Nobody Wants To Know Him

LVII - All You Need Is Love

Sunday 28th July 1974
Kanchanaburi, Thailand
4.42pm

The day after our wedding, we caught a long fourteen hour flight at arse o'clock in the morning from Manchester Airport to Bangkok, Thailand, then hailed a yellow and green taxi to Kanchanaburi, which was then succeeded by a bumpy Datsun* pick-up truck journey into the jungle. John, with help from Paul (who was an expert at planning holidays, and working with travel agents, and knowing exactly where to look for nice places to stay) had managed to rent a place to stay for the week. It was a small, remote house, twenty minutes from the nearest village, situated in the middle of the rainforest, away from any prying eyes.

The owner of the house was an elderly Thai man named Phichit, John had told me. He had lived in America for around thirty years after marrying his wife whom he had met over there whilst studying, but only ten of those years were spent with her before they divorced, but he remained in the states. Then, when he retired from his successful job as an accountant, he had decided he wanted a peaceful, quiet life, so moved back to Thailand into the middle of nowhere with nobody but himself.

When our (John's? Paul's?) travel agent approached him about renting out the place for a week, he was at first skeptical, but then came around once a large amount of money was offered. Once we arrived at the small house, Phichit was there to greet us. He gave us a small tour around the place, showing us each and every room after we left our suitcases and John's guitar by the front door.

Downstairs, there was a small lavvy with just a toilet, a kitchen (which didn't look as though it was very well used, being very clean and polished), and a large, open sitting room which was furnished with homely patterned mats, comfortable cushions, a single sofa, and a table. There was also a wooden veranda where there were a couple of deck chairs accompanied by a small table. I could already picture us spending evenings there, listening to the symphony of nature. It was all very cosy and welcoming. As for the upstairs, there was just the one bedroom - which was, mind you, very nice - and the adjacent bathroom, this one with a toilet, shower, as well as a large bucket full of water.

We both followed Phichit to the outside. There was an open garage-like place - an open area with a corrugated metal sheet overhead attached to the side of the house. We could see an old jeep parked there, as well as a beige Vespa, both of which Phichit assured us worked perfectly fine. There were, along with the vehicles outside, two handwoven hammocks, and an array of cooking equipment. It seemed as though most of his cooking was done outside. There was also a garden, although it was hard to tell where the garden ended and the jungle began.

The surrounding area outside was thick with vegetation, only a slightly overgrown path winding down away from the drive showed any sign towards the nearest village. It's like there was a constant buzz around the house, a low droning of rainforest sounds. It was relaxing.

And hot.

It was so hot. As soon as we stepped out of the cool air-conditioned airport in Bangkok, it hit me immediately, along with the smell of the 'different' air - the way entire scent of the air changes when you step foot in a new country. It was so hot and humid since it was currently the rainy season (could've been better consideration on our part, but that's besides the point), and it was like it clung to you like a vine unrelentlessly wrapped around a century old tree. It was a good thing that Phichit's little rustic house had an air-conditioner installed.

Phichit had so kindly stocked the fridge inside with two bottles of wine, a pack of Chang beers, and a small amount of food ingredients to get us through about two days at most, along with two large bags of rice. We'd have to make at least a couple trips into the village, but neither of us really minded that.

"I hope you two enjoy your time in Kanchanaburi," he said with a strong accent, the wrinkles on his face evident as he smiled brightly at us. He was heading to the capital city for a couple weeks to visit one of his grandchildren whilst we were staying in his house, and he had told us how excited he was. Phichit was quite adorable, really. He was so open, and so easy to talk to, and he had this unwavering kindness and generosity which radiatied from him.