The days of prohibition

Pancho, being one of healthy European descent was not one to dislike a little treat now and again. A little beer here, some wine there, it was all quite good for the body and soul he was convinced, in moderation naturally.
Just as Thailand had changed his preferences concerning dogs already, he found them an utter nuisance by now, Pancho’s impression of alcohol was changing as well.
Back home he was accustomed to having a drink for the sake of its taste. A healthy Guinness or a full red wine had a certain tasteful allure to them. But in Thailand things were slightly different. Pancho had a knack for making keen observations about cultural discrepancies but this one did not even require a keen eye to notice. In fact it was a special feature of the north eastern region of Thailand as he had been told. This region, called Esan (there are various spellings for it), is considered the most traditional region of Thailand, where the rice is grown and the population lives in the countryside. And Pancho lived in the thick of it. The only thing surrounding his village where endless rice fields.
As mentioned previously, there was often nothing to do which featured in the men choosing to drink frequently.
Pancho in his wise opinion put this down to the lack of technical distractions available. Computers and the internet existed; its full potential never seemed to be exploited however.
In any case, Pancho had frequently attended sessions of drinking whiskey and soda just for the sake of drinking. These sessions actually went so far that Pancho no longer enjoyed himself.
In his days back in Britain Pancho, with his exquisite need for challenging stimulation, had found that lounging around with the same people frequently, having a pint or two eventually became quite dull and boring. In fact and despite his immense empathical abilities he did not understand those fellows who chose to do this every evening after work, for their whole life. Evidently such activities, boring under normal circumstances achieve a far more compelling reason to commit suicide when in an environment where one does not even understand the language. Thus Pancho had developed a general aversion against Esan’s social drinking. Some occasions however were simply necessary and inevitable.
One of these was his host family’s party. Having returned from a thorough and rigorous day of work Pancho was greeted by his host brother Pinball. His mother had won a tidy sum in the weekend lottery which naturally called for a celebration. What was meant by celebration was all too clear to Pancho’s incredibly sharp wit. And even with his new found aversion to drinking he could not deny the logical necessity for such a party. Social necessity made it not only futile but risky to decline this invitation. And Pancho as a true tactical genius, comparable to the likes of Hannibal, did not take uncalculated risks.
Thus, soon after, he was sitting in company of the family’s workers, a nice bunch of guys and his host brother. The drink of choice however was not the usual whiskey and soda but the exquisitely cheap Thai vodka. A few snappy shots in, Pancho was immensely confident about being able to weather this evening successfully. He had just eaten an ample amount of Esan food and the alcohol seemed to be taking little effect. But as many experiences as one may have made in a lifetime, one is never too old to learn a new one.
One or two hours later, after having incessantly declared that he was not yet drunk (The unwritten rules of manliness demand this), Pancho was full heartidly bustling along. In fact, thinking back to that fateful evening there were scenes that he could not recall quite confidently. Despite the very light tipsiness it turned out to be a jolly night and he did finally make it to bed at a reasonable time.
The next morning was a different matter.
As soon as Pancho regained consciousness he was certain that something was not quite in order. He turned off his alarm and lay there for a moment pondering what could possibly be out of line. Finally he had an inkling of what it may be. A slightly delicate head and nondescript stomach pointed in the general direction of a hangover. However Pancho could not be quite certain.
In fact he had no time to be philosophical. His alarm had rung for a reason. He was due for Thai boxing training that morning.
The issue in Thailand, as his immense cultural knowledge would attest (he had heard such things) was that the teacher was the students’ role model. Role models do not have hangovers because they do not get drunk. The problem for Pancho was as follows. First of all he had no way of contacting his coach to cancel. Secondly and more importantly his coach being one of the school’s students he could not let him know that his discomfort was due to a tiny bit too much vodka. Such revelations would thoroughly endanger his students’ respect.
So Pancho, as a real man, swung himself out of bed and lightheartedly brushed away the misery. His first stop was the bathroom due to an uncertain wooziness in the stomach region. After this preemptive stop he felt slightly better despite something a weaker character might refer to as a splitting headache. Pancho’s next step in recuperation was to drink a healthy amount of water. He cracked open one of the bottles he kept in his room and downed the whole thing. Next, he carefully slipped on his training clothes and headed downstairs. With his shoes finally on he was ready to set out. The head pounded amiably, the stomach rejoiced in the marvel of bipedal travel, but Pancho knuckled down. The first few steps seemed mildly uncomfortable but then, while his feet pounded the tarmac heavily, he had an epiphany. Running was actually equally as painful as standing around!
So after a short while, Pancho reached the training ground, and with the excuse of being very tired conducted and easy set on the sand bag. He was relieved when the time finally came to return back home. With copious amounts of water and a refreshing shower Pancho was convinced to have evaded the worst, but soon he realized that his thinking apparatus must have been affected by the vodka as well. His normal solution of doing sports when hung over did not quite work that day.
Food was one of the things he absolutely did not desire. Accordingly Pancho was immensely grateful for his host grandmother’s vigilant eye. She knew exactly that he had not eaten and that he would need sustenance for the long day ahead. Not being able to admit that he was slightly incapacitated Pancho sat down and ate lightly, what he could get down.
His bike ride to school was a welcome relief from any kind of human interaction. In Pancho’s experience conversation and a hangover did not mix well. Hung over individuals were best left to their own devices. Trying to concentrate on conversation just tended to make things worse.
When he finally reached school he was overjoyed to remember that he had to teach the first 3 periods. It seemed to him at this moment that that lottery win had been utterly bad luck for him. His students, at times frustrating even when sober loomed ominously in his mind now. But being an ultimately positive kind of guy Pancho took the challenge head on. Admittedly the first lesson was a struggle. Holding a conversation while feeling slightly off is enjoyable enough, teaching a class of unresponsive and mind numbed robots was in a completely different league. But there was no time or room for self pity in Pancho’s life. He had inflicted this pain upon himself and thus he had to pay the price.
And eventually he did come through. Having finished the third lesson and being free for the rest of the day Pancho actually felt quite normal again. The morning sports and forced meal seemed to have had an effect after all. In any case his recuperation had been far faster than in similar situations when left to wallow in misery and despair. Again Pancho’s superior intellect seemed to have given birth to a sound theory of life. Hangovers were best dealt with immediately and without remorse, no matter how bad.
Returning home in the afternoon to play football with his host brother Pancho discovered that the other member’s of the drinking party had themselves suffered serious consequences from last night. However Pancho doubted that they had been as bad as his. Conversing with the fellows did teach him another valuable lesson however. Having admitted a slight uncomfort to Pinball and the family workers the whole village suddenly seemed to know about the event and did not leave out any opportunity to mention it. Getting drunk was no longer an option, especially not in the village.
The universe in its infinite mystery seemed to be set on testing Pancho’s new resolutions. That night he was actually offered another drink by the family workers. Eyeing them suspiciously Pancho told them that they were clearly crazy. He followed this up with the announcement that from then on he would only drink on weekends. On weekdays drinking would be prohibited.
In all honesty this was primarily an excuse not to be bored to death by the usual drinking sessions but just as much due to the fact that Pancho was beginning to fear for his liver and other organs. He had been in the village for a mere month. Such dangers had to be held in check lest it end badly for him.

Three circles of hell

As a country fairly different to the civilised western standard, Thailand has a number of gruelling rituals on offer. One stood out especially vividly in Pancho’s exceptional memory.
The date of this occasion was the 09.09.09. Many westerners would choose this memorable date for weddings and all. In Thailand, where the number 9 is considered lucky, this was a day to revere the King and the monks. Accordingly Pancho’s complete school assembled in the sports hall or assembly hall as it was actually called, to face the entire congregation of Phunee’s monks. Despite the village’s population of a mere thousand there seemed to be a vast multitude of monks reaching well into the hundreds.
In any case, ignoring this staggering number, Pancho and his host mother rushed,after arriving regrettably late, into position on one of the spread out orange carpets. The whole school sat on these carpets forming several long rows that reached till the back of the hall. Every person present had a large jar or basket filled to the brim with all sorts of snacks. Pancho had been kindly supplied by his host mother. The ceremony not having started yet everybody sat comfortably cross legged or any other way they fancied.
As the school principle entered the hall and sat down centrally any chatter died down. Pancho’s famously accurate sixth sense now felt an ominous dread overcome him. Not quite able to place the dread however he decided to go with the flow. The microphone was handed to the principle and prayers began. This was finally the signal for everybody in the hall to sit up and kneel, which they accomplished either by sitting with the tops of their feet flat on the ground or by resting on the balls of their feet. Pancho initially tried out both but very quickly found the latter to be slightly less uncomfortable. Prayers now rotated between what seemed to be the head priest and the school’s principle. At intervals the whole congregation would bow low to the ground three times and then return to the kneeling position with hand palms touching each other in prayer. Pancho had never had so much fun.
It only took him a few minutes to understand what that ominous gloom had been a few moments earlier. The Thais seemed thoroughly accustomed to sitting in these truly uncivilised positions. Pancho however had not been engaging in such exercises since birth and an ache not to be underestimated slowly crept up both his legs. Alas, there was nothing to be done. The hum drum of prayer went on. The bowing went on. And Pancho’s brilliant mind went on in the pointless struggle to discover a means of escape…
Suddenly his search for enlightenment was interrupted. Pancho’s hostmother had decided to translate some of the prayers and explain the situation. At this point in time Pancho broke out in a terrible sweat. His legs, ankles and feet felt like they were falling off. He would have been happy to concentrate only on the pain radiating up his limbs but every few seconds he would now also have to nod to signify that he was at least trying to pay attention to his host mother’s words. How Pancho rejoiced in that situation. Being a polite kind of person and in order to save face he could not permit to stir one muscle in his face that could reveal his discomfort. Any weaker soul might have cracked and crumbled under this torturous ordeal, but not Pancho. He kneeled tall and bright above the crowd, a serene emptiness spread across his face paired with the occasional nod of pure understanding that he presented to his followers.
And then it finally ended. After what seemed like an eternity, the monks stood up and slowly queued down the many isles, opening their food bowls to receive the morsels that had been brought.
Pancho gratefully accepted this chance and collapsed elegantly into a cross legged position. His shirt was drenched and his legs still screeched in pain but he was truly happy that the time had finally come to give away all this food to the monks.
Fleeing the scene soon after, the usual morning assembly was still to take place, Pancho found himself in the English department quietly relishing a few moments of painless silence under a refreshing draft from the ceiling fan.
In that moment of peace, Pancho believed he only had the ordeal of teaching left before him that day. But how wrong he was.
Having returned home for a quick afternoon slumber he was awoken to the arrival of several teachers. Among them was his dear advisor who had invited him out to dinner. Not sensing the peril at hand Pancho joined the other 3 teachers in the car as merrily as possible and set out to Ubon. After about an hour’s drive of leisurely talk and relaxed banter they arrived at the restaurant or resort as they are often called in Thailand. In these strange and secretive places an entire room is rented out for dinner, including a karaoke set that is always used without exemption. Arriving at this restaurant Pancho was only mildly surprised to find a multitude of other teachers from his school arriving as well. And after a short while they all crammed into the little room and the food started rolling in.
Having taken a step towards healthier living recently Pancho decided not to drink that night. This constituted the second near fatal error of the day in Pancho’s usually infallible thought process.
Dinner was a trifle, a mere matter of an hour. Everybody seemed to fill up quite quickly. But contrary to Pancho’s hope of a speedy return to the seclusion of his home, what ensued was a type of hideous mental torture one did not encounter all too frequently. The whole karaoke session lasted for a record shattering 6 hours! You, the reader, can imagine what this might be like when one knows and at least understands the songs being sung. Pancho however had soon completely drained the repertoire of English songs available and was thus forth condemned to listen to Thai songs while watching background videos from the 1980’s that kept repeating over and over. The icing on the cake was that there was again absolutely no way of escape. The “party” (these occasions are called parties in Thailand) was organised for the benefit of his advisor. Not only was he required to stay out of mere politeness, but he was well out of reach of getting home on his own. So the two virtues of endurance and fortitude were called upon once again.
With repeated attempts to finish the party, new songs kept popping up ho and fro. The 5 minute doses of anguish added up until the whole group called it a day at around 11pm. Pancho drained of any life energy was mildly delighted. After a few short minutes in the car the proposal was made to make a stop for a light midnight snack. Not too disinclined, dinner having been about five hours ago, Pancho gave a full hearted indication of not really minding.
20 minutes later all four of the car’s passengers sat at a late night restaurant in Ubon with a significant amount of food in front of them.
Thailand’s customs and foods sometimes had a peculiar effect on his stomach. This effect not frequently resulted in a sudden and strong urge to go to the bathroom. Thai traditional bathrooms, as they are still found in most places in Thailand, are squatting toilets with a complementary bucket of water, no flush mechanism and no toilet paper. It is easy to understand why Pancho generally avoided using these facilities. On one occasion he even endured several hours of a bus ride which required immense amounts of concentration.
This time however, with a lot of food before him Pancho saw himself forced to finally submit. How he wished he had visited the bathroom back at that relatively clean karaoke party.
At this point it would be impolite and immoral to go into any graphic details, however it can easily be imagined that this third unpleasant experience completed the day for Pancho. Having eventually reappeared at the table, all clean and suitable to take part in a meal of course, and after battling sleep on the drive back home, Pancho could proudly say that he had proven his capabilities under duress and had grown immensely that day. Not many people could claim to have been tortured repeatedly under such strange circumstance. But naturally, a true gentleman does not brag and so Pancho managed to fall asleep light heartedly knowing that he had stood up to yet another of those strange challenges that Thailand managed to sprout.