His first week in Bangkok was devoted to vice. After fleeting visits to the Royal Palace, the National Museum and the two main temples, Ivan let his partner take the initiative, and they plunged into a rampant spiral of depravity and drunkenness. Lothar was a connoisseur and applied his German thoroughness to the planning of their activities. They methodically tried everything – from the go-go bars of Sukhumvit and Patpong and soap massages in large “aquarium” salons to chic karaoke and gentlemen’s clubs. The days flew by in a blur of young girls’ faces and bodies, with their endless “Hello, handsome,” “What’s your name?” and “Where are you from?” – as well as shameless “I love yous” in the hope of a generous tip…
During the breaks between the pleasures of the flesh, Lothar shared his thoughts on Thailand. At one time he had lived in Bangkok for about three years, and he’d been coming back every year since. Yet his views were largely negative, boiling down to one overriding complaint: Bangkok was a city of the fake. Lothar was convinced everyone here was out to rip you off. From pirate discs to simulated love, they were constantly trying to foist fakes on you. The whole of Thailand with its countless smiles was just a false, hypocritical facade concealing a typical third-world country where life was based on greed, envy and a strict caste system, untrammeled by any kind of humanism. Despite this, people would flock to Thailand in droves, and Lothar was no exception, a vivid example confirming the rule. Because elements of fakeness can be plausible – and here Lothar counted them off on his fingers: an illusion of friendliness, the ability to enjoy life, even the same smiles masking the unsightly side of human nature – they created a completely unique atmosphere. And of course – he spread his hands – of course, there are the women, how could we forget them…
Whenever the subject touched on Thai women, Lothar would always become gloomy and pitch more heavily into the brandy. His tone would turn moralistic: yes, he said, they are bubbly, friendly, easy and a pleasure to be with. The main thing is not to fantasize too much and never get into a relationship with them – neither with the bar “fairies” nor with the ordinary “good girls.” Everything will end in disaster; it’s impossible to live with a Thai – and once again, he enumerated his arguments on his fingers: they are irresponsible, unreliable and narrow-minded, and their opinions are infantile, not to mention their total reluctance to develop themselves. And besides, Lothar added, they will always find a way to outwit you. Behind their smiles and solicitude, they have very cold, pragmatic minds. And they are constantly dishonest – they learn the art of lying at an early age and perfect it throughout their lives. For a reason or for no reason, they pile one lie on top of another and never admit to being deceitful – even if you catch them red-handed. They will only burst into tears or fly into a rage while figuring out how they might deceive you more successfully next time!
Brevich believed Lothar – because he had no reason not to. He himself noticed falsehoods everywhere, but at the same time, he felt a constant lingering doubt that his judgments might have been hasty. Even the smiles of the girls from the bars seemed to make him ashamed: it wasn’t all so simple. The unsettled, primitive exterior concealed an inner side that one could not immediately fathom… By the end of a week’s debauchery, Ivan had suddenly begun to feel he was wasting his time. And he decided to stay for another ten days, without Lothar, who had flown back to Essen.
Brevich moved from touristy Sukhumvit to a quiet five-star hotel in Chitlom and promptly found himself in another world. All day, he just wandered aimlessly through the back streets until dusk, without seeing another foreigner. The sun was beating down, sweat streamed off him in runnels and an unfamiliar life flowed around him without a hint of fakeness. Neither the humidity and dust nor the narrow streets with their lack of sidewalks and smelly scooters bothered Brevich. He eagerly took in his surroundings and in the evening noted with surprise that this had been the best day of his trip.
Next to the hotel stood the modest office of an excursion agency. Brevich went there the next morning – just out of curiosity as he was passing by. A girl was sitting at a desk – she looked up at him, and he realized there could not possibly be anyone as beautiful as her in the whole of Thailand.
“Welcome,” she smiled. “My name is Nok. If you’ve come for an excursion, I’m here to help.”
“Yes, an excursion,” Ivan nodded. “Or maybe several excursions…”
For some reason, he was feeling nervous, a sensation he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and ended up looking to the side and then down at the floor, embarrassed.
“Okay,” Nok continued to smile. “What dates are you free?”
“I can do today. And then perhaps another three excursions. No, let’s make it five,” Ivan muttered. He simply could not bear the thought of her disappearing from his life, and the remaining days – utterly dull and empty – dragging on without her.
Fortunately for him, the agency’s business was fairly slow. Ivan breathed a sigh of relief and immediately purchased all her available free time before his departure.
That same day, they went to Muang Boran and spent several hours there. The time flew by – somehow they instantly relaxed into each other’s company. Now that he was guaranteed Nok’s time, Ivan settled back and lightened up. She, in turn, became less apprehensive about him. Initially, he had seemed too big, alien and threatening, but his first somewhat lost and boyish grin convinced her he meant no harm.
Muang Boran – a theme park reconstruction of the whole of Thailand – deeply impressed Ivan. Nok showed him the northern province of Phetchabun, where she had grown up. Next to a pond stood a house on stilts – a nearly exact copy of her childhood home. They looked inside and walked through the rooms while she talked about her parents – prosperous corn and rice farmers. Her father was extremely conservative – not allowing her to befriend any of the local boys. “Boys are a distraction,” he would say, “and you must get a scholarship to the university!” In the evenings and on the weekends, he would sit by the phone and answer every call made to the house… Nok spoke about this with a certain bitterness but immediately added that she loved her family more than anything in the world. She wasn’t upset at her parents – they’d had to develop their parenting skills on her, their eldest child…
Ivan asked question after question and gradually – in the park and over a late lunch – learned her life story. Nok was twenty-eight years old and had spent the last twelve of them in Bangkok. Before that, she had never traveled outside her village, where she had lived like any other country girclass="underline" cleaning the house, looking after the buffalo and helping out on the farm. She spent a lot of time with the other village children – they invented games, explored the forest and, during the rainy season when the river broke its banks, they would jump from the trees straight into the yellow water and have swimming races… It was a happy period, but then the time came for her to grow up and Nok was sent to live with her maiden aunt in the capital, where she spent her final school years. Her aunt had been strict, and life in the big city had been suffocating compared to the freedom of the village. There were no wide-open spaces, no forests and no buffalo; cars and people hustled and bustled everywhere.