Happy Sabaii Sabaii Happy

In 1972 Bhutan’s King Jigme Singye Wangchuck attempted to reform his country’s feudal economy on a Buddhist spiritual level rather than a capitalistic model. To best judge his efforts the king created a Gross Domestic Happiness Index based on life satisfaction, life expectancy at birth, and ecological footprint per capita. The Wall Street Journal ignores the Happy Planet Index, which placed the Pacific nation of Vanuata at the top of the list. Zimbabwe understandably was dead last in 178th place.

Thailand ranked 38 in the 2006 Happiness Survey before coups, yellow shirts, red shirts, shooting in the streets of Bangkok, and burning luxury mall. Four years later the ranking is not lower, but higher.

# 32.

Maybe Thailand mai mi sanuk or not have fun, but they have about forty-three smiles for every expression much like the Eskimos have 23 words for snow. The present smile is known as sao sokh yim or unhappy smile. This mask of chagrin hides the basic dissatisfaction of the nation’s present state.

7/11s do not answer all our needs.

Although a little beer drinking never hurts.

Several years ago I stopped into the Janet Bar on Soi Excite. It was past midnight. Twelve ladies sat on the stool. Two westerners were at the bar. Natalee joined me for a drinking. She was typically looking very sexy, but complained, “Mai mi kak.”

“It’s low season. There aren’t customers anywhere.” Rainy season is lean for the bargirls.

“No good.” Her eyes begged me to bar-fine her.

“Mai mi taeng.” I lied about my finances. Natalee requires training and my long-term devotion to sloth has relegated my sexual prowess to an amateur level, plus I was faithful to Mam, the thinnest woman on Soi 6. She wasn't faithful to me, but one day she would be to our mutual happiness.

“Wah.” She faked crying and went to eat Chinese chicken feet at a table with the other girls.

The nearest westerner smiled sadly and said, “You speak Thai good. How long have you been here?”

“Four years straight.” My first arrival in Thailand dated back to 1991. I was only 39. A mere youth. So innocent. I never thought I would live here, but neither did I think GW Bush would win a second term.

“I’ve been here two years.” His accent was London. East End. He was about 30 and dressed better than most of the beer slobs of Pattaya. “Married a girl and lived up-country the last year.”

“How that working out?” I immediately regretted the question.

“Left her a week ago.” Alan introduced himself and signaled the bartender for two beers. “She is as good as gold, but her family was stitching me up for money. Her step-father is an ex-cop and drinks whiskey all day. And her mother took all the gold I brought my wife for her wedding. The old man wanted 50,000 baht and I told him no.”

“Good idea.” I had heard this story a thousand times. 90% of fathers of the bargirls are a good old rice farmer. Happiness is a bag of tobacco and a bottle of lao khao every day. Easy happy.

“That started the end. He called me a cheap farang in my own house. I bought a house up there. Okay, not much. 5000 pounds and spent 300,000 baht on a wedding.” Alan sounded more disappointed than mad.

“That doesn’t sound gra-dook kat man to me.” Up-country Thais consider farangs money cows.

“No, but the worst was that my wife didn’t back me up.”

"Supporting you would go against the grain. Thai women place their mother first, father second, then the rest of the family, the village, every other Thai before you.” I had experienced this first-hand with all my girlfriends here. The Thais are natural zenotropes. They hate everyone else.

“The old man came to house later with a gun. He wanted money. I told him I was leaving. Asked my wife to come along. She said no, so now I’m here.” He was looking for advice. Advice he wouldn’t follow, because he’s still in love. “My girl ain’t so pretty, she’s 31, but we have sex twice a day.”

“Sex has nothing to do with love.” Although spending a night with Natalee might come close. “Best to cut your losses. You’re from the East End. You’re not a square. Don’t let a rice farmer sucker you.”

“I don’t know.” Weakness of the heart is blood in the water to a Isaan grifter.

“What’s your old man say?” Alan’s father was a dry cleaner in the City.

“He said there ain’t no kids and you’re still young. I’ve been married before.” These failures rankled him. “I wanted this to work out.”

“Sorry.” I ordered another round.

Natalee came over to massage my neck.

“You still not want to go home with me.”

“I want, but have no money.” I was saving my money for Mam.

She frowned and joined the other menless women.

Alan’s happiness index had dropped below the UK average. Mine was someplace near Peru, which is #3.

Beer makes me happy as does hearing someone having it worse than me. We changed the subject and drank two more beers. It was 2am when I left for home. I wished him luck. Natalee blew a kiss. Alan stopped to speak with her. She smiled with enthusiasm. There wasn’t another man in sight.

I arrived back to an almost empty house. My wife has been up-country a long time. She wasn't coming back. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Thankfully my little dog was happy to see me, but then dogs are the only animal who loves you more than themselves.

Happy?

You should see Champoo's tail wag.

Now that’s happy.