I was clueless. The belated bill of the gold shop in Soi Buakhao could be explained. I could have told my wife that I bought jewellery for her and lost it before I could give it to her. Or somebody assaulted me and robbed it. I didn’t tell because I didn’t want to agitate her. A conclusive and logical story, if you turned a blind eye to it. But in combination with the bill for a return ticket to Thailand–Bangkok was mentioned–the story about a robbery was absolutely ridiculous. So this was the End. Sometimes it happens very fast. You make plans and something else happens. I stayed in the kitchen. What could I have said to my wife? There was nothing to say.
Shortly thereafter, she retired into the bed room. My wife had the strange habit to go to bed when she was angry. I waited for a while and went to the living room. I turned my computer on and changed my flight date. There was nothing left to lose. My wife suspected or knew something was going on. My life bored me to death. With every breath I thought about Som and how I could get close to her. I was on the verge to pave my way with a crowbar. I would do something others wouldn’t dare to dream about. Why wait and agonize? Why wait for something if you can have it at once? Why should I go in a self service restaurant and wait until a waiter appears to take the order? The whole life consists on waiting. It starts in the morning under the shower when you wait that the water gets warm. It goes on in the kitchen. You wait that the coffee is ready and the toast jumps out of the toaster. If you are clever you cook coffee and take the butter out of the fridge before you get under the shower. You wait for the tube or the bus. And in the tube you wait to reach your destination. In a car you wait in front of red traffic lights or you are captured in a traffic jam. At work you turn on your computer and wait until it boots. And then you wait until the Microsoft XP-Logo vanishes and your desktop shows up. And when you call somebody you listen to the dial tone and wait if somebody takes the call. I don’t want to talk about being on hold. You wait in front of cashiers in supermarkets, at bank counters and in waiting rooms for the doctor. Now I was waiting to get back to Bangkok but I would cheat waiting.
From the clothes basket in the kitchen next to the washing machine I took some T-shirts which I wore in winter as undershirts. I put them in a small backpack. My passport was in the living room. There was no reason to enter the bed room. Except for my laptop, my digital camera and two or three books I didn’t take anything with me. I had Som and that was enough. Everything I needed I could buy in Thailand. I viewed the flat for a last time which I called so long so insufferably long my home. Then I went to the kitchen and sat a last time at the kitchen table. I turned over the credit card bill and wrote in bold letters: “I went out to buy cigarettes.” Because of John I felt some remorse. Regarding my wife I felt nothing.
Before I drove to the airport I went to the bank which I reached one minute before closing time and withdrew my money.
Thai society is structured vertically. Equality and a sense of sharing are absent. Although Thais are deeply religious, they only love themselves and not their neighbours.
Dr. Prawase Wasi, Social critic
Second Act
I stood on the beach in Pattaya and had fulfilled my wildest dream. Som has been surprised and delighted about my hurried arrival. I had called her on the way from the airport to Pattaya. I told her a big surprise was waiting for her. She should go to Beach Road and wait opposite the Hard Rock Hotel even if she had to work. In the evening, the balconies of the hotel are illuminated but during the day they are featureless. Even the giant guitar in front of the café looms bleakly toward the blue sky. During the daytime, Pattaya is ugly. The atmosphere in the city comes alive with dusk when the lights are switched on, and the thousands of bargirls start going to work and the girls on the southern part of Beach Road are waiting for customers.
Som saw me immediately. She looked at me incredulously. I didn’t tell her on the phone what was waiting for her although she had been very curious. She ran in my direction and then hugged me. She bent one leg. Like in the movies.
“Tirak! You are so thin.” She couldn’t say more because she started to cry.
We sat down under a palm tree at the beach and I told her what happened. I didn’t mention my wife or what she found. I told her only that I had shortened the waiting period. I was here now and forever. I didn’t know the Thai expression, and as she didn’t understand it in English, I tried to paraphrase it.
“I won’t go home anymore.”
“Never?”
“Never. I will live here.”
“I will take the evening off,” she said solemnly. “I want to stay with you today.”
The first time we could spend a whole day together. And the whole night, so I thought.
“What about your wife?” she asked.
“It's over.”
“Are you divorced?”
If your address is unknown and the spouse wants a divorce you will be divorced automatically without knowing it. This is a good way to go about it if you want to save attorney’s fees. I was sure my wife would sooner or later file for divorce. That’s why I said yes even if it was not the complete truth. In Thailand you can get divorced very quickly, so why shouldn’t this be the case in England coming from Som’s point of view?
Som was very pleased with the news about the divorce. “We can marry,” she said thoughtful and smiled.
We went for a walk along the beach but it soon became too hot.
“Where would you like to stay?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Where will there be something available? Do you have any idea?”
“The Beach Road is very nice. There are lots of apartments which you can rent monthly.” She looked at me for a while. “You have money, don’t you?” she asked quizzically.
“Do you really think I would come here without any money? Love is like oxygen but you need a little bit more to exist.” I laughed and she joined in.
“In Thailand we say ‘Kin kwam rak mai dai.’ You can't eat love. I am so happy, tirak. She sounded relieved.
We stopped a motorcycle taxi and Som gave the driver some instructions before we both sat down on the pillion. He drove along Beach Road and stopped in front of a big apartment building with a curved roof. We went to the reception and took a closer look at one of the rooms. The apartment was fully furnished: bed, desk with chair, a table with two more chairs, fridge, TV, air condition, hot water in the bathroom and a huge balcony.
I went outside. The noise from Beach Road was minimal due to the height of the balcony. From here you had a wonderful view across the beach and the sea. I didn’t have to contemplate for long.
“Taken,” I said.
First I did the formalities, signed the lease contract and paid the rent for a month and a deposit. Som and I went to the room afterwards. She closed the curtains in front of the balcony door, pulled back the bed cover and got undressed. On her back behind her shoulder, I noticed a tattoo, which I hadn’t seen before. A scorpion! I often stroked around the slightly elevated relief of the tattoo. We made love three times, and it was the happiest day of my life.
Som got up, swathed her body in a white towel and set in front of the dressing table. She took a comb from her bag and started to comb her long hair. I watched her often when she did it. Her bronze coloured skin was in complete contrast to the white towel. Slightly above the towel I could see her distinct tattoo. What a wonderful image it was! That was the reason I removed my camera from my back pack and took a picture. Som had her back to me, while she was facing the mirror; she smiled at me through the reflection in the mirror. It was the first picture I took after my arrival in Pattaya. After I pressed the button of the camera I couldn’t resist watching Som in front of the mirror, combing her hair. I was fascinated even if it surely wasn’t anything special for a woman to comb her hair. But in Pattaya small things became unique and important things became irrelevant. One of these vanities was that Som didn’t wear the gold chain I bought for her. I noticed it at that moment. But I d
idn’t want to spoil the evening and talk about it so I saved it for later.
I suggested we go to the beach and walk along the now dark seaside. Som immediately agreed. If I wanted to stay in the room, she wanted to stay. If I wanted to go for a walk, she wanted to go for a walk as well, so we went to the beach. The deck chairs which sat there throughout the day were being removed. Sometimes we stopped and watched the sea. Behind us a couple of very high palm trees were swaying in the breeze. Som and I embraced each other very tightly. Behind us, the palm trees which swayed in the wind, in front of us the sea at the top the Milky Way. The view was illuminated by the numerous lights on Beach Road. My life circled around Som. I just wanted to be with her, I didn’t need more. When I told her about my thoughts, she smiled.
We sat in the sand and watched the lights of the fishing boats on the water. A Siamese cat with a collar passed and miaowed. Strangely Som called the cat maeau farang. Foreign cat. Because of the blue eyes I figured. A reversed world?
We went along the road to the North and entered a sea food restaurant named Green Tree. Som had suggested it. Many coloured lights illuminated an appealing ambience. Only a few people sat at the tables. We ate a little bit, drank milk shakes and played footsie.
Every woman with whom I dated had been adorable. And I spent many happy hours with each and every one of them. But Som, to whom I directed my Thai at this moment, was somebody special. The magic increased because we spoke Thai with each other. Thai is a wonderful language for expressing feelings. Farangs who speak with their Thai girlfriends in English are missing out on a lot. Their girlfriends speak in most cases little or no English and the communication is reduced to a minimum. And farangs will never know how to say wonderful things with melodic words.
Som ended the delightful evening with, “I must go back to the parlour, because I have to work.”
“At this time?” I looked aghast.
“A regular customer is going to come,” she said. “If I am not there I will have trouble with the mamasan.”
After a while of awkward silence, I paid the bill and we left the restaurant without speaking a word all the way to Soi Buakhao. I flagged down a motorcycle taxi while Som turned and looked at me.
“Please. You have to understand me.”
After the massage she wanted to head off to her apartment for some unknown reason. I would be alone.
You have to be very careful when speaking to Thais. You can alienate them very easily. Especially dangerous are questions with a “why” at the beginning. The conversational partner thinks you want to draw the other out. A “why-question” indicates a “because-answer” and this “because” could lead to a loss of face.
I wanted to ask, “And why don’t you stay with me tonight?” but I didn’t dare ask. I also didn’t ask why she didn’t call me for a full week, although it would have been possible for her to easily use the mobile phone of a friend.
That’s why I only nodded. But I couldn’t resist commenting on the situation, “Do you see the bar there?”
Som looked at a bar on the opposite site of the road. One of the bargirls was dancing on the bar. She twirled around the silver pole with her arms and thighs caressing it, and moved her lower waist and hips like a belly dancer. Her tight red costume didn’t leave any room for fantasies. When she bent over during her dancing, her underwear was presented for all to see.
“Would you like it if I went dancing with Miss Red tonight?”
Som looked angry at me. She was annoyed. But she understood what I meant.
I had switched off my mobile phone because I didn’t want to talk to my wife. And now I didn’t want to talk to Som. Both had tried to reach me; I was sure about it. I went along the countless sois, made innumerable stops at bars and drank plenty. I alternated between Mekong whisky and Heineken. I was so drunk that I had difficulties finding my home. Fortunately, I had a business card with the address of my apartment building. I showed it to a motorcycle taxi driver, and he drove to Beach Road. After arriving, I realized that I had lost my key. On the first day, I had made an ideal impression. The lock had to be changed, and from now on the ladies at the reception called me ki mao, drunkard.
When I sat on the bed in my room I turned on my mobile phone. I hoped somehow that Som tried to call me although you could see dawn on the far horizon. While brushing my teeth in the bathroom my mobile phone rang, of course. But it wasn’t Som, it was my son John.
“What the hell are you doing in Thailand?” he asked, after I told him where I was and that I wouldn’t return to England.
“I can't explain it on the telephone,” I said. How should I? How should I tell him about my feelings to Som if I couldn’t do it during a personal conversation?
“Do you know how mum feels? Did you waste one thought about her?” he asked reproachful.
I thought no and said nothing.
“I don’t want to talk about myself,” John said. “I just called because of mum. She had a nervous breakdown.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” I said. I had feared this dispute would arise, and was upset because I had answered the call. “Didn’t she suspect anything?”
“No,” John said. “She was flabbergasted when she saw the credit card bill. She couldn’t think of it before, that you have a girlfriend. You have a girlfriend, right? A Thai, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. There wasn’t more to confess. John now tried to convince me to return home. My wife would forgive me, he always said that. After he noticed that he fell on deaf ears he began an interrogation. He asked whether I would live in Pattaya, how long I wanted to stay there and what I wanted to do. When I answered John’s questions half-hearted we started to argue. I alleged he gave every bit of information I told him to his mother and I didn’t want her to know about it. He disagreed and said everything was concerning my wellbeing. I should have talked with my wife before–and him. John talked at the end of the conversation in a conciliate manner and asked me to call him from time to time. He didn’t want to tell his mother about my whereabouts.
* * *
Som arrived on the next day without any notice. While she was making herself comfortable on the bed I went to take a shower. She must have left the room once more because she helped me with drying myself and gave me a cup of coffee afterwards which she bought in a nearby 7-Eleven. I thanked her for her kindness. She apologized and said it wouldn’t be long before she would be there for me all the time. Then we made love.
“Do you have new working hours?” I wanted to know because I was still astonished about her early arrival.
“Usually I start at twelve noon and work until midnight.”
“But you don’t massage twelve hours per day?”
“Of course not. I just massage if I have a customer.”
“And how often do you have a customer?” I asked.
“It depends. Maybe four, if I am lucky.”
“Four hours.”
She nodded. Som sat eight hours per day in her parlour and didn’t do anything because there wasn’t much to do. She read comic books, chatted with her colleagues, applied make up for several times a day or painted her finger nails. Every day her nails had a different colour. When Som worked, she got a percentage per massage. The more expensive the massage, the more money she would get for it. If a customer paid 200 baht for a Thai-massage she would get 100 baht. The price for an oil massage was 300 baht, Som got 130 baht commission. An aroma massage was 400 baht and Som pocketed 180 baht for that on the last day of the month. It was no surprise that often “prescribed” oil massages because she got her share from the sales. The waiting for customers wasn’t paid. On bad days, she went home with 100 baht, on good days she could make as much as 1,000 baht per day–but only in high season. The perfect customer booked two hours oil massage. Aroma massages were seldom requested, as most tourists presumed they were too expensive. There are lots of masseuses in every parlour and the competition in Pattaya is very high. The parlours have mushroomed and there
is one on every corner.
“This evening, a friend of mine opens a new parlour,” she said. “Would you like to go there? They are doing a party. Her husband is farang,” she added.
The farang is always the sponsor. It would be this way with Som and me. I would give her money and she would manage the shop. It wouldn’t hurt to look around at another shop, so I instantly agreed. But I had to do some other business before. I looked at my watch.
“We have two hours until you start to work. I have to go to a bank and I need a Thai SIM-card. Where can I buy one?”
“In a phone shop. A card with a new number is around 200 baht. You also have a credit. Maybe 50 baht.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“We better take a motorcycle taxi.”
We didn’t go to the second best phone shop but to Pattaya South Road. I opened a bank account, changed money and transferred it to the new account. We then walked on a very bumpy sidewalk to a building which was not far away from the bank: Tukcom.
“You will find in here everything concerning electronics,” Som announced.
We had passed a lot of little phone shops without stopping. She probably wanted to show me the department store. On the first floor I found everything that had anything to do with mobile phones, on the upper floors were DVDs and players, cameras, computers and accessories. After a short walk around we went back to the first floor. I bought a SIM-card by DTAC. The sales girl put it in my telephone and activated it. This was all included in the purchase of the SIM card. I could use my telephone immediately and called the sales girl at the counter to check the number. She called me back and my mobile phone rang.
A Farang Strikes Back Page 4