The Farang Affair

by J. F. Gump

  "What was it like?" Jim asked.

  "Probably nothing like you were taught in school. Actually, I would rather not talk about it."

  "I'm sorry if I asked a bad question," Jim said.

  "Mai pen rai, Khun Jim," Mike replied. "Mai pen rai."

  "Was that Thai? What does it mean?"

  Mike laughed softly. "Yeah, Thai. It means never mind."

  Jim pulled out a small notebook from his suit coat pocket, made an entry, then returned his attention to Mike.

  "What are the women like in Thailand? I've heard they are very beautiful and very sexy. I've heard they like foreigners, especially ones from America." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've also heard they're all very good in bed. Is that true or just a bullshit rumor?"

  Mike clenched his jaw and fought back his initial response. The boy was only wanting to talk man to man. It was an innocent question. Mike took another sip of his drink.

  "The women in Thailand are just like women anywhere. If you're polite and treat them with a little respect, you will be treated the same. Treat them like shit or low class, then guess what? If you're a tourist, what I just said might not apply. Thais treat tourists nice because they want their money. If you're in Thailand for a long time, you will get to know them as people and they will treat you differently. Not necessarily good, but differently. A lot of it depends on how you treat them.

  "Are Thai women good in bed? Sure they are, but maybe I'm the wrong person to ask. You see, I happen to think American women, European women, Mexican women, Japanese women, African women, and most other nationalities are pretty damned good in bed, too. Who am I to judge? Pussy is pussy. Some just seems better than others."

  Jim couldn't help but notice the tenseness in Mike's voice. Redness filled his face. "I guess I ask pretty stupid questions."

  "Don't worry about it. Sometimes I give pretty stupid answers."

  There was a long silence. Finally, Jim spoke. "Is it dangerous in Thailand?"

  Mike took another sip of his drink. He wished mightily that he could smoke. "It's dangerous everyplace in the world. If you're wondering if Thailand is more dangerous than the States, I would have to say no. Just use a little common sense and you will be fine. If you get hurt in Thailand, it will probably be your own fault for being stupid. My best advice is to stay away from the back alleys and the long-time expats. Don't trust either one. Most of all be afraid of the Thai women. They may not hurt you physically, but they're very good at stealing hearts. I've seen a lot of good men ruined by false love. Don't ever think you're immune to it."

  The plane pitched forward and raced down the runway gaining take-off speed. Jim turned to watch out the window.

  In a moment they were airborne. The plane banked to the right. Below, the city streets were lined with trees in the early stages of fall. Touches of yellow and red dotted the green foliage. In a few short weeks the green would be gone. Not long after that the leaves would be gone, too; dead for the winter.

  Neither man spoke as the plane climbed to cruising altitude. Mike worked his jaw to keep his ears clear while Jim thought about what Mike had told him.

  When the plane leveled off, Jim turned and said, "I'm sorry, if I offended you. I didn't mean to. I've never been to Thailand. I guess I'm a little worried. I don't know how to act, how to get around, or anything. You’re the first person I've met who's actually lived there. You must know a million things I need to know."

  Mike looked over at his seatmate. The boy was right, there were things he needed to know. "For what it's worth, I will tell you everything I've learned. It's not much, but maybe it will help. I will tell you the easy things first. Baht is Thailand's local money. The exchange rate for U.S. greenbacks changes every day, but I'm sure you know that already. If you're offered a very high or low exchange rate, you're probably being ripped off one way or another.

  "Until you've been there for a while you will be called a farang. If they never accept you as a person, you will always be called a farang. Said in the right tone, the word can be an insult.

  "Thinking about learning the language? Forget it! They don't want you to know, and you don't want to know what they say about you anyway. What you really need to learn is how to survive. You need to know that Thais drive on the opposite side of the road from the U.S. Left is right and right is wrong. For Americans, it can be confusing. What I'm telling you is to be careful crossing the street; look both ways before stepping off the curb. If you don't, you could end up dead.

  "If you have a problem with a Thai local or a bar-girl, either forget about it or go to the tourist police. It's easier to just forget about it. It's even easier not to get involved in the first place. Thais have a strong sense of pride. It upsets them to lose face. I don't blame them, I don't like losing face either. Mostly, they are a gentle people and have a lot of patience; but if they get pissed at you for whatever reason, then you have a real problem.

  "I wouldn't recommend driving in Thailand unless you have nerves of steel or a death wish. Actually, there's no reason to drive. Bangkok has thousands of taxis, Chiang Mai and the north have three wheeled tuk-tuks and samlors, and Pattaya has baht-buses everywhere. They're cheap and you don't have to worry about finding a place to park."

  "What's a baht-bus?" Jim interrupted.

  "Well, it's not really a bus. They're small pickup trucks with bench seats along both sides of the bed and a metal cab overhead. All you have to do is flag one down, ride until you're close to where you want to go, and then get off. The real price is five baht per ride but you can save yourself a lot of hassle if you give the driver ten. If you want to go someplace specific, it will cost whatever you can negotiate with the driver. Don't accept his first offer but don't bargain too hard either. Just be fair."

  Jim wrote furiously in his notebook then asked, "Why do they call Thailand The Land of Smiles?"

  "Because they seem to always be smiling. You'll see what I mean when you get there. But don't let their smiles fool you. They don't always smile for the same reasons that Westerners smile. One more thing, Thais are prolific liars. Next to eating, lying seems to be their favorite pastime. Usually it has to do with the saving of face thing, but sometimes it seems they do it for no reason at all. If it's a bar-girl, you can always assume she's lying. They do it to extract money from your wallet and they are very good at it. Just be aware that you'll be lied to and don't get insulted. Forget it and go on about your business."

  Jim let everything Mike had said to sink in. After a long minute he said, "I've read all sorts of stuff on the internet about the bar-girls, but I can't tell where the truth stops and starts. Since you've lived there, maybe you can tell me something. Do those women ever fall in love with foreigners? There's a great debate about this on some of the web boards."

  Mike pondered Jim's question for a minute before answering, "Love in Thailand is a complex issue." Thoughts of Math flooded his mind. "But sometimes it can be very simple," he added, blushing. "Anything I tell you about love anywhere will be only an old man's opinions. I could be wrong."

  "I would like to hear anyway," Jim urged.

  Mike took another sip of his drink. "Okay! My opinions only. People fall in love everywhere in the world, even in Thailand. The bar-girls fall the fastest of them all. Unfortunately, the first thing they fall in love with is your wallet. They can't help themselves. Actually, I don't blame them. If I were in their position, I would do the same thing. Think about it. Wouldn't you like to make a living having sex? I know I would. It doesn't matter anyway. Most of the men are too busy catching the disease to even care."

  "Disease?" Jim's voice was deadly serious. "What disease?"

  "The disease that comes when a man's ego gets inflated beyond reason. When they start believing a girl's love of their wallet equals true love. When they start believing they are sex gods instead of walking ATMs. When they start believing they are oh so handsome and sexy. If the disease is bad enough, a man will spend everything he has to
keep the girl's love. The only cure is a healthy dose of reality. Like I said, no one is immune."

  "Wow, that's pretty heavy. Have you ever had the disease?"

  Images of Math flashed through him. She had been less than half his age and he had sent money to her after he went home. Weren't those symptoms of the disease? Was it possible he once had the illness but had been too blind to see it? He denied the ugly thought; their relationship had been different. Math had loved him for more than his wallet. After a long silence he answered, "No, I'm one of the lucky ones. I've never had the disease."

  "You mean you've never had your head turned by a Thai girl."

  "I didn't say that. I only said I've never had the disease. I fell in love with a Thai girl once. I met her at a bar, but she wasn't a bar-girl. She was the most incredible woman I've ever met."

  A sober mood overtook Mike as his own words about the Thailand disease replayed through his head. For reasons he didn't understand, he had a burning need to tell the tale that no one had ever heard. "Can I tell you a story?"

  Jim saw the serious expression on Mike's face. "I would love to hear anything you have to say about Thailand."

  Jim listened in awe as Mike told the story of a woman named Tippawan Bongkot. Her nickname was Math. She had been the love of his life, the woman he would judge all other women by until the day he died.

  Mike talked about how they met, how they lived, and how they had loved. He told Jim about the problems caused by their cultural differences. He mentioned their fights only so he could talk about their make-ups. He talked about her unlucky life, their secret plans, and her tragic death. His words drew a larger than life picture of the woman he held above all others. More than once his eyes misted over as he talked.

  Mike was careful not to mention Math's sister, Nuang, or what had happened between them after Math had died. It didn't seem appropriate and it was none of this boy's business anyway. Two Beefeaters later, he fell silent.

  "She sounds like quite a woman," Jim said, when he was sure Mike was finished.

  "More than you'll ever know," Mike replied, his lips thick with gin, his words grating with emotion. "And it wasn't the disease." He shut his eyes and turned away.

  Jim thought he heard the man crying. He returned to his book but saw only the images of Thailand from the story that Mike had just told. In a while he said, "You should write a book. It's an incredible love story."

  There was no response.

  Mike awoke as the plane began its descent into Narita International. The pain started just below his left ear and stabbed down behind his jaw bone and into his glands. He tried desperately to clear his ears. Yawning, swallowing, chewing, and more, but nothing worked. It had happened to him before and he knew what was coming would not be pleasant.

  As the plane descended, the pressure in his ears built from discomfort to pure agony. They cleared just before touchdown; the relief was immediate.

  Jim stirred awake when the wheels bounced against the runway.

  "Tokyo?" he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep and the dryness of the cabin.

  "Yeah," Mike answered. "Welcome to Japan."

  Mike led Jim through security and then to the Business Class lounge. He ordered for them both.

  "Where in Thailand are you headed?" Mike asked as he retrieved the beers. He wondered why he hadn't thought to ask before.

  "Pattaya," Jim answered. "What about you?"

  "I'm going to Pattaya, too," he corrected Jim's pronunciation. "If you're interested, we can share the cost of a taxi. I can get you a full fare receipt for your expense report."

  "Someone is picking me up at the airport. I don't know who. I guess someone with a car to take me to my hotel."

  Mike smiled and nodded, "If they don't show up, my offer of sharing the taxi still stands. Getting a room in Pattaya won't be a problem. Just let me know before I leave. Okay?"

  "What do you mean, if they don't show up?"

  "It happens sometimes," Mike answered. "To me more than once. I've stopped depending on anyone to meet me. It's easier that way. Just let me know if you change your mind and want a ride."

  "Okay," Jim said. "Maybe you could ask me again before you leave the Bangkok airport."

  "Sure. I'll check with you before I head out."

  Mike spent the rest of the layover answering Jim's questions about Thailand and about Pattaya in particular. As they talked, Mike realized how much he didn't know, but he never let his ignorance show. He created lies when he didn't know the truth.

  It was still daylight when Mike boarded his flight from Narita to Bangkok. He wondered what time it was in Thailand. He thought he should know but he didn't. By reflex he glanced at his watch – useless. He had tried to reset his watch during his layover, but had only managed to really screw it up. Even using two hands, he hadn't been able to figure out which button combinations did what. His body said it was past bedtime, while his watch said two hours and fifteen minutes had passed since he transformed his timepiece into a stopwatch.

  Chapter 21

  Nuang's bus arrived at the Pattaya terminal at seven o'clock in the morning. She collected her box of clothes and followed the other passengers to the street outside the terminal.

  The sky had grown light with the new day. Already, cars and motorcycles and trucks were zipping up and down the road toward scattered destinations.

  This was the first time she had been to Pattaya without someone being there to meet her, and she wasn't sure what to do. She stood and watched as the others hailed baht-buses and motorcycle taxis to wherever they were going. Before long she was one of the few people left standing at the curb.

  Her box of clothes wasn't very heavy, but she figured it was too awkward to carry on the back of a motorcycle taxi. There were no tuk-tuks. She flagged down the first empty baht-bus that passed by.

  "I need a place to stay for a night or two," she told the driver. "Can you take me to the cheapest hotel in Pattaya?"

  The driver smiled and nodded. "Ten baht," was his answer.

  The sun had topped the horizon by the time the baht-bus stopped in front a seedy looking hotel. The driver waited while Nuang exited the bed of the truck.

  "Ten baht, please," he repeated his fare, holding his hand through the open window.

  She fished a coin from her pocket and handed it to the man. "Is this place clean?"

  "I don't know," he shrugged. "I've never been inside. I only know that it's cheap."

  He drove away leaving Nuang with no choice except to find out for herself.

  The lobby was dimly lit and smelled of old wood and cigarette smoke. Two white painted wicker chairs sat against the wall opposite the reception desk. The boy on duty was asleep.

  "Kaw thort, ka," she said, loud enough to awaken him.

  He sat up with a start and smiled sheepishly. "May I help you?"

  "How much for a room?" she asked.

  The boy looked around. "Are you alone or will a farang be joining you?"

  Nuang blushed at his insinuation. Her smile didn't fade but her voice became terse, "I am alone."

  "The cost is one hundred fifty baht. It's our special rate for Thais only. I'll give you our best room. It's on the fourth floor and has a very nice view."

  She filled out the short registration form with false names, addresses, and phone numbers. She didn't want anyone to know who she was, and she didn't want to run the risk of someone, somehow, finding her. As remote as that possibility seemed, she couldn't take any chances. She had already made one mistake at the Phitsanulok bus terminal; she wouldn't make another.

  She took the key, walked to the elevator, and pushed the button. After a minute or two of mechanical groans and clanking, the door opened. The car dropped a few millimeters more as she stepped inside. Her better judgment told her to take the stairs, but she pressed the fourth floor button anyway. The motor whirled for a moment before the elevator jerked upwards. A heavy burning odor reached her nose. The clanking and groaning intensified
as the car moved up the shaft. She was relieved when it stopped and the door slid open.

  In the hallway stood a slender young lady dressed in a bright colored blouse and tight black jeans. Thick gold chains dangled from her wrist and neck. A layer of heavy make-up covered what Nuang could see was a beautiful face. She figured the girl to be in her early twenties. Her body was what men referred to as very sexy.

  "Sawasdee ka," Nuang said politely as she exited the elevator.

  "Sawasdee, ka," the girl replied, smiling.

  "I think the elevator has a problem," Nuang said. "If I were you, I would take the stairs. That would be safer."

  "I'm not worried," the girl responded and stepped into the waiting car. "I have taken it many times. It likes to growl like an old man's stomach." The door squeaked shut and the elevator clanged downward.

  Nuang's "special" room was small and dingy, but at 150 baht it fit her limited budget. The wonderful view turned out to be of a window in another building less than three meters away. If she leaned her head out far enough, she could catch the slightest glimmer of Pattaya Bay. The TV didn't work, but that wasn't important. She would be here only a day or two and would be too busy to watch TV anyway.

  The water was cold and more like an anemic trickle than a shower. Getting clean turned into a twenty minute ordeal. Afterwards, she put on fresh make-up and clean clothes, and then walked down the four flights of stairs to the lobby.

  "Sawasdee ka," Nuang said to the girl who was now working the front desk.

  "Good morning," the young girl smiled. "May I help you?"

  "Yes, I need a map of Pattaya. I'm looking for the best hotels in town."

  The girl's smile faded. A worried look crossed her face. "Is there a problem with your room? I can move you, if it's not okay."

  Nuang was too polite to tell the truth, and the next room might be even worse than the first. She decided it best not to complain.

  "I'm looking for a job. I hope some of the hotels are hiring for the tourist season. My English is good and I am a hard worker. I want to work at the best hotel in Pattaya."