Birds I’d never heard in Japan. Some had high, crystalline voices. Others sang low and flowing notes. I wondered for a moment, “What kind of birds are these?” but I didn’t know the answer. Not knowing, I just kept walking and listening. That felt right.

I heard machinery sounds from an adjacent golf course. The groundskeeping crew was already at work in the early morning. So their day starts this early. It’s the kind of ordinary fact you notice only when you’re in a foreign place.

I wasn’t sure if the road was private.

It was wide enough, but I couldn’t tell where it led. I found myself checking my map. I’d walked quite far from the hotel. Once I realized that, my feet naturally turned back.

After 30 minutes, sweat started coming.

Not the sweat of exertion—just the kind that seeps out from simply existing. This is what a tropical morning feels like. Walking, I found myself thinking: “Maybe I’ll try jogging tomorrow morning instead.” Running has been a habit of mine since my 40s. Even when the environment changes, I want to keep moving my body as much as I can. I wasn’t sure if the road surface was suitable for it, but it’s worth a try.

Back at the hotel, I showered. With that done, today officially began—work included.

The Hotel Breakfast. An Observation of Buffet Service

Breakfast was buffet-style.

As soon as I sat down, an attendant greeted me. The flow of “Good morning, how many guests?” and being shown to my seat was seamless. This kind of service is excellent. The fundamentals of welcoming guests are clearly in place.

Still, there were a few details that caught my attention.

There were water droplets on the tables and serving stations. Sauce had dripped and wasn’t wiped up. It would be better if staff could immediately wipe things down as they notice them. The reset speed—clearing and restocking—was fast. Which is why, with better attention to hygiene details, the overall impression would really shift.

The arrangement of dishes lacked consistency.

Rice here, miso soup there, condiments somewhere else—scattered in different spots, guests get confused. Ideally, the flow of “get your rice, add your miso soup, choose your condiments” would follow a single natural path. When the layout lets people move smoothly, satisfaction changes entirely.

Same with the egg station.

Scrambled eggs, fried eggs, boiled eggs—each placed in a different area. Grouping all the eggs together creates a sense of “okay, I know where to find eggs.” There could be a bit more variety in the selection. Having a “daily special” section, or featuring a local ingredient here and there, would make the meal experience richer.

This isn’t criticism. It’s observation.

My work is about raising the quality of service. That’s why these details stand out to me. There are definitely good things here. And I can clearly see what could be improved. Part of the purpose of this trip is figuring out how to communicate that.

Morning Work. Tasting Sirloin from Three Countries

This morning’s work was a tasting session. We were comparing sirloin from three countries—the United States, New Zealand, and Australia.

I grilled each one and laid them out side by side.

The participants’ reactions were fascinating. “Wait, they’re that different?” people said. They looked similar at first glance, but the taste, texture, aroma—each was distinct. The sweetness of the fat differed. The savory depth of the lean meat was different. The firmness when you chewed was different. Meat shows so much personality depending on where it comes from.

Questions started coming.

“Why are they so different?” “What’s different about their feed?” “What’s the right temperature for cooking?” They kept asking. As I answered, I felt: “These people are serious.” They weren’t just going through the motions—they were trying to understand. You could feel that in their questions.

After the tasting, I posed a challenge.

“When you grill meat and those juices come out—how would you use those flavorful essences?” Those juices are the red liquid that seeps from the meat, with all the umami concentrated in them. It’s wasteful to just discard them. My suggestion was mashed potatoes. When you fold those meat essences into mashed potatoes, it adds depth to the dish. We can also develop it as a sauce. This idea of “using every part”—it’s fundamental to cooking.

Lunch with W

Lunch was with W, a secretary at the company.

W is an accomplished person. You notice it right away in conversation. Apparently she worked in finance, then did a working holiday in Australia, and picked up various experiences along the way. Now she works in Bangkok.

She’s getting married soon, actually.

Her partner is from Taiwan and works for 3M. As luck would have it, he got transferred to Bangkok, and the two of them will be living in this city together. Life really does unfold through these kinds of coincidences piling up. My sincere congratulations to them.

Lunch left more of an impression for the personal stories than the work talk.

The Afternoon Demonstration. Fifteen People Gathered

From 2 to 5 PM was the cooking demonstration.

Today’s menu was salt-crust fish, grilled shabu-shabu (with a sukiyaki-style sauce), and garlic rice. I would show various cooking techniques, actually working through them hands-on.

Before I knew it, about fifteen people had gathered.

“That looks delicious.” “Can I try another piece?” “How do you make this?” Those kinds of voices came from all around. Questions weren’t constant, but the hunger to taste—that was genuine and unfiltered. Young. Friendly. Curious. All three together.

I felt something about Thai young people’s national character, their natural brightness.

They came closer. There were smiles. Their interest outweighed any nervousness. The air was a bit different from what I see with young people in Japan. Not better or worse—just different. But that kind of openness is a huge asset when learning to cook.

Some were really studious.

There was one person standing a bit apart, watching intently in silence. No questions, but their eyes were serious. When I quietly approached them later and said something, they asked: “Can you show me how to do that again?” This is the type that grows the most.

There are challenges around sequencing and workflow—getting closer to Japanese-style service standards. But there’s no rush on that. If the foundation is solid, the details can be built up gradually. Today I felt the solidity of that foundation.

Today’s Physical State and Tomorrow

Work ended in the evening. I’m tired.

But fulfilled. From the morning walk to the tasting, lunch, the demonstration—there were so many moments in the day, each with something to discover. I’m in the middle of days packed with this kind of density.

My digestive system feels good.

Maybe Thai food agrees with my body. There’s plenty of vegetables, rich spices, and umami from fermentation. Dishes built on fish sauce seem gentle on the gut. Even on a business trip, my body’s holding up well—food is definitely part of that.

Tomorrow morning, I’m thinking I’ll try jogging.

I’ll run the road I walked this morning. I’m not sure about the surface, but I feel my body is ready. I’ll keep the habit I’ve had since my 40s, here in the tropics too. That’s how I do things now.

Day two at Amata Chonburi is over.

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People with a solid foundation grow anywhere. Watching these young Thai people, I was reminded of that.

※ This article is based on personal experience and publicly available information. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, or prevent any disease. If you have health concerns, please consult a doctor or registered dietitian. See our Disclaimer.