A Farang Strikes Back

by Louis Anschel

  “Jan bo dtai ki dtua,” she said in her dialect. I am not bullshitting. “I not same lady bar. I help you, I promise.” She kissed me to amplify her statement. “We must go. Wife you waiting,” she said, stood up and went to the bathroom.

  I showered after her. When I came back into the room she had already gotten dressed. I looked at her in disappointment.

  Som and I sat on the bed after I got dressed.

  “You can give some money me?” she asked. “I no have money now. My daughter need money school.”

  “How much? No problem.”

  “Maybe 2,000 baht?”

  Without batting an eye I reached for my wallet.

  Som had written her name and her home address on a piece of paper which she gave to me. If my ability to connect with her by phone failed, for whatever reason she couldn’t say, I could always reach her there, she said.

  This was our farewell because on the next day my wife wanted to fly to Koh Samui, because she wanted to tick off Thailand once and for all. She had enough from the Land of Smiles because she argued that there were more beautiful countries. She just went to Pattaya a second time to do me a favour because she really didn’t like the city.

  The last days of the vacation on Koh Samui were uneventful. I was bored and tried to get my desire under control. It didn’t work out. Every minute, every second I thought about Som. We telephoned often, but not to say all the time. The calls lasted longer and longer. At the end, our calls took half an hour each. We telephoned at breakfast time, and when I sneaked out in the garden of the resort or in the afternoon if I could steel some time away from my wife again. And during shopping, I could hid behind the aisles in the supermarket and call her. When my wife slept in the evenings, we had all the time in the world for our calls. Som and I talked eternally. I sat in a deck chair at the beach and looked at the stars while she lay on her mattress in the massage parlour. She rolled over like a cat in heat and yearned for me.

  * * *

  Once I had a friend who wanted to move in with her boyfriend. She had known him for only three weeks when she suddenly cancelled her lease contract. I told her she was crazy and asked her why she didn’t take her time. Especially because her flat was in the centre of town and budget-priced. She said she would stay with her boyfriend every day and sleep in his apartment every night. Why should she pay an additional rent under these circumstances? And why should she wait any longer? The situation wouldn’t change after three or four months. Full of confidence she gave up her flat and moved to her boyfriend’s, even though she had been warned by everyone.

  Now I understood my friend. I wanted to do everything to stay near Som, but I didn’t know exactly what to do. I was absent-minded and my life turned into a single nightmare. In the morning, I woke up and found out that Som didn’t lie beside me. A miserable day was to begin. My interests slowed down. I didn’t go to the movies any more, didn’t buy any DVDs, didn’t read books. I watched the whole world through a haze. Never before had I been that lonely. Work was agonizing. When I returned home, I had to play in front of my wife that I was fine so she wouldn’t suspect anything.

  The first time I called Dao was the day following our return home. There was a lot of static on the phone, and then it took a while until Som got to the telephone. How happy she had been. When would I come to Thailand again to open a parlour with her? Our conversations didn’t contain much more in the beginning. We kept quiet very often because we didn’t know what to talk about or we feared the other wouldn’t understand. Telephone calls were different to a conversation face to face. Dao helped often. She spoke much better English than Som. She translated for Som what I had said, waited for Som’s answer and translated it for me. But this was time consuming and not exactly brilliant because the two girls talked, giggled and I just didn’t understand anything. Sometimes they didn’t seem to comprehend that this was an expensive overseas call. Besides I didn’t want to talk with Dao but with Som.

  My thoughts circled around only Som. It doesn’t help if you have a wish, but are not acting on it. You can't just leave yourself in the lurch and wail. You have to do something, start a process which enables you to get one step closer to your goal. What should I have done to be closer to Som?

  First of all I occupied myself with the Thai language. I bought several books, drilled myself on Thai vocabulary. I left out the writing with its countless vowels, consonants and tone-markers. I didn’t want to read or write, I wanted only to be able to speak and understand. The internet provided endless help as well. On one site, I found a dictionary. With one mouse click, you could chose the Thai words and have someone read it to you, so you could get a feeling for the pronunciation. In no time at all, I had achieved a marked improvement of my skills in the language.

  The telephone became my best friend. Som was very delighted that I studied Thai and on one day, we made the decision not to speak English but to speak only Thai. This was a really hard school because it was certainly difficult enough to attend Thai classes. But I learned it myself, and on the telephone you couldn’t see the lip movements which were surely a big help. On the other side of the phone, there were often strange noises like hissing because the poor quality of the lines. I bought telephone cards so the calls didn’t show up on the telephone bill. How would I have explained to my wife that I called at least once per day a number in Thailand? These calls were anything but one-sided. Som called often with Dao’s mobile phone and let it ring once or twice on my mobile. A sign that she missed me and that I should call her as soon as I had a good opportunity.

  The phone calls on a regular basis weren’t enough. We had to see each other again. But when? First of all I had to convince my wife to spend the next holiday in Thailand again, namely in Pattaya. A double and major difficulty because she didn’t want to go to Thailand in the first place, let alone Pattaya. Then I had to convince her to move our vacation date forward because I couldn’t possibly wait one year. Every minute, I was obsessed with the thought of how could I see Som as soon as possible, once again.

  If you work with colleagues the whole day, one day you know your colleagues better than your spouse because you share almost every day from morning until evening the same room. My colleagues didn’t miss that I had changed. You might have described my work moral before the vacation as half hearted, but now, since my return, it had changed to total carelessness. I attended in body, but that was about all. It was only a question of time until I spilled my guts to a colleague. I had to release some pressure and talk about my problems.

  He tried to embolden me although I didn’t believe that there would be anyone who could understand me. My wife would be willing to accept an early vacation in Thailand, and even in Pattaya, but she would smell a rat if I booked the flights too early. He recommended that we wait at least four months. I almost cried inside, keeping my emotions from showing. One week could be eternity. And now my colleague talked about four months. Impossible! When I told him this, he had another idea. But he said I wouldn’t be crazy enough to go through with it.

  If I felt so depressed, I should fly to Thailand “in between”. Skip work for one day and stay there two nights. He would cover it up at work. On a Friday evening after work I would go to the airport. Saturday afternoon I would touch down in Bangkok, could stay two nights and would go back on Monday evening. Because of the advantageous time difference on the flight back I would arrive on Tuesday morning and could go from the airport directly to work.

  This was absolutely crazy. Right. But the longer I thought about this idea, the better it sounded.

  I tried to use my common sense, if there was any left. I tried to consider my options. I could stay with my wife and forget all about Som. But this was impossible and I excluded this thought from my plans. I could stay with my wife and fly to Thailand as often as possible–at least once each year. But even this idea wouldn’t work out because time stretched like bubble gum and I missed Som franticly. If I didn’t feel quite right at work, the
weekends were much worse because I didn’t have any distractions or other responsibilities which daily work provided. It seemed like the days would never end. The Saturdays that I used to love, became my worst enemies. On a Saturday morning, I knew that the day would stretch out like a dentist’s appointment and that the next day–Sunday–would bring the same misery. Besides on these days it was difficult to talk on the telephone. My wife would have to leave the house, and this didn’t happen often enough, or I would have to pick up the phone which was usually in the living room and take it to the bathroom. It was much too expensive to call Thailand with my mobile phone, even with the telephone cards from the low cost suppliers.

  That left me two options. I could either fly to Thailand for only a couple of days every three months, and also convince my wife that this journey was for further training which never took place in my home town. Or I could make a clean sweep and leave her. The latter seemed to be the best solution but I was a wimp. How should I tell my wife after so many long years of marriage that our lives as a couple were near the end? I didn’t have the heart to do it. And would I be able to change my life like Som had suggested? Would I really want to go to Thailand to live there? Man is a creature of habit and will try, after he made some experiences, to direct his life in known pathways within every realm. You do jobs you don’t like, have many vacations but always in the same country and even in the same hotel. After arrival people often try to get the same room. Many don’t love their spouse anymore and argue that they can't break up because of the kids. And if they don’t have kids or if the children are already grown up, then they stay with their spouse anyway. It is the fear of change.

  My son John was already grown up and out of the house. Sometimes I considered talking with him about my problems but didn’t dare do it. It would have been a strange situation to ask my son for advice. Usually, it would have been the other way around. Especially with topics which needed some kind of life experience. Children asked their parents. The father didn’t ask his son. Should I confront John with the news that I wanted to leave his mother? Because of a Thai girl who was about the same age of my son? What would he have recommended–assuming I would have asked for his advice? He would have said I should stay with his mother and forget all about Som. And who could resent this advice? This is the reason why I kept my thoughts and my feelings to myself and didn’t tell my son who came to visit us once or twice per week.

  I had no other way than to talk about this problem with Som using my newly acquired knowledge in Thai. She pressed me to come to Thailand to live with her. Again and again she told me about the massage parlour which we wanted to open together. She asked me emphatically to leave my wife because she didn’t understand why she had to share me with another woman. She argued that my son was grown up so he didn’t need me anymore. Som wanted to be there for me all the time and repeated to help me with the start of my new life. She also asked for the sum of money I wanted to bring to Thailand, if I considered to emigrate.

  I didn’t want to rush anything and decided to fly to Bangkok in secret in April. But I didn’t book the flight yet. Now it was only the end of January. I counted the days and weeks, every day. Nine weeks, then eight weeks, seven, six…. Som cheered on the 1st of February. January was over. It was a long time when we had to wait “only” one week until January was over. February was short, but March promised to be an exceedingly long month with 31 days. Every day I went through hell, it was maddening. I slept badly and hardly ate. I lost 40 pounds in eight weeks. I had a cup of coffee for breakfast, for lunch I had an instant soup and in the evening I had a yoghurt. If I ate more I would have been sick.

  Because of my loss of weight, my wife smelled a rat. She wasn’t really suspicious but she knew something was out of order. She was afraid, I was sick and sent me to the doctors. He examined me and didn’t find anything except high blood pressure. He said the pressure would come down if I lost more weight. But I should be a little bit careful with my “power diet” how he put it and shift it down a gear.

  I used the appointment with the doctor to call Som but Dao told me she went home to see her family and couldn’t give her mobile phone to Som, who was still in Pattaya. I was surprised. Why didn’t Som tell me the day before? And why didn’t she give me the phone number of one of the other girls in the parlour? I couldn’t reach her. Dao wanted to stay with her family for one week, she said. This news immediately affected my power diet because I stopped eating altogether and didn’t eat anything for an entire week. Sometimes I chewed on hard bread to move my teeth because I got a tooth ache if I didn’t eat anything.

  When I finally reached Som she told me that she came back the day before. It was not Dao who went to see her family but Som. My heart sank. Why didn’t she call me as soon as she had reached Pattaya and let my mobile phone ring once so I could call her back?

  I didn’t understand her but apologized at her improvidence towards others with the character attributes of a Thai. You will easily see it if you watch Thais driving cars or motorcycles. In our latitudes we might call it selfishness.

  Som apologized with the argument it should be clear that we were husband and wife. There wouldn’t be a reason to talk on the telephone every day. The knowledge of my existence and that I was her pua (husband) would be good enough. And I should think about my mia (wife) in the same way. What’s a week between friends?

  The emotions exhibited in this telephone call and her cheering on the 1st of February were worlds apart. I had the feeling something was wrong. But the shadow of my doubt vanished because we talked every day on the telephone again, and again, sometimes twice per day. One day she asked once again about the massage parlour we wanted to open together. Was I serious? Sure, I comforted her. Then she had to attend official classes. After this course she would get a certificate and with that she would be allowed to open a parlour. The law states that the boss of a massage parlour has to have a massage certificate, she said. Like a master craftsman certificate. Without it one is not able to run a parlour, Som said.

  On the next day she talked again about the massage classes and became more specific because she said she couldn’t attend classes in Pattaya. There were massage schools but she wanted to attend a really good school and there was only one: the Wat Pho in Bangkok, which had a good international reputation in the science of massage. She wanted to attend a two week class and had to stay in Bangkok during this time. After finishing the class she would get her certificate.

  Suddenly she asked, “Can you send me money for it?”

  Her advance took me by surprise. “How much would that be?”

  “The class is more than 10,000 baht. And I need money for the room and food. I can't work when I attend classes.”

  “How much would that be altogether?”

  “Maybe 20,000 baht,” she said quickly like a gun shot.

  “Oho!” I shouted louder than necessary.

  “I know it's a lot but we want to open the parlour.”

  “Yeah but we don’t know exactly when.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If I have the certificate nobody can take it from me. I could open the parlour in two weeks, theoretically. Or next year. But I don’t want to wait one year.” After a pause she said quickly, “For you.”

  “And you think I should pay for it?”

  “Yes, because it will be our parlour.”

  I agreed and felt almost flattered because I could help her. She pressed and asked whether I could send the money as quick as possible. The best way would be via Western Union.

  Western Union is a worldwide bank with countless branches many in post offices. You fill in a form and pay a certain amount in a post office. After the data on the form was put in a computer the money is available–everywhere in the world within seconds. I promised to go to a post office the same day and Som could go the next day to a post office or bank in Pattaya to get the money. Som wanted to go a couple of days later to Bangkok and stay there for two weeks. I assumed that the pr
oblem with the telephone calls would transpire again.

  It turned out that she went to attend the massage classes in Bangkok together with Dao. I was pleased that I could talk to Som despite her being in Bangkok for two weeks. She said the classes began in the morning and lasted until four or five o’clock in the afternoon. The rest of the time the girls had time to themselves and could review their coursework. She shared an apartment with other girls who attended massage classes near Wat Pho. Much later I realized that I financed not only her classes with the 20,000 baht, but the classes for Dao as well.

  To give it a start I booked a return flight to Bangkok on the internet in the beginning of April. I didn’t want to sit for hours in an airplane and then have to travel for two-and-a-half hours to Pattaya afterwards. This journey was long enough and a trip to Pattaya much too uncomfortable. Som would pick me up from the airport in Bangkok and we would rest in a hotel in town. When she went back to Pattaya two days later I would go to the airport to depart Bangkok for home.

  I withdrew my money and deposited it into a new account. I cancelled my life insurance and the principal was to be transferred immediately into this new account. I wanted to finance my regular flights to Thailand with this money. I told my wife about further job training which I had to attend in another city. I told her how unenthusiastic I was about the training but that there was no way to avoid it. I also explained that the training would take place on a regular basis about every quarter.

  One day, about two weeks later, when I arrived home from work, I was surprised to find my wife waiting for me in the living room. I asked her for the reason but she didn’t answer. The few words we exchanged gave way to a freezing silence. I asked her what was going on but she remained silent, pretending not to hear me and stared at the television. I went in the kitchen to eat a carton of yoghurt and saw the mess.

  On this day my wife happened to arrive home before me, and took the letters out of the mail box. She had opened the letters which were addressed to her and me together. One of these letters contained the credit card bill. My wife had highlighted two items with a marker–the first and last bill–and had laid the letter in the middle of the kitchen table. The first position dated back to our vacation and valued with almost 400 pounds. Next to it stood a Thai name and the word “Goldsmith”. The last position on the bill mentioned the name of the airline with which I booked my flight to Bangkok for April.