[PeterUK]

(Name and a few details changed, otherwise a true story).


'Hey, Peter!'

It was mid-evening recently and I was walking past the baht bus stand in South Pattaya. I peered into the half-full, next-to-go baht bus and there was the rosy red, smiling face of Alan. My heart sank a little. I smiled back, pondered a moment and then joined him on board - I was going to Jomtien anyway and it was only polite to have a brief chat with someone I hadn't seen for a couple of years. We exchanged greetings and began the cheery-ghastly process of filling each other in on what we'd been up to in the meantime. As anticipated, I was soon doing more listening than talking - to that familiar, rather grating New Zealand accent, low on any suggestion of genuine humour. The round, ruddy face was kindly-looking but unmistakably tinged with self-importance and disappointment, just as I remembered it. For a 72-year-old, though, he was well-preserved and I told him so. He couldn't conceal his pleasure at the remark, dipping his head modestly. When he looked up again, his pale blue eyes widened suddenly with anger.

'You're not meant to be smoking in here, you know,' he said to someone who had just sat down on the other side of me, at the tail end of the baht bus. The hapless newcomer, East European in appearance, gave Alan a bewildered look. I wondered at first if he'd even understood, but then he muttered something in broken English about there being no No Smoking sign. Very true, there wasn't. Alan's words were news to me too. An embarrassing few minutes ensued, in which Alan insisted he was right, repeatedly, even calling on the uninterested driver (a sharp rap on his window) for confirmation; the smoker, for his part, didn't say much, just looked mightily pissed off and increasingly sulky as the cigarette sank lower and lower in his limp hand. As a silent piggy in the middle (but sympathetic to the smoker), I was hating every moment of this episode and couldn't wait for the baht bus to get moving. The other passengers, mainly Thai, weren't giving much away in their facial expressions, but from what I know of their attitude to confrontation in public I suspect they were somewhat unimpressed by Alan's behaviour too.

We finally rattled into motion. Alan, with the look of grim satisfaction of one who has performed an unpleasant but necessary civic duty, resumed telling me about his extensive travels. Nothing remotely interesting, mind, just a long list of exotic places which was clearly considered to be its own justification. Like all very boring people, Alan is impervious to the effect he has on others, so it didn't much matter that I went a bit blank-faced during all this; the nasal drone of his voice was even rather soothing after the recent turmoil. As we neared my condo building in Jomtien, I started to fret a little. I'd already told Alan about my recent purchase of a condo. In view of the fact that he had told me that he was only in town for one more day and that it was still only about 9.30 in the evening, there was a certain amount of conventional pressure on me to invite him in for a drink. But I simply couldn't bear the thought of a couple more hours in his company, just the two of us locked away together. Gentle reader, I lied to him. I said that, much as I would like him to see my place, I had a prior engagement with a young man, nudge, nudge, know what I mean? Another time, eh? Alan accepted my words gracefully at face value, perhaps used to such rebuffs or just secretly relieved to be shot of me as well. We parted with a few last pleasantries.

On the long walk up the driveway to my condo, I recalled the circumstances in which we had first met about seven years ago. It was nearby, on the gay beach at Jomtien. I was in the throes of a deeply unhappy relationship with a young man who, far from returning my feelings, was making it more and more plain that he disliked me intensely. I had already been seeing him on several trips to Thailand and the relationship was spiralling out of control, with me quite unable to find the resolve to do the sensible thing and part with him. Believe me, I was glad to find anyone prepared to listen to my woes at that time and Alan fitted the bill perfectly - patient, respectful, understanding. He wore a bit of a fixed smile at times, like one uncomfortable with such emotional gushings, but he was always prepared to listen.

I can't remember now whether I told him my story first or he told me his - at any event he was a very troubled man himself. In a much more low key (and dignified) fashion he told me how his Thai boyfriend of several years' standing had recently been killed in a car crash in Alan's absence. The truly horrific part about it was that the young man had been trapped in the driver's seat and had burnt to death without anyone being able to get to him. Even in the depths of my own misery I realised that Alan's suffering was of a different order - how could anyone bear to think about a loved one dying in that terrible way? - and tried to console him as best I could. As we sat there in our deckchairs, day after day, close by the lapping sea, we both kept returning obsessively to our pain, knowing that we had a sympathetic audience. We became not close friends exactly, but certainly grateful to one another. At the end of the trip we swapped contact details, his address in Wellington, mine in London, though if I'm perfectly honest I was already hoping only to see him when in Thailand.

In fact, he called me a few months later on a visit to London. I was happy to take him and a Malaysian friend of his for a day out at Windsor Castle. I was largely over my bad relationship by now and I don't recall him saying much about his deceased boyfriend either. Our period of mutual need had passed. I got fairly frequent emails from him for a couple more years, but soon came to dread their arrival. Always long lists of places visited, time spent in each meticulously logged, with never an amusing anecdote or unusual turn of phrase to lighten the tedium. It was always 'met John and Bill here' or 'had an enjoyable meal with Hillary there', no word of explanation as to who these people were. Was I expected to be interested in them just because they were his friends? Such a mindset puzzles me to this day. My responses grew shorter and less frequent and our relationship fizzled out. It happens. I bumped into him at the gay beach a couple of years ago and we had a rather strained chat, during which I sensed a certain amount of silent accusation hanging in the air. That was the last time until now.

I had reached my condo. I poured myself a drink and reflected on the role of suffering in our lives. Alan and I had both been very unhappy when we met. It was what drew us together. What effect did that suffering have on us in the long term? Has it made us wiser people, better people? I doubt it. Though suffering can have such beneficial effects (and is rightly understood by spiritual practitioners to be the first form of grace), it is usually something that we just blunder through, hoping for better luck in the future. We come out of our personal crises a little more bewildered, a little more cynical, a little more worn out, that's all. In books, movies and plays, the main characters are always having crises which end in some kind of resolution. That satisfies us deeply as observers, but in real life, more often than not, the opposite is true - nothing gets resolved at all. Life goes on and our bad moments teach us nothing. That's the very definition of a fool, one who doesn't learn from his experience. We are driven by our deeper tendencies, largely unavailable to reason or intuition. We grow until we reach a comfort zone in life and then spend the rest of our days endlessly repeating ourselves, mistakes and all, like circus clowns. The adventures and misadventures of farangs in Pattaya are a wonderful demonstration of this truth, but really we are talking about most human beings here.

There's a scene in one of John Rechy's books (City of Night?). My memory of it is a bit shaky, but I think the hustler character, with many bad bed moments in his life, now very much down on his luck, is looking over the rail of a boat at gulls swooping down to the waves like divebombers, down, down, down, until it seems certain they must crash, only for them to spread their wings at the last possible moment and soar effortlessly upwards again. The hustler watches transfixed for a while, then muses out loud (or perhaps just thinks to himself), 'If only people had wings.'

[Edith]

Tnx, Peter.

[TrickyRich]

Wings that fly us to Thailand, a one-way trip of the heart for some, and for the lucky ones only their loins are fired up!!!

Oh Peter! Your view of ageing farangs is a profoundly sad one. Not all of us become fixed in our abilities to learn and grow. We have a choice whether to go on growing or not. I no longer believe that there is inherent goodness in suffering, pain is just pain, it is how we choose to respond to that pain that marks us out.

Your very boring and self-obsessed acquaintance is one of those who has chosen to stay within his comfort zone, and to stop growing, perhaps because he has chosen to shield himself from further pain, none of which makes him a bad person.

Falling in love opens us to the possibility of real pain, it makes life at one and the same time more interesting, more exciting and more dangerous. As one of the fools who has allowed himself to open his heart to a Thai man, I am both supremely happy and utterly terrified.

I only hope that I shall not ever stop taking risks and trying to share my love, and most of all never become boring!!!

[homintern]

As I recall PeterUK you are a theist and therefore don't understand us atheists. However people don't have wings (unlike pigs) and that is the origin of religions such as Buddhism (the First Noble Truth, "Life is suffering"; the Second Noble Truth, "Suffering persists because people are in denial" etc.)

[rockytop2000]

On a cold wet lonely day here in the country a story like that should have made me feel even sadder... yet it lifted me up. Thanx for sharing it.

Namaste, lee

[cottmann]

PeterUK, I liked the story but my immediate response was that your friend should, in the words of someone or other, "Get a life."
Homintern, I have always thought that while there is much to admire in Buddhism, that it is at root profoundly anti-life. As I understand it, Buddhism is based on the notion that to avoid suffering and discontentment, and thereby to attain "inner peace," people must rid themselves of all desires - and that really means all desires. "Suffering ceases with the cessation of craving" is the third "noble truth" of Buddhism. Material things then - even food, clothing and other necessities - are viewed as mere allurements. Even desiring a loving relationship or good health obstructs a human's path to "Nirvana," the eternal peace. For me, it is hard to imagine a belief system more anti-life than that.
Whatever, enjoy the forthcoming yuletide season, and have a safe and prosperous 2006, everyone!

[homintern]

In my experience people see what they want to see. The Third Noble Truth has to do with not allowing yourself to be dominated by cravings. I've always found Steve Hagen's Buddhism plain & simple worthwhile reading