Chapter 32

The coin has two sides:

Yesterday I started my short visit to Chiang Mai. I have been told by many people both Thai and farang that no trip to Thailand is complete without visiting Chiang Mai and I am in the process of investigating this.

Yesterday I re-visited a local bar “The Olde Bell” an obviously British based pub which I expected to be full of ex-pats.
Sitting at the bar were three farangs. On my left was a Scottish gentleman who I had met the previous evening and on my right another Englishman. They were not looking happy. The object of their discomfort was sitting between them. An American guy about sixty years old. I asked my Scottish friend what the problem was. “I don’t like him, he’s an arsehole and I want him to go away” was his reply. I looked across at the Englishman and he nodded agreement.

I was somewhat taken aback by this. Here we go again I thought “the land of smiles!” So as usual being fascinated by human behaviour I turned to the object of their dissatisfaction.

“What is the problem?” I asked.
“They don’t like me. They think I’m an arsehole.”
“And why is that?"
“Because I’m an American who used to have a high powered job and am used to being listened to.”
”I’m also very rich and they are not.”
“And I’m very clever and they are stupid.”

“Ok! Lets start at the beginning” I said.
“You used to have a high powered job - so what ?”
“You are used to being listened to. Yes of course. If you had a high powered job then your staff had to listen to you if they wanted to keep their jobs.”
“Here people need only listen to you if they want to.”
“You say you are very rich. Great! Lucky you. That’s just what other people here, some of them struggling financially, want to hear.. not!”
“You say you are a clever man surrounded by fools. Tell me have you ever taken lessons in man management? I can’t help but feel that you should start soon.”

The word “arsehole” began to take on some reality.
He then played his trump card.

“And also I’m dying.”
“So are we all” muttered my Scottish friend.
“And what of?”
“Bowel cancer.”
I expressed sympathy for this and enquired how he knew he was dying from it since many people have the cancerous area removed and are cured. He looked baffled at this as though he was totally unaware of the curative possibilities.
“I don‘t believe you. All I know is I am dying.”
At this moment he smashed his fist onto the bar twice nearly spilling our beers and disrupting the Englishman’s lunch.
“If you do that once more you will get my fist in your face” said the Englishman in a matter of fact sort of way.

I suppose at this stage I should point out that none of the participants was totally sober but the American considerably less so than the others.

I pointed out to him that people do not go to a pub to commiserate with people who they don’t much like about their impending demise whether real or imagined. I suggested to him that he was indeed a bit of an arsehole and that if he needed to express the violence of his emotional response to his situation then he should try the technique a friend of mine taught me. He would take a cardboard box to his cellar and kick it to death. Quite cathartic.

This was all rather distressing and I left soon after to spend the afternoon with May and her Thai friends.
I was picked up by a friend of May’s in a car. Sitting in the front passenger seat was her farang boyfriend an American called Brad.
Brad is in his mid forties and has lived in Thailand for about fifteen years. Still upset by my earlier confrontation, I told Brad in no uncertain terms what a disaster the American I had met earlier was and that despite his awful cancer, people have to get on with their lives whatever the situation.
“Life begins now so get on with it.”

Having got this out of my system I noticed that Brad had his right arm in a sling. On enquiring I learned that he had had a motorbike accident three months ago. A head-on collision with another, drunken, motorcyclist. He had extensive injuries which included a broken pelvis and serious nerve damage. This meant that he had no feeling in his right arm. It also meant that he gets serious pain from the damaged nerve system. He was at that moment on morphine.

We spent the afternoon at a local lake where we had some splendid Thai food although I drew the line at a dish which was clearly still alive. Small wriggling shrimps I believe but no thank you.

I went swimming in my underpants because nobody had told me we were visiting a lake and skinny-dipping did not seem to be appropriate.

After a great afternoon which included Brad attempting different techniques for using his SLR left handed I was informed that we were going ten pin bowling. By then I knew that Brad was, or had been, right handed. I asked him if he thought he would cope.
“I‘ve got to “ he said.
Because of his pelvic and leg injuries he couldn‘t do a normal run up to deliver a ball so he just stood still and swung his arm.
I know I‘m a pretty rubbish ten pin bowler but the fact is that in the first game he beat me. For the second game he was clearly getting tired and as he said matter-of-factly “continuous pain is wearing.”

We talked about his future and agreed that it’s a bit like getting old, something I can easily relate to. As one gets older everything becomes more effort. I suspect that what happens eventually is that it all becomes too much effort and one just gives up. In Brad’s case he realises that although physical effort produces more pain he simply has to keep trying.

I can only hope that his efforts are rewarded. Apparently it is quite possible that the nerve damage will, in time, diminish.

The next evening in the '1 oh 1' bar one of the bar girls was fascinated by Brad’s problem and offered all sorts of compassionate suggestions on how to cure it. At one point she picked up his unfeeling hand and placed it on her breast. They both laughed.

So this is the story of two men. It is not for me to criticise since I am neither facing possible imminent death nor am I suffering from such a cruel injury. All I can remark on is how differently people cope with their problems and remember that a coin has indeed got two sides.