Chapter 9. Asians have smaller brains

I step outside into the sun and look for a taxi. I find one.

I am terribly proud of my new look. I look like a true tourist. Actually, I am indeed a true tourist.

I just need a shower, as my skin is itching from all the sweating. But why a shower? I’ll go straight to the beach and dive into the waves. I’ll find a sunny beach and have a great swim there. I won’t get out of that salty water for ten hours. I’ll wash with it, gargle with it, give myself an enema…

The lifeguards will have to drag me out forcibly. But I’ll jump back into the water. I want to splash around! I want waves as big as houses! Damn the lifeguards! Not even the Thai police can get me out of there.

There aren’t many taxis left in the airport parking lot. I quickly spot one. I run towards it so no one else takes it.

“Take me to the nearest beach,” I tell the taxi driver as I flop onto the seat. Come on, man, I’m in a hurry! You understand English, don’t you? Beach? Sand… Water?

The guy reads one of those newspapers written in gibberish. He closes it and looks at me over his shoulder as if I’ve fallen from the moon. What’s with him? What’s wrong?

Ugh, why do I always run into these types?

The small, yellowish guy stares at me weirdly. Maybe he’s sick. Maybe he’s deaf. I think I need to take it slower, with a gentler spirit. English is too difficult for Asians. They’re smaller, so their brains are a bit smaller too.

So I explain to him like to a dumb child:

“Hey, buddy! I’m a European tourist,” I say, pointing to myself. “You beach, me give you muuuch money! Okay? Understand? Beach? Sand?”

I make the international sign for money.

Money, money, money! Pesos! Dineros! My… You understand or not? What’s wrong with you?”

Silence. Nothing. He blinks like a cow. He doesn’t even breathe.

“You… idiot!” I grumble. “Don’t you understand? Money, man, Asian! Look… Money! Is it clear… you’re stupid! Hey, Thai guy… look at… me… lips!”

Nothing. He’s a statue. 

I feel like crying with frustration. My God, what a backward country… Damn idiot! Are they all like this? Has the heat fried their brains?

I try again, but slower and emphasizing each word:

Dollars… for… you. You take me to… beach. Fast! I point to the steering wheel. Come on, start the engine…”

I’m dying!

“What’s so hard, man! What the hell do they teach you in school? Do you have schools around here, don’t you? God… look at his face… Why are you staring like that? Have you seen a ghost?”

Hmm… Do I have something written on my forehead? Have horns grown out of it? Why is he looking at me like that?

“Hello! Mister Asia! Do you understand or not understand? Tongue? Show me your tongue. Come on, stick out your tongue and show me! Are you mute?”

I stick out my tongue at him. I point to my tongue. He looks at me like a newly born calf. 

Damn Thailand! What a nation of troglodytes! Why is it so hard for some people to learn a foreign language? No matter how uncivilized you are, you still have to know a bit of English, right? Especially if you work as a taxi driver in a country full of tourists.

I strain my mind a bit. Where did that bartender say he hooked up with cute Thai girls? What was the name of that beach?

“I got it!” I suddenly shout. PHUKET! You take European white tourist to Phuket and tourist give you much money! Done, problem solved! Phuket!

“Phuket?” he smiles.

Victory! He speaks! Look, he understands! His little brain has unlocked.

“Yes, man, Phuket!” I shout excitedly. “Bravo to you! You’re smart! You understand quickly!”

I feel ecstatic seeing how intelligent I am and what a good memory I have. Bravo, Tiberiu! That was the magic word. Even those with half a brain here still know what to do when they hear the name Phuket.

I raise my hands in the air as if I’m going to hypnotize him. I speak slowly and emphasize every syllable:

“Yeees, Phuket, buddy! Phuuuuu Keeeeet! P-H-U-K-E-T! You make money from me! Capisci? Comprendo? Speak Russian? Start the engine, dude! Let’s go to Phuket.”

“I can’t, sir,” says the taxi driver shaking his head. “Phuket is too far away.”

He speaks! I made him speak. I’m proud! I’ve always known how to handle people. I have a special gift from God.

“Stop the nonsense,” I say quickly. “Give a lot of money. You take me to Phuket right now.”

“You can talk normally,” he says, smiling. “I understand every word without any problems. But, I’m sorry, I can’t take you to Phuket, no matter how much money you give me. It’s simply too far. I only do much shorter trips. Airport – city, city – airport. That’s what I do.”

I look at him as if I’m seeing the first alien in my life. The man continues:

“Let me explain,” he continues, taking his mobile phone out of his pocket. “Thailand is a country that stretches a long way. Look here at the map. Look at the screen. We are now here, in Chiang Mai, in the northern extremity, in the mountainous part of the country.”

“Ah!”

“And Phuket and most of the beaches in Thailand are located in the southern extremity of the country.”

“Ah!”

“From Chiang Mai to Phuket, it’s about 800 miles. The man quickly taps on his mobile, then continues: It’s exactly 748 miles. Check it yourself.”

“Uh… I don’t have my phone with me. I’ll take your word for it. So it’s 800 miles. What does that mean in kilometers?”

He taps a few more times.

“About 1,200 kilometers. I’m sorry, sir. That’s the situation.”

“Ah… 1,200… darn it!”

“Yes, it’s quite unpleasant. I’m sorry. Is this your first time in Thailand?”

“Kind of,” I grumble. “But… uh… well. Congratulations, buddy. You speak English much cleaner than I do.”

“Thank you, sir, European white tourist,” he says, laughing softly. “I learned it at school. You know, we actually have schools around here. I’m serious.”

I feel the need to take a breath. I stare at him intently and take a deep breath.

“Are you feeling okay?” he suddenly asks with a worried face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” I stammer. “I’m fine. What… uh… what school did you go to? What did you study?”

“Journalism. In Bangkok.”

“Ah!”

“Now I’m making a living with taxi driving until I get my master’s degree. I was an intern at a newspaper in the capital. Now I’m a contributor in Chiang Mai, at a local newspaper.”

“Uh… very nice.”

“Yes, it is. But my dream is to become a television reporter. If I had to choose between print and broadcast journalism, the latter is clearly my favorite. It seems like a much more exciting field. Do you agree?”

“Mhm!”

“But let’s get back to your problem. You have quite a journey ahead of you to get to Phuket.”

“Mhm!”

“What do you want to do? Do you want me to take you to the city, to Chiang Mai? While this area doesn’t have beaches, there are plenty of historical sites and cute temples you can visit. From here, you can also take the train or bus to Phuket, or any other means of transportation you prefer.”

“Any other means of transportation?”

“Yes. To get to Phuket.”

“Ah!”

“Or you could…”

“What?”

“You have the simplest solution right in front of you.”

“What solution?”

I don’t see any solution. My head hurts. Supposedly Asians have smaller brains… I’m disgusted with myself.

But the man doesn’t know the inner dilemmas I’m facing. He points to the airport with his finger and smiles.

“It’s simple,” he says with a bright face.

“Plane!” I suddenly shout and slap my forehead. I think I’ll take the plane!

“That’s a very good idea, sir. Congratulations! You’ll reach Phuket directly in maximum two hours.”

I rush out of the taxi and into the airport. Then I remember I forgot something. I go back outside, but the taxi already has a customer and starts moving.

“Hey! Wait a moment!” I shout. “Don’t leave. Let me give you some of these Thai bills.”

“No need, sir!” the driver says, smiling, and waves goodbye. “I wish you an easy journey to the beach. Welcome to Thailand!”

Well, he’s gone! 

What bad luck! The only English speaker in this country just left.

Are there any others?

***

I sit at the table, take a sip from my beer can, and study the map I bought from a trinkets and souvenirs stand carefully.

My journalist taxi driver was right. Phuket is way out there, somewhere in the south.

At this hour, I’ve missed the flight to Phuket. All I can do is wait for the next one. 

I’m scheduled to board in three hours, so I have plenty of time to study the map and think about how and in what way I’ll torture that bartender, if I ever come back home.

What a scoundrel! If he were an honest man, he could have warned me that from Chiang Mai to Phuket, you have enough time to eat a loaf of bread.

I have no one to talk to around here. Thailand is a country of wonderful, smiling, polite people, but they speak a strange and convoluted language. Impossible to learn. 

You can fracture your tongue trying.

But my map is in English, so I’ll learn it by heart until I know it even in my sleep. From now on, if someone wakes me up at night to ask about Phuket, I’ll tell them that any fool knows it’s in the south, very far, somewhere around in the back of beyond… where the devil weaned his children.

So, I’m about to have my second flight of the day. 

Lord, a man has to make many sacrifices to get a bit of beach in December.

I hope it’s worth it!


NEXT

Chapter 10. I arrive in the Promised Land