"Look at the islands," Susan exclaimed. "Little clumps of green in the infinity of the water. It would make an excellent setting for a story."
"The ocean is finite," David didn’t even look up from his breakfast tray. "The editor would scrap your story."
"But it seems endless. Look at it."
"Your breakfast is getting cold. Eat. It's probably the last decent meal we'll have this month. I won't buy you a snack later just because you prefer to watch the scenery now."
"David.... This trip was meant to make things better."
"Here we go again. I suppose you will be mentioning divorce presently?"
"David, please. We’re fighting again."
"You are fighting. I’m eating," there was no emotion in David's face.
"Is it the money? Look, we've paid for the tickets already. We may as well enjoy the holiday."
"It's not the money."
"Then, what’s wrong?" Susan leaned closer. She thought it might help to touch David's hand. But she didn't want to. Not now.
"Nothing is wrong," was it her imagination or did David move away? "Let's not talk about it. Whenever we discuss it, the situation gets worse."
Susan's eyelids moved rapidly, up and down, up and down. An insensitive husband. Not enough money to repair the fridge, let alone go on this vacation. Not enough time to follow a dream. How did it happen, she reflected chewing her first Oriental meal, we used to be happy. And then we got married.
She looked through the window again. An orange ribbon of a river, a dark jungle. So different from the tedious house work, the lacklustre job, the overdrawn bank account. David was still here, of course, but she could ignore David. She would not let him spoil Thailand.
***
The train from the airport into the city centre did not have air-conditioning. The heat clung to Susan's skin like a wet T-shirt. For almost an hour, the metal snake meandered between lush palm trees and dirty canals, between shabby huts and colourful multi-roofed temples. Susan watched in awe. Even Hualamphong, the dingy city station, was exotic. Its hall was teaming with Milo-skinned people. Orange robes and shaved heads of holy men drew the eye. Everybody was moving gently about their affairs. A little girl looked up at Susan and smiled. The land of a thousand smiles. Susan smiled back, trying to remember the last time she had smiled at a stranger. She drew the air in through her nostrils. Hot and sweet.
"Not an information kiosk in sight," David's irate voice startled her. It carried, she was certain, throughout the noiseless hall. "And nobody here understands English. How on Earth are we going to find accommodation? I'm not paying for a taxi. We don't have that kind of money."
"We'll walk and look for a hotel," Susan tried to keep her voice low.
David snorted.
"And how are you planning to read the hotel sign?"
He was right. The Thai alphabet, she'd already noticed, was alien, squiggly like a worm.
"David," Susan felt the usual exasperation. "Don't create obstacles. You always make things more difficult than they are. Hotels must cater for tourists' illiteracy. We'll find them."
***
The traffic was chaotic, making Susan's head ache. But the fairy tale continued. The shops displayed live ducks in wicker baskets, spotted eggs and mounds of psychedelic spices. Others, the more expensive-looking ones, presented rolls of silk arranged from white to black, via ivory, lemon, canary.... One look at David's face, however, told Susan to walk on.
There was a sign on a dirty piece of cardboard. "Beds.” Susan climbed the steep staircase, dodging David's rucksack and curving her back to distribute the weight of her own more evenly.
"Hello," Susan smiled at the sienna woman sitting on the top step. There was no reception desk, just the grey gut of a corridor.
"How much?" asked David.
"One hundred fifty Baht," sing-sang the woman, her accent both harsh and melodious.
"Fifteen Rand," murmured Susan, following the girl. "Great."
The room was dark. Dirty linen strewn about a thin mattress adorned the floor. A large fan, plastered with dead insects, rotated slowly, menacingly.
"There is no shower," remarked David.
"There is a hose pipe in the corner," pointed Susan. "You did want cheap accommodation, didn't you?"
David made an about turn and disappeared towards the exit. Susan was mortified.
"The Thais are a polite nation," she scoffed downstairs. "Please try to fit in."
"My rucksack is growing heavier by the minute," David's face twisted. "Stop nagging and let’s find somewhere to put it down."
"There is a hotel across the road," suggested Susan. "I bet it's clean and expensive."
David shrugged and stepped into the road. Susan tightened her lips and followed him.
The reception hall was marble.
"Eight hundred Baht for a double room," said a man in a white uniform.
"With a bathroom?" enquired David. "Good. We'll take it."
It was their first day abroad, thought Susan, and they were over the budget already.
***
The Grand Palace of Bangkok was grand indeed. Visitors were not permitted to wear shorts.
"I’ve told you to put on long pants," Susan couldn’t conceal her annoyance.
"Stop fussing. There is a trouser-hiring kiosk, see?"
"Another twenty Baht," slipped out before Susan could bite her tongue. David’s face was expressionless.
The main tourist attraction was the Emerald Buddha. Tucked away in a side chapel of the palace complex, it looked smaller than Susan had anticipated. But the crowd around it was enormous. Susan marvelled at the worshippers: semi-kneeling, semi-lying, feet always pointing away from the Buddha. Smiling, always smiling. Courtesy, serenity, respect. I bet their marriages are happy, thought Susan suddenly.
***
Bangkok Chinatown’s main street was lit up. But even there, the poverty showed. Garbage on the cobbles, shabby clothes, work continuing well after sunset. Susan and David turned into a dark alley. Susan extended her arms sideways, her open palms touched the walls. Ahead, three boys were working pieces of wood on top of a wobbly table. On a piece of cardboard underneath, slept two brown toddlers. Susan shuddered. A rat, white with splashes of brown on its fur, shuffled across the alley. One of the boys stomped with his foot. Firmly, not aggressively.
Susan touched David's arm. For the first time in what seemed like months.
"We are privileged," she whispered.
***
The sky was black. Like tar. The air was hot and sticky. If one stared hard enough at a star, it would shimmer and rotate in a fascinating Thai dance. The world was at peace.
"You know, during this last year, I think I stayed married to you only because I believe marriage to be an important commitment," David’s voice jolted Susan back to reality.
"What?" she felt a thorn somewhere inside her. "Not because you love me? I know we have not exactly been happy together lately, but ..." She faltered and clutched her knees to her chest. God, she thought. No.
Silence fell.
"What do you mean by the word love?" David asked suddenly.
"I don't know."
David spoke as if to himself. "I suppose no-one does. Yet I feel it when I look at her. When I want, with all my heart, to make her happy. And - when I want her to love me." David paused. "Does she love me?"
“She used to,” replied Susan through a clenched throat.
>***
They chose to overnight in a bamboo hut. It was small but clean, the fan was working, the windows were insect-proof. The bathroom floor was of levelled mud and only cold water was available, but the toilet resembled a chair rather than a hole in the ground. And it had real plumbing.
"Imagine," marvelled David, "no flushing with the bucket tonight. No crouching. And we even have a shower!"
"Me first, me first!" Susan joined her palms in a mock pleading gesture. "I'm all sticky from the heat!"
David's arms were around her.
"All right. Anything you want, you got it."
Clean at last, Susan sprinkled some washing powder into the basin. No plug, of course. She hummed to herself as she stuffed a sock into the drain. One travels and learns. She opened the tap and started to rub David's shirt.
"Good practice," she called out, "for when the washing machine joins the fridge in Appliance Heaven!"
"Need any help?" David materialised in the doorway.
"I need somebody to rinse and wring."
"Hmm, there is this elephant about half a kilometre from here," mused David, nevertheless reaching for the soapy shirt. "Right where the jungle starts. He's got the equipment to do it more thoroughly."
"An elephant? Really?" Susan whirred like a top. "I want a ride!"
Riding on an elephant proved bumpy and less than comfortable. Afterwards, in the shadow of a palm tree, they ate their leaf-wrapped curry. A gentle breeze drifted from the river.
"What do you wish for?" asked Susan.
"An eternal holiday," said David, his eyes dreamy. "And heaps of money."
"If you had heaps of money, would you give me some?"
David grinned, "There is a tale about two brothers. 'I wish I had a million watermelons,' said one. 'If you did, would you give me some?' asked the other. 'No,' replied the first. His brother was angry. 'Why not?" he shouted. 'Well,' he heard, 'that's because you're too lazy to wish for your own watermelons.'"
"All right," laughed Susan. "Have it your own way. I can dream my own dreams."
David's fingers met hers.
"What are your dreams?"
Susan answered with her eyes.
"And apart from that?" David laughed.
Susan thought back to her job. Racing from a meeting to a conference, from a seminar to her computer. We spend so much time chasing the clock, she thought, that we forget to consult the compass.
She sighed, "I want to be a writer. Desperately. Passionately."
"You mustn’t talk about it then. You must do it. The dream will not flesh out if it's merely imagined."
"But - the money. Food is getting more expensive every day. And -"
"Goethe once said that when one decides to follow one's dream, everything has a way of working itself out." David reached out and kissed Susan's cheek. "Think about it. And remember that I love you. That I want you to be happy."
***
The airport again, three weeks later. Only three weeks. And a lifetime.
"Air conditioning!" exclaimed Susan, moving closer to the stream of cold air. She was dressed in a paisley blouse and silk pants, her rucksack home to several other such garments. They couldn’t afford them, but after all, things have a way of working out...
"Susan, have you given any thought to what we talked about? Your career change?"
"Julian Barnes says it’s easy not to be a writer," she remarked lightly. "Most people aren't, and very little harm comes to them."
"But your dreams -"
"Sometimes dreams are better when you dream them."
David frowned.
"Honey," Susan said. "It’s wonderful of you to give me the opportunity to realise my aspirations. But I've been thinking. And I've decided that if one wants to change one's life, one shouldn't change what's around, but what's inside."
"What do you mean?"
"I guess it's like toothache. It won't subside if you go to the seaside. Or - become a writer."
"So what are you saying?"
"That I love you. Oh, I know our love won't repair the fridge. It won't make the money stretch. But it will make it all bearable. Worthwhile."
"So nothing’s changed," David grinned.
"Everything has changed,” Susan corrected softly. “She knows she loves you now.”
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