And what about those foreigners?

My home turf

I am always on about the locals but a definite part of the local scene is us western guys and I assure you we have our own level of bizarreness as well.  We are just different. 

My western neighbours are all good guys but, as I think of them, their stories in my Bangkok are right before me and I shudder at times.  Yes, they are all male and all older. 

There is the Irish guy who says he should never drink again or he will die but he keeps going out on binge drinking escapades which always cause him some level of discomfort.  His latest escapade saw him wake up the next morning with his phone and a front tooth missing.  He remembered nothing but first thought that he had been bashed while out to it.  On investigation, he worked out that he had simply lost his phone and had fallen in the bathroom.  A better tale of woe, I thought.

There is the American guy, whom I name as the gentle giant.  He saw action in Iraq and ends up in Bangkok non-stop for ten years.  In that time, he has never returned home, not even to see his new grandchildren.  What is he doing here that is so important?   One thing he is doing is literally drinking himself to death.  It is so sad watching such a nice guy destroying his life.

There is an American who had lived here 12 years.  On retirement and due to a health condition, he returned home to live.  Well, he is back here at the moment for a holiday.  His condition has deteriorated so seriously that he is unable to look after himself properly.  Yet he stills comes here when he is in need of constant care.  Why?  As I piece his story together, I see a man who has been bright and gifted, living all his life working all around the world.  In doing so, he never established roots or a home, he never formed a relationship with a significant other.  So it would seem he belongs nowhere and to no one.  His only home remains on the other side of the Pacific, Bangkok, where he has the ones he calls his only true friends, all older western guys.  So here he comes but so sad to see a man falling apart, unable to care for himself, just landing in Bangkok which is seemingly the only home he ever had but now the reality is that this is no longer his home. 

What happens to these men?  Maybe the key word is "reality".  Bangkok is a place where these guys can live their life in a fantasy.  What we, western guys of Bangkok, have in common is we all have a story.  I would define that as being at the core of our humanity.  What is a key differentiator among the western, male population here is fantasy versus reality.  It is about how we live our story - in a destructive fantasy or in a challenging reality?  We choose.