Gecko

I’m thinking of a number between one and two, and if you can guess it then you’re either psychic or infinitely lucky. I use the word infinitely quite purposefully here because in reality, numbers do not have any actual existence and there are an infinite number of possible answers to my challenge. You are limited only by your imagination. I could be thinking of 1.4 or 1. (seven million zeros) 3. Numbers can be infinitely large or small and they dictate the world we live in. In the last two days my life has been a long series of numbers... though, the more I think about it, it was probably a numbers game to begin with. Some hundred billion sperm, a figure in my father’s bank account, a record at the national statistics office for births and someday... well, the other thing. Hollow, void, intangible concepts that sadly outgrew my fingers and then my toes... and now? Hell, they seem to have slipped out of my grasp completely.

One thousand Thai Baht convert to two hundred and fifty six thousand Laos Kip, minus a three percent changing commission. A thirty day visa costing thirty five dollars. A twenty percent increase in the cost of food but a twenty five percent dip in the cost of whiskey. One hundred and seventy seven meters to the bar where I like to eat breakfast and fourty three degrees Celcius of pure yellow heat. This is life in numbers. But returning to my original question, can you imagine the infinite choices that lie between numbers, that is limited only by your imagination? I once read an article that convinced me that a twenty thousand dollar bottle of wine is a pretty good deal if the numbers are right; and I’m thinking in some depth about good deals lately, so it’s important to slide between the numbers.

“She say she have to think about what everything in here worth”

Well, that’s a fair question. What the hell is it worth? I haven’t the faintest shadow of a hair of an idea. But I should back up. The above words were said by a face. That face belongs to a man. It’s a dark face, almost as brown as instant coffee but with a slight darkening at the border of the hairline. I could describe this man more conventionally and I will, but first let’s just talk about this face. Why? Because this is my first port of call in the adventure that I call ‘getting to know if someone can be trusted not to rob you blind and stab you in the eyes for fun’. It’s a soft face. Not from a textural point of view of course but you know... soft lines. Young. Perhaps younger than me. It doesn’t look as though it has frowned too much, or laughed; but it’s too young to bear the lines and canals of emotion just yet. The eyes are kind and intelligent, or seedy, I’m not sure. In fact, I have to admit I’m totally stumped. The man I’m talking about is Gecko.

Gecko is showing me a bar. A bar that I want to rent from his family and to run as my own. This is where the numbers come marching in, riding on the lined copybooks of my brain like ghosts from the classroom of life. He’s talking to me about money and what things are worth. We’re both speaking numbers but I’m not sure we’re speaking the same language. What is life worth to Gecko? What is friendship worth to Gecko? What is anything worth? It’s funny; we assume that just because we’re talking in numbers, we’re describing the same things... but we’re not. Gecko is talking about income and I am talking about mountains. He is trying to tell me that this bar is worth money, and I know that if it’s worth anything, it’s worth the padded trail in the grass a hundred meters away that crosses a bridge and leads into paradise. I know it does because I walked there yesterday.

I realise sometimes that travel and work and life are so much about the things we call numbers and which we ASSUME are the subject of global consensus. But how much do we really agree about what numbers mean? Travel with anyone for a day or two and eat and sleep together, and see if you agree on the money value of comfort, of airconditioning, of health and food, of risk and gambles... you’ll soon realise that sometimes three is one and seven is five and the coordinates of numerical reality are lost in translation. Now that’s dealing with a friend or a partner, someone who in all likelihood shares your cultural and personal views on numbers to a high degree; but what about Gecko? What is his culture? What is his personal history? Beats the hell out of me with a stick, but somehow we have to reach consensus. We have to be of one mind, connected by numbers as though by blood if we are ever to reach an understanding. Without this we are lost on a sea of decimal places, each isolated on islands of our own, neither conceding to the other the exact distance between us. I’ve always loved that all-American phrase ‘let’s crunch some numbers’ and in a vague, milky, cereally kind of cornflakes way... I’m starting to understand it.