"It's been a very bad year," the old man told me, in a conversation that was mostly mimed. He pointed to the pair of Havaianas some other farang gave him which were now tied by a string. He pointed to his old, worn shirt and then to his trousers. "Look, look at the state of my clothes. They are not good like yours. Your shoes, your shirt-" then he pointed at my trousers and stopped there, scratching his head.

He was a little bit more impressed when I snatched a cricket out of the air for him.