One for the Road: A few good skins

Misanthrope: A person who dislikes humankind and tries their best to avoid society.

Metta: (In Buddhism) A mental state characterised by unselfish and unconditional kindness, goodwill and compassion towards all beings.

It must be a terrible thing to be someone who can’t stand other people, always searching for a way to remove, insulate and isolate yourself from the world.

To wake up in the morning and feel apart from – or, worse still, a part of – your own loathsome species must be among the most lonely feelings of all.

That being said, the opposite attitude – namely, loving everybody in an undiscriminatingly blissful, boundless, unconditional way – doesn’t sound like a walk in the park either.

On one level, sure, who wouldn’t want access to such a deep, rich reservoir of love. However, while definitely preferable to being an anti-social, people-hating hermit, the Buddhist way – embodying an affection for all beings, loving even the birds and bugs as though they were your brothers -sounds utterly exhausting.

I mean, I’m all for universal love, but I’m already struggling to keep in touch with the handful of friends I have. If I start opening my heart up to every cluster of cells that shows the slightest sign of sentience, I can kiss my half-dozen pals goodbye.

Lucky for me, though, such an eventuality is far from an imminent threat at present, because, like most people, I find myself at neither extreme of this spectrum.

I am neither miserable misanthrope, nor all-embracing Buddhist. However, our faith in our fellow man is forever in flux, always ready to be reaffirmed or undermined by the next person we meet, and I am happy to report that the six weeks I’ve spent in Thailand has, with the exception of a few blips, bolstered my belief in the goodness of people.

So, on that note, allow me to pay tribute to a few characters whose, often in a subtle, ineffable way, have made a positive impression on me during my time in the Land of Smiles.

The coaches at Krabi Muay Thai Club, who, despite bringing me to the point of boking, and not really having much English, were nevertheless welcoming, warm and good craic.

The two big Eastern European guys whose stereotypically stony expressions were transfigured as soon I nodded in their direction as they walked by, prompting them to tell me about places I should visit, what the weather is like in Croatia, and the perils of standing in front of a fan when you’re sweating.

Then there was the Brazillian guy who told us not to go to Laos because that’s where they ‘traffic the women’ and ‘harvest the organs of the men’. His paranoia and prejudice were plain to be seen, but both presented so affably that it was impossible not to like him, all the same.

Then there was Pintula, our first host, who, though never meeting face-to-face, made a strong impression on us with her motherly, almost nonsensical messages, such as: ‘You are the sweetest guest. I am a very affectionate traveller’.

There was Gem and Maria, the Turkish couple in their 50s that we thrashed in pool. There was the wee French diver who decided he’d tag along with us as we walked into the mountains. There was Ake, our extremely irresponsible, knowledgeable and hilarious jungle tour guide.

Even in the short time since I sat down at the table to write this column, which I’m doing out the front of the place we’re staying, a Swedish man called Mattis has approached the table several times, on each occasion interrupting me and started rambling on about politics.

Usually this would be annoying, but his rants are so good-humoured and ideologically inconsistent that I still don’t know if we are on the same page, and, to be honest, I don’t really care.

Anyway, the point is that my time in Thailand has only given me greater reason to like, trust and enjoy people, which seems, almost by definition, to be a good thing.

Later today we fly to Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, in south Vietnam. Perhaps by the time we get to Hanoi (in about a month) I’ll have a heart as big as a Buddhist’s.