SF. Pt. 20. Bangkok reflections.

Tui goes happily back to Isaan leaving Arthur alone in Bangkok. He needs to renew his passport for one thing but there are some other matters to be attended to. Like visiting a few old haunts, perhaps having a few beers in a go-go bar or two. Nothing serious. He wonders if Duan is still around? Last time he’d seen her she'd been hanging round in Thermae…but then so had he…

Arthur is feeling pretty good this morning. Things had gone well ever since he got out of bed, he’d got his underpants on without snagging any tackle and his trousers on without tripping. He hadn’t dropped his toothbrush in the toilet hole. His stool had emerged on time and reasonably solid. It feels like it might be one of those days when nothing the Thais can throw at him will make a difference. A good day for internal monologue and serious procrastination.

Out on Sukhumvit Road he tries to decide if he feels more hungry than thirsty. Or both. Or neither. Probably a cool beer is the best bet. Wait for inspiration to strike.

The Golden Bar on Soi 4 is ideal for watching the street. The trick is to find a good perch overlooking the street and hope the girls leave you alone. Watching the street is Arthur’s favorite pastime. He likes to focus on individual elements of the tableau, a kid shining shoes, a motor-cycle taxi until it all becomes a soporific blur He likes it that way. Things keep moving but the movement becomes one with itself, time stands still, his mind empties, The 5% beer buzz he calls it. Functional oblivion.

A kid approaches him with a round shiny object.
‘20 baht,’ says the young salesman.
Arthur scrutinizes the object. It’s a moral compass probably. Foreigners were continuously losing them in this general area. 20 baht seems reasonable. No fool, Arthur gets it for 10.

A middle-aged farang walks past with his young Thai wife. She is loaded with gold. They have a couple of lukrungs in tow.….Sees another group of pasty young Englishmen, cropped hair, football shirts….they just keep coming. Everybody wants a Thai girlfriend. Some for longer periods than others. Thailand is really going downhill.

Come to Amazing Thailand. Mingle with exotic locals, hunt for bargains in the bustling markets, yeah right. After 20 years Thailand still baffles Arthur. There’s something there that defies Western logic. He still finds it attractive. It’s why a lot of the farang there seem to leave their brains at the airport. They either go completely sex-crazy or they think Thais are all cute non-materialistic Buddhists. Say one thing for the buggers, they live in the present.

Arthur isn’t anti-social heaven forbid. He quite likes people individually or in small groups. It’s humanity he has trouble with. They, and he includes himself, seem to be fucking up the planet at an alarming rate and all the superficial concern about global warming, conservation, recycling etc. isn’t very reassuring.

Time to check the e-mail. A goes to his usual internet shop and there they all are. The usual overweight foreigners, English teachers etc. a few kids playing Grand Theft Auto and other nasty noisy games…a backpacker or two and of course the Thai girls skyping half-a-dozen boyfriends simultaneously. Arthur surveys the worn keyboard and logs in to hotmail.

Good heavens. Sandwiched between some spam is a message from Simon!

“OK, I’m taking the plunge. Taking a break from TV. Travelling out your way. Against my better judgment I will be arriving in Bangkok on the night of 19th. Oct.. I have a room booked at the Landmark Hotel. Wondering if you’d be interested in showing me the sights? All expenses paid of course. I’m blaming you if this goes pear-shaped. Simon.”

Arthur goes through the e-mail again looking for double-meanings. You never know with Simon. It looks straightforward enough. It will be strange seeing Simon again but he can deal with it. Hmmm, no mention of Samantha. That’s odd. And then it all comes flooding back…

All the regrets. What went wrong all those years ago? He’d been there, in Swinging London, he’d had dozens of opportunities to make some kind of name for himself. But for some reason he hadn’t. He hadn’t fitted in. He hadn’t known how to deal with the people and the times the way Simon had. No self-confidence. Was it really just a question of blaming his parents?

It will be nice to see Simon again, thinks Arthur. Or will it? He thinks I’m stuck in the Sixties. ‘Show me the sights…,’ he says. Oh dear. What is he expecting? Hopefully it won’t mean a major disruption to my own mental equilibrium. Should I show him my writing?