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 survey, however the Bangkok Post reported today that Thailand’s Gross Domestic Happiness Index skidded from 5.74 to 5.11.
Thailand mai mi sanuk, but they have about 43 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.
War in the south, a slowing economy, political insecurity, and rising prices contribute to the recent plunge.
7/11s do not answer all our needs.
Although a little beer drinking never hurts, so last night I stopped into the Janet Bar on Soi Excite. It was past midnight. 12 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.
“Wah.” She faked crying and went to eat Chinese chicken feet.
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 dates 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. Luckily my wife’s father is a good old rice farmer. All he wants is enough taeng to buy a bottle of lao khao every day. Easy happy that man.
“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 think farangs consider farangs milk 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.
“The old man came to house later with a gun. he still 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.”
She frowned and walked to join 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. 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 her tail wag.
Now that’s happy.
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