He disliked Thaksin Shinawatra, and knew enough current affairs to know that the Election Commission was up to no good, too.
Anything fashionably left, remotely bohemian or way out, he was into it. In fact, if ever I needed a checklist of all the causes I dislike, I need only spend an hour in this man’s company.
Oh, you admire the Dalai Lama? Of course you do: you’re just the type. He sent a native American friend (and fellow Bush-hater, presumably) a t-shirt saying, ‘Lee Harvey Oswald – where are you when we need you?’
How do these people know which ideas to adopt, so they fit so seamlessly into the politically-correct club?
Two hours into this mind torture, his drunken Thai girlfriend fell into an argument with three Thais at the end of the bar.
The shop owner, Mum, told his girlfriend and the feuding group to pretend they were at separate tables (we all sit at the same bench-like bar).
The farang kept talking, oblivious. In the end I had to ask him to be quiet, as his girlfriend refused to stop provoking the other group. This is a woman he had taken all over the world with him, he said, but who forgets her manners when drunk.
He described himself as a coloured-stones dealer, the type that goes into obscure, rough parts of the world to buy stones raw, before getting them cut. He built a modest house for the girlfriend in her village, and has put money into a managed fund. ‘I’m pretty sure I earn more than you do,’ he told me cheerily.
He travels everywhere in the Land of Smiles on a Harley-style motorbike, including the five hour journey to his girlfriend’s village. Surely a bus ride would be less painful? I opted against saying anything, as these guys are happiest when you just let them talk.
A Thai friend passed by and asked how I was doing. He was off to Khao San Rd for a walk. I asked if I could come, to give myself a change of scene.
Khao San Rd: the home of red-faced farang backpackers with rasta hairdos wandering about aimlessly, touting taxi drivers, leering prostitutes, gaudy neon lights. The stone-dealer would fit in well.
My friend took me to a bar with a nightclub upstairs, where he looked for a friend. This wasn’t part of the plan…I thought we were going for a walk. I told him to go back and look for his friend again, and while he was gone I slipped away.
I commented in Silom Farang's blog that I look every day to see if there's a wonderful ew post on your blog. Thought you might like to hear encouragement and appreciation directly from me.
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