Keeping cool

Pancho woke with a start. It was hot and his head felt as if it was wrapped in cotton wool. His leg had twitched and the sudden jerk had brought him back to the present sweltering heat. His brain clicked into action and with unrivalled speed of thought Pancho proceeded to act as if he was stretching. Of course he had not twitched in his sleep, he was just stretching particularly vigorously, something only well trained practitioners of vigorous stretching were able to do. Twitching in his sleep was not something Pancho did!

Opening his eyes a crack, he surveyed his surroundings. Good! Apart from a few chickens and a few roaming pigs there was nobody around that could have misinterpreted the movement. His gaze returned to the pigs with suspicion though. He had heard that they were intelligent animals. Maybe their snuffling the ground was just an act. Maybe they thought he had twitched in his sleep instead of the most apparent truth?! He maintained his focus on the pigs as they continued their act of innocence, but Pancho knew better, he was certain. It was the subtleties that gave secrets away and his most discerning eye meant that they couldn’t elude him. The way the pigs consequently ignored him was a sure sign of their embarrassment!  Ha! He had found them out. Pancho’s sense of triumph was only diminished by the fact that he now knew that the pigs believed he had twitched… He directed his considerable mental faculties towards finding a way of convincing the pigs that he had in fact just been stretching but then a more important thought entered his mind. A thick thirst had settled in his throat. Disappointed at not being able to commit fully to the pig problem Pancho diverted his attention. He squinted at the brilliantly lit dusty world beyond the shade of his mango tree and sighed. The time had come. He would have to brave the blistering heat and battle the elements to ensure further survival in this inhumanely hostile environment.

He mustered his strength and stood up to his imposing height before stepping into the glare. The sun’s rays bore down on him from directly above without mercy. He nodded to himself as his expectations were confirmed. It was indeed hotter in the full glare of the midday sun, but naturally this was nothing that Pancho’s steeled physique couldn’t handle. A few measured steps further and he found himself inside his baked mud hut, pouring a plastic cup of water. Despite the warm temperature of the liquid, bordering on hot, he drank it greedily and followed up with several more cups.  In the meantime the radiating heat off the mud hut walls meant that Pancho was turning into a true fountain of sweat. He had to hurry up unless he wanted to sweat out the amount of water he was just drinking.

When he hurriedly stepped out of the baking oven a renewed blast of hot harmattan wind hit him and evaporated the drops that had started beading and trickling down his bare chest. He had quickly learned that it was wiser not to wear a shirt during his midday breaks. It was “cooler” this way and meant less washing as well.

Ahhhh, a brief moment of respite as the evaporating sweat cooled him.

Moments later he collapsed into his chair again with a sigh. When would this blasted heat end?! The wind was still blowing from the wrong direction for the rainy season. The shade of the mango tree was nice and the frequent wind made it all the more bearable as despite its heat and dryness it cooled well by evaporating sweat almost immediately. But even in light of his superb resilience Pancho thought some cooler temperatures may just make the stay ever so slightly more bearable.

He blinked and his mind turned in circles and searcheing for something to occupy itself with. Finally his sight came to rest on the pigs again suspiciously. A smile of triumph curled across his features. The pigs were settling down in the shade for a nap of their own. Pancho would watch closely to see if they twitched in their sleep. If he were able to witness such an event it would surely even the playing field!

But before long, Pancho’s own eyelids became heavy once more as if tied down by lead weights and he dozed off. This time of course he made sure that no movements would be involved that could possibly be construed as involuntary twitching.

…Ouagadougou was not what Pancho had expected. As the capital of a country striving upwards in the world he had envisioned streets paved with finest concrete, lined with spectacular (in one way or another) tropical palaces displaying cultural artefacts of an alien culture. But what he found, as Edward III chauffered him through the streets, was a familiarity that reminded him of destinations such as Thailand or India. Ramshackle buildings, rubbish strewn streets and the glorious whiff of burning plastic in the night air. It was almost as if he was back in Bangkok again, except that the buildings here seemed a lot smaller and flatter ( they rarely seemed to stand taller than the ground level floor).

Edward III’s domicile, which they reached soon after, was not quite up to Pancho’s regal standards but with his impeccable manners he accepted what was on offer. A simple mattress on the floor was enough until he could make it to his own quarters on the following day. Edward III had already set a strict schedule for the coming days that would ensure that Pancho would acclimatise in no time. Pancho nodded appreciatively at this, he was most confident that he could manage anything this fellow could throw his way. In fact Pancho was most famous for his words that discipline and hard work were the backbone of any worthy endeavour. He said the sentence alloud and made sure to repeat it several times until he was certain that Edward III would for ever remember who had coined them.

The night brought more memories of Thailand. The sound of roosters crowing in the morning and waking him at unpleasant hours was the fondest of them all. In reality the roosters never crowed in the morning, for some reason they seemed to crow in the middle of the night, or well before the sun decided to rise, which was 5:30am in Ouagadougou.

Despite these pesky and wholly unwarranted interruptions by the rude local fauna Pancho managed to find some well deserved rest.

The following morning, more or less refreshed, Pancho was quickly ready to establish himself in the country and delve in to the plentiful work he had set himself.

He was greeted by fresh baguette with avocado and spiced and dried crickets for breakfast. This was certainly a pleasant if somewhat unexpected surprise for Pancho. Having eaten such delicacies before it was no issue to overcome his initial scepticism and truly indulge in the great taste the meal had to offer. As fond as Pancho was of dutiful industriousness, much to his liking Edward then whisked Pancho off to the research institute’s office shortly after breakfast. The office would serve as the base of operations from whence Pancho would set out on his heroic endeavours in the following three months.

Once on the roard Pancho found himself drenched in sweat very quickly. As his body began the process of adapting to the local clime Pancho’s mind was already vigorously taking in its surroundings.  Ouagadougou was a very different place in broad daylight it seemed.

It was dusty; very dusty and brownish in colour with dusty roads and dusty side roads and various things covered in dust here and there in between dusty patches of dust. Interesting, Pancho thought. Just as the dustiness of the dust was somewhat of a surprise the state of the roads was as well. Due to his expert research skills being applied before embarking on this grand voyage, Pancho had been aware that Ouaga’s side streets were not paved, but he had not been entirely prepared for the real live sight of them. They made the city look more like a slum than a capital he found. But, then again Pancho had to remind himself, as he held a most critically appreciative inner dialogue with himself, that behind the metal gate of Edward’s house, the inside had been quite comfortable and nice and considerably less dusty.

So as Edward III expertly weaved the motor cycle through somewhat unreliable local traffic Pancho felt that old and familiar tingle of excitement and delight rise insider him at being thrown into a new adventure. It was the new experience he had sought and the challenge that he looked for. Conquering this challenge would most assuredly provide Pancho with new international allies for his grand scheme of…. Ah, he was letting his excitement get the better of him. He snapped out of it and instead enjoyed the Burkinabean air(presumaby dusty as well) ripple over his face and through his hair as they rode along.

Arriving at the head office further lifted his spirits. Despite the drab and disorganised inside of the office room, it offered the height and crowning achievement and decadence of technological civilisation. The glory of air conditioning! And to top all of this off, if there was a power outage, which was a frequent occurrence in Ouaga as the municipal diesel generators that powered the city would sometimes overheat, the institute had its own backup generator that would ensure a cool and measured environment in which to maintain his most diligent work practice.

Pancho nodded in approval. This would do for his research. The deep mysteries of the Mossi plateau termites and their impact on the local agriculture would not elude Pancho for long (or longer than the allotted 3 months in any case).

The Heat - Adventures in Africa

What on earth was going on?! It felt almost as if he was sitting inside an oven, while this oven was turned on to full blast. His body was being baked into a pulpy shapeless blob as his brain strained to keep his glazed over eyes open. And every renewed blast of hot air greedily drew a few more drops of moisture from his already heavy and torturously dry limbs.

Pancho was one hardy fellow but right now he had to admit to himself that he may quite possibly just about be in over his head. And the worst was yet to come! Shortly after midday, when the blazing ball of flames in the sky licked the scorched land with its fiery tongue, not even the emerald sea of dense mango tree leaves above would be of much use. Well, Pancho swatted away an annoying fly, it would still be better than roasting in the full blaze. The bone dry dusty soil stretching out around him was God's witness.

Ah! He longed for a trickle of water down his parched throat, but that would mean braving the torturous rays, even if it was for a mere few meters. Instead, his body decided to not move an inch and simply accept the delicate position it was in and had been since Pancho's arrival in the splendid and most glorious Republic of Burkina Faso!

Suddenly he twitched. Frowning he stared around. Had he been drifting off to sleep?! A fresh bout of energy seemed to flow through him and Pancho sat up straight as a ruler baring his most contemptuous expression at the blasted heat around him. He had not come to this irrefutably hot part of the world to be subdued into a brain- and spineless stupor. Oh no sir! Not him! Not Pancho Wodehouse, the great explorer and adventurer of his day and age. He stared ahead at the baking soil resolutely and with purpose. What purpose he wasn't quite sure of but it did not matter, his staring was so impeccably resolute that the stare in itself had to hold some kind of natural purpose, surely...

A mango dropped from the tree above and thudded into the soil drily. The resulting sudden bout of frenzy among the drift of pigs nearby, racing to conquer that covetted prize seemed to underline Pancho's purposeful stare. It was in fact such an emphatic confirmation of his mastery of the elements that Pancho could not stop himself from puffing out his chest. The ´hams to be' squealed and returned to snuffling the dry soil as the largest of them made off with the juicy treat. Then something highly unexpected happened. A question popped into Pancho's mind without having been invited. He couldn't help but frown slightly as he tried to solve the riddle of this unexpected intruder into his thoughts. 

Why was he here?

- silence -

Naturally, as you may have quite correctly suspected oh reader, the question wasn't posed in the philosophical sense. Pancho shook his head with amusement. Of course not, sitting in above 40°C heat under a mango tree among pigs, chicken and other sorts of companions was not the right kind of place for such high minded thoughts. The question was in fact far simpler than that. Why was Pancho Wodehouse in Burkina Faso? 

More accurately, why was Pancho Wodehouse sitting beneath a Burkinabean mango tree engulfed in this terrible heat?

Aha! Pancho nodded knowingly, he was getting somewhere here. 

But his positive demeanor seemed to melt away as his mind, usually the sharpest tool there was, failed to conclusively pierce the veil of heavy heat that seemed to smother his higher faculties. He struggled a bit harder; how had this all come about?!

A hazy recollection entered his mind from somewhere beyond somewhere else. Pancho tried to concentrate his great intellect with more force, reaching out frantically, grasping at that faint waft of a memory.

Ahhhh yes! He had caught a flight to Burkina Faso! That was how it had all begun. His mind's eye turned to the memory of arriving at the airport of this country's great capital city:

Ouagadougou! A splendid name for a capital city Pancho had thought when he first heard it. The people of Burkina Faso had to be truly brilliant to name it so. The creativity and ability to come up with such a unique name was truly admirable. 

Pancho's smile diminished somewhat; he was drifting off again. Where had he been? Ah yes, at the airport!

His arrival had very naturally for this time of year and this region of the planet, blasted by dry winds, been greeted by heat and a strange little customs process. After having been transported from the plane to the terminal building by bus, despite the distance surely being no more than 30 meters, Pancho had been welcomed by a control for Ebola, including mandatory hand washing and a very disorganised seeming process of registering his arrival. Nevertheless it all had gone quite smoothly for him until he had picked up his checked luggage and was purposefully heading towards the exit. Purposefully because it was of course important to look as if one always knew what one was doing, so as to not invite unwelcome attention. But alas, as he attempted to exit the arrivals hall a local officer, evidently taken by sudden bout of unexplicable folly, approached Pancho and dared to ask whether he had in fact the baggage ticket belonging to the bag that he was intending to carry off. For a moment Pancho had to battle to keep his expression free from aghast shock. Did she deem him capable of mistaking somebody else's luggage for his own?! 

He looked down at his bag. It was admittedly a most excellent specimen of a bag but then again, it suited him so perfectly that under normal circumstances there could be no question. Nevertheless Pancho, with his usual impeccable manners, gave the officer a friendly smile and placed the bag on the ground in order to retrieve the desired baggage ticket (which was stuck on the flight ticket of the first stretch of the flight). 

He patted his various pockets, certain that he had placed the ticket there a few hours earlier in wise premonition at the need of it. The ticket did not seem to emerge on the first round of patting however so in good spirits Pancho eagerly set about on a second round of patting. But alas, all the patting in the world did not seem to be able to bring that ticket with the baggage token into existence. Pancho soldiered on bravely, patting away here and there, making sure not to leave any pocket out but starting to feel somewhat confounded at the impossibility of the situation. 

Meanwhile the office surveyed Pancho's brave attempts with an increasingly pitiful gaze it seemed. That look spurned Pancho on to ever more ambitious patting to the point where the officer's pity must have become unbearable to her so she decided to change her mode of attack. 

She asked for the flight ticket instead. Somewhat relieved that Pancho could now stop patting his various pockets he began rummaging in one specific pocket that the second ticket would most assuredly be in. And after a very brief and faint bout of terrific terror, that the second document was also missing and that he would have to spend the night rummaging through his bags, the most desired piece of paper finally emerged. A slight sigh of relief could be heared by the more discerning ears in the baggage claim area.

Several minutes after the officer had confirmed the ownership of the bag Pancho was finally allowed to step into the hot night air of Ouagadougou. He was ready to make a big impression on his first arrival, especially after the first somewhat unnecessary excitement.

As he stepped out his gaze rolled over the scenery unfolding before him expecting to recognise at any moment the glorious welcoming comittee that would honour him with a tad of unnecessary fanfare. But instead, what greeted him were strange faces staring blankly. After the briefest moment of reflection Pancho decided not to let the locals prey on his lack of local knowledge and street smarts and accordingly proceeded to strut forth in the most exuberant fashion. As the stares deepened and their blankness increased Pancho could tell that the locals were mightily impressed. 

As if to confirm his suspicion a first supplicant eventually approached his imposing form. The man however evidently was unsure of how to express himself correctly. Pancho thought he had heard something along the lines of needing a taxi or some such matter but he knew that he must have misheard. The local was evidently offering his most prestigious services as a butler. Pancho honoured the bold proposal with a fond smile but waved the man away. There was absolutely no need for this fine fellow to waste his most assuredly ample talent on such a humble fellow as Pancho was. After all, Burkina Faso was considered one of the most basic countries in the world and Pancho did not deem it right to ostentatiously display his wealth openly. He would lead a simple life, adapting to local customs. As such he would dress and bathe himself!

The man eventually shuffled off unable to completely hide his disappointment at not being able to serve such a fine gentleman. But Pancho was certain that the man would do well for himself despite the slight miscommunication.

A full 60 minutes later slight doubts seemed to creep up on Pancho however. He was still standing as exuberantly as one could possibly stand in the parking lot of the airport, waiting for his promised arrival committee, but he had no local currency, no means of contacting his host nor any address to call upon. In fact a friendly missionary from the North American continent had offered him the use of her portable telephone to contact his host, but it had brought no discernible results. His contact's telecommunications device seemed to be switched off or some such thing.

Now that his contact was nowhere to be reached and that that splendid butler prospect had been rebuffed, Pancho needed to find another solution. With a sudden burst of brilliance Pancho found the solution to his dilemma. 

A plan B was necessary! With renewed zeal Pancho set about immediately devising it. His exuberant stance renewadly exuberant, Pancho thought hard and fast. Thinking hard and fast was a skill he had acquired after many years of discerning and honest work! 

But as he had been thinking hard and fast for several minutes, suddenly his controlled expression of concentrated sublimity crumbled and turned into something more along the lines of naive hope. Had he just seen his host fly by in the distance on a scooter of sorts?!

Pancho set himself in motion to get to the bottom of this mystery. And as if he had known all along, shortly after Pancho realised that his eyes, excellent as they were even at night time, had not deceived him. His host, by now a notorious man in Pancho's mind had truly arrived. He had arrived indisputably late but as was the case with men of true greatness, Pancho was quick to forgive such a slight if it was the result of an earnest mistake. And as it of course turned out, his host, Edward III, had been the impotent victim of most unfortunate circumstances and an inescapably terrible fate. 

He had fallen asleep unexpectedly and with great surprise. 

But now that this Edward fellow had arrived in fine and infectious spirit all was good and forgiven and Pancho Wodehouse, that most daring of worldly gentlemen, could after a short wait finally continue on this great adventure that Burkina Faso would have to offer. 

Spring Cleaning

The family estate had changed over the last few weeks. The weather had become warmer, in fact alot warmer, scorching even. So a few plants here and there hung limply thirsting for a few drops of fresh rain or even just dew. Pancho himself hadn't moved. 30 days and 30 nights it had been. He had waited for fate to finally arrive and plant that idea in his head. The fact that this idea wouldn't come by sitting around slowly dawned on the poor fellow. Despite his frightening intelligence, his wisdom still seemed to be lacking at times. With a sigh he stood up and brushed off the dust and pollen that had settled on him during his stupendous daze. The gearshafts of his brain slowly started grinding again, smashing cogs against another and reigniting the spark of genius. 

Previously he had not imagined it, but this year in Thailand had taken its toll on him, mentally as well as physically. It had taken a whole while for everything to sink in, so really it had been no wonder that no fresh and blindingly preposterous ideas came into his mind over that period of time. Now the matter was settled. And Pancho found himself at quite an interesting point in his life. Virtually all doors stood open to him. Good looks, intelligence, wisdom ripened by those 30 days, fitness and a completed education... The world was his for the taking. If he could just decide how it would best be done... But with a twinkle in his eye Pancho wandered through the expansive family estate. Through the small pockets of deep forest filled with game, over sun drenched meadows and by pleasantly cooling lakes and ponds. A few days of relaxation and mental stimulation and things would start rolling just as it was meant to be.

And later that day Pancho knew he had made a start. After checking his endless fan emails (they had amassed considerably over the last month) he encountered a curious website. A blog in fact which he found quite interesting. So interesting that he decided to contact the fellow who published, wrote and presumably thought it up. He waited for this kindred souls reply with bated breath...is still waiting, but presumably for not too much longer.

For the readers who may have in interest in these matters, this is the blog

http://principlesofbeing.blogspot.com/

Time flies

Pancho sat in silence. In deep contemplative silence. Some people would probably even guess he had passed on or fallen into a coma. That’s how good Pancho was at being contemplative. A true master of contemplation at work in fact. The silence was only apparent on the outside however. Inside his exaggeratingly well disposed cranium there was an incessant humdrum of voices and chitchat. Well, not really. His head was simply filled with emptiness. It was a void but also a realm in which every possible idea could exist simultaneously. It was just a matter of letting an idea burst like a bubble and manifest itself in his mind. To some this may sound like insanity. Others would claim that Pancho actually had the answer to the universe in his head. And lo and behold, so it was. But there is and always has been a subtle difference between infinite potential and the actual outcome.
For example, when cooking. You may have the complete ingredients to a perfect dish of pasta, but put the pasta onto a boil, walk away and get distracted by that hilarious video on youtube and WHAM, there you have it. Even the most talented master chef can not save those drenched and soggy noodles. By the way, Pancho was quite a talented a cook, but that’s a different matter.
Anyway, this is how a master mind worked. At least, knowing that he was a master mind Pancho took it for the way every master mind worked. Sitting there waiting for an idea to mysteriously pop out of the crackle of unworthy ideas. And Pancho was not just waiting for any odd idea. No my dear reader, not at all. He was in fact waiting for an idea that would revolutionise the world. An idea so unthinkably new that it would take the world by storm and open people’s eyes with a blinding clarity. In a good way that is. Meaning that there would be no way that some religious fundamentalist would take that idea as proof that Pancho was dangerous. He didn’t particularly feel like being burned on the haystack for being radical.
But alas, Pancho had been sitting for a while and this fantastic idea was evidently running late. So slowly his mind started drifting off into memory. You see, he was not any longer in the Kingdom of Thailand, he had left that place of eternal sunshine and friendly smiles a while back when his stint there ended.
As expected he had been paraded around a few last times and taken farewell from so many of his new found fans, that he already had a faint longing to return. Especially now, that the spring weather in Europe was rainy and cold.
But then, there were other aspects that he did not miss. Such as the constant nagging feeling that he should write down his memories of the time, for the multitude of his fans of course. But to be honest he failed to find the time to do that the closer he came to the end of his stay. There were so many stories to tell. Too many in fact. Too many wonderful stories of teaching little devils, eating disgusting looking food that was actually fantastically delicious, being kidnapped by lady boys and having encounters with a variety other fascinating people. Too many such stories because even Pancho’s amazingly productive and long life was finite and he did prefer to live it compared to sitting around remembering it (he knew he could do that when he became an old whiny grandpa: “Ah the old days, you know grandson, when I was your age…”). So Pancho decided to move on and divert the deep well of his talents to other things.
This was actually the reason why he was sitting here in silence in the expanses of his endless family estate, waiting for his encounter with fate (Not that he thought fate was particularly good at keeping an appointment). He needed to find a new project into which he could hurl his dazzling greatness. And, well, as much as he refused to acknowledge it, this was proving quite a challenge. But where would Pancho Wodehouse be now if he did not accept a good challenge!

Of Broken Down Cars and Elephants

Pancho had now made his first acquaintance with breaking down cars in Thailand. To anybody with even an inkling of an intellect (such as good old Pancho himself) this did not come as a surprise. The cars that one found traveling the moonscape roads tended to be as beaten up as the roads themselves. Some of the cars or trucks were even as old as the seventies, so there was no surprise in frequent break downs. What was actually surprising was the fact that a lot of them still functioned quite well. People would repair the vehicles (also motorcycles) almost indefinitely. Few people could afford to buy a brand new car. But Pancho saw this as an upside in Thailand. As with clothes and other things, objects were used up until the moment that they were well and truly useless. The new objects would start with the richer people who would use them until they felt they could discard them, either by selling or donating and so objects would be handed down through the social strata ensuring that nothing was really wasted (except for fuel through constant unnecessary use of air conditioning and using a car or a motorcycle to drive even less than 100 meters). This meant that second hand cars, even in comparatively appalling condition were a lot more expensive than in Europe for instance. What Pancho found however was that those old cars that were built in the simplest ways without fancy electronics and so forth were the ones that functioned best.
On Pancho’s trip to Surin, with his host father, mother and advisor they unfortunately traveled in a car that had a relatively complicated set up and was aging. Even before their departure Pancho’s host father was trying to get the cooling fan of the engine to work. Eventually, after about an hour long struggle things worked out and they set out on the road to the province bordering on Cambodia. Pancho’s host father came from a little village in Surin that was famous for being the home of hundreds of elephants. The elephant village. The purpose of this trip was to attend the annual Elephant show when all the village elephants, rented out throughout Thailand for labour and touristic work were expected back to perform in a huge spectacle.
But naturally, before they got close to Surin, the fan stopped working once again and the car overheated. They barely managed to find a mechanic’s garage before things would have gotten out of hand.
And so, the mechanics took the whole fan apart and started fixing what they could. Pancho and his advisor crossed the road and sat down in front of a convenience shop waiting for matters to improve. His host mother was asleep in the car and his host father was busy watching the mechanics work. Sitting around aimlessly went on for about two hours before a family friend appeared with his wife and daughter. They graciously came in two cars and offered them the big comfortable one to travel on to Surin and return it on their way back when their own car was fixed. Pancho thought this an excellent idea as by now he was quite sick of sitting around and waiting. In fact he was quite tired also.
The trip did not take too much longer but Pancho after having had a beer with his host dad (drinking and driving is an acceptable way to spend your time) could not keep his eyes open.
They reached the family house in the city of Surin quite late. Everybody (even including his Excellency Pancho Wodehouse) would only have a short night’s sleep as they would have to leave the house before dawn.
Pancho’s host father’s family being from the village none of them had to pay entry. Additionally they all had an early breakfast with some of the performers (including one especially huge elephant) as befits a guest of honour such as Pancho of course. The breakfast was very welcome as that morning was actually quite cold. It was the first time and last time that Pancho shivered in Thailand, though naturally he had to tell the Thais that this temperature was not cold at all! In fact it was just below 10 degrees. On a European scale this was not cold yet he would never have expected such a temperature in tropical Thailand. Having been surprised he of course was not dressed accordingly and had to warm himself by the fireside (that was used for cooking) and with hot coffee.
The show started around 9 o’clock and went on for 3 hours. The rising sun quickly heated up everything to the usual sweltering temperature and Pancho was happy that they had found seats that were in the shade and that had a fantastic view of the spectacle. That was of course until hundreds of Thais assembled in front of them to have a better view which meant that Pancho and theothers had to stand up in order to see.
The show itself was fantastic. Pancho had seen elephants before but never 280 at once. This fact together with a well choreographed show and the epic scale made it very enjoyable. Pancho was fortunate to have the opportunity to see this as it was held only on one weekend of the year. Part of the show was a tug of war event where 60 humans were to fight one elephant. I’ll leave it to the imagination of the reader to determine who won. However if you knew the true winner you could be surprised by the fact that Pancho himself with his Herculean strength took part in this contest.
The group returned to Phunee that same day and picked up the not yet quite fixed car on the way. They had to wait several more hours before it was road worthy again. And as usual after a trip in Thailand on returning home Pancho was in dire need of a bed and sleep.

Harvest

Free time and no pressure. Oh those were the joys of an easy life! These were things one could only really appreciate after directly experiencing the opposite. And this was the case for Pancho. After those two tremendous weeks of endless training and fatigue culminating in an epic crescendo Pancho was overjoyed to be able to savour normal life once again. That sweet bliss of not constantly operating at breaking point. An occasional challenge was quite welcome, but Pancho had realised that too much was just a constant drain on energy.
Despite having been additionally strained by having to work the normal 8 to 9 hour day at school, Pancho secretly admired the zeal that some professional athletes upheld. Training that hard took much of the joy out of the sport. As it is with all things, clever Pancho knew that moderation and relatively frequent variation of lifestyles was what maintained joy and pleasure in any activity. Pancho was no fool after all. But he realised this more than ever now that he did not have to wake up at 5:30am any longer. He was not tired throughout the day nor saw teaching as a burden (he actually started enjoying it again). And he could spend his evenings in a more relaxed manor than training hard for several hours and then going straight to sleep. Pancho literally felt as free as a kite.
Part of this freedom however also included having to attend to other duties once again from which he was excused before. One of these duties, which was in fact quite interesting and provided this variety necessary for an interesting life, was taking part in activities that constituted the everyday Thai country lifestyle. Pancho was invited to help in the rice harvest for a day (or more if he wished. Somehow he was not convinced this would be the case though).
So early on a Monday morning (it was holiday time, or rice harvest time for all those who had a farm to attend to) one of the family workers, who had 2 weeks off to harvest rice at his own parents’ farm, came to pick Pancho up. His parents’ place was in the proper country side, where if the roads were ever paved, they looked like the surface of the moon, with hundreds and thousands of potholes. Dirt roads passed through acres and acres of yellow rice fields waiting to be harvested. The worker’s (Jack’s) farm was situated on one of these dirt roads. It was surrounded completely by rice fields and several palm trees that provided shade from the blistering sun. The farm consisted of the animal pens under traditional straw roves and an additional structure with the usual corrugated iron roof found in Thailand. It was perfectly quiet here except for the incessant crow of the cocks in the yard (Pancho found this quite annoying at times, especially when they would start crowing in the middle of the night). After having had a small second breakfast or brunch Pancho and Jack started out. One wore long sleeved tops and trousers in order to be protected from the sun. Additionally a wide rimmed hat was good. Pancho was given an umbrella hat, which literally looked like he was wearing an umbrella on his head. It suited him fantastically. Initially Pancho needed some time to get accustomed to handling the sickle and grabbing the bundles of rice but soon he was just about as proficient as Jack or his parents. A master of the universe would obviously not find any trouble in such a measly little exercise. Despite being convinced of the ease of the task while they had started in the shade of a tree, after a while it was inevitable to be working in the sun. Within minutes Pancho’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. A bucket of ice water stood ready to provide the necessary refreshment, for drinking.
Pancho was a type of person who liked to get on with work and get things done. He had so many splendid plans for life and the world that he could not help working extremely efficiently. Rice harvesting and the general farmer’s life, as he found out were not compatible with such a mindset. The work of harvesting, then threshing and whatever else was needed was never ending. The only difference was that things worked in the rhythm of the seasons. There was no use in rushing to finish something if in the end one would just have to wait around. So work went on but at a pleasant pace. There was no use in getting tired out. There was no use in finishing faster as tomorrow would be just the same as today or yesterday. Pancho felt that he needed some kind of goal to work towards which made him realize how life must have changed dramatically for people in so called civilized countries. Going from the agricultural society, where all things got done in their proper time to a high pressured working environment where nothing could be completed quickly enough. Why was this? Why couldn’t the completion of a project take as long as it took? Why did the profit motive have to drive everything to more efficiency when really there was not really that much difference between having a 21 inch or 50 inch TV. Is it not the way you spend your time more important than the way you spend your money? It was just an interesting observation for Pancho to make while bending over, cutting rice till his left hand was full, placing the bundle on the floor until 5 bundles were heaped up and then starting the next little accumulation.
After lunch Pancho felt incredibly sleepy. The heat was stifling and no breeze came to refresh the workers so one after another they drifted off to sleep in hammocks.
When the sun had lowered slightly and lost some of its intensity, and Pancho had slept enough, work resumed for a bit before Jack decided to drive Pancho back home. He probably had had enough of cutting rice himself for the day. Despite a relatively relaxed speed they did get about half a field done. With a bout 15 more fields to go the whole procedure would most likely take a month. A month of work sounded long, but not if there wasn’t any stress involved. In the end Pancho was actually not that tired at the end of the day. Despite not wanting to be a farmer in his future, how could one if one was destined for greatness...he saw the benefits of such a lifestyle.
But Pancho did not have this lifestyle, even if he had wanted to. This week should have actually been a holiday. But as Pancho had already learned, in rural Thailand one takes it easy during work and when holidays come around one isn’t too shy to dedicate a little time towards said work. So Pancho was booked out, especially to go to other schools and teach there or support them in their teaching of English. He wasn’t all too happy about these circumstances. Who would be about having to give up official holiday time, which Pancho would have of course used extremely efficiently and wisely without the slightest procrastination. But there was nothing to be done. With his incredible intellect he managed to realize that despite being THE superstar he was he couldn’t exactly go prancing around demanding things. He had come to Thailand to offer the people some of his goodness, some of the abundance of his greatness and in a good cause holidays did not exist. As one of his favourite artists once said (He had been shot before a concert and still went on with the performance) "The people, who were trying to make this world worse... are not taking a day off. How can I? Light up the darkness."
So Pancho submitted to these proposals with a smile.
On one of these trips he was in his coordinator’s car just passing through Ubon Ratchatani. The school they were visiting was not exactly close. Just as they were passing through the center of town the engine tied. Immediately Pancho’s hope lit up brightly. Did this mean they would maybe not make it? He would not have to teach some unresponsive class? His coordinator mentioned something about the battery having died. Pancho suppressed his smile (he was very good at looking serious when he wasn’t. In fact he found few things in life worth being serious about). But suddenly as they were all crowding around the bonnet a stranger appeared out of nowhere and asked what was wrong. After Pancho’s coordinator had answered he rushed off through the thick traffic pouring around the car blocking half the road. Before he had really noticed what was going the man was back and with dismay Pancho realized that he had returned with a new battery. The old one was replaced within seconds and everybody climbed back into the car. His coordinator pointed across the road to a car battery shop. This time Pancho cracked a smile of humour. What a situation. They break down and just happen to do it in front of the one shop that can fix the problem. Outwardly he was smiling as if being overjoyed that things had worked out, but inwardly he couldn’t help but curse such ironic luck.
In the end the teaching went well, the children loved Pancho as was to be expected and all was butter and cakes.
In fact Pancho had many more guest visits at other schools after and although he never liked them (Teaching classes for the first time was always difficult as one could never judge their level or commitment properly) he always felt rewarded afterwards for having offered the children something they would not get at any other time.
There were many foreign teachers in Thailand in fact but most of them taught at rich schools that did not need them quite as dearly as the poor country schools. When one had Thai English teachers that hardly understood any of the language it was evident that a foreigner could have a great impact. And if it was only for the students to hear what the language is really supposed to sounds like (Some Thai English teachers were impossible to understand). In the end, Pancho was fulfilling his duty and the fact that students nearly begged him to teach their classes was ample reward (though he did like receiving some kind of payment and liked his free time, and regretted the few classes that were so lazy that they did not bother to show up.)

Stories...

The morning after was not half as bad as Pancho had been told. Superboy had only kicked him in the left thigh. As some of the more intelligent readers might conclude from this the left thigh was the only part of his body that felt more or less uncomfortable. But Pancho had been given ample remedies for it and did not find the pain all too crippling. What ate at his mind much more when he woke up was the fact that he had officially lost the fight when he himself as well as (as he was told) most of the others were under the impression that he had won.
From this day on, every time he thought back to this event and thought of his sloppy performance or saw the less than perfect event as video footage his heart rate accelerated and his mind was gripped by a strong urge to rectify what had gone wrong. He knew that he could perform far better but the fact that he had failed to show it weighed on his lofty mind. And yet while in Thailand there was nothing to be done. He could not combine is teaching job and all his social engagements with the necessary time needed for training. Additionally the training here was evidently not suited to his individual style. As good as his coach had been for Thai fighters he needed an approach that was balanced between traditional Muay Thai and boxing. So Pancho wounded in his very humble pride resorted to trying not to remember this episode until he was actually able to rectify the mishap.
But occasionally talk about it would resurface and Pancho heard two vastly different stories as to why he had lost when he should have won (Not that it put Pancho’s mind at ease for his still not quite stellar performance).
The first story he heard through his host mother and who had been told by one of the family workers. The local head of the mafia had bet a lot of money on Superboy winning. Not wanting to lose his money the judges naturally had to make the fat Thai kid win. This explanation seemed quite plausible and really did not differ from any other place in the world where bets are accepted on fights or sporting competitions.
The second story came out several months later. Pancho did not believe this one but thought it quite funny as it represented one of his host father’s tendencies to talk a lot of nonsense when he was drunk.
The story went that his host father being a local man of great influence behind the scenes had decided that Superboy should be the winner despite having unofficially lost the fight. The reasoning was that Superboy losing was bad for his career prospects in Thai boxing while it did not matter to a foreigner. Pancho smiled at this and did not reply what he thought. The typically narrow minded way of thinking displayed by people only familiar with one culture. Granted, Pancho did not intend to try and make a career in the sport (There were more important things to be achieved in the world), however judging by the amount of alcohol and the little training Superboy did, Pancho could not really see it making any difference to the fat slob. But he kept this little insight to himself.
And so the matter was semi forgotten and set aside for a more opportune time to do anything about it.

In the Red Corner

Out of the Phunee team pancho was the one to fight last, following the little boy and Porn. His fight was listed as the 9th out of 15.
The nap Pancho had attempted failed. Despite being relaxed and calm the bumpy ground and loud noises around him made sleep a difficult enterprise. So eventually he roused himself to watch some of the fights. Aside from witnessing this spectacle he also felt the urge to slip out under the plastic tarp to go to the toilet in the bush land beyond. He returned just in time to happily observe the little boy win his fight by elbow knockout. Then urged by his advisor Pancho met Superboy and got a preflight photo with him. As all Thais Superboy was thoroughly friendly and polite, despite the fact that he must have felt like his doom was imminent.
When the youngest member of their team won his fight (at number 5) Pancho ignored the comment by one of the spectators that he would be up in two fights. He thought this guy to be one of the drunk buffoons that you find in many such places. So while vigorously agreeing he thought to himself “read the fighting order you idiot, I am listed at number 9”. Returning to the Phunee camp he watched as they started preparing Porn for his fight. Suddenly something caught his attention though. The announcer said something through the loudspeakers that slightly disconcerted Pancho. All he understood was that fight number 7 would be Superboy vs Pancho Wingchattour...
His camp suddenly froze along with him. Pancho had no time to realize that he himself had been the buffoon for not listening to the friendly fellow earlier.
Everybody jumped up and rushed Pancho onto the rice mat. He took off his clothes and stood there in thai boxing shorts while 4 people started applying Vaseline and namman muay for the final time. When Pancho got his hands free he grabbed a drink he had prepared containing a tad of whiskey and an energy drink just to make sure he did not run out of steam during his performance.
Despite the tempestuous commotion around him, Pancho was still amazingly calm. The singularly expert control he had over his thoughts and mind made him as calm as in the days of his youth. The days when he had to sit exams that would as they told him decide the fate of his future, whether he ended up a bum or a billionaire. And instead of feeling excited he couldn’t help but put it into perspective. Pancho’s hand wraps were now prepared expertly by his coach (Porn’s father) and some sort of glucose drunk was mixed additionally for him, to maintain his energy. The glass was handed to him. As Pancho had not had a fight before he was not aware of what exactly was to be done. He downed the whole glass which caused everybody around him to protest loudly. Pancho felt a faint worry that this could prove disastrous but was relieved that their only worry was him being too full of liquid. As there was no danger of immediate death through glucose overdose or anything else utterly ridiculous he failed to worry. As if having a full belly would be an issue to a man of such greatness. Throughout all these preparations Pancho was still remarkebly calm and unexcited, with the exception of making sure he managed to put is box (the groin protection) on. It would prove to be of singular importance in fact.
When he was finally prepared, including having put on the box, the previous fight had already ended and it was time to approach the ring. Pancho slipped his flip flops on and was escorted by his supporters to his corner. He calmly climbed up the metal ladder while all eyes were on him. Superboy had not approached the ring yet. He climbed over the ropes. And once inside the ring, people down below started shouting last minute instructions to him with an unintelligible clamour. His gloves were put on and laced up. And finally Superboy found himself on stage as well. The Phunee’s mayor greeted the two fighters (in honour of Pancho) on stage. Then the traditional Thai boxing music started and the time had come to pay their respects. Every fighter performs a dance called the Ram muay which pays respect to their teachers. Each fighter conducts similar moves in different combinations creating their own personal dance. Pancho’s lasted significantly longer than Superboy’s an ended with a courteous bow at the end (Porn’s personal little touch that Pancho quite liked). And finally the referee called the two fighters in the middle and clarified that Pancho understood any rules and commands he would give in Thai. It would be three rounds now. Pancho still calm but feeling a certain excitement in his limbs had a clear plan on how to make this fight a spectacle.
Then the bell rang and they were off. Pancho in his red shorts and Superboy also in his red shorts (luckily there was no issue distinguishing who was who). They touched gloves. As usual for Pancho when starting off he took it easy and just tried to teep (push kick) Superboy in his fat stumpy legs. And then Pancho outdid himself by trying a pathetic little kick… he realised immediately that that would not do. So in following up he went for a proper teep which was blocked however. Superboy acting as if he were relaxed and all (how could one when facing Pancho) threw a kick at Pancho’s now exposed leg, but he skipped aside spectacularly nimby. The next kick connected and hard crashed hard into Pancho’s leg. Pancho realised that he had been hit but still it did not seem to register fully. His body in turn seemed to have registered. Not being used to beign hit any longer, for the lack of adequate training (sparring). Instinct took over. All the preconceived plans Pancho had devised with his genius and those impeccable tactics were gone. Wiped clean from his mind. All that remained was the raw animalistic fight or run mechanism. And Pancho’s indestructible sense of superiority of course. And this superior instinct was definitely set on fighting. He continuously advanced on Superboy who seemed to skip away like a little fairy. Bam! Bam! Bam! Superboy would repeatedly thump Pancho in the left leg while he threw wild punches back against which Superboy could only lift his flabby paws in pathetic defence.
Luckily he acted in this way. Both fighters were unaware that if the fat kid had been in any way able to box he could have easily picked through the superhero’s overconfident defence. The fight loitered on, with Superfatboy kicking and Pancho punching. One of Pancho’s wild and uncontrolled bouts of hooks connected strongly however and Superboy went to down. Here Pancho made his first crucial mistake. His thinking was evidently running on instinct only. Otherwise he would have confronted his opponent standing up and rushing to exact revenge. Instead Pancho retreated and failed to capitalise on the momentary weakness.
In between they their pathetic exchanges they circled each other before Superboy would skip away again when Pancho tried to make a move. Thus the end of the round felt like it was long overdue and luckily he had no time or energy to concentrate on what had just happened as in hindsight Pancho would have been very unhappy to say the least with this spectacularly bad performance. He had come to offer a spectacle of never before witnessed brilliance and instead it more or less drifted off into a poor slogging match.

But very opposite to his usual uncanny talent of observation, caged in his instinctive behaviour Pancho failed to realise any of these facts. During the break both fighters settled down on their little metal stools and relaxing had their legs and arms massaged to loosen up the muscles.
And in no time the bell rang again and round 2 was on.
They tapped their gloves and Pancho lost no time this time going in punching and driving the fatso to the ropes. He landed a nice punch and then went on to clinch.
After having been broken up both contenders were nervous about being hit and only tried to attack half heartedly. Slowly Pancho felt shame creeping up from somewhere at this very unspectacular performance here. Where was the greatness he had promised?!
But round two improved somewhat. Or one claim it was more interesting. Life in the ring was definitely more heated. Both “fighters” frequently ended up in clinch not producing any results. That was with the exception of Superfatties talent at kneeing Pancho not just once but twice in the groin (lucky to have remembered that box). Then on one occasion as Superboy went for another big kick into Pancho’s left thigh Pancho threw a right hook that connected nicely with Superboy’s flabby excuse for a face and sent him crashing. It was not hard enough however as the blob was standing again in no time. And once again Pancho failed to capitalise on his exploit. At one time during the round while he was once again wildly going about throwing uncontrolled punches Superflab managed to sneak a straight punch in that made Pancho’s head recoil fantastically. But Pancho’s animal instincts barely too heed of this little fact.
The round finally ended and Pancho was feeling the strain now. All that went through his head was that he was happy it wasn’t 5 rounds.
And then the final round. This round was an utter mystery for Pancho. Nothing much happened during this round except for Superguts slowly backing away and lifting his arms making funny movements as if he was a retarded bird. Pancho after having danced a bit because he thought he ought to do a bit for the show himself had two guesses as to what this strange behaviour could mean. Either he was telling Pancho that he had had enough and didn’t want to fight anymore or he was telling Pancho to come closer and finally attack. Pancho just wasn’t sure and being the very polite gentleman he was, he hesitated before attacking. As can be expected nothing much came of this except for confusion on Pancho’s side. The conclusion that Pancho came to was either one, that Supersausage was a lazy wimp who was too tired or two, he was a lazy wimp and a cheeky bastard as well who indicated that Pancho should come and try something while himself still backing away like a little crybaby. In any case nothing much happened anymore and when the bell rang Pancho couldn’t care less, he was happy it was over and he could relax and finally wait for his mind to take over from instinct again. Though he certainly did not understand why the judges decided that Superfatkid had won, at that moment, with all the adrenaline he could not care less and was all friendly.
Other people told Pancho afterwards that they thought had been his fight. And in Pancho’s opinion, though he had fought horribly badly he believed the same. He had scored two knockdowns and been kneed in the groin twice while all that Superboy had to show was quite a lot of connecting kicks (granted, they did score more points than punches) that however never really impared Pancho in the least.
In any case, the fight was over, Pancho went to the doctor to get his bleeding shin cleaned up and slept well that night. The reality of things would only kick in the next day however.

And then...

And finally, the day had come. The fateful day that Pancho had been preparing for, for what felt like eternity. The day of the fight. All his energies had been concentrated on this event, on making an imposing and successful spectacle of his victory over Superboy. Pancho felt fit. He knew he was fit. A lean mean fighting machine. His stamina was considerable and his technique had improved in leaps and bounds as one would expect of somebody with such dedication and limitless talent.
On Sunday he had still felt a nervous excitement in the pit of his stomach. It was his first fight and that in front of an interested crowd of people, with a name to defend and his honour at stake. But of course Pancho thought that that would be expected by what he felt were his endless masses of fans. Who wouldn’t think the first fight of a heroic character such as Pancho to be an immensely significant event in history of the world?!
This monday morning Pancho planned to take it easy. He had been allowed to skip school for the day. As if anything else would be acceptable to him, however he still had to go in for the formal bureaucracy of signing his name. So, he got up early (which was a useless futility to him) rode to school, signed his name, had breakfast and sat down at his computer to whittle away time. After lunch, he settled down for a restful nap and woke up in time to eat once again before he was due to join his student friend Porn, who was fighting too, for a warm up.
Pancho rode his bicycle to the training grounds, knowing that he would apply namman muay and not wanting to repeat the disaster of sweating before application.
And so Pancho, after having the oil massaged in by Porn and another helper, was quite relaxed. He felt the heat of the oil taking effect but was not in pain and got onto his warm up. This was followed by waiting for the hot water with herbal ingredients to be ready for a refreshing wash.
Sitting and standing there Pancho felt strangely at peace. The wind was blowing strongly and coolly from the north putting him in a mood similar to autumn back in Europe. It was a quiet feeling of accepting the slowing of nature to a virtual standstill before it rebounded with full life in the coming spring. And so Pancho felt as if he had come to the end of an excessively long road. He was quiet at peace with himself and no matter what happened not a bit of nervousness came forth. That famous calm before the storm.
After having washed and cleaned up the three fighters from Phunee (Pancho, Porn and a little kid who’s name he could not remember) went back to Porn’s farm hut for dinner. Pancho ate only a little as he had already had three meals that day and did not feel excessively hungry. Immediately after, they rode to the festival where the fights were taking place.
The festival itself was called Roy Kratong and is a lantern festival, where small floats with candles and incense are released onto the water for good luck. Pancho, Porn, the PE teacher called Math a very enjoyable and funny fellow, set out and joined the festivities.
On the way plenty of his students encountered Pancho and commented on the Thai boxing. Through this fight his fame in the area was reaching new proportions.
Finally they walked to the fenced off area of the fight. It was situated behind a wall of plastic tarp. Stepping into the enclosure Pancho was slightly surprised. There was a proper ring in the middle but no seats or any roof. It looked like actual fair ground boxing. Despite having expected something quite different Pancho really did not care. The surroundings were of little consequence, it was what happened in the ring that mattered.
The Phunee fighters and trainers settled down in a little hollow at the edge of the enclosure. Looking at the program, Pancho Wingchattour was listed as the 9th fight. It was already coming up to 8 o’clock and the events had not even started yet, so relaxed as Pancho was he lay down on their rice mat and tried to have a little nap. He was feeling just a tad tired.

The last days...

Training went on. The week felt absolutely endless to Pancho, only the not sufficient 9 hours of sleep broke the arduous routine of training and work.
The 4th day of the week saw Pancho extremely tired after his morning run. Fitness wise he had absolutely no issues as would be expected, however after having showered, eaten and come to school an intense tiredness overcame him that did not leave him till he got out and moving again.
His advisor as well as one of his friends, the PE teacher supplied Pancho with additional materials for training. Including more Namman Muay and various tapes to protect his injured foot (the blister was still healing).
So despite having been so tired through out the day training went better in the evening. In fact it went pleasingly well, Pancho noticing his considerable improvement. This was until Pancho as well as his coach both had a momentary laps. It can not really be explained, but the pad holder just didn’t move fast enough while as happens once in a while Pancho’s kick was not aimed correctly. This led to Pancho kicking the pad holder in the elbow instead of the pad. Pancho was immediately convinced, in that very moment that he would shortly be in severe pain. And what wonder. With his great wisdom he had predicted the future correctly. A sever pain shot through his foot where he had hit the elbow. It was actually so painful, that Pancho feared the foot to broken. Despite never having broken a bone in his body (demi gods’ bone simply didn’t break) Pancho was quite worried and imagined that it may prevent him from competing. This renewed shocking revelation of not being perfect clearly signaled the end for the day’s training. Despite the session having gone well this last injury put a significant damper on Pancho’s mood. At the rate he was picking up injuries he would be an invalid before the fight.
Just to reassure the most likely terrified reader at this point, Pancho had in fact not broken his foot (His body was after all made of demi god material).
The following day, a Friday training was restricted. Having been so thoroughly tired from running the day before, Pancho skipped the morning run in order to sleep longer. At training, his foot still feeling broken and taken on an interesting colour, kicks with his left leg were out of question. But despite only training under half steam the session was followed by something positive. Pancho was invited to his coach’s house/hut (Thai rural farmers have literally nothing more than wooden huts to live in) for dinner. The relaxing atmosphere and plentiful food after training were very welcome to Pancho who slept extremely well that night. Additionally the weekend had finally arrived so he would be free of the bothersome nuisance of work.
The next two days were thus somewhat relaxing when one ignored the need to overcome the mental agitation leading up to such a fight. As a first timer this was all new to Pancho and quite fascinating to him .However not that it really mattered to the probably most extraordinary fighter the world had ever seen (Different people have different concepts of what constitutes extraordinariness. Luckily for Pancho’s peace of mind the fact that he was a foreigner constituted enough extraordinariness for the Thai village folks.)
Pancho had been waiting for his mouth guard to arrive, being sent from back home (he did not want to have to buy a new one) However, as it had not arrived yet, despite having been in the mail for more than a week, he was worried it would not make it in time. So his wonderfully observant advisor went about the matter and bought a new one. This was a good decision on her part as the parcel with the mouthguard actually arrived the day after the fight. The only use Pancho got from it was an ironice smile.
On the weekend Pancho slept in and went for a morning run with his brother Pinball (after reaching school his brother however lay down and had a nap instead of running along side Pancho on his 14 laps)
Training in the evenings was quite relaxed, to start off with. But Pancho suddenly felt anger rise in him when people would criticise his technique. Luckily (Well not really, it was to be expected of him) he was wise enough to let out this anger while attacking the pads. However becoming angry was not normal for Pancho. He was somewhat surprised and wondered what could influence his usually very jolly nature in that way. Was it tiredness or some kind of heightened level of testosterone? Or maybe even the pressure to perform? He did not know, which was one of the few times in his life that Pancho was at a loss. But it mattered little as he could control it.
For the rest of the weekend Pancho just lay around and decided to watch movie after movie to distract him from the incessant reminders of the fight. The first three Rocky movies put him somewhat in the mindset for the fight while Platoon and Slumdog Millionaire offered a welcome distraction. His favourite pastime however was to nap.

Days 2 & 3

And so the second day of training came. Pancho, like a faultless master clockwork, woke at 5:30am and set out on his 9km jog. Although he was aware of his supreme physical condition Pancho was never the less surprised when after the 9km run he was not even slightly out of breath.
Despite this impressive fitness, teaching the kids at school felt like an unnecessary waste of energy at this point. In his limitless wisdom he made a note to remember this next time he thought of accepting the challenge of a fight. After all he had come to the Kingdom to spread the language of commerce and failed/doomed empires and not to become a professional fighter.
Evening training saw a marked improvement in general. His trainers and him were getting used to each other.
So the second day passed by smoothly and was a full success. A vast contrast to the following day.
Despite going to bed extremely early for normal standards, 8:30pm, Pancho did not succeed in starting his morning run. After the tough training plus teaching of the previous two days his body was in dire need of more sleep. Hardly even noticing he just switched off the alarm and fell asleep again immediately.
When he woke his intention was to make up for it at training in the evening, after a tiring day at work.
Generally fighters used an oil Namman Muay (boxing oil) To warm up before a fight and Pancho was to try it out before training. However as he had run to the facilities and already done his warm up he had sweated considerably already (luckily he had gotten used to the climatic conditions). Not having tried Namman Muay before he was not aware of the dangers. His training comrade informed him however that it should not be applied when sweating, so they waited duly till Pancho was dry again. Then two people started massaging the oil into his arms, followed by his torso and finally his legs. Initially Pancho did not have any problem, it was quite relaxing. After a few minutes however he noticed a marked change in his general well being. He now understood why this oil should not be applied after sweating. His whole body, having had the oil rubbed in, started burning as if it was one massive extremely bad sunburn. The pain was so bad that Pancho could not even stand still. He proceeded to walk around dramatically and shout at intervals. After a few minutes, the pain finally subsided and his heart rate seemed to slow to normal speed. Following that intense pain the bliss of feeling normal again made him extremely relaxed.
His skin had become bright red as all his blood seemed to have come to the surface. Pancho inquired somewhat unsure, whether the oil always had this effect but was reassured that it was not half as bad when done before any exercise. There was no doubt he could take the pain, but of course he was happy that it did not have to be so.
Reassured that he would not have to endure such pain again he could set out on his training. It did not start well. For some reason nothing seemed to be working quite right. So, once again Pancho returned home tired but not satisfied with the progress made. Due to his general perfection Pancho of course also had the expectation that anything he touched or committed to would prove to be perfect as well. Thus he was less than satisfied that things were not working out as planned.
At home Pancho was greated by his host brother Pinball. He mentioned that he had gone to watch Superboy train and proceeded to inform Pancho that his kick was strong and his clinch (When both fighters grab each other around the neck and try to bring in elbows to the head or knees to the body) was also extremely powerful.
Pancho was not delighted. Having deep knowledge of the workings of the human mind, he knew that after an unsatisfactory training session (something extremely seldom in Pancho’s experience) he needed a moral boost and not a warning telling him how strong the opponent was. He was in fact annoyed, a state of mind Pancho seldomly found himself in, due to his exquisitely balanced mental strength. But as he knew that he was in a less than positive mood due to being tired he convinced himself to forget his annoyance. Pinball was just trying to help. Maybe Pancho would after all just have to clobber this fellow called Superboy without the expected spectacle of his furious fists and crushing kicks.
That night Pancho was so tired and preoccupied with the fight in 5 days that he failed to sleep for a large portion of the night. Was Pancho maybe not so perfect after all, he asked himself? Could it actually be?

Training Day 1

Once returned from that camping trip where interestingly enough no actual camping happened, Pancho set out with determination to train for his first fight.
He had exactly one week to make physical and mental preparations. And whatever one may think, a first professional fight is a big step, even when one has the many gifts that Pancho possessed. Not having been in the ring before it was the mental preparation that was crucial. One could have the best technique and most outstanding physique and fitness (which he did have), but the mental constituent would be the most important, as to how he was going to use these perfected tools and how he was going to react when punched, kicked, elbowed or kneed.
So despite his superiority over Superboy, Pancho wisely guessed that the difference in experience could make the fight tougher for him than he anticipated initially. But not to worry, it would still end in a clear defeat for the deluded Thai who was willing to face him. Ensuring the most overbearing physical superiority one could achieve within a week, training meant about 9km runs in the mornings before a 9 hour work day and 2 to 3 hour training sessions in the evenings. These sessions went from shadow boxing, working the sandbag, to pad work (the coach held a set of pads which the trainee attacked) and extremely light sparring. Extremely light in this case in order to prevent injuries.
Despite these precautions Pancho could not escape blessures. I know this is virtually impossible for you, the reader, to imagine that Pancho Wodehouse, conqueror of the human condition, could get injured. But exceptional circumstances could result in normally impossible results. The exceptional circumstances in this case were the pressure of only a week of training an Pancho not being used to his trainers (Porn’s dad and a taller friend) while they were not adapted to his impeccable style. During pad work the tall lad especially would not be sure where to hold the pads or in what way. Thus on this first training day, a Monday, Pancho’s toes took some beating. The main issue was however that a blister he had gotten on the ball of his right foot had healed over the weekend, but the skin tore off during training, leaving Pancho with a hole in the foot that was probably not ideal.
Additonally, due to not being used to pad work any longer (he hadn’t trained like this in a while) or his partners, Pancho felt out of shape, only seldomly able to throw a kick or land a punch he was happy with in his very demanding opinion. Needless to say, by the end of the day Pancho was not entirely satisfied with the prgoress. His form was not fight worthy by far (It would not be a spectacle of grandeur) and his injuries could cause problems during training. During the fight itself such little matters as blisters or sprained toes did not matter as it would be relatively short and intense, no time to think about redamaging a blister.
But the injuries were a different matter for training. During this intense week they could worsen and eventually make a fight impossible (one could not fight effectively with an infected foot or a broken big toe). This less than optimal start was where the mental preparation came in. As a frequenter of deep thought and exploration of his own mind Pancho was in fact in an exceptionally good position to prepare for this as well. Turning such feelings of insufficiency into ambition and enthusiasm for the next session was thus fantastically easy for Pancho.
He would destroy Superboy in the ring and ensure that nothing was left of him to prove his previous existence. He returned home that evening, eager for food, a shower and bed but certainly no conversation about the upcoming fight. It was entirely sufficient to train such long hours. While not busy training Pancho wanted some distraction.
In the end, despite being extremely confident he was aware that he would have to improve considerably in order to display the magnificent show he intended to give the audience. Realisations such as these made Pancho’s level even more unachievable for the average human. Pancho loved a good challenge as it was hard enough for this towering example of human perfection to find any challenges in the first place.