Days in Bangkok, part four

Thailand, Pattaya, 14-03-2010.

Back on the Dutch bench on Pattaya's notorious boulevard where Henk-The-Unhappy- Yaa-Baa-dealer is once again super high on his treasured drug giving us, the Dutch and Belgium visitors to this highly looked after bench which is conveniently opposite buzy Beach Road's 7/Eleven where we send the Hot Mommas to buy our ice-cold Leo and Chang beer...

Yeah, Henk is once again giving us a heated tirade about his personal views of demisionair Wouter Bos' decision to retreat from dutch politics, "f*ck that good-for-nothing Draaik*nt Wouter-The-Sh*thead who is having his pants full with yellow excem*nt, Bang van Geert Wilders with his anti-Morrocan views", good entertainment from someone who is awaiting his trail in a Thai jail - 400.00 Thai baht down deposit to wait in freedom so he can smoke more Yaa Baa and b*ll more local Hot Mommas, boring everybody sh*tless in between his most favorite hobbies here in Pattaya - noticing the muscular black Surinam man eavesdropping on his watery speech he inmediately starts another tirade about lazy good-for-nothing blacks from across the mighty ocean only interested in the Dutch dole and/or sick money - did I forget to point out to you, dear reader of this blog, Henk himself has been on permanent sick dole for most of his life, boasting about shoe boxes full with black money in his house in Zeeland?

Enough is enough and I decide to walk over to my favorite internet cafe, get my "Days in Bangkok" finished instead of having to listen to this racist dopehead...

Bangkok, where me and Nong were walking down Sukumvit Road, holding hands the way old lovers do, to the Starbucks for a cup of Mocha, passing tables full with Fake rolexes and equally fake designer clothes, p*rn movies for sale in the street though p*rn is officially forbidden in King Bhumipol's Asian realm, past numerous pr*stitutes dressed in shorts and mini skirts, tank tops and halters, where Arab men in long white djelebas discuss the hottest strip joints to visit...or maybe the mad rush to the Sangri-la Hotel on the back of motorbike taxis...

No wait we were already in her room that she shares with Per, her silver-haired sugar daddy who is presently touring Thailand's north with his Scandinavian buddies. The room where I have already found his secret stash of expensive but oh so tasty Cuban sigars and the big bottles of Regency Whisky and the expensive cologne in the bathroom that nearly equals in size with my room in Pattaya, at the New Star...

Where by now I sit on the king-size bed with bare torso, my shoulders getting a good rub by Nong's dark-brown fingers, expertly relieving the tension that harasses my body and mind, her big naked bo*bs pressed against my shoulder blades, her soft feminine voice whispering words of reassurance in my Farang ears, telling me to relax, telling me she knows all about poor Moo's bad health, the open TBC that is destroying her body in the here and now, about Ohn's slow and painful demise, my mental turmoil while I walked and hiked the streets of Phonm Penh unable to let the pictures of Moo pining away in her stupid beach chair, slowly go the way of no return...

My feeling of guilt a sorrow slowly disappear in a fine white mist while her porky fingers move upward massaging my scalp, telling me in a strange mix of Thai and English with the odd word of Norwegian thrown in for good measure, her definition of what she considers her phycolocical assesment of the truth of my Farang life and mind...

How coming to Thailand that first time all these years ago, has made me an outcast of my life back home in Amsterdam, my Farang life got mixed with Isan superstition, the incomplete feeling I experience while I do my summers in Holland, living with the outcasts of Dutch society, the drunks and drug addicts of Westerpark and their stupid suicides - a few every Dutch summer - but how she has always kept her faith in me, looking after my mental health using her Karen parlour tricks, Asian magic from a time well before European medical medicine...

I let her do her "thing", analising my Farang trained mind as she has done a hunderd times and never seems to get enough of, never seems to tire of...I know what she is after, Amanda's E-mail address in Amsterdam or maybe her phone number, get to talk to Little Charlotte whom she is convinced is Jamie's reincarnation and therefore her brother's Phi, his soul having come to the conclusion it is better off been born into a Western World where health care and schooling is so much better that that of a impoverished dusty Isan village....

I do know, however that as usual, I will soon doze off to Morpheus Realm due to too much Regency Whisky in combination with porky female hands doing a GREAT massage number on my head...