30 In 30 Out

The hierarchy of farang Pattaya is ranked according to the source of your money.

At the top are those rich retirees divorced their wives before their investments could be raped for alimony. Second come the westerners working for the up-market chains as executives. Third stand successful go-go bar owners and hotel proprietors, although everyone knows their success is as lasting as their ability to resist a go-go dancer who says the word ‘love’. The most stable of the top bracket are the 30 day in, 30 day out workers. Oil drillers and mercenaries make up the majority of this illustrious group.

My friend Fabo studied in Belgium to be an engineer. All he had to do was finish his last year at university. His father gave him money to take a trip to Thailand. He came to Pattaya and fell in love with Gai. A hostess from the Buffalo Bar. Not her first or her last lover.

But the young Belgian was convinced he could sweep her off his feet.

Fabo was young. He had money. Gai accepted him on those two assets alone. She spoke Thai and he spoke French. Everything they meant to say was murder by their broken English and the two fought constantly because of this communication gap.

It didn’t help that Gai had other boyfriends.

But then a girl like Gai would.

She was a Thai version of Anna Nichol Smith.

Buxom in a country where most women describe their breast as kai dao or fried eggs. Her height help stretch her Rubenesque proportions and her smile could win a fistfight.

The affair ended when Fabo spent the last of his money on a trip to Koh Chang. He called it their honeymoon. Gai whispered to the other girls that the honeymoon was a week in nalok or hell.

Not that she didn’t love Fabo, only she had obligations. A small girl by the name Chickie. She needed money. More than Fabo could provide as a student. Even with his father’s help.

She waved good-bye at the airport and promised to write. As soon as he vanished into the departure lounge, she fought back a tear and headed to catch the bus back to Pattaya. She didn’t have time for crying.

Fabo finished his studies. It took time and he thought Gai would wait. She did, but with other men. His friends told him to forget Gai and on his next rip to Pattaya he met another girl with an animal name Poo or crab.

While he waited for his appointment to an oil-drilling ship, Fabo kept going to the Buffalo. Gai wasn’t there. She was off with someone else. They were in Phuket. He even thought about going there and would have if Exxon hadn’t called with an offer to explore the Bay of Bengal for oil. He was gone the next day.

A month later he showed up in Pattaya. He spent a fortune on Poo. He was happy. Things were going his way. He was a made man. Then he went to the Buffalo. Gai was back. One look and his heart flamed like a rogue oil rig ablaze. “I still love her.” And in some ways she loved him.

I left them there together and didn’t ask any questions afterwards. When his 30 days were over, I asked Gai, “Is there any chance for you to fall in love with Fabo?”

“I love him like a brother.” She was wearing a soft shade of pink. A hue for a chiffon goddess. “I don’t think Fabo wants you as a sister.”

“He comes from Belgium. Why not?”

“Well, he likes you like a man and a woman.”

“I know how he likes me, but now he has a wife.” She ordered and beer and the waitress put the bill on my tab. “We are friends. Nothing more. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure.” I dropped the subject.

It’s always best not to question love, because the answer is never what someone wants to give.

Fabo came back in another 30 days. The two of them acted like lovers, yet went home in different directions. Of course both those directions could lead to the same place.

Pattaya only has so many roads.