[Essay] The Golden Mackerel of Thailand that a Mackerel-Hater Devoured. The 'Narita Promise' That Can Never Be Fulfilled

"I wanted to let you eat it."

To think that the casual promise we made at Narita Airport that day would turn into a final testament.

The taste of the memory I savored for the first time in five years was a mixture of nostalgia and the loneliness of knowing I would never see him again.

The taste of Gaprao and the unfulfilled promise

A famous restaurant I revisited for the first time in five years,Gaprao Moo Sap at 'Uthai'.

The moment I brought it to my mouth, this nostalgic taste vividly brought back the memory of a certain person.

A senior, an acquaintance, and a friend of 35 years, more than a dozen years my elder.

No, I would rather call him a "companion" here.

The age gap didn't matter at all; our wavelengths matched in a mysterious way.

He loved to eat, loved sea fishing, and loved to savor dishes made from the fish he caught.

And he loved to travel.

Our tastes were remarkably similar.

Though he was older, he was somehow mischievous and full of charm that drew people in.

For some reason, I only remember the funny memories.

It was when I was walking through the sweltering night markets of Taiwan with this companion who looked exactly likeKen Shimura.

As soon as he found a stage-like spot, he jokingly started doing the"Hen na Ojisan" (Strange Old Man) routine.

We were mistaken for the real thing, which was hugely popular in Taiwan at the time, and surrounded by a crowd of enthusiastic Taiwanese people. We were out of breath, laughing our heads off, and hurriedly jumped into a taxi to escape that night.

Or there was the time he had his passport stolen while traveling in Beijing and called me with an SOS via international phone, completely at a loss.

Now, all of these are cherished memories.

In the days before the internet, on the day his name appeared in the sports newspaper's fishing column as the "top angler," he would happily buy over 10 copies of the paper and hand them out to everyone around him—he was someone you couldn't help but love.

Such a clumsy and lovable companion absolutely adored thisGaprao from Uthai.

The day the mackerel-hater devoured the golden mackerel

There is one more unforgettable taste in my memories with that companion.

Koh Loi inSi Racha, Chonburi Province, in the east, which we once visited together.

It was charcoal-grilled mackerel ordered at a seafood stall.

The mackerel, seared over charcoal, was fatty and shone with a golden hue,

a luster that reminded me of the golden horse mackerel caught in Tokyo Bay.

But my companion said,

"I hate grilled mackerel. I never eat it in Japan."

This happened after we had known each other for over 10 years.

I hadn't noticed at all and just gave a bitter smile.

Indeed, in the Showa era, there were many times when mackerel that wasn't in season was served as salt-grilled, which might have given it a bad reputation.

But unfortunately, there is no way to know now.

"Since we're here, just a little bit,"

he said, and after taking a bite, his eyes widened.

"What is this?"

A remark that sounded just likeThe Drifters.

"I'll take all of this grilled mackerel."

He said he should have it since he had been missing out until now.

I clearly remember ordering another one because of his outrageous demand.

And from then on, for three days, he ate one whole fish every day.

That eventually became a standard part of our schedule in Thailand.

A few years later.

At the end of 2021, when the world was engulfed in the unprecedented situation of the COVID-19 pandemic.

When returning to Japan after a short trip to Thailand, due to strict COVID rules, returnees were not allowed to use public transportation at all.

How should I get home?

When I was worried, it was my companion who came to pick me up at Narita Airport by car.

No amount of gratitude would have been enough.

When I met him at Narita and tried to thank him, he was thoughtful and started asking questions one after another.

I could painfully understand his consideration, as he probably didn't want me to bow deeply and thank him.

When I put on a fake smile, he said,

"You made it back safely. How was the PCR test when returning to Japan?"

"How is the situation in Thailand? How long did the procedures at Narita take? How many people were there?"

He was so intense that I didn't even have time to thank him.

After a while, when things calmed down, I took the opportunity to express my deep gratitude formally.

Then he just laughed and said this:

"Once this settles down, just take me to eat that mackerel in Si Racha again, and we're good."

"However, if I catch COVID from that, you'll have to take full responsibility."

It was a straightforward and infinitely warm kindness.

A stent in the heart. A cheer from a cyborg

It wasn't just food and hobbies that deepened the bond with my companion.

We had one more troublesome thing in common.

We both carried the same bomb called"angina pectoris".

When I developed it, had surgery, and had a stent put in my heart,

my companion grinned and said,

"Now you've joined me as a member of 'Kikaider' (Cyborg Kikaider)."

It was a cheer in the style ofHen na Ojisan, laughing off even a serious illness.

"Cut down on the alcohol. You need to do some aerobic exercise, too."

His advice, which sounded like a parody ofKato Cha's "Take a bath. Brush your teeth. Don't catch a cold" from The Drifters, made even a stubborn old Showa man smile.

Even though he was acting like a senior and looking out for me like that, he just couldn't quit smoking.

At the end of 2023.

When my life between Thailand and Japan was on track, my companion made a happy demand.

"Since you're in Thailand, I'm definitely going next year."

I was incredibly happy to hear those words.

The promise we made at Narita could finally be fulfilled.

I believed without a shadow of a doubt that the day would come when we would laugh and pick at that mackerel in Si Racha together again.

However, the "next year" of our promise never arrived.

Early 2024.

It was a far too sudden obituary.

It seems another illness had been eating away at my companion's body without anyone knowing.

When surgery became necessary, his angina condition wasn't good.

Was the delay in surgery due to this?

Or was his body already at its limit?

I don't know the details.

The only thing I know for sure is the cruel fact that shortly after the surgery, my companion departed for a world where I can never see him again.

I still wanted to cast fishing lines in the sea, travel, and eat delicious food with him.

And above all, our reunion in Thailand, which I believed would fulfill our promise, was cut short.

Faced with the reality of "loss" suddenly thrust upon me, I could only stand there, stunned.

My companion's cheer and the bitter beer I drink alone

While living with angina, I am spending the second half of my life in my 60s under the sky of Bangkok again today.

"Cut down on the alcohol. You need to do some aerobic exercise, too."

Keeping my friend's words in my heart, I have cut back on alcohol, if only a little, and am clocking in my walking steps.

Once again, I feel it keenly.

That once you let go of connections and opportunities, you can never pull them back to you.

From here on out, the goodbyes to the benefactors, seniors, and friends who have taken care of me will surely increase.

I understand with my head that this is an unavoidable reality that comes with age.

But even knowing there is nothing I can do about it, I never thought it would be this hard to accept.

The joy of a miraculous reunion experienced at a famous restaurant after five years.

The cruel loneliness of never being able to meet again, which stands at the opposite pole of that joy.

Does a goodbye without regrets really exist in this world?

Tonight, my companion beer tasted a little bitter.

Things I forgot to say.

"Let's decide on the schedule soon."

Thank you for reading until the end.

I intend to keep living in Thailand, even for my friend.

If this article touched your heart even a little, I feel that supporting me with a 'like' or a follow would also serve as a memorial for my friend.

[Recommended Reading]

This article is a record of the opposite pole to my previous piece, [Miracle] Reunited with a Bangkok famous restaurant that was supposed to have closed. The taste of Gaprao that made me tremble after 5 years.

For more on the chronic illnesses that come with being in your 60s, please read 'Complete Conquest? The Thai dual-base life of a Showa-era 'clunker dad.' Chronic illness, from a nuisance to a 'partner'.'

The story of how I turned my chronic illness into a 'partner' is compiled in the magazine below.
Please take a look if you would like.