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.
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.
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