Saturday, January 30, 2010

Lord Buddha on my door

Thailand, Pattaya,

A mere twenty Bhat motorbike taxi ride to the bus terminal, disappearing again from my eyes, maybe but not from my shattered heart, a seperation of two Phi, two souls that connected a long time ago...seeing her on the back of that d*rned motorbike late at night going down the Soi that even well after midnight is still vibrating with life, turning her beautiful roound face a last time and scraeming for all to hear "ME LOVE YOU BIG TIME ALWAYS, MY BIG TILAK", then she is gone leaving me feeling a bit like a bundle of exposed nerve ends, a dreadful mess of destroyed mental neurons, memories smoldering in my brains aplenty...

I decide to leave the boulevard alone, going up to my room for a well deserved night of hopefully deep sleep, leaving the motorbike cabbies in front of my hotel alone who pretend to be otherwise preoccupied, maybe a game of Thai checkers to avoid noticing my distress, saving me face BIG TIME, but there is no wilful denial here, my heart is lonely once more and the half liter bottle of Honky-Tonky whisky she left me - Hong Mhong it is really called - will do nothing to knock me out, I know that for a fact...

Instead I tape a page from the Bangkok Post to the wall and using the small tapes of fluorescent acrylics paint I bought the other day at the market, my small water color pensils and my crayons, I paint a huge Lord Buddha face, painfully working on each individual brush stroke, giving each line with my crayons careful attention. I am in the "zone" now and taking great advantage of it, taking small swiggs from the Honky-Tonky whisky, working, painting, working, painting, pushing the memories to the deeper recesses of my Farang mind...

When finally I am done and my Honky-Tonky cr*p down to my belly, the unrest is once more upon me and being 04.00 o'clock in the morning, there is still no sleep so I tape my Lord Buddha image to the outside of my door, deciding on a few Chang beer out in the Soi, watching the last Ladies of the Night returning to their collective rooms down at Soi Bhukaouw, asking me in passing " you like shorttime sir?", the last punters drunk from the numerous Go-Go bars with a petite vixen bar lady dragging them home...

Going up the stairs to my room I find my Lord Buddha image gone from my door...someone must have really liked it to steal it like that in the dead of night...can't possibly have been a Thai!!!

Pom Tong Kan Pop Khun


I'm quitely sipping my instant coffee from the 7/Eleven which can be found at any given street corner in this Asian nation - proudly supporting Thailand, or so they claim - while watching two arabs in long white Djelebbas and sporting the inevitable Muslim beards, trying hard to bring the price down for a double shorttime with two Hot Mommas when my mobile goes Beeb, Beeb, Beeb informing me of in incoming text message...

"Pom Tong Kan Pop Khun" it says, for a moment I'm mystified - I might give out my room number to any given lady I meet on this boulevard but my mobile that is a completely different matter. Than I hear her voice "me like see you now", that voice that has followed me during most of my adult life, during my trails and jubilations, during my long and solitay bicycle trips across Europe, Mexico and The States wildcamping in dark forests and empty Spanish Casitas...almost like a telepathic universe of some kind...

"Aaay, me make joke you", YES,there she is standing right in front of me, a small daypack strapped to her back, her body having gone a bit plump over the years, her round face a dead give away to her mother's Karen inheritance , unlike the Thais whose face is more heart shaped, ignoring the perplexing looks of contempt from the arabs on a cheap shorttime queste, we Wai each other politely before given over to the European hugging...

My poor old Nong, wh*re-tough to her very core with the physical constition of a wild bull elefant in Must, the caramel color of her skin still healthy looking, beaming big bright smiles at me showing me her white and undamaged teeth, a toughness radiating out of her paralelled only by her female coyness, having excused herself from her Norwegian Sugar Daddy back at the Sangri-La Hotel in Bangkok, having come all the way from the Thai capital just to see crazy me...

Taking her daypack from her I offer to take her back to my room so she can freshen up, both of us totally ignoring the two arabs whose looks by now have turned way beyond disapproval - what is their problem anyway?

She tells me about her time in Bangkok tending to the needs of her Norwegian Sugar Daddy, we talk about the plight of the Karen people who are once more fleeing across the Thai border en masse persecuted by that insane Burmese Junta that has no right of excistence but nonetheless has been driving the hilltribe people away from their traditional homegrounds for nearly fifty years now, left there own people to rot after the Irrawaddy Delta was flooded some short years ago, the stupid generals didn't even let the americaqns in to help though their ships where anchored off shore filled to overflow with supplies...for a moment a detect a few tears in her left eye where mine have already gone down my cheeks like rivulets in a flood of blood...

She dries them with her handkerchief telling me "you still think too much, my big Tilak"...when she finally leaves me after a day of reminiscing, I realise we have never actually left my room ordering food and Singha beers up, talking all day in a strange mix of Thai and Englsih with the odd word of Kareni thrown in...and that the never ending knocking on my door as been respectfully absent...

Friday, January 29, 2010


Thailand, Pattaya,

I seriously wonder what this elderly Dutch couple is REALLY doing here in Pattaya, where the female part of the couple has been fuming about this wicked s*x trade that apperently there own son has been traumatised by, falling in love with a Thai lady on his first visit, taking her home and arranging the paper for her, five years into the marriage and one Leuk Kreug baby girl later his Tikal told hime she wanted a devorce and her part of the 250.000 Euro house, a lawyer on the phone bringing the net worth up even further...

She is fuming, big speckles of white saliva flying through the air while whyle she badmouthes the whole Thai nation. This place is like a tidal wave of sin, a heathen place totally given over to s*x and depravity, the darkness around us given over to the stinking smell of police corruption and Hot Momma greed...

She has no compassion whatsoever for the begging mothers on Second Road carrying liquorice-eyed babies in their arms hoping to make the begging get better, they might as well sell these too to these d*mned for all time s*x starved Farangs...

Then her husband whispers in a quick remark " not like we don't take a girl back to our hotel every so often", a quick female elbow finds its way to a male partner's rib - a clear message to stay out of the conversation...

On and on she goes about the forces of darkness, the Sodom and Gomorra of the biblican times, how God Allmighty will have his Holy Revenge sipping every so often from her cup of coffee nervously and excitedly, taken on a dark path that leads her further and further down a negative highway of pure hatred by her own tirade against the Thai nation....

I wonder if I should tell her that the hatred in her heart will eventually devour her soul, a deeper wickedness that is hidden in the deeper recesses of her Farang mind, a trail of thoughts that will lower the lodgings of her Phi - her spirit you know.

When finally they leave and I have my first Leo of the evening which is bubbling on my tongue deliciously, I wonder if this woman is maybe in need of a severe re-education...enjoying the orange ambience of a setting sun, the upcoming evening that seemed so dark only mere moments ago in the presence of this evil mouthed woman...

Walking down the boulevard already totally oblivious to her obnoxious and negative Bla-Bla-Bla, I see them in the back of a Songtheaw a petite and lithe female dark-skinned body squeezed tightly between them, her husbands sausage-like fingers already down the back waist of her short pants in excited anticipation...his wife the Fat Bad Mouth whispering words - of lust? - in her ear from the other side - then as though she felt my glance she turns around and our eyes lock but for a moment before she quickly turns back to her Victim of the Night...a small moment in time during which our souls collided and she understood that I know what I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW...

They all think it is a joke!!!

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Death of a Hot Momma

Thailand, Pattaya,

I'm in an uneasy dream world where Lord Buddha's big compassionate eyes look down on my sleeping frame, neither sympathetic nor hostile but always involved, protecting me through the sheer magic of my Buddha pendant, a gift so lonf ago from Nong. His very presence might keep the gaudy carnival of life out in the Soi outside, but not the sad images of Miss Ohn who according to her friend Ahn died only four days ago...

Just missed her sorry demise by a day and I'm seriously wondering wether or not that is a blessing or a curse.....?

Halucinary vapours, clammy and sickening run through my Farang drug crazed mind...remembering how she used to come to my room often at 03.00 h./05.00 o'clock in the morning her freaked out mind high on too much Meakhong whisky and unable to sleep due to heavy and copious amount of Yaa-Baa playing havoc on her tortured mind, tossing around on her side of the bed wanting condom-free s*x - that Yaa-Baa sh*t gets them h***y too much, often the only way these poor creatures of the night can stand these sweaty big bellied elderly and drunk Farangs b*nging away at their lithe Asian bodies...

I clearly remember her big elefant tattoe on her right arm, a Noordu against bad luck, a heathen fetish maybe to a member of the Roman Church or a devout Muslim but to her a vain hope of salvation, good fortune that will go beyond the gates of hell - a bit like the Thai equivalent of a lucky rabbit's food... I presume that her Noordu eventually gave up leaving her with stomach cancer with seeds going al the way down to her legs...

According to her friend Ahn she died in much agony and suffered for months before the inevitable end came upon her, the arms of the mercifull Lord Buddha taking her Phi - her soul you know - and hopefully transporting her to a better place, be it Buddhist Nirvana or some sort of Devine Paradise, a Holy Place where a special place for the Hot Momma Clan of Isan females has been kept for her...or so I can only hope.

Didn't I see her on the boulevard the day I arrived, the elefant tattoe a dead give-away...must have been her spirit showing herself to me as a last farewell, a sort of Khap Khun very much for helping her out countless times...not something hard to believe in this mystic nation that breathes spirituality from its very pores...

I'm still suffering in the realm of Lord morpheus when Knock-Knock-Knock it goes on my door, opening it to a stunningly beautifull Hot Momma dressed in extremely short red colored shorts apolgising for mistakenly banging away on my door and asking "you like shorttime, maybe", I send her away just to find Miss Apple in the same spot mere minutes later with whom I have been drinking cans of Leo beer on the boulevard for these last few days asking me for a place to crash "my friend have Farang man in room, me not like sleep on beach", yeah, well, why not I presume.

SO VERY SORRY MISS OHN, see you again in the next life around or else in the afterworld, sleep well my poor dear friend, will never forget you and all that!!!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

New arrivals to Pattaya.

Thailand, Pattaya,

I wonder what it must feel like to be a first timer to this s*x heavy city having come off the airport bus or by private taxi seeing this kaleidoscope of human activity, looking for an escape to the damp heat that will overwhelm you the moment you leave the air-conditioned capsule of your private taxi, your T-shirt getting soaked around your big Tumpui, heavy patches of perperation soaking the fabric under your armpits...

Feeling a bit like swimming around inside a tropical aqarium that is in a desperate need of a change, small Akha hilltribe women in tribal headdress trying to grab your Farang arm still pinkinsh and untouched by the oppressive heat, peddling bangles and trashy beads, smelly Burmese sigars.

Doped up Tuk Tuk drivers trying to pick your attention with offers of young boys and even youger women, maybe a fake rolex on the boulevard, a masage from a lady of the night too old these days to offer them her worn-out body, young vixen girls from the Northern provinces calling to them from the numerous girly bars.

I see them every day parading up and down the boulevard, hair plastered to their foreheads while marching up and down, overwelmed by the open and s*x laden air, an easy victim for an experienced Hot Momma or maybe a rip-off artist, sweaty like they have just had a dip in their hotel's swimming pool...yeah it is all being pushed up their Farang nostril cavities like the strong spicy smell of the Thai wok used by the food vendors.

I still sleep alone in my New Star room, the sleep of the innocent though Miss-Me-Feel-Off-Motorbike-While-Mau would love to have back "her" place on the matrass as she told me the other night - now, that might have been okay with me last year when she had her arm in an impressive plastercast after her motorbike accident and therfore unable to secure herself a Farang boyfriend but me, Mister Big Samaritan, prefer to stay alone, alone with my sketchbook and my treasured memories of the past...

Not that that might last very long, not with Nong coming over anytime soon as she informed me gaily when I had her on the phone a few days ago.

And then there is this charming lady in her late thrities who always looks for my company and maybe a free Leo at night on the boulevard while trying to fix her ladyfriends with Farang customers using near pefect english and even a few words of Deutsch, a clear sign to me she is not exactly new to the Game.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

An Austrian sex tourist in the making

Thailand, Pattaya,

His face is pinkish and bloated by too much alcohol consumption, King Chang doing a serious number on him, and while the blue veins on his sweaty brow twitch in anticipation he tells me I am a miser on information wanting to know all about the Pattaya Hot momma scene....

His name is Joachim though no Thai in the whole wide world can pronounce that so he has reverted to Joe and has been in Bangkok for a year trying "hard" to learn Thai - one word a day - and trying equally "hard" to work up the nerve to get to Pattaya having heard all about the bar scene, the bordellos aplenty in Walking Street and the GoGo dancers...Por el amor de Jesus, how hard can it be to hop on a bus and do the aproximately two hours by comfortable air-co minibus to this Farang Male Kingdom in southeast Asia.

I have a strong suspicion he has been pumping other old hands to Thailand for just the same info, scared witless to get away from buzy but safe Khao Sarn Road, getting blasting drunk on Chang Beer every night while nervously dragging on his treasured Marlboro, dreaming of cheap s*x late at night in the privacy of his room, probably going Chakwao in the night...

Should I really tell this s*x tourist in the making about the most intimate details of my life, disclose ghastly things happening in Pattaya or maybe just plain and simple tell him about the prices shorttime or longtime and the juiciest details he can make up for himself which seems too complicated anyway...maybe better I freak him out with my prison tales, my bareknuckle boxing experiences, Muay Thay competition in dark and dank bars in Bangkok's seedier districts making the Baht the hard and bloody way...maybe something nasty about alcoholism would be in better order here.

I bet he is the sort of bloke who in his teenage years was used to white selfconscious girls who wouldn`t let him get anywhere near him but took him home to meet the inlaws to be instead where Mum would "spoil" him with self-baked cookies that tasted like crumpled old newspapers and weak tea with and aftertaste of catpiss while Dad would look at him disapprovingly, his eyes telling him don`t sit on that sofa we have just shampooed the uphosltery, or something similarly nasty...

Maybe he was a capitalist lackey who saved up enough dough to sing it out here for another year, getting Khi Mau - way too drunk - every night and a capitalist hangover in the morning, postponing the reality of his wed Pattaya dreams to another day...

Now, I met Joachim in the Gecko Bar when first I arrived to Bangkok and again when I returned from my short trip to Ayutthaya and Lopbury and though he was so keen to come along with me, the "expert", the next morning, he never actually showed up at my hotel which probably was a good thing since I have no doubt he would have been a good pray for even the most inexperienced Hot Momma on the beach!!!

Sunday, January 24, 2010


Thailand, Pattaya,

Writing this I cannot help but imagine the thrill...when you read this blog today, tomorrow or days later, maybe even decades after my demise, or never will you know this, nor will you ever find me...I'll go to Buddhist Nirvana or maybe to the chatolic version of hell. I'll miss you there...

Sitting in tis local bus from Ekamalai to Pattaya my mind goes helter-skelter, tortured and punished by the images of my chaotic past, realising I'm on the wrong side of forty, estranged from my Dutch family though having a stupid sister still living in the rural deep south of Holland who keeps ending me stupid E-mails asking even more stupid questions she already knows the answer to, a lone and crazed man trapped between two distinctly different cultures, a s*x tourist or a genuinely caring person helping out ladies of the night, Thai Hot Mommas with dreams full of hope but in the latter days of their professional life lost in between the hopeless.

According to Nong whom I had on my mobile last night and who always loves to analize my Farang Phi - soul you know - haunted by the spirits of my anchestry manifesting themselves in the ghostly images of local Hot Mommas, doggedly following my every food step but having no fear of the afterlife, a real life journey through the spirit world of love or maybe redemption, the sort of demons you won`t recognised untill they are standing right next to you - and according to Nong whose sweet and melodious voice has never left my Farang gray brain mass from the moment we first met, that will be the moment of my death.

Outside the opaque window of my bus the Bangkok skyline glides by, leaving behind these gigantic skyscapers - I like to think of them as skyCRAPPERS instead - monuments to the Thai obsession with concrete, reminding me of the slums and shanty towns of the bangkok I remember from my earlier visits in the late eighties, chinese flophouses and little Sois full with life where mothers used to wash there babies in water filled oildrums, where child molesters from the rich West would roam the streets in search of young boys unmolested by brown clad police...

The rowdy and dark bars that Jamie and HIS GANG OF HOODLUM MUAY THAY FIGHTERS would drag me along to, though poverty would rule in these days of pre-Farang mass tourism, nobody would ever go to bed on an empty Tompui - belly - courtesy of neighbors and family...

So, now I am on my way back to Pattaya...a strong temptation of the Thai notorious s*x industry or maybe my endless quest trying to understand this mysterious Asian nation....

Saturday, January 23, 2010

By third class train to Lopbury

Thailand, Lopbury,

It is only fifteen Baht for the one hour train trip from Ayutthaya to Lopbury, third class means wooden benches and surrounded by Thai locals - I presume all the Farang backpackers must have taken the two hours earlier more expensive express train, air-conditioned and with a restaurant carriage...

Not that the absence of a restaurant carriage is much of a problem, food vendors wurm themselves through the overcrowded train waggons selling all sorts of titbits of tasty mouthwatering food, barbecued chicken legs on a iron plate, meat balls on small wooden sticks, a small kid easily manouevering himself through the shaky corridors carrying a plate with plastic cups of steaming chicken soup, cut up fruit aplenty and huge containers with cans of iced coffee, beers and soda pops resting in a bed of ice cubes...

Young local mothers keeping half asleep babies in their arms, watch me shyly from under half closed eye lids while their husbands knock down a can of cold Chang - It is Thailand for real when travelling third class on a local train!!!

Outside the rice paddies of Thailand's vertile central low lands glide by. I watch people work under a blaring sun covering their whole bodies with faded clothes against the fierce rays of the sun - I seem to remember countless horror stories by the many Hot Mommas from the impoverished Isan provinces, working these same fields for up to twelve grueling hours a day and still having to tend to the household chores once back home. No wonder they all come down to fabled Pattaya or maybe Patong Beach on Pucket in the hopes of marrying a Farang husband...too sad so many end up having to sell their bodies to overweight s*x tourists from far-away Farang countries, their hopes shattered and their bodies ravaged after years of alcohol abuse due to the many alcoholic parties their Farang boyfriends wanted them to participate in...

The ruins and ancient Wads in Lopbury seem to be favourite haunts for resident monkey gangs - the Macaque type - that use the city's electrical cables hanging across the buzy roads as free monkey highways, a transport mode to get from one archelogical site to the next following the hordes of local and Farang tourists alike, wherever the pickings are best I guess.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Sketching young Thai ladies

Thailand, Ayuthaya,

Bus load after bus load unloading young Thai visitors - probably from Bangkok - all dressed in the habitual yellow t-shirts given out for free to the whole Thai nation a few years ago as a sign of honor to sixty years of King Bhumipol's rule - yellow is the royal color in this Asian monarchy.

All of a sudden I find myself surrounded by young Thai teenage ladies, all wanting their picture taken with the Dutch Farang artist, be on the photo with a blond Farang male so they can show off at home to friends and relatives, all of them wanting to see my sketch book I was only moments ago quite happily and totally undisturbed working on, Lord Buddha and stupas, Chedis and sketches of people around me - all of them want to pose for me, get their caricature or maybe a portrait done, see how the Farang from Europe will see them through the aid of charcoal and black pen, water colors to finish it of...

By the time they are finally gone I have lame fingers and my pencils have become blunt, my eyes unfocused and I secretly wonder what my newly found artist friend, Peter Klashorst, would think had he seen the little commotion - me surrounded by dozens of young Thai students all of the female gender bringing me free cans of Coca Cola while patiently waiting for their portrait - good thing I went to the market yesterday to get more drawing paper...

Makes me wonder too what my estranged family far away in that Farang Land called Holland, would think had they been there - more then twenty years of total ignorance on my part, never telling them about the cousins they have here so far away from their dutch Southern country side - though I have known for some time Charlotte's mother added them to my blog role...

For the last two days I have been flirting a bit with Miss Jintana from across the road, the lady I rent my bicycle from and though of about my own age she considers herself way too old for me, "better you get young lady, me too old for you". Today she told me " tonight I'll come knock-knock-knock on your door". nothing like Thai ladies to flirt with, hehehe!!!

Thursday, January 21, 2010

My first encounter with Thai hospitality

Thailand, Ayuthaya,

I wurm myself through the waiting passengers for the late afternoon overnight train to ChangMai, whole Thai families sitting on the platform surrounded by dozens of bags and carton boxes, small todlers asleep on the chaotic heaps of luggage while Mum is breast feeding the latest arrival to the family, still half asleep the little infant is nonetheless suckling its Mum's teat like her whole world depents on it - I suspect she does. Nearby a canine Mum is envolved in just the same little motherly job though the poor bitch has got five hungry mouths to feed at the same time and is deperately trying to scratch her scrawny behind.

Farangs aplenty sitting on top of huge backpacks and buzily reading the Lonely Planet - no doubt looking forward to the hilltribe trekking ChangMai is justly famous for. Dressed in shorts and sweaty T-shirts and just as happily sucking away on the straws that portrude from Chang beer cans and plasic cups of iced Coca Cola.

In between this colorfull scene I soon detect what I am after, the group of food vendors that has arrived from the neighboring country side on crappy old bikes carrying baskets full with cooked rice meals, small pieces of boiled egg and vegetables which they hope to sell on the train before departure - just ten Baht for a healthy but small foam bowl of food.

Eating it by myself I can't but compare this ten Baht meal to the twice a day small plastic bag that would just about fit in the palm of my hand containg about the same amount of rice and egg, the same few pieces of veggies while I was in jail in this crazy but highly mistifying Asian nation - it were your relatives and friends that were supposed to feed you, bring you the nessecaries to survive a stint in a Thai rathole. Luckily my fellow "room mates" were always happy to share their meals with me. My first encounter with Thai hospitality - considering I was in jail this statement would go both ways I suppose!!!

Sitting here in a local internet cafe being surrounded by young Thai kids
noicily playing computer games, sceaming at each other whenever they gain access to another level - not like the internet cafes in Bangkok's tourist district or maybe Pattaya where I am usually surrounded by young local beauties in sexy skirts sending MSN messages to their Farang Sugar Daddies in far-away Farang Lands hoping for an increase in thier monthly allowances. More often then not they have several windows open at the same time which makes me wonder just how many of these elderly Farang males they have in their pockets - somehow they always seem to manage to keep them hidden from each other though...

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Back in the Zone

Thailand, Bangkok.

It is only 15 Baht for the single two hour journey by Royal Thai Railway to Ayuthaya, the old capital of Siam and a Mekka for the enthusiastic Wat and Temple buff. The ruins of the former Siam Kingdom's religious obsession with Wats are to be seen all over this cozy little island village, quite spread out though so you'll need a bicycle, easily obtainable from the many guesthouses for a meagre forty Baht.

I'm joined by a friendly grey haired Farang and his two young Leuk Kreug sons. His Thai is easy and relaxed and I suspect he must have been living in this Asian Kingdom for a while. Watching them interact and eavesdropping on their conversation brings my tortured mind back to 1994 when I was in this very same train together with Nong and Joy, my old German mate Joseph, his lady Moo and their two Leuk Kreug girls, the great week we had here, two mixed race couples and their mixed race kids running around the ruin grounds, speaking German, English and Thai...

Reminding me once more how quick things can change, Joseph is no more, Moo back to her Hot Momma job on Pattaya's boulevard, Nong back to her Sugar Daddy obligations and me travelling around the old and bulky backpack strapped to my shoulders, my only real friend during my long and solitary trips around Mother Nature's wonders, the mad and chaotic human populated cities I hiked around endlessly and without purpose, the long and exhausting cycle trips trying to wildcamp in dark forests...

So I am on the way back to Ayutthaya, alone this time and after my little visit with Peter Klashorst the Enfant Terrible of the Dutch art scene, I feel inspired, I FEEL LIKE I AM BACK IN THE "ZONE", ready to draw temples and Wats, Buddha figurines and massive statues depicting the Greatest of Mankind, maybe a quick visit to a local artshop to get some spare material, might come in handy too next month when I will hit Pattaya, hard and heavy if my former trips to this madhouse ar anything to get by, that 24 hour party place that many lonely European males consider the Male Kingdom of Southeast Asia, the location their hearts are pining for when they slave away for a dominant boss back in native Europe, counting the days left before they can board that Eva Air plane again....

"Excuse me, sir but we have arrived at Ayutthaya" the grey Farang Dad tells me, adding apology upon apology for speaking Thai to his sons the whole trip who smile at me shyly.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Peter Klashorst, the"enfant terrible" of the Dutch art scene

Thailand, Bangkok,

At exactly 14.00 hours I arrive at Mister Peter Klashorst's residence way beyond Sukhumvit Road. Peter Klashorst, according to many art critics the "enfant terrible" of the Dutch art scene, aka the Rabit that is named Klashorst because of his habit to paint African beauties, naked or portret and sleeps with them afterwards which makes me wonder if ever I would get famous with me artwork...well, what would these same art critics consider me to be, maybe a Farang rabbit in Thailand.

Peter turns out to be quite the likable bloke telling me about his life in Africa, his affairs with black beauties and, of course his times in African rat holes aka prisons you know - showing me all his unfinished paintings in his condo and treating me to a couple of free beer despite his bad financial situation, boasting about all the models that quite literally wreck his front door - not all that unusual to me when I spend my time in that male Farang kingdom called Pattaya where the Thai Hot Mommas are always happy to pose for me, happy with a red colored 100 Baht in the pocket for modelling services rendered, often coming to my room well after midnight bringing with them driftwood from the beach to paint on or else Thai newspapers that will do just as fine as far as acrylics go.

Similar life styles and a mutual interest in art makes conversation easy and comfortable between us and Peter turns out quite different from what the Dutch newspapers want us, the Nederlandse Bevolking, to believe - I don`t see much harm in sleeping with your models really, especially so when you pay them 2000 Baht for a modelling session - sh*t three in a row, in Pattaya I pay them a 100 Baht though I help them out with medical care, free drinks, a place to crash when they have no Farang Tilak and often let them take the portret with them after finishing.

I just wonder how many of my portraits are adourning the walls of simple huts in these dusty Isan villages, A way for Mum to remember her daughter who is making the dough for Pho' little poolhall hobbies the hard way - by now you should really know the double function of poolhalls in the Isan if you have been following my blog for a while...

Once back outside with my Dutch Farang *ss firmly planted on the back of a Bangkok motorbike taxi, my long white legs pushed against the drivers' hoping desperately I`ll survive another open air taxi ride and with my knee caps hopefully unscafed by the mirrors of passing cars, I feel once more inspired to paint, to draw, to see something creative coming out of my own hands, something pleasing to look at, one more memory for the walls in my old cr*ppy house in Amsterdam, or else a piece of driftwood painted with acrylic paint and hanging on a wooden wall up in the northern Thai impoverished provinces.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Nee Meneer, plain and simple

Thailand, Bangkok,

Yeah, falling in love with a Thai lady of the night really does turn out to be lonely affair in the end. I walk the buzy streets of Bangkok's Chinatown - aka Yaowarat - where the shops wares spiil out in the streets, hawkers and food vendors adding to the chaotic ambience, camaras snapping away belonging to overweight Germans astounded at the disorder that rules this buzy but highly colorfull neighborhood - Ordnung ist Ordnung in Germany but here it is disorder that rules surpreme!!!

Huge white colored bags of ice cubes unloaded from a truck by small framed Thai males with sweaty naked upper bodies where the drops of perperation rolling down their chests resemble silver pearls glistening in the hot Asian sun.

A group of school children waiting for their bus dressed in blue local school uniforms...another perfect photo shoot for my rowdy Deutsche Freunde.

Stray dogs aplenty searching the rubbish that litters the steets for anything edible - can't be all that difficult considering the sheer amount of food and drink intake of the avarage Thai, the Thais have the highest food/drink consumption I know of in this world - plastic cups and foam Pathai plates with enough leftover to get the attention of any passing canine city mongrel, littering the streets of any given Bangkok street, no doubt forcing the city's cleaning services on constant overtime...

Not that my mental attention is on whatever is happening around me - instaed my mind is still concentrated on Nong and Joy, our little family outing yesterday afternoon, reminding me as always that there is no future having a Thai wife when your finances are shit - she will eventually wander over to the next Farang, a constant search for a well-pensioned sugar daddy who will have more dough in the pocket that poor me, a drug crazed Farang male from Amsterdam living on disability dough that will help me to get by but will in no way be acceptable for the immigartion department to decide possitively for a visa request, another green card for a lady of the night from Thailand...forget about it mate, keep dreaming because that is all you will get.

I could line up with Nong outside the Dutch embassy on Wireless Road for hours, interview after interview and the answer will still be NEE MENEER, PLAIN AND SIMPLE no is no!!!

Have done that, been there!!!

Sunday, January 17, 2010

A non-official family affair.

Thailand, Bangkok,

Not yet 10.00 o' clock morning time and already the tropical heat is sweltering, 33 degrees the digital clock inside the Sangri-la Hotel tells me. I read my Bangkok Post - one of the English published newspapers in this big third world city with global aspirations.

The idea is simple, meet up with Joy and her Mum Nong, take the Rot Fai Faa, the sky train to Siam Square for our yearly dinner. Yeah, this crazy sky train that will offer us a magnificent airial view of bangkok and surely worth the 25 Baht for a single fare.

Though I feel quite nervous I have no doubts about the upcoming date - that is, if Nong will managed to get herself away from her Norwegian sugar daddy... the lobby is full with them leaving the hotel for breakfast or maybe a quick shopping spree, overweight elderly Farang males striding through the lobby dressed in ridiculous shorts and T-shirts that will get soaked by alcohol diluted Farang perpiration the moment they set foot out of the aircondicioned Sangri-La Hotel, the comfort of their expensive room left behind to get the short-skirted local Hot Momma of their choice happy on cheap clothes and high platform shoes...happily they followed their sugar daddies often twice their own age, holding small Asian hands in big sausage-like Farang claws that show signs of old age, scarlet red skin spots.

Siam Square is The Place to go for good food, locals and non-wandering Farangs are the main clientele here, the prime target for the countless food vendors, quality grub is the norm at bargain prices...needless to say our table is quickly covered with plates of steamy and healthy food, steamed fish straight out of the Chao Praya River, a Ta-Koh cup - coconut pudding in banana leaves - reminding me of the sweet tooth my non-official family has got, boiled rice aplenty and huge bottles of condensed Koloster beer - the most expensive but also most palatable beer in King Bumbhipol's Asian Realm...

A mobile bug vendor supplies us with sauteed silkworms, fried grasshoppers and barbequed crickets reminding me once more that anything that crawls or squirms is considered a delicacy among the Thais.

After dinner and the usual catching-up over the past year, we walk the buzy streets around Siam Square where shops spill out the their wares onto the sidewalks, the energy ruling this neighborhood is at the same time exhilarating as well as exhaustive to my gray Farang brain mass.

Within three hours after our meeting this non-official family gathering is over and done with with Nong back to her Norwegian sugar daddy and Joy back to her job on Rama 4 Road, a well paid job as a bank employee due to her excelent English, the private classes I paid for when she was a kid - leaving me behind realising once again that falling in love with a Thai Lady of the night will in the very end trun out to be a lonely affair.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

My old haunt, soi Ngam Dupli

Thailand, Bangkok,

No more of my artwork on this site though I am working on my sketchbook like mad, running around the city hoping for great street sights to draw, maybe enjoy a cold Leo while making a quick sketch in my scrapbook, a different way of photography I guess...

The old tourist area around the malaysia Hotel - made famous during the shooting of Good Morning Vietnam, I still remember all the messages on the hotels notice boards asking for shorttime actors for the role of an American GI - has turned into a gay district with Gay saunas and homo oriented hotels, quite a change from the Pick-Up-Your-Chick kind a neighborhood it used to be say twenty years ago. Coming home late at night from my countless bar hopping nights, I would get besieged by local Hot Mommas eager to make some shortttime money before all the Farangs would be back in bed sleeping the sleep of the innocent, drunk on mekhong whisky.

Times change as the always do and I find myself back walking down Soi Ngam Dupli, on my way to my favourite haunt Kenny s Place for a cold leo beer trying hard to avoid the horny eyes of young local gay guys probably just as keen on making some Thai baht on a quick shorttime as the Hot mommas I remeber so well from my own Farang past in this colorfull part of bangkok.

I have come a long way since these early days, an old hand to a mystic oriental realm that feels comfortable but still just within the grasp of my Western trained Farang mind...

Friday, January 15, 2010

Crumbled Farang Speak and undereducated Thai Farmers.

Thailand, Bangkok,

Just 12 Baht and well away from the heavily traffic jam is the Chao Praya ferry bringing me from Thanon Khao Sarn to Silom Road, a nice breeze in my face and plenty to look at, water traffic and huge fish hoping for a free hand-out from these noicy humans.

Monks passing me in the street dressed in their habituary orange robes, their shaven heads glimming in the strong rays of a yet early day - tourists carrying expensive video and camara equipment that is well beyond the dreams of most countryside Thais - another failed rice harvest and thausands of undereducated farmers will flock to this mega town hoping for a job, maybe selling Buddha amulets in the street or Tuk Tuk-transporting Farangs around a town where they know no streets, no directions though the location of tourist oriented prularia shops will son enough be registered in their gray brain mass, the amount of commission will determine who will be on top of their list - maybe in time they`ll be able to pay off their debt and return to their native village, try their hands one more time at rice farming.

Internet shops where young and sensual looking local females send e-mails to their sugar daddies back in far away Farang Land, the crumbled piece of paper full with hastily scrabbled sentenced in farang Speak a sort of mastercopy - if they find out I can speak some Thai they will surely want me to add some lovesick ryhmes to their Love List - wouldn`t be the first time!!!

Lumpini Park is an oasis of tranquility in an otherwise mad anthill of a human big town society. The only disturbance some huge monitor varans sunbaking in the fierce Thai sun and surrounded by short-sleeved Farangs with their trigger-happy fingers on the shutter.

Sukumvit Road is turning more and more into a second Patpong during its hey days. Attractive females eyeing me curiously - maybe a quick shorttime before their shift will start tonight at one of the many G0G0 Bars on Nana Plaza.

Though late afternoon I might as well walk all the way back to Thanon Khao Sarn instead of risking my very life on the back of one of these notoriously accident prone motorbike Taxi.

Maybe a few last beers at the Gecko Bar where people watching is the norm and on-the-road experiences are swapped in a multitute of Farang languages, contact easily made and everybody new in town eager to find out about the cheapest guest houses, the quickest way to get south to tropical beaches seen in travel brochures back home and drooled over untill they got sticky.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Back in the Land of the Holy Thais


The super big madhouse called Bangkok where the traffic is always hopelessly congested, where even as a determined non-smoker you will still end up with a serious smoker`s coughafter a few days stay due to the oppresive humidity conbined with tropical heat, exhaust fumes aplenty and a race that loves their Marlboro cancer sticks...

A motorbike taxi driver starting the day with a high concentrated energy drink and a Marlboro puff, maybe a quick shot of moonshine whisky to top it off - the best way to start a brand new day, at least the way the Thai see it.

On my way into town by airport shuttle bus, 150 Baht from Suvarnibhumi to the world famous Asian backpacker`s paradise called Thanom Khao Sarn, chaos and more big towm madness, taxi drivers and their Tuk-Tuk contemporaries always happy to show you around - that is, souvenir shops of their liking where the owner will quite contently share a part of his fat provit with an equally happy Tuk-Tuk person, comission or Baksheesh - whatever you wanna call it - to ensure another fat walled Farang in the back of a Tuk-Tuk.

I walk the streets surrounded by blueish clouds, the smell and even taste of heavy spices impregnating my nostrils.

Street hawkers having anything imaginable for sale though it looks like kitch to me - most of it anyway.

Young tourist ladies from a multitute of European countries dressed in short sexy skirts, T-shirts getting slowly soaked by the Bangkok "WINTER" sun, long and shapely legs already showing the first signs of suntan - their friends back home will be jealous.

Yeah, only back in the Land of the Holy Thais for a few short hours and I can already feel it soak into my bloodstream, fill up my very essence, trying hard to shut out my Farang excistence in Amsterdam and intregrate in this weird and mystic Asian culture where the locals will happily recieve us, even a hero`s welcome provided a fistfull of 100 Baht notes will get into the bargain.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Ehm from Thailand

Acrylics on paper, a sketch from my sketchbook

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

The Angel Of Death

Bangkok, somewhere in the spring of 1995

She is standing with her shapely light brown colored back to the bed, facing the madhouse that is Bangkok`s rush hour in the late afternoon, the small fan on the bed side table is vainly trying to battle the oppressive air - Bangkok is an oven at this time of year.

I remember I picked her up last night at a disco out on Silom Road, someplace up there anyway - I was way too loaded to really care where I was hunting for Thai be honest, down to the truth and all that, I don`t even seem to remember getting home, let alone have luscious sexs with her....King Alcohol did it again I guess!!!

"The Angel Of Death", we call her. Her melodious female voice rings in my ears, slowly penetrating the alcohol-impregnated fogs inside my Farang skull..."I must go see her now, last night you make Bumsing me all night but no condom, me have water you inside me now, maybe baby, me must go Mammasam Angel Of Death for medicine, me can not affort have baby...

Her voice trails on and on and I get the idea, money for the motorbike and more Thai Baht for the medicine, the notorious Morning After pill so popular among my female contemporaries during my teens in the deep south of my native Holland.

With a hefty 1000 Baht lighter in my wallet, I find myself back risking my very life on the back of one of these Bangkok Burrial While We Transport You motorbike taxis feeling pretty sure my driver has got a few puffs of Yaa-Baa down his Asian throat. Not that I care a shit...I wanna go down to Soi Cowboy where the music is loud and the Hot Momma voices originating from open air bars, aplenty "hey you, sexy man, come inside, please...

I can see the lights already up ahaed, over the shoulder of my motorbike taxi, the raucous laughter of English lagerlouds and the high pitched voices of Thai sex workers besieging my Farang ears, promising me the infamous and notourious entertainment of the Thai night life directed to Farang males with a fat wallet and a strong sexual drive for Asian snatch, never bothering about an army of Leuk Krueg babies left behind as holiday momentoes for Thai Hot Mommas. !!!

Amsterdam, 12-01-2010,

Ha, with my departure date arriving real fast now, the stories are like waterfalls running havoc inside my Farang skull, keeping me awake at night and hoping for a fast relief, tomorrow should be my DAY!!!

Monday, January 11, 2010

For a fistfull of one dollar notes...


Thailand, that male kingdom in faraway Asia, twelve hours by plane and a mere 50-odd hours to while away in snow-blanketed Amsterdam - no more season of the all time tourist favorite TULIPS in multi-colored hues - snow instead and a biting cold attacking my exposed nerve ends, my lips becoming raw and tintling, flakes of snow making the going difficult and adding even more to my mental and physical discomfort...

Small wonder my mind is on a twenty-four hour Hot Momma/Hot Thailand trip, trying hard to savour these memories of hot and steamy sex in my New Star Hotel - or a multitute of guesthouses, dump holes that carried the fancy name HOTEL or didn`t even have a name at all but where the Hot Momma Bumbing was good and savourable - enough jack-off material to last me another boring summer in Holland`s number one capital...

Or maybe another collection of ravaged Thai females visiting me in my most private moments, making me forget all the tasty yummy-yummy Bumsing we joined in in the past, instead making me wonder what came out of that huge army of global third world desperate females that so willingly spent their nights with me.

A fistfull of one dollar notes will go a long way in the Land Of The Destitute...

If ever they disappear from my slumbering mind I presume I`ll still have their faces depicted on wood, paper or stone, sketches and paintings with acrylics, pensil or pastel, charcoal or oil paint, covering the walls of my old and crappy house here in Amsterdam, reminding me constantly of my Western trained Guilt Complex that the avarage Asian would laugh at, politely though behind my back ...If ever I tire of these...I could put them outside in the street, a free gift to a "lucky" American tourist...

Looking what ???

acrylics on wood.


Saturday, January 9, 2010

The Acrylic Lord Buddha

Lord Buddha, acrylics on paper

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Competing women

Acrylics on wood.


Intriguing title you might think but the meaning is clear enough to me, though.

Tow clans of distintive different females practising the same lifestyle, experiencing the same whoremongering beer addicted lazy type of male contemporaries in their lives, bringing up the children they fathered with them before continuing on their extra-marital affairs.

A flea ridden poolhall in the Hot dusty Thai countryside where female flesh has a mere five minutes physical attention with a meagre 100 Thai Baht disappearing into a female purse, a hungry baby back home can be fed another day - a different way of paying child support I presume.

The same smothering heat in dark beer shacks in equally dusty African villages where the male beer drinking clientêle is even darker as the dimly lit interior, their shadows mixing with sluttely dressed equally dark-skinned females waiting in the back of the run-down place...

I must have spent a small fortune getting smashing drunk on local brews surrounded by the impoverished masses of the world in dank and potentially dangerous bars and bordelios of a questionable reputation - but then I always looked like a tramp myself dressed in my beat-up blue jeans, unshaved ravished face and sweaty T-shirt, mixing with the Drunk Scêne locally across the world, mastering the street talk and sticking to my own confidence, always ready for a good bar brawl or challenge the biggest of them all to a Number One arm wrestling contest, "su dinero aqui en el centro de la mesa, amigo"...

More of El Señor Mas Poderoso, much...MUCH MUCH more went to an amzingly huge army of Hot Mommas offering a few cherished hours of physical entertainment, solace to a troubled Western trained mind, a double-troubled guilt complex brought about by a false sence of secure thinking so common in the the end they took my sex-dough without a mumrmer - hopefully not too much of that stuff went to the wrong destinations, freeloading boyfriends, YaaBaa, Qat and what else, maybe a bottle of Phillipino Rum to a down and out flea-ridden alcohol addicted Hunting Girl down on the Puerto Gallera beach - that traquil beach resort with its darkly lit alleys and cozy bars, completely run by local stunningly beautifull Hunting Girls who were non-stop "me, available, sir, no problem, me like you very much, sir"- yeah, the ladies were everywhere and always "at your service, sir", needless to say there was extremely little male-related violence in Puerto Gallera, I seem to remember quite a few heavy Western Man related female violence though....

With my departure date for male friendly Thailand approaching soon it seems obviousl I feel my thoughts trailing back to these chaotic human backyards of this crazy planet. Wheter it be a memory of getting disturbed by local soldiers checking IDs while balling a ungly Puta in a dirty back room of the reputedly worst and dirtiest bar in town, on an even dirtier straw-filled matrass - no bed but plainly on the earth floor very long ago in Antigua....

The skinny black chick I took back to my shithole hotel somewhere in Colombia, whose pink snatch I loved to eat so much - I seem to remember drinking beer untill I bust in a bar where everybody was armed to the teeth, before I picked her up...but the images of that are expotentially vaguer then the face of pleasure she gave me while riding my erect male member - when I see her now in my dreams she visits me as a run-down witch whose face is hooribly scarred by years of heavy alcohol abuse....looking at me she knows things I do not....she and that whose darned clan of Global Hot Mommas...

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Working on my "women".

Amsterdam, 03-01-2010.

With my departure time for male friendly Thailand approaching fast and the outside world here in Amsterdam, stony cold I find myself most of the days locked up in my house, working like mad on my Hot Momma array of ravished faces, painting them on wood and paper with my plastic tubes of acrylic paint all around me, a half empty can of Pilsener and an equally half smoked Big Mamma Skunk joint from the nearby coffeeshop lying in the ashtray waiting for further consuption...

I try hard to paint their faces in a more friendly manner hoping they will leave me alone tonight. No more light brown Asian faces, African whores and Latino female money grabbers in exchange for a few hours of sex whose pale worn-out faces betray the ultimate pockets my Dinero ended up in, free loading boyfriends and too much Thai Baht for YaaBaa, a few tattered notes of Kenian Shilling originating from "poor me" , lust for sex with a black skinned lady of the Nairobi Night, the end station of the horny white man`s dough was Sorghum beer and a few puffs of Mary-Jane though it would have been wiser used on her baby that is being brought up by Grand-Mêre somewhere up north near the Somalian border...

Of Course I`ll never forget the Phillipino Hunting Girls who were so willing to offer me nighttime entertainment of the more intimate nature, a mere 500 Phillipino Peso and my body will be brought to higher places, hot and steamy and panting like mad afterwards because Manila is experimenting another brown-out - as the locals call a short-circuit...funny though, Phillipino Hunting Girls competing with Thai Hot Mommas inside a fucked-up Farang head, Latino female money grabbers and african whores vying for my mental energy and leaving me no peace.

Saturday, January 2, 2010



Misty in pastels on paper

Misty, Bart`s dog, the dog of an alcoholic I used to work with during my Mad Bicycle Messenger Years here in Amsterdam.

Bart was nicknamed Bartje Heineken - real name Bartje Hollander - and a real alcoholic if ever I met one starting the new day with a liter of strong black coffe and straight on to big alu cans of cheap Dirk Van De Broek supermarket beer...

Well, at least when your a canine belonging to a drunk, life can`t be all that bad frolicking and fornicating while your owners are getting themselves smashing drunk on their habitual wooden bench in the nearby park...

Must be better then the life of a dog of a working stiff, waiting all day in a small appartment for the boss to come home after a hard day`s work, stressed out and in no mood to take the dog for his daily toilet round after holding in up all boring day.

Patrick Kluivert in black pen drawing

Amsterdam, 02-01-2010,
El futbolista holandès de caràcter questionable.

Young people becoming international stars overnight, spoiled millionaires within the a few short years, the Dutch Sisterhood of Unmarried Females all over them....needless to say, things tend to get over their cocky young hoodlum heads, making them believe "WE ARE DEMI-GODS, ALLOWED TO DO AS WE PLEASE" ...

Get the wrong money grapping "friends" as financial advisors and your Free Fall down the public ladder will go even faster with the international press always happy to turn the "UNDERDOG" into a Dirty Slum No-good.

Mister Oehoe in pastels on paper

Amsterdam, 02-01-2010
Ay, one of my favorite subjects when I sketch, draw or paint, their distinctive "Oehoe, Oehoe" still ringing in my Gringo ears, bringing me back across time and space to my wild camping spots in far-away countries, under alien stars, pondering in front of my tent after a whole day on the bike, surrounded by the darkness of the night and massive and often ancient trees, always harbouring an owl....

Yeah, owls come back in my scrapbooks time and again.