Lonely in Bangkok

‘Remember...I’m alone.’

That was Oil, a young man drifting in Bangkok, whom I met at my roadside drinking hole a few nights ago.

Oil is a recent arrival in the city from his home province of Petchaburi, though he grew up here as a boy.

He lives in a slum across the way with his father.

A former teen motorcycle racer, Oil has mercifully kept his body free of tattoos, though he wears a large scar running down his stomach – the legacy of a childhood accident rather than a clash with hothead teens.

He works at a bedding shop about two minutes from his home.

Oil told me proudly about the highlights of his home province – the desserts for which Petchaburi is famous, and its love of muay Thai boxing.

In return, I was able to introduce him to some of the delicious Esan-style food on offer at roadside shops in the area. One night we ordered a dish of moo laab (spicy pork salad).

This so impressed young Oil that last night he took two of his friends to another roadside eatery around the corner to order the Esan dish.

Mr Oil is also a fan of Liverpool (the football team, not the place), and teenage girls. His Dad has found himself a new partner, who takes an interest in his welfare.

‘She doesn’t give me hugs – and she can never replace my Mum – but she washes my clothes for me,’ he said matter-of-factly.

I have shared a few beers with him over the past few days. He is paid just B7,000 a month for his seven-day a week job at the bedding shop, so the money quickly runs out.

After giving B500 to his father from his most recent pay packet, which came out yesterday, he quickly spent the rest on beer with friends – one of whom he met yesterday for the first time since Oil left Bangkok, aged about 11.

‘Did you recognise Oil?’ I asked his childhood friend, Utt.

Oil passed his home in the slum, and called out his name.

‘I barely remembered him, as he is now a giant,’ said Utt.

Oil, who has Korean-style features (‘You’re the next Rain,’I told him) is almost 180cm tall. His elder brother – he is the youngest of three siblings – is an impressive 187cm.

He likes to arm-wrestle, and stand alongside me to compare his height to mine.

As a newcomer to Bangkok, he has his lonely moments. Most of his friends - including a bevy of former girlfriends - are back in Petchaburi.

'Last week I sat across the road from you, drinking a can of beer. You were with a couple of friends, but I didn't dare approach,' said Oil.

He saw me drinking with my friend Takraw Ball and his girlfriend Nan, whom I met for a drink the week before.

I didn't see Oil sitting in the shadows opposite, and am sorry he felt so alone. Still, in the space of barely a week, his social circle appears to have expanded rapidly.

I shared a beer last night with Oil, Utt, and a skinny friend of his, Nut.

Like Oil, Nut comes from a broken home, and is a recent arrival in Bangkok.

‘Once I lived the life of a Little Prince, but since coming to Bangkok have run out of money,’ he said.

Nut is scared of cockroaches, but proud of his tiny chest. 'I am scared of being drafted into the military. They will never choose me with a chest as narrow as mine, as I don't fit their specs,' he said.

Another gangly teen, a tall, big-haired friend of Nut’s, joined our circle in the closing minutes. Nut offered him a sip from his beer.

One early discovery I have made about my growing circle of teen friends is that I cannot keep up with their appetite for alcohol.

Oil polished off at least half a dozen bottles of beer last night, and tonight wants more.

‘Call me. Remember, I am alone, and have run out of money,’ he said, holding my arm, and whispering in my ear.

Oil spoke quietly, so his friends wouldn’t hear him begging the farang for money.

What an invitation. Still, I’ll probably go back for more.