Real Eyes Realise Real Lies

Real Eyes Realise Real Lies.

The ocean was beautiful. Barracuda dart across the golden sands
carefree, their only worry being me, the masked invader that stalks
them across the seabed. Sea cucumbers lie sleeping, blissfully unaware
of the activity around them. The time between each breath lengthens as
I long to stay in this underwater paradise.
I feel comfortable here, out of my environment. My senses are numbed.
The light is soft as it shimmers through the waves. The indecipherable
noise is exactly what I need to hear. My body feels safe with the water
supporting every square inch of my skin. I could stay here forever, but
I can't.

The island is buzzing with energy today as tonight is the full-moon
party.
Travellers from across the globe make a frenzied descent on
Ko-Pha-Ngan's Haad-Rin beach for 24 hours of free-spirited, chemically
enlightening, multi-racial love. This can of course be translated to
reckless, mind-destroying, international promiscuity.
There was a time when the full moon was everything I could ask for,
but the sight of the ignorant travellers (like I was) falling 'hook
line and sinker' for the Thai charm (like I did) is too much to
bear.
So I leave today. Back to Bangkok before home to England. First stop
Bangkok's Ko-Sang road, travellers' capital of the world. Streets lined
with Calvin-Klein T-shirts, Fireworks, prostitutes, Watches, Knives,
lady-boys, Oakley-Rucksacks, Sunglasses, Punters. Punters, don't get me
started on the punters.
There's something about this city that engulfs you. The energy that
resonates through this city, resonates through you. The neon lights
that illuminate every street make you feel electric. The moment you
arrive your heart starts to race and it will not stop until you leave.
There's nothing more dangerous than a natural high. Drugs are easy,
whatever the crime the drug is the criminal. When there's no drug the
mistakes are your own.
This is a city full of mistakes. Accidents of birth are the girls,
born to leave their families and homes to make their way to Bangkok to
sell their bodies just to keep their families in food. Tragedies of
birth are the westerners, fast approaching their pensions, hanging on
to their youth by hanging hookers on their arms.
Whatever you think about prostitution, the most disgusting thing about
this ancient business has to be the clientele. These humans are just
pieces of meat to them, Gaal was a person to me. All these ageing studs
are after is one thing, I could offer Gaal so much more. The money they
shed out is purely for self-gratification, I wanted to help her. You
only have to see these old white men ands their young Thai women
together and you know it is simply business. They have nothing to say
to each other, not a single thing in common, they simply serve a
purpose to each other, nothing more, nothing less. Nobody made me laugh
like Gaal, I met her my first night in Bangkok.
Transporting yourself from a place like Watford to a place like
Pat-Pong is a shock to the system. My senses were on overload. I was on
a natural high. The sights, sounds and smells were too much to take in,
but I wanted more and more. The heat and intensity of the city drained
my energy, but I had to move faster and faster until the sights, sounds
and smells washed through me and the city was a part of me.
I took refuge in O'Reillys Irish Bar. Quick pint, quick change of
culture before I explored again. But I didn't move on, there was
nothing else to see. The single most beautiful, inspirational, vibrant
thing in Thailand came to me, her name was Gaal. She simply came over
and introduced herself.
I found it hard to talk to her at first because it took me all my time
to stop myself falling deeper and deeper into her eyes. The smoothest
deep brown eyes, like my Grandmothers mahogany dining table. Across
those eyes darted her long eyelashes. They seemed to glide across
effortlessly, each time polishing the mahogany to an even more perfect
shine, even shinier than my Grandmothers mahogany dining table.
Sometimes her hair would fall across her eyes and she would quickly
raise a delicate hand and brush the fine black strands behind a
porcelain ear.

She fascinated me. I felt like I had discovered a new species. Never
before had I been so encapsulated by the appearance of a fellow human
being.

The entertainment in O'Reilly's that night was 'Johnny', a human
jukebox with the motto 'hearing is believing'. I explained what this
meant to Gaal, she thought it was hysterical. Her laughter made me
laugh which made her laugh more. She rolled around in her seat and
placed two fingers between her nose and mouth as if to contain her
giggles. I told her my favourite song, Bob Dylan's Tambourine Man and
she requested it to Johnny. We slowly danced to the tinny sounds of his
second-rate keyboard. I felt comfortable in her arms and I think she
felt safe in mine, I could protect her.
No-one mentioned sex, it just sort of happened, naturally. We strolled
back to my hostel, took in the sights, smells and sounds. Hand in hand
we walked, slowly, talking. A world apart from the punters, rushing
their hookers to their seedy hotel rooms.
The sex was good, very good, but that wasn't important. We talked and
talked throughout the night. Her English was basic, but that was the
beauty of it. When I spoke to her my mind floated free. Everything was
so simple, like being a child. We talked about each other's families,
our likes and dislikes. There was no capacity to talk about the
futility of existence, nuclear weapons or global warming. Our
conversations took the complication out of life. It was perfect.
She had to go to work in the morning so I gave her 2000 baht to help
her on her way. She gave me the most delicate kiss on the forehead and
left me to sleep, but I didn't sleep. I lay there for hours reliving
the last 12 hours in my head over and over again and every time I did
the smile on my face broadened. Without question I had just experienced
the most amazing night of my life.

We were meant to meet at O'Reilly's again that night. I sat in the
same seat from 7pm until 2am, she didn't come. Suddenly Johnny who had
been so entertaining the night before sounded like fingernails on a
blackboard. The Singha beer, which had slipped down so easily the night
before, began tasting more like acid with each passing second. There
must have been a reason. She had mentioned her sister was in Hospital
so I convinced myself that must be the problem and went home to bed.
Again I didn't sleep, but not because I was in the arms of the most
amazing woman or because I was thinking about being in the arms of the
most amazing women. I didn't sleep because I imagined never being in
those arms again. I'd given her my e-mail address so I felt sure she
would contact soon.
I can't even remember how long I sat in front of the computer, it must
have been for days. Every 'bing' made my eyes light up like a startled
rabbit's, only to read a message offering me fake University Diplomas
or Viagra. She didn't contact.
Still assuring myself she was still thinking about me I decided to
make my way to Ko-Pha-Ngan to see the sights and possibly take my mind
off her. I left some money in a safety deposit box in Siam Bank, enough
for her to come to Pha-Ngan and meet me.
24 hours later my ferry was approaching Tongsala port on Pha-Ngan.
This is one of the beautiful islands on earth, but I wasn't even
looking, I wasn't even interested. I just wanted to get off the ferry
as soon as possible and head to the first Internet caf?.

Still no word.

I headed to the beach to watch the sunset. This was the comedown. The
Bangkok high was wearing off, everything started to take a new
perspective. I wasn't going to hear from her. I suddenly felt drained,
like someone had drilled holes in the centres of my heart and brain and
every bit of happiness was draining away. I could feel it pouring out
of me, across the sand and into the sea to dilute into insignificance.
The gut-wrenching emptiness made me feel paralysed, I felt sick,
everything made me feel sick. Every grain of sand disgusted me, the
beautiful sunset made me want to burst into tears. I had to grit my
teeth to the sound of couples laughing nearby. The music playing in
Apache Bar brought a lump to my throat the size of a hand grenade,
ready to explode. I was broken, trashed.
I lay in the same space for 12 hours, the mosquitoes feasted on me, I
didn't care. The salt water washed into my mouth and choked me, I
didn't care, my senses were dead, I felt nothing.
So many questions raced through my mind. Was I just another punter to
her? Were the feelings that evening unique to me or the same for all
her punters? Was anything she told me that evening true? Does she even
have a sister? Is her name even really Gaal? Do I love her or hate
her?
Then it dawned on me, I wasn't the victim, she was. She had met someone
special in me, someone who would care for her and look after her. She
wouldn't let herself trust me though, the business had made her that
way. Every punter she'd ever had only wanted her for one thing, then
she met me and didn't know how to react. I knew she felt the same way
about me, that night was so special, bespoke.
I could picture her, staring at that scrap of paper with my e-mail
address on, tears flowing around those mahogany eyes. I knew she'd be
thinking of me, wandering what might have been. I had to move on, I'd
never forget her and I knew one day that e-mail would arrive. Written
in basic English it would describe her feelings for me which would
mirror my feelings for her. It was just a matter of time.

The ocean was beautiful that day, with a sense of certainty and comfort
I decided to go snorkelling.