I think I’m too soft. I didn’t learn anything from my Advanced English Composition group, which jumped on my head before I had even noticed. Before I realized, my Intensive English group was doing what they wanted. Naughty ex high-school pupils didn’t attend classes, were late and chatted on their mobile phones instead of studying. I asked and I threatened and nothing worked. I asked Guy for advice, but he told me not to worry. I stopped enjoying classes. Having no choice, I tried to cut them short, played movies and improvised. I had stopped preparing for classes a long time ago. I knew what I was going to teach them as soon as I opened my book at the start of class. I gave them dozens of exercises for self-study, mostly because I was not in the mood to make them quiet, rush them or ask them to behave. When they really pissed me off, I threatened them with the final exam. They didn’t care. They knew as well as I did that there would be no doubt that they would move onto the next course. If they failed the exam, they could repeat it. And they could keep repeating it an unlimited amount of times.
Link to the previous post: This is Thailand. Chapter 9: Striptease in the bank. Part III
On one of the May weekends, I took Piam to Ayutthaya – a former capital of Thailand. It turned out to be yet another town for fans of temples and old architecture. In one of the temples, which like every other, contained a golden, or covered in golden leaves, Buddha status, Piam showed me some of the fortune-telling system. The girl mixed some wooden sticks in a pot and took one of them out. The number “2” was on the stick. I repeated it and took out the number “7”, a lucky number among many superstitious people in the West, but not in Thailand where the lucky number is “9”. We came to a wall with small pieces of paper written in Thai and English. Every piece of paper had a number. On each of them was a fortune-telling prophecy. First we read Piam’s number 2, which said “A great period of change awaits you. Eventually you will set yourself free from something that imprisons you. You will become a free and independent person.” My number 7 was less optimistic. In fact it was very bad. “You will face one of the most difficult months of your life. Big troubles in your personal life. Only the strongest people will survive. The rest will have their hearts broken.” Piam looked terrified. - Throw it away immediately - she told me - We don’t take bad fortune-tellings. That way they won’t work. - She said, and threw the piece of paper away, taking hers with her. It was very naive to believe that a piece of wood and a piece of paper can predict the future. Especially given that, for tourists, they are in both English and Thai. It’s even more naive to believe that only the good fortune-tellings come true and if you leave the bad one behind then that deactivates it.
Photo: Ayuthaya, Thailand's old capital. Image Credit: PX Here. CC0 Public Domain.
On the way back to Bangkok, we talked about Piam’s fortune-telling.
-What do you think my fortune-telling means? - she asked.
-Probably nothing. It’s a meaningless piece of paper used to lure naive tourists.
-Marek!!!!
-Alright. - I said reluctantly - read it again.
-A period of great change awaits you. Eventually you will set yourself free from something that imprisons you. You will become a free and independent person.
-I don’t know. Maybe your husband’s family will agree to a divorce. Maybe you’ll get a job and you won’t be financially dependent on them? Maybe both?
-That would be good.
-Believe in and it will happen.
-I’ll try.
-Great. And what do you think about my prophecy?
-Yours doesn’t matter. You didn’t take it, right?
-No, but I remember it.
-So try to forget it. Then it won’t work.
-Great. I understand.
The mother of Piam’s husband, the grandmother of Apple, is the person in the family that Piam has the best relationship with. I wasn’t especially surprised when my girlfriend said, that she was going, along with her daughter and a few dozen aunts, uncles and nephews to Laos. Not to see anything, but to increase their positive karma by giving donations to Buddhist monks. Probably the same ones who later are walking around Pantip Plaza – a large electronics shopping mall – to shop for the latest iPad.
I didn’t like this idea from the very start. I’ve never met Apple’s grandmother, but from the stories I’ve heard from Piam, I detected a great deal of dishonesty about her. Like every grandmother, she loves her granddaughter. Like every mother, she loves her son. Piam was only the ex-wife of her son, who gave birth to her granddaughter. I tried to convince Piam that as soon as the divorce came through, she would no longer have her mother-in-law as an ally and that all of these gifts and trips were to make her less aware. I also knew that the lady knew about me. To be more precise, she was aware of my existence and was probably able to work out where Piam spent most of her time. I was afraid that the trip was nothing more than a pretext to a small brainwashing, which my girlfriend was susceptible to. I couldn’t tell her not to go, for that was not my style. I let her go. Whatever happens, happens.
For the first three days, Piam’s absence was welcome. For a long time now we had seen each other practically every day. During those three days, we missed each other so much that we could barely sleep. Tens of sweet messages crossed the Thai-Laos border daily. The exchange of texts on the fourth day seriously surprised me.
-Do you love Apple?
-It’s complicated babe. I accept her.
-What does it mean that you accept her?
-It means that I have decided for a relationship with a woman who has a child, knowing that there will be a child that there will be consequences.
-What consequences?
-I can have you and her. I can’t have you without having her. I accept her as part of my life.
-It’s not enough. You must love her.
-Maybe one day.
-It’s not enough! I can’t be with a man who doesn’t love my important! She is too important to me!
-What do you want me to do? Lie to you? I am telling you the truth. I love you. I can’t fall in love with her just like that.
-I hate you! Don’t talk to me anymore!
-Honey, please calm down...
-Don’t call me Honey! It’s over!
I sat down, trying to get to grips with what had just happened. A burning pain almost made my chest explode. Tears stood in my eyes. What? She hates me? Seriously? Is it really over? Just like that? On one hand, I couldn’t believe it. I felt that she would change her mind. Or maybe I just didn’t want to believe it. But part of me felt that maybe that was it. Maybe I had finally lost her, the best girlfriend I had ever had. After four long relationships and at least a dozen others lasting from one night to a few weeks, none had felt like this.
The time until her return from Laos was one of the most difficult of my life. Piam didn’t answer my phone calls and rarely responded to my messages, and when she did her responses were cold and formal. I reminded myself of the fortune-telling in Ayutthaya about the troubles in my personal life. Maybe a stick and a piece of paper knew more than I could believe? Or maybe I was just going nuts?
Piam returned to Bangkok a few days later but didn’t want to see me. We met twice in two weeks and each time any logical discussion ended in a fight and with her in hysterics. Physical contact proved to be impossible. I got dumped and rejected and couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to accept it. I was like a wet, stray dog with flies who, additionally had been kicked by his owner. But still I leaned towards the source of my suffering. The pain was even greater because I didn’t have any friends in Thailand. All attempts to get closer to Thai guys ended nowhere. The language and cultural barriers were too large. Any attempt to befriend a Thai girl inevitably would end up in bed. I couldn’t take any risks being in a relationship with Piam. Other foreigners in Bangkok either had their own lives and it was difficult to get in on them, or had a habit of drinking in the Irish pubs every night and complaining that Thailand was nothing like home. I didn’t want to be around those people.
I was walking around the college like a zombie. I wanted to murder my students, every single one of them. I stopped smiling and accepting their behaviour. I started to kick them out for bad behaviour and became very strict when it came to marking their work. Dumb questions about grammar irritated me more and more.
One day, Piam came home like nothing had happened. I was disorientated, but we ended up in bed. After a few days I had completely forgotten about the incident. Perhaps this was the price of being in a multi-cultural relationship?
One Saturday, Piam’s mood changed again. But this was different. She behaved like she had attention deficit disorder, dragging me to the bedroom as soon as she was in the door. We started to kiss but I noticed something in her eyes. They screamed of something intense. Guilt. She avoided my eyes and went in harder for the kiss.
-Alright, what’s going on?
-Nothing... - she said, pointing her eyes at the floor.
-Something is up. Tell me what it is.
-Promise you won’t be angry.
-It depends...
-You have to promise, or I won’t tell.
-Alright, I promise.
She paused. - Yesterday... my husband came back... and... And we talked... long...
-and...?
-And he wants to come back to me...
-And how do you feel about that?
-… -
-What does that silence mean?
-We kissed yesterday, you promised you wouldn’t get angry!
Angry? My blood pressure didn’t change but I felt every muscle tense-up and a wave of frost flow from head to my toes. Next, an invisible sword cut me in the middle of my chest giving me well-known, hot pain.
-How long? - I wanted to feel how the bottom felt.
-How long what?
-How long did you kiss?
-I don’t know how long. Maybe five minutes?
-That’s enough for me...
-But I swear we didn’t do anything else! I mean, he wanted more but I didn’t let him... - she said, starring at the floor.
I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. Given her facial expression, I doubted it. One way or another, I felt like a teenager who has just seen his first love with another guy. The sword that had entered my chest a few minutes before, was now twisting itself around, causing even greater pain. I wanted to vomit. I got up and wet towards the door.
-Where are you going?
-For a walk. - I said and slammed the door.
On auto-pilot, I walked to the nearest 7/11 and came back with a few frozen bottles of Singha beer. I couldn’t digest the news sober. On the sound of bottles hitting the table, Piam left the room making an angry face and walked out the flat, slamming the door loudly. In her weird, Thai, Buddhist mind, there was nothing wrong with kissing her almost ex-husband when she is in a serious relationship but if I decide to get drunk to deal with that news, then it’s a tragedy worth making a scene for.
We didn’t meet for a few days and I had time to think about everything calmly. My brain kept telling me to kick the girl out and find another one, but my heart advised me to forgive, try to forget and live normally. I listened to my heart, but it wasn’t easy. Piam started behave like she had in Laos. After an incident with her husband, I was the one running after her, promising her love and asking her to come back to me. I didn’t know what was worse. The fact that I was so pathetic? The fact that I knew that I was so pathetic? Or that I knew I was being pathetic and didn’t plan to do anything about it?
TO BE CONTINUED...