Thailand, Pattaya.
30-03-2010.
The Mad Table down on Soi Bukaouw and outside a small supermarket is another place where I like to spend my evenings, boozing with the local gang of British long termers to Pattaya, most of them on serious visa overstays and often already on their way to the Alcoholic's version of heaven by the time I arrive...
A bunch of drunk degenerates that have been in Pattaya for longer as I care to remember, surviving at a breadline excistence but somehow always having enough Dinero Thailandes to booze on expensive Red Label whiskey, big condensed bottles of Chang and Leo, keeping them cold in a styrofoam so-called condom that fits over the better part of a beer bottle and really is a great invention...
Most of these blokes might have some benefits back home and a ATM card to get at it but no health insurance or dental plan, nor retirement fund, often in the company of down and out street h*okers hoping for a few free beers and happy to gulp down the last of the Red Label - ice or no ice, as long as it does the job...a few hours of alcohol induced oblivion...
A crumbling stone table surrounded by equally badly mantained stone benches with its underbelly a trashing place for garbage like empty beer cans, my Burmese sigar butts and ice bags, plastic cups and the sort...maybe a local man in rags walking by, carrying a huge bags across his houlder and loudly ordering his two/three kids to check for empty beer bottles, plastic water bottles for deposit money...a couple of young monks in their orange robes ignoring the drunk raving...
Yeah, a pack of crazed older drunks who have spent most of their lives on the run, have reached a peak in the drunk man's paranoia somewhere along the line, went crazy at home due to a serious alcohol poisoning before discovering Pattaya where no cop will bother them despite their visa overstays and midnight drunk screaming, driving back to their lived-out condo or cheap hotel rooms on the back of a motorbike taxi or in their beat-up car...to keep it short and simple I fit in just right...
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Game of Cupid and Stupid
Thailand, Pattaya,
29-03-2010.
As always sitting outside my guesthouse late at night slowing preparing for bed time. a can of cold Leo ready for consumption, a glass ashtray taking care of my
my Burmese sigar butts, my sketchbbook close at hand, I try to keep a carefull eye on the happenings in my Soi but at the same time pretending to be totally disinterested in the going-ons - the nochalant way of life practiced by the Thais themselves...
Take the Kathoy sitting on his/her motorbike for example, apparently only more into applying his/her mascara, have a careful look at the image beaming back at him/her from his/her little make-up mirror, checking if the arteficial eye lashes are in place, if the right amount of lipstick has been done, but in reality he/she is here waiting for the New Star house dealer, waiting for his/her daily dose of little red pills, the deal done inside the lobby for anyone to see but nobody paying the slightest attention though totally aware of the 600 Baht being handed over...
Everybody knows about this nutty little lady hovering around the entrance, hoping for a shorttime with one of the Farangs leaving or arriving. At only 20 years old and dimunitive of stature, with her little doll-like face and small child-like bo*bies she msut be a hot number and does manage to get most of the New Star male
clientele on her her customer list, with pas de person even looking up when yet again she tramps up the stairs, her small hand disappearing in the hairy Farang claw of her latest conquest, the house dealer meanwhile having a cold Heineken in the Intown Restaurant across the road, most likely celebrating his evening's profits...waiting for Miss Doll-Like-Face to come downstaris again with maybe 300/400Baht in her purse, excited at the prospect of a 300 Baht Red Pill of Yaa-Baa, her young female mind already burned away by countless similar pills...
This being late at night the soi is full with Farang males dressed in shorts and T-shirts that do little in the way of hiding carefully groomed beer guts, holding hand with their choise of the night, just picked up from the boulevard, their high heels going clickety-click on the pavement while they struggle to keep up with their 1000 Baht all nighter, Asian s*x slaves happily following their master of the nocturnal adult-only game...
But then judgement is not mine to make...I have no right to make comments about the wife he left behind, the church's laws on the marital bed only - which by the way he burned - about the God he abandoned, probably believing, after discovering the male heaven that is called Pattaya, the game of Cupid is actually really stupid back home in far away Farang Land...here the ladies will bow to him - Wai you know - and read his every wish from his blue shiners..ignoring his heavy beer consumption, so unlike the missus he by now has come to hate for all these wastefull years that were full with nagging...
I feel a bit like a reclusive monk watching it all from the protective smoke of my Burmese sigar that hovers like a death shroud around me, its strong smell keeping any unattached Hot momma that had no luck tonight, from approaching me, leaving me alone with my pensive thoughts...
29-03-2010.
As always sitting outside my guesthouse late at night slowing preparing for bed time. a can of cold Leo ready for consumption, a glass ashtray taking care of my
my Burmese sigar butts, my sketchbbook close at hand, I try to keep a carefull eye on the happenings in my Soi but at the same time pretending to be totally disinterested in the going-ons - the nochalant way of life practiced by the Thais themselves...
Take the Kathoy sitting on his/her motorbike for example, apparently only more into applying his/her mascara, have a careful look at the image beaming back at him/her from his/her little make-up mirror, checking if the arteficial eye lashes are in place, if the right amount of lipstick has been done, but in reality he/she is here waiting for the New Star house dealer, waiting for his/her daily dose of little red pills, the deal done inside the lobby for anyone to see but nobody paying the slightest attention though totally aware of the 600 Baht being handed over...
Everybody knows about this nutty little lady hovering around the entrance, hoping for a shorttime with one of the Farangs leaving or arriving. At only 20 years old and dimunitive of stature, with her little doll-like face and small child-like bo*bies she msut be a hot number and does manage to get most of the New Star male
clientele on her her customer list, with pas de person even looking up when yet again she tramps up the stairs, her small hand disappearing in the hairy Farang claw of her latest conquest, the house dealer meanwhile having a cold Heineken in the Intown Restaurant across the road, most likely celebrating his evening's profits...waiting for Miss Doll-Like-Face to come downstaris again with maybe 300/400Baht in her purse, excited at the prospect of a 300 Baht Red Pill of Yaa-Baa, her young female mind already burned away by countless similar pills...
This being late at night the soi is full with Farang males dressed in shorts and T-shirts that do little in the way of hiding carefully groomed beer guts, holding hand with their choise of the night, just picked up from the boulevard, their high heels going clickety-click on the pavement while they struggle to keep up with their 1000 Baht all nighter, Asian s*x slaves happily following their master of the nocturnal adult-only game...
But then judgement is not mine to make...I have no right to make comments about the wife he left behind, the church's laws on the marital bed only - which by the way he burned - about the God he abandoned, probably believing, after discovering the male heaven that is called Pattaya, the game of Cupid is actually really stupid back home in far away Farang Land...here the ladies will bow to him - Wai you know - and read his every wish from his blue shiners..ignoring his heavy beer consumption, so unlike the missus he by now has come to hate for all these wastefull years that were full with nagging...
I feel a bit like a reclusive monk watching it all from the protective smoke of my Burmese sigar that hovers like a death shroud around me, its strong smell keeping any unattached Hot momma that had no luck tonight, from approaching me, leaving me alone with my pensive thoughts...
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Montrosities in my room
Thailand, Pattaya,
27-03-2010.
A wake up with a curtain of shiny black hair covering my face, causing a serious itch in my nostrils, pushing this wave of blackness away I get confronted by a pair of smeared lips, lipstick poluting my pillows and a heavy breath going up my nose that makes me feel like puking though I had remarably little to drink last night - just a few cans of Ancha beer in front of my hotel not all that late night while sketching the erotic pictures one of motorbike taxistas showed me on his cell phone...
Trying to get myself to a sitting position without waking my unknown bed partner - I have some fague memories of her knocking on my door last night explaing she was one of my models over these last couple of confusing days of painting before she collasped on the floor boozed out on Thai moonshine whiskey as the heavy odour coming out of her mouth betrayed me - I get confronted with yet another female body on the floor in a fetal postion and with the bed sheet wrapped partly around her body, snoring loudly...
I seem to remember the arrival of this equally unknown visitor as well, just after I dumped Miss Black-Curtain-Hair on the other side of my bed, equally drunk and in need of supportive bodily aid as well, apperently also a model though neither did she trigger any memories inside the battlefield that is my Farang mind...
Standing in front of my toilet bowl, watching my dark-yellow stream and trying to make sense of these last couple of days - did I really throw out Miss Jiff for being too dominant over my self-chosen free life style or did I? - was she out of her mind, mad at me, screaming at me down in the lobby " me never come watch Starttrek in your room again" sort of sh*t - or was that all my imagination caused by an overworked ameteur painter being put under pressure by a Thai lady of the night who had the "delicious" smell of Thai Baht and possibly world fame inside her tiny female head...
I brush my teeth still lost in thought when Miss-Black-Curtain-Hair staggers in stark naked - I don't seem to remember undressing her last night - and sits down in front of the still unflushed toilet bowl, heavy gagging and loud groaning before the half digested remnants of Thai moonshine whiskey mixes with my morning urine...more groaning coming from my room telling me my number two visitor will soon join this crazy bathroom party...
Better I go out, back to the boulevard for 7/Eleven coffee, maybe a toasti with ham and cheese and leave these tow montrosities to their own devices - did Miss Jiff really bring models like them to my room...no wonder I took the spare key from her yesterday, small miracle I told her my room is off-limits to her...
27-03-2010.
A wake up with a curtain of shiny black hair covering my face, causing a serious itch in my nostrils, pushing this wave of blackness away I get confronted by a pair of smeared lips, lipstick poluting my pillows and a heavy breath going up my nose that makes me feel like puking though I had remarably little to drink last night - just a few cans of Ancha beer in front of my hotel not all that late night while sketching the erotic pictures one of motorbike taxistas showed me on his cell phone...
Trying to get myself to a sitting position without waking my unknown bed partner - I have some fague memories of her knocking on my door last night explaing she was one of my models over these last couple of confusing days of painting before she collasped on the floor boozed out on Thai moonshine whiskey as the heavy odour coming out of her mouth betrayed me - I get confronted with yet another female body on the floor in a fetal postion and with the bed sheet wrapped partly around her body, snoring loudly...
I seem to remember the arrival of this equally unknown visitor as well, just after I dumped Miss Black-Curtain-Hair on the other side of my bed, equally drunk and in need of supportive bodily aid as well, apperently also a model though neither did she trigger any memories inside the battlefield that is my Farang mind...
Standing in front of my toilet bowl, watching my dark-yellow stream and trying to make sense of these last couple of days - did I really throw out Miss Jiff for being too dominant over my self-chosen free life style or did I? - was she out of her mind, mad at me, screaming at me down in the lobby " me never come watch Starttrek in your room again" sort of sh*t - or was that all my imagination caused by an overworked ameteur painter being put under pressure by a Thai lady of the night who had the "delicious" smell of Thai Baht and possibly world fame inside her tiny female head...
I brush my teeth still lost in thought when Miss-Black-Curtain-Hair staggers in stark naked - I don't seem to remember undressing her last night - and sits down in front of the still unflushed toilet bowl, heavy gagging and loud groaning before the half digested remnants of Thai moonshine whiskey mixes with my morning urine...more groaning coming from my room telling me my number two visitor will soon join this crazy bathroom party...
Better I go out, back to the boulevard for 7/Eleven coffee, maybe a toasti with ham and cheese and leave these tow montrosities to their own devices - did Miss Jiff really bring models like them to my room...no wonder I took the spare key from her yesterday, small miracle I told her my room is off-limits to her...
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A painter's block
Thailand, Pattaya,
26-03-2010.
Walking into the lobby on my way to the boulevard, really in need of my first 7/Eleven coffee of the day I get confronted by a heavy scene...all Miss Fohn's belongings stuffed into two black garbage bags, her little son Jacky's baby bed, little plastic baby bath tub tied to the top, poor Fohn argueing fiercly with three of Thailand's finest about the fate of Little Jacky who is quite happily suckling his bottle of milk in the arms of one of the cleaning ladies, blissfully unaware his fate is under heavy discussion here...
If there is one thing in Thailand a Farang should never do it is interfering in local problems...and anyway I know Que Pasa here...I have blogged about Miss Fohn and her baby Jacky before, poor baby Jacky who was conceived last year when I was in Pattaya and his young mother who is totally of her head on Yaa-Baa, crystal myth and cocaine leaving Jacky in the hands of whoever sits in front of the New Star while she is doing her number again on whatever Farang happens to be in the mood for a 300 Baht shorttime, using the money to get high again, returning often hours later to pick up Jacky...not all that unusual here in Pattaya where mixed-race infants belonging to Hot Mommas and unknown Farang fathers are the norm rather than the exception...
I have my own problems to take care of, like Miss Jiff who has taken over dominance of my room, who seems to think she is in control at what time I should paint - read 24/7 here -, what models can enter my room, taking over my shopping list and running off with whatever art comes out of my hands, returning to my room with new models I have never seen before, models she pays with the cash that she makes selling my artwork, buying massive amounts of acrylic paint, pensils, crayons, eastindian ink etc but obviously forgetting my empty belly..."no time for eat, Hans, you must work, good for you, good for me"...
Yeah, I get the picture allright...she has got the smell of Dinero in her little Thai nostrils and is not about let that delicious aroma out of her smelling range, forcing me to spend most of my time in my room, my orange-colored hotel-provided towel wrapped around my hips while I wonder what Thai female next will walk through the hole that is my room's entrance...I think it is about time I start suffering from a painter's block....
26-03-2010.
Walking into the lobby on my way to the boulevard, really in need of my first 7/Eleven coffee of the day I get confronted by a heavy scene...all Miss Fohn's belongings stuffed into two black garbage bags, her little son Jacky's baby bed, little plastic baby bath tub tied to the top, poor Fohn argueing fiercly with three of Thailand's finest about the fate of Little Jacky who is quite happily suckling his bottle of milk in the arms of one of the cleaning ladies, blissfully unaware his fate is under heavy discussion here...
If there is one thing in Thailand a Farang should never do it is interfering in local problems...and anyway I know Que Pasa here...I have blogged about Miss Fohn and her baby Jacky before, poor baby Jacky who was conceived last year when I was in Pattaya and his young mother who is totally of her head on Yaa-Baa, crystal myth and cocaine leaving Jacky in the hands of whoever sits in front of the New Star while she is doing her number again on whatever Farang happens to be in the mood for a 300 Baht shorttime, using the money to get high again, returning often hours later to pick up Jacky...not all that unusual here in Pattaya where mixed-race infants belonging to Hot Mommas and unknown Farang fathers are the norm rather than the exception...
I have my own problems to take care of, like Miss Jiff who has taken over dominance of my room, who seems to think she is in control at what time I should paint - read 24/7 here -, what models can enter my room, taking over my shopping list and running off with whatever art comes out of my hands, returning to my room with new models I have never seen before, models she pays with the cash that she makes selling my artwork, buying massive amounts of acrylic paint, pensils, crayons, eastindian ink etc but obviously forgetting my empty belly..."no time for eat, Hans, you must work, good for you, good for me"...
Yeah, I get the picture allright...she has got the smell of Dinero in her little Thai nostrils and is not about let that delicious aroma out of her smelling range, forcing me to spend most of my time in my room, my orange-colored hotel-provided towel wrapped around my hips while I wonder what Thai female next will walk through the hole that is my room's entrance...I think it is about time I start suffering from a painter's block....
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Susie Wong Story
Thailand, Pattaya,
24-03-2010.
I wake up well after ten o'clock morning, the taste of several cans of Cheers beer foremost in my mouth, instantly making me feel like puking...the slight head ache in the front lobe of my cerebral cortex reminding me of my vow never to drink Cheers again...but then I made that vow in the tourist district of Bangkok, in Khao Sarn Road, in the Gecko Bar, after drinking tons of this stuff together with a crazy German who had all these weird world views and outlandish solutions to global plaques pestering the world population... I guess after last night's sushi dinner and subsequent boozing party, drinking pegs of Cheers I must have forgotten all of my good intentions....
Or maybe it was the sight of Tuk leaving me in the hands - or should I call them claws? - of our nighttime party's participants, all of them beautiful ladies of the night who were convinced I would attain world fame - or maybe notoirity - as a painter of Thai prost*t*tes, convinced they too would co-celebrate - no doubt financial as well - in my new-found carreer...no doubt countless bottles of Cheers and a cheerful communal mood had much to do with that, big female dreams of being in the spotlight of the world art scene, interviews with art reporters from international newspapers and maybe a few American TV stations thrown in for good measure....
Poor Tuk didn't think so, feminine jealousy eating away her Thai Phi, her soul being devoured by the sight of her friends rolling around on the beach with me, pinching my suntanned skin, taking off my T-shirt and rubbing my shoulders, massaging my arms and hands, some of them even sucking sensually on my finger tips which they probably thought of as containing magic, the farang fingers that hold the pensils that produced these stupid paintings and drawings that brought in the Thai money that financed last night's little party...
So, here I am back in my room, pas de Baht - sh*t, I will have to use my ATM card today to pay for this week's rent - a Cheer beer induced head ache that is tearing my braincells apart and no new-found Thai love to massage my scalp, make it all go away, alone in my bed, needing to go to the toilet as my bladder is urgently telling me but the Cheers in my belly wanna come out the wrong way...is this really the sort of life I wanna live, the eccentric life of an artist in foreign lands painting exotic local females, always surrounded by female attention, knocking on my door at the most unusual hours - that is talking from a Dutch point of view - taking off their leopart-skin skirts, their s*xy tank tops without restrictions, posing for me on my bed without inhibitions........
When I was a mere lad, somewhere in my teenage years, I read the story of Susie Wong in Hong Kong, an english ametuer artist just like me who took a sabatical year in Hong Kong, checking into a prost*t*te-rife hotel in the more sleazy part of the city to improve his artwork, maybe get famous and world notoirity thrown in for good measure...several years later I saw the movie Susie Wong which brought world fame to the Chinese actress Nancy Kwan, the first Asian actress ever to make it to LA's version of the Indian Bollywood....however much of an impression the book and subsequent movie might have made on me, never expected to get into the same situation myself...alas with the booze thrown into at a - probably - heavy cost to my life insurance policy later on I fear....
24-03-2010.
I wake up well after ten o'clock morning, the taste of several cans of Cheers beer foremost in my mouth, instantly making me feel like puking...the slight head ache in the front lobe of my cerebral cortex reminding me of my vow never to drink Cheers again...but then I made that vow in the tourist district of Bangkok, in Khao Sarn Road, in the Gecko Bar, after drinking tons of this stuff together with a crazy German who had all these weird world views and outlandish solutions to global plaques pestering the world population... I guess after last night's sushi dinner and subsequent boozing party, drinking pegs of Cheers I must have forgotten all of my good intentions....
Or maybe it was the sight of Tuk leaving me in the hands - or should I call them claws? - of our nighttime party's participants, all of them beautiful ladies of the night who were convinced I would attain world fame - or maybe notoirity - as a painter of Thai prost*t*tes, convinced they too would co-celebrate - no doubt financial as well - in my new-found carreer...no doubt countless bottles of Cheers and a cheerful communal mood had much to do with that, big female dreams of being in the spotlight of the world art scene, interviews with art reporters from international newspapers and maybe a few American TV stations thrown in for good measure....
Poor Tuk didn't think so, feminine jealousy eating away her Thai Phi, her soul being devoured by the sight of her friends rolling around on the beach with me, pinching my suntanned skin, taking off my T-shirt and rubbing my shoulders, massaging my arms and hands, some of them even sucking sensually on my finger tips which they probably thought of as containing magic, the farang fingers that hold the pensils that produced these stupid paintings and drawings that brought in the Thai money that financed last night's little party...
So, here I am back in my room, pas de Baht - sh*t, I will have to use my ATM card today to pay for this week's rent - a Cheer beer induced head ache that is tearing my braincells apart and no new-found Thai love to massage my scalp, make it all go away, alone in my bed, needing to go to the toilet as my bladder is urgently telling me but the Cheers in my belly wanna come out the wrong way...is this really the sort of life I wanna live, the eccentric life of an artist in foreign lands painting exotic local females, always surrounded by female attention, knocking on my door at the most unusual hours - that is talking from a Dutch point of view - taking off their leopart-skin skirts, their s*xy tank tops without restrictions, posing for me on my bed without inhibitions........
When I was a mere lad, somewhere in my teenage years, I read the story of Susie Wong in Hong Kong, an english ametuer artist just like me who took a sabatical year in Hong Kong, checking into a prost*t*te-rife hotel in the more sleazy part of the city to improve his artwork, maybe get famous and world notoirity thrown in for good measure...several years later I saw the movie Susie Wong which brought world fame to the Chinese actress Nancy Kwan, the first Asian actress ever to make it to LA's version of the Indian Bollywood....however much of an impression the book and subsequent movie might have made on me, never expected to get into the same situation myself...alas with the booze thrown into at a - probably - heavy cost to my life insurance policy later on I fear....
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Easy come, easy go
Thailand, Pattaya,
23-03-2010.
Easy come, easy go, I presume....all the money Miss Jiff made, the big pile of reddish-colored 100 Baht notes as well as sevaeral purpelish notes of 500 Baht didn't last very long. "Please, please, you help me pay for rent room me...3000 Baht for Tuk's rent plus 500 Baht for the electricity bill - I am surprised she didn't try to get another 500 Baht out of me for the water bill - then, of course I had to give some Dinero Thailandes to Miss Jiff for selling all my art cr*p in the first place and giving 2000 Baht to Miss Joy for her dentist bill was a real bad idea to begin with - I am pretty sure her freeloading drunken boyfriend Clyde-The- Selfproclaimed-Autor of her life story will probably booze it all to high heaven and beyond on Thai moonshine whiskey and/or cans of Chang with poor Joy doing her Hot Momma work on the boulevard, tooth ache or no tooth ache...
And then of course all these crazy models demanding Mas Dinero for food and drinks while waiting their turn to get immortalise by way of acrylics on drawing paper - Bejesus, normally they take all that stuff up to my room paying for it themselves, munching away of Kao Pat Khong - fried rice with shrimp - barbecued chicken legs and maybe a bottle of Hong Thong whiskey to wash it all down, coca cola with a bag of ice cubes to dillude the strong taste of Thai whiskey, make it go down the female throat even faster which also means faster results...
When I propose to Tuk to walk down to Pattaya Festival shopping mall for a sushi meal - definitely needing a break and some fresh air after having been contained inside my room by this army of scarcely dressed local females, TV blaring away with Thai talking heads explaining the progress of the Red Shirts demonstrations in Bangkok, gossiping models waiting their turn for the drawing paper contest - no way any of them is getting the message - cr*p in hell or the Buddhist Nirvana afterlife... I wanna be alone with Tuk, my new-found love in this Pattaya life of mine, but no they all think it is a good idea,,,yeah lets go sushi dining, Hans-The-Ting-Tong painter has got his pockets full with Thai money, lets get out and have fun, lets eat out...
Before I know Que Pasa I am pushed into my bathroom which is full with the typical female paraphynelia, lip sticks in several soft colors, flacons of shampoo in different shapes and smells have appeared out of nowhere - even the 7/Eleven down the Soi is enjoying my new found wealth I suspect - hair extentions that didn't last long and a box of tampons betraying me at least member of that crazy army of femininity is on her period, flash eye lashes - which of these ladies needed these? - and, oh magic nights help me get away from this weird Susie Wong In Hong Kong scene, a pair of ladies underwear lying forlornly in a corner...
Outside the Pattaya Music Festival 2010 looks a bit like the Dutch Queensday and Amsterdam Uitmarkt combined in one but without the color orange, huge stages with groups playing jazz, Thai love songs, bluess etc...the girls are excited, almost in extasy, the ohs and ahs mingling with the sounds of over the top, semi drunk Bangkokians all around me...secretly I wonder if whatever money is left over from Jiff' s selling spree, will suffice to pay for all these sushi-hungry female bellies...like I said, easy come, easy go....at least I aint no Cheap Charley, just a Ting Tong painter from good old Amsterdam which by the way I am really starting to miss
23-03-2010.
Easy come, easy go, I presume....all the money Miss Jiff made, the big pile of reddish-colored 100 Baht notes as well as sevaeral purpelish notes of 500 Baht didn't last very long. "Please, please, you help me pay for rent room me...3000 Baht for Tuk's rent plus 500 Baht for the electricity bill - I am surprised she didn't try to get another 500 Baht out of me for the water bill - then, of course I had to give some Dinero Thailandes to Miss Jiff for selling all my art cr*p in the first place and giving 2000 Baht to Miss Joy for her dentist bill was a real bad idea to begin with - I am pretty sure her freeloading drunken boyfriend Clyde-The- Selfproclaimed-Autor of her life story will probably booze it all to high heaven and beyond on Thai moonshine whiskey and/or cans of Chang with poor Joy doing her Hot Momma work on the boulevard, tooth ache or no tooth ache...
And then of course all these crazy models demanding Mas Dinero for food and drinks while waiting their turn to get immortalise by way of acrylics on drawing paper - Bejesus, normally they take all that stuff up to my room paying for it themselves, munching away of Kao Pat Khong - fried rice with shrimp - barbecued chicken legs and maybe a bottle of Hong Thong whiskey to wash it all down, coca cola with a bag of ice cubes to dillude the strong taste of Thai whiskey, make it go down the female throat even faster which also means faster results...
When I propose to Tuk to walk down to Pattaya Festival shopping mall for a sushi meal - definitely needing a break and some fresh air after having been contained inside my room by this army of scarcely dressed local females, TV blaring away with Thai talking heads explaining the progress of the Red Shirts demonstrations in Bangkok, gossiping models waiting their turn for the drawing paper contest - no way any of them is getting the message - cr*p in hell or the Buddhist Nirvana afterlife... I wanna be alone with Tuk, my new-found love in this Pattaya life of mine, but no they all think it is a good idea,,,yeah lets go sushi dining, Hans-The-Ting-Tong painter has got his pockets full with Thai money, lets get out and have fun, lets eat out...
Before I know Que Pasa I am pushed into my bathroom which is full with the typical female paraphynelia, lip sticks in several soft colors, flacons of shampoo in different shapes and smells have appeared out of nowhere - even the 7/Eleven down the Soi is enjoying my new found wealth I suspect - hair extentions that didn't last long and a box of tampons betraying me at least member of that crazy army of femininity is on her period, flash eye lashes - which of these ladies needed these? - and, oh magic nights help me get away from this weird Susie Wong In Hong Kong scene, a pair of ladies underwear lying forlornly in a corner...
Outside the Pattaya Music Festival 2010 looks a bit like the Dutch Queensday and Amsterdam Uitmarkt combined in one but without the color orange, huge stages with groups playing jazz, Thai love songs, bluess etc...the girls are excited, almost in extasy, the ohs and ahs mingling with the sounds of over the top, semi drunk Bangkokians all around me...secretly I wonder if whatever money is left over from Jiff' s selling spree, will suffice to pay for all these sushi-hungry female bellies...like I said, easy come, easy go....at least I aint no Cheap Charley, just a Ting Tong painter from good old Amsterdam which by the way I am really starting to miss
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Miss Jiff selling my artwork
Thailand, Pattaya.
20-03-2010.
I watch from my postion on the bed how Tuk is paying her respects to her personal Phra Phum, maybe a few Wais for some deceased relative or else to the greatest of mankind, Lord Buddha himself, in front of her little Buddhist shrine in a corner of her room...insence is slowly drifting my way propelled by the small table fan while she preforms her sacred duties.
Turning my eyes to the walls I admired the newspaper sized paintings I made of her last night...they came out well despite Tuk's incapacity to remain still and in place...a styrofoam box with Khao Pad chicken with omelette and two plastic bags containing warm sojamilk betraying me she has already been outside buying breakfast while I was still asleep...
Walking down Soi Honey-Inn to my guest house, holding hands the way lovers do - I seem to remember we upgraded our relationship to that level last night in between modelling sessions and a good thing it was keeping her more at ease sitting on the bed stark naked posing for me - walking up the stairs, arms around each other's waist while the reception ladies smile approvingly, the cleaning ladies giving me secret smiles full with understanding...
The shock comes in my room where the walls have been bared of my artwork, my styrofoam plates with dried acrylics cleaned or replaced with fresh ones, new tubes of paint and blank paper...Miss Jiff sitting on the bed, smiling at me broadly making her overbite looking even more grotesque, the remants of a plate of fried fish with rice and a can of Archa beer next to her - her breakfast no doubt - a huge pile of hunderd Baht notes lying on my bedside table...what the heck has happened here...
Apperently while I was staying overnight in Tuk's room on Soi Bukauow, Jiff took down all my artwork from the last couple of weeks and sold it at the Pattaya Music Festival 2010 making nearly 10.000 baht in the process as she proudly informs me waving the big pile of red-colored notes under my eyes, the serious face of a still youngish looking King Bhumipol on the front, telling me I should paint more, more and more, "me can sell again tonight, make big money again"...taking her cell phone to tell her friends to come over for numerous modelling sessions...
Tjesus, I was counting to go and see the festival today, take Tuk to a sushi restaurant, look at all the stands selling everything and more, listen to the bands performing free music, enjoy the feeling of being in love....not so sure if leaving my roomkey with Jiff last night was such a good idea after all but then didn't I wanted to get more serious about the artistic side of my life?
20-03-2010.
I watch from my postion on the bed how Tuk is paying her respects to her personal Phra Phum, maybe a few Wais for some deceased relative or else to the greatest of mankind, Lord Buddha himself, in front of her little Buddhist shrine in a corner of her room...insence is slowly drifting my way propelled by the small table fan while she preforms her sacred duties.
Turning my eyes to the walls I admired the newspaper sized paintings I made of her last night...they came out well despite Tuk's incapacity to remain still and in place...a styrofoam box with Khao Pad chicken with omelette and two plastic bags containing warm sojamilk betraying me she has already been outside buying breakfast while I was still asleep...
Walking down Soi Honey-Inn to my guest house, holding hands the way lovers do - I seem to remember we upgraded our relationship to that level last night in between modelling sessions and a good thing it was keeping her more at ease sitting on the bed stark naked posing for me - walking up the stairs, arms around each other's waist while the reception ladies smile approvingly, the cleaning ladies giving me secret smiles full with understanding...
The shock comes in my room where the walls have been bared of my artwork, my styrofoam plates with dried acrylics cleaned or replaced with fresh ones, new tubes of paint and blank paper...Miss Jiff sitting on the bed, smiling at me broadly making her overbite looking even more grotesque, the remants of a plate of fried fish with rice and a can of Archa beer next to her - her breakfast no doubt - a huge pile of hunderd Baht notes lying on my bedside table...what the heck has happened here...
Apperently while I was staying overnight in Tuk's room on Soi Bukauow, Jiff took down all my artwork from the last couple of weeks and sold it at the Pattaya Music Festival 2010 making nearly 10.000 baht in the process as she proudly informs me waving the big pile of red-colored notes under my eyes, the serious face of a still youngish looking King Bhumipol on the front, telling me I should paint more, more and more, "me can sell again tonight, make big money again"...taking her cell phone to tell her friends to come over for numerous modelling sessions...
Tjesus, I was counting to go and see the festival today, take Tuk to a sushi restaurant, look at all the stands selling everything and more, listen to the bands performing free music, enjoy the feeling of being in love....not so sure if leaving my roomkey with Jiff last night was such a good idea after all but then didn't I wanted to get more serious about the artistic side of my life?
Friday, March 19, 2010
Painting Miss Tuk
Thailand, Pattaya,
20-03-2010.
My new art stuff bought at the Pattaya Festival shopping mall is really to my liking, new pensils to replace the old overused ones, once again I found fluorescent acrylic paint - great for the dimly lit room I am presently in, Tuk's room on Soi Bukauow...I feel a bit like a monk being in the process of severe deep meditation totally unaware of the small cubicle he is presiding in....
Like I am totally unaware of Tuk's provokative attitute - well, not really so to tell the truth - while posing for me - I have a strong suspicion her mind is more on c*rnal l*st, more interested in the games adults play than sitting on her bed being a nude model for me, hard for her to keep quiet and stay in place, don't move her beautiful body around all the time, her eyes frequently shifting to my cr*tch instead askew to my position on the floor...
I try hard to focus on my art work but feel like being on the run, a realm where there are no friends but my not so real Westerpark brotherhood of alcoholic "friends", always keen on free beer from my fridge but never bringing anything along themselves...I might pay my models 100/200 Baht for a modelling session but the amounty of free drinks and Thai food they carry up to my New Star
room is staggering...
I still try hard to focus on my art work but still feel like being on the run, back on my iron lady, my bicycle, somewhere in Southern Europe, maybe Mexico or The States, wildcamping in a cactus forest or maybe in Yosemity Valley where there are no Thai Hot mommas to keep me occupied, no army of Local ladies of the night looking for free lodging during heavy tropical rain storms at night, just me alone in my tent with the patting of rain drops on the canvas of my linen night time travel partner....
Outside the pattaya Music Festival is in full swing with the Amataya - the Thai elite from bangkok - celebrating their victory over the Red Shirt Movement, a full week of rallying in the streets of Bangkok and Mister Abhisit's governement is still intact while the UDD's daily demonstrations have quite literally bled to an infamous death - I presume you saw them on TV washing their own precious blood down the Bangkok streets - yeah, big party time for the Thai elite while poor MOI is doing all sorts of mental mind hopping trying to get my painting finished while at the same time trying hard to avoid Tuk's desires for night time activities...
20-03-2010.
My new art stuff bought at the Pattaya Festival shopping mall is really to my liking, new pensils to replace the old overused ones, once again I found fluorescent acrylic paint - great for the dimly lit room I am presently in, Tuk's room on Soi Bukauow...I feel a bit like a monk being in the process of severe deep meditation totally unaware of the small cubicle he is presiding in....
Like I am totally unaware of Tuk's provokative attitute - well, not really so to tell the truth - while posing for me - I have a strong suspicion her mind is more on c*rnal l*st, more interested in the games adults play than sitting on her bed being a nude model for me, hard for her to keep quiet and stay in place, don't move her beautiful body around all the time, her eyes frequently shifting to my cr*tch instead askew to my position on the floor...
I try hard to focus on my art work but feel like being on the run, a realm where there are no friends but my not so real Westerpark brotherhood of alcoholic "friends", always keen on free beer from my fridge but never bringing anything along themselves...I might pay my models 100/200 Baht for a modelling session but the amounty of free drinks and Thai food they carry up to my New Star
room is staggering...
I still try hard to focus on my art work but still feel like being on the run, back on my iron lady, my bicycle, somewhere in Southern Europe, maybe Mexico or The States, wildcamping in a cactus forest or maybe in Yosemity Valley where there are no Thai Hot mommas to keep me occupied, no army of Local ladies of the night looking for free lodging during heavy tropical rain storms at night, just me alone in my tent with the patting of rain drops on the canvas of my linen night time travel partner....
Outside the pattaya Music Festival is in full swing with the Amataya - the Thai elite from bangkok - celebrating their victory over the Red Shirt Movement, a full week of rallying in the streets of Bangkok and Mister Abhisit's governement is still intact while the UDD's daily demonstrations have quite literally bled to an infamous death - I presume you saw them on TV washing their own precious blood down the Bangkok streets - yeah, big party time for the Thai elite while poor MOI is doing all sorts of mental mind hopping trying to get my painting finished while at the same time trying hard to avoid Tuk's desires for night time activities...
Thursday, March 18, 2010
An unwelcome visit.
Thailand, Pattaya,
19-03-2010.
I wake up to the not all that unusual but once again persistent knocking on my door, 07.30 h. in the morning and heavy rain slashing against the windows makes me wonder if this hammering on my door could be a whole army of beach sleeping Hot Mommas fleeing from the boulevard, hating to get soaked by this tropical downpour outside, looking for shelter in my room - it has happened before - but no it is Tuk, this affectionate lady I met a few days ago, having come to me with breakfast, two small plastic bags with warm Soaj milk and a huge bag containing chicken nuggets...
"Me like you make painting now, Hans", she informs me while we make serious work of the chicken nuggets. My orange-colored hotel-provided towel wrapped around my waist leaves little to the imagination of what every healthy male suffers from early morning but I contain my male desires telling her I need a few hours more sleep before a serious painting session can start...
It is well after noon before the knock-knock-knock starts again...opening my door to a very different sort of visitor, mister Clyde from New Castle, the Big freeloader and self proclaimed artist/autor of Joy's life story, Joy who is currently supporting his self-destructive life style...he looks it too dressed in his dirty blue denim jeans and sweat-soaked T-shirt, a small bottled of Thai moonshine whisky supported by his left hand and one of his soggy notebooks in the other, pushing me aside brusquely, ignoring the naked body of Tuk who desperately tries to cover herself with the blue bed sheet...knocking his small pair of buttocks on the matrass next to her, checking out the empty cans of Leo from last night for possible remaining portions of stale beer, lighting the Burmese sigar butt he finds in the ashtray and munching on the few remaining pieces of chicken nugget before explaining the purpose of his unwelcome visit...
The idea is very simple, really..we take the bus to Ekkamalai in Bangkok, a taxi to the Klong Thoei area, the slum where Joy grew up, where she spent her childhood pushing a wheelbarrow filled with fruits, trying to sell the stuff to passers-by, her short time working for a diner on Sukumvit Road before getting engaged at a Go-Go Bar on Patpong...yeah I get the idea d*rned well, a field study paid for by stupid MOI...
I take him by the dirty T-shirt collar despite the clammy sweat and push him from the room, a heavy kick in the skinny butt for good measure - much to Tuk's delight - and close the door....Yeah, the little freeloading cr*pper didn't even bother to check out all my acrylic paintings covering the walls....
19-03-2010.
I wake up to the not all that unusual but once again persistent knocking on my door, 07.30 h. in the morning and heavy rain slashing against the windows makes me wonder if this hammering on my door could be a whole army of beach sleeping Hot Mommas fleeing from the boulevard, hating to get soaked by this tropical downpour outside, looking for shelter in my room - it has happened before - but no it is Tuk, this affectionate lady I met a few days ago, having come to me with breakfast, two small plastic bags with warm Soaj milk and a huge bag containing chicken nuggets...
"Me like you make painting now, Hans", she informs me while we make serious work of the chicken nuggets. My orange-colored hotel-provided towel wrapped around my waist leaves little to the imagination of what every healthy male suffers from early morning but I contain my male desires telling her I need a few hours more sleep before a serious painting session can start...
It is well after noon before the knock-knock-knock starts again...opening my door to a very different sort of visitor, mister Clyde from New Castle, the Big freeloader and self proclaimed artist/autor of Joy's life story, Joy who is currently supporting his self-destructive life style...he looks it too dressed in his dirty blue denim jeans and sweat-soaked T-shirt, a small bottled of Thai moonshine whisky supported by his left hand and one of his soggy notebooks in the other, pushing me aside brusquely, ignoring the naked body of Tuk who desperately tries to cover herself with the blue bed sheet...knocking his small pair of buttocks on the matrass next to her, checking out the empty cans of Leo from last night for possible remaining portions of stale beer, lighting the Burmese sigar butt he finds in the ashtray and munching on the few remaining pieces of chicken nugget before explaining the purpose of his unwelcome visit...
The idea is very simple, really..we take the bus to Ekkamalai in Bangkok, a taxi to the Klong Thoei area, the slum where Joy grew up, where she spent her childhood pushing a wheelbarrow filled with fruits, trying to sell the stuff to passers-by, her short time working for a diner on Sukumvit Road before getting engaged at a Go-Go Bar on Patpong...yeah I get the idea d*rned well, a field study paid for by stupid MOI...
I take him by the dirty T-shirt collar despite the clammy sweat and push him from the room, a heavy kick in the skinny butt for good measure - much to Tuk's delight - and close the door....Yeah, the little freeloading cr*pper didn't even bother to check out all my acrylic paintings covering the walls....
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Another Ting Tong painter in Pattaya
Thailand, Pattaya,
17-03-2010.
Joy, a 51 year old Hot Momma who is pushing it hard to get the most out of her last few years remaining as a professional Hot Momma, her face being kept together by countless layers of mascara and make-up but still in the possession of a youthful body and one of my models for years now, has recently told me to visit her at her dingy room at the PS Guest House to meet her 23 year old Englsih boyfriend Clyde who, according to her is also a "real" artist and living in her room, being suported by her with food, free lodging and unusual amounts - even in Pattaya - of Chang and Thai moonshine whisky ...
The PS Guest House's lobby is as usual frequented by a steady group of drunk habituees whose nationalities are either Dutch or Belgium and come to Pattaya every year in order to booze under more pleasant circumstances than back in cold Europe, a few worn-out Hot Mommas dressed in what are suppossed to be sexy skirts or super short jeans but look more like rags to me - no big surprise there since the ladies living at this dump aka as the biggest shorttime hotel in Pattaya - are rumoured to be all hooked to these little red pills...tables full with overflowing asstrays, empty bottles of Chang and a ungly-looking Kathoy sitting on a motorbike outside eyeing me with keen interest - probably considering wether or not it will be worth his/her while to leave his/her comfortable roosting place to solicite me or not...well, this is the PS Guest House after all.
I greet the drunk boozers politely making a bit of small talk with fat-bellied and foul smelling Mark from Blankenberge before mounting the steps to room 11 which is in the back of this slab of concrete, where the rooms are the cheapest but also the dirtiest - another Kathoy coming down the stairs, fat and unshaven legs poking out of a mini skirt which he/she lifts momentarily and provocatively before continuing on his/her merry way...maybe no business but surely a bit of Sanuk, the Thai word for fun and oh so important here in happy-always Pattaya...
My persistent knocking is eventually successfull with a bloke dressed in urine-stained white underwear, deperately in need of a shave and a good shapood hairwash and whose face could do with a complete reconstruction job, looking drunk - surely off his head on booze by the smell of it - and totally out of it but apperently aware of the purpose of my visit, inviting me in, showing me around the dingy room whose concrete walls are covered in nude pen drawing of Joy, notebooks scattered around the floor, are everywhere which according to Joy contain her life's story and Clyde from Newcastle - this number one freeloader in his yellow-stained underwear - plans to publish back in jolly old England, make a bundle and share the provits with her...
I am aware that a real artist is more often than not a nutcase - look at Vincent Van Gogh, Peter Klashorst or maybe ameteur artist and happy blogger MOI but this is pushing its limits...or maybe not remembering my own prolonged stay at Lucky's and Mick's bar all these years ago where I would often wake up to a room looking just as dirty as this one, the floor covered in empty beer cans and Burmese sigar butts, opening my eyes to a female body that I had no memerance of ever having seen before though obviously having picked up the night before while wandering down the boulevard from my drunken bouts in Walking Street, my head heavy on all the consumed Tiger beer I was so crazy about in these mad years of my excistence...
17-03-2010.
Joy, a 51 year old Hot Momma who is pushing it hard to get the most out of her last few years remaining as a professional Hot Momma, her face being kept together by countless layers of mascara and make-up but still in the possession of a youthful body and one of my models for years now, has recently told me to visit her at her dingy room at the PS Guest House to meet her 23 year old Englsih boyfriend Clyde who, according to her is also a "real" artist and living in her room, being suported by her with food, free lodging and unusual amounts - even in Pattaya - of Chang and Thai moonshine whisky ...
The PS Guest House's lobby is as usual frequented by a steady group of drunk habituees whose nationalities are either Dutch or Belgium and come to Pattaya every year in order to booze under more pleasant circumstances than back in cold Europe, a few worn-out Hot Mommas dressed in what are suppossed to be sexy skirts or super short jeans but look more like rags to me - no big surprise there since the ladies living at this dump aka as the biggest shorttime hotel in Pattaya - are rumoured to be all hooked to these little red pills...tables full with overflowing asstrays, empty bottles of Chang and a ungly-looking Kathoy sitting on a motorbike outside eyeing me with keen interest - probably considering wether or not it will be worth his/her while to leave his/her comfortable roosting place to solicite me or not...well, this is the PS Guest House after all.
I greet the drunk boozers politely making a bit of small talk with fat-bellied and foul smelling Mark from Blankenberge before mounting the steps to room 11 which is in the back of this slab of concrete, where the rooms are the cheapest but also the dirtiest - another Kathoy coming down the stairs, fat and unshaven legs poking out of a mini skirt which he/she lifts momentarily and provocatively before continuing on his/her merry way...maybe no business but surely a bit of Sanuk, the Thai word for fun and oh so important here in happy-always Pattaya...
My persistent knocking is eventually successfull with a bloke dressed in urine-stained white underwear, deperately in need of a shave and a good shapood hairwash and whose face could do with a complete reconstruction job, looking drunk - surely off his head on booze by the smell of it - and totally out of it but apperently aware of the purpose of my visit, inviting me in, showing me around the dingy room whose concrete walls are covered in nude pen drawing of Joy, notebooks scattered around the floor, are everywhere which according to Joy contain her life's story and Clyde from Newcastle - this number one freeloader in his yellow-stained underwear - plans to publish back in jolly old England, make a bundle and share the provits with her...
I am aware that a real artist is more often than not a nutcase - look at Vincent Van Gogh, Peter Klashorst or maybe ameteur artist and happy blogger MOI but this is pushing its limits...or maybe not remembering my own prolonged stay at Lucky's and Mick's bar all these years ago where I would often wake up to a room looking just as dirty as this one, the floor covered in empty beer cans and Burmese sigar butts, opening my eyes to a female body that I had no memerance of ever having seen before though obviously having picked up the night before while wandering down the boulevard from my drunken bouts in Walking Street, my head heavy on all the consumed Tiger beer I was so crazy about in these mad years of my excistence...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Days in bangkok, final part
Thailand, Pattaya,
15-03-2010.
There is a steady sort of groaning coming from the next room, the sort of sounds originating from people having s*x, coming through the walls of my New Star hotel room as though they were made of thin paper, even deafening the sounds of my TV, while I'm watching it...normally these walls do block the noices beng made next door but this particular couple either is on a very big trip or else have been deprived of this adult-game-only for centuries...
Nothing to do but go back to the internet cafe down the soi and finish my "days in Bangkok" once and for all...
I wake up on the floor the taste of expensive cigars and stale Chang beer mixed with tasty Regency whisky on my tongue, the insides of my mouth cavity feeling as dry as the Sahara desert in high summer...on the floor instead of the king-size bed where Nong's snoring, heavy and not sounding all that happy - I 've a adult life time of experience hearing the difference of happy and unhappy snoring in the woman's dream world - ...wandering over to the inroom fridge for an ice-cold Chang, hoping it will give my poor head a bit of a reprive, good medicine after any given night of boozing, maybe a cold shower before cleaning up the mess left behind after last night's debacle...I still have a faint memory of a very angry Nong not getting certain info about Amanda and my sister in the deep south of Holland and probably the reason why I woke up on the floor instead of next to her in the bed...
I look with disgust at my soggy notebook containg all the sketches I made of these two Kathoys last night while waiting for Nong to arrive back at Sukumvit Road. A whole bottle of Chang has made my notes and Kathoy-related drawings asorry affair, maybe a colorful mess but leaving me feeling genuinely sorry, all my work for the dogs tail - Kee Mah as the Thai say - maybe putting the bloody thing upright on its hard cover might save some of my artistic work, maybe it will help me to read the notes I made of Kathoys discussing typical Thai third gender topics...
Breakfast is done in mutual silence and dominated by strong feelings of fustration wavering across the table in my direction, even overpowering the strong smell of strong Nescafe coffee, forget about the omelettes sunny side up...with all this d*rned whisky doing a serious number on my intestines I have a feeling it will get out faster as I can keep it in...
The Hindu temple on Silom Road is our day's excursion before I will be on the minibus back to Pattaya, ordered from the Sangri-la's inroom telefone service and supposed to pick me up in front of this little Hindu holy place smack in the middle of buzy Silom-Silom, where well-built sikhs with family and Yogis that have come all the way from India do their Darsha, a few Sadhus - holy men from the Hindu way of life - eye me curiously before returning to their sacred duties, insence rules the interior driving out the exhaust fumes from Bangkok's notoriously overcongested traffic...we do our own little Darsha untill my phone reminds me of the minibus waiting outside...
I remember there was no love lost in Nong's eyes but she still wished me happy days in Pattaya before walking down the road, back to her life with her silver-haired Norwegian sugar daddy, back to her Sangr-la hotel room while I got besieged with Go-Go bar related questions by these two new arrivals from Britain, wanting to know about the hottest bars and the Game in 24/7 big party place pattaya, promising me free beer and whisky if I would show them around Pattaya-Walking Street, the hottest bars, the best looking babes....whatever...
15-03-2010.
There is a steady sort of groaning coming from the next room, the sort of sounds originating from people having s*x, coming through the walls of my New Star hotel room as though they were made of thin paper, even deafening the sounds of my TV, while I'm watching it...normally these walls do block the noices beng made next door but this particular couple either is on a very big trip or else have been deprived of this adult-game-only for centuries...
Nothing to do but go back to the internet cafe down the soi and finish my "days in Bangkok" once and for all...
I wake up on the floor the taste of expensive cigars and stale Chang beer mixed with tasty Regency whisky on my tongue, the insides of my mouth cavity feeling as dry as the Sahara desert in high summer...on the floor instead of the king-size bed where Nong's snoring, heavy and not sounding all that happy - I 've a adult life time of experience hearing the difference of happy and unhappy snoring in the woman's dream world - ...wandering over to the inroom fridge for an ice-cold Chang, hoping it will give my poor head a bit of a reprive, good medicine after any given night of boozing, maybe a cold shower before cleaning up the mess left behind after last night's debacle...I still have a faint memory of a very angry Nong not getting certain info about Amanda and my sister in the deep south of Holland and probably the reason why I woke up on the floor instead of next to her in the bed...
I look with disgust at my soggy notebook containg all the sketches I made of these two Kathoys last night while waiting for Nong to arrive back at Sukumvit Road. A whole bottle of Chang has made my notes and Kathoy-related drawings asorry affair, maybe a colorful mess but leaving me feeling genuinely sorry, all my work for the dogs tail - Kee Mah as the Thai say - maybe putting the bloody thing upright on its hard cover might save some of my artistic work, maybe it will help me to read the notes I made of Kathoys discussing typical Thai third gender topics...
Breakfast is done in mutual silence and dominated by strong feelings of fustration wavering across the table in my direction, even overpowering the strong smell of strong Nescafe coffee, forget about the omelettes sunny side up...with all this d*rned whisky doing a serious number on my intestines I have a feeling it will get out faster as I can keep it in...
The Hindu temple on Silom Road is our day's excursion before I will be on the minibus back to Pattaya, ordered from the Sangri-la's inroom telefone service and supposed to pick me up in front of this little Hindu holy place smack in the middle of buzy Silom-Silom, where well-built sikhs with family and Yogis that have come all the way from India do their Darsha, a few Sadhus - holy men from the Hindu way of life - eye me curiously before returning to their sacred duties, insence rules the interior driving out the exhaust fumes from Bangkok's notoriously overcongested traffic...we do our own little Darsha untill my phone reminds me of the minibus waiting outside...
I remember there was no love lost in Nong's eyes but she still wished me happy days in Pattaya before walking down the road, back to her life with her silver-haired Norwegian sugar daddy, back to her Sangr-la hotel room while I got besieged with Go-Go bar related questions by these two new arrivals from Britain, wanting to know about the hottest bars and the Game in 24/7 big party place pattaya, promising me free beer and whisky if I would show them around Pattaya-Walking Street, the hottest bars, the best looking babes....whatever...
Saturday, March 13, 2010
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...
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...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Days in Bangkok, part three
Thailand, Pattaya,
12-03-2010.
I lie on my back, eyes closed, trying hard to shut out all the noice outside in the Soi, trying hard to return at least mentally to Bangkok, to Sukumvit Road, a serious effort to get my last visit in cronological order before walking down to the internet cafe down the road, hoping nobody will knock on my door, no painting sessions or free Startrek episodes on my TV that Miss Jiff likes so much...still have about 45 minutes left before that starts though so I should be out of here in ten...
So there we go again, back to Bangkok's rowdiest district where at least half the world's nationalities can be found at any given moment...
Where I find myself walking the short distance from Nana's to the Starbuck for a cup of Mocha, both Nong's and mine's favorite cup of Java, our bellies pleasantly filled with Pla Ra, a fermented fish dish and rumoured to be also Thailand's Premier's Abhisit most looked after meal - maybe the reason his political opponenets like to throw it at him packed in a transparent plastic bag with extra hot chili sauce added during political rallies - steamed rice and more Chang...we pass Siberian pr*stitutes of which there are plenty nowadays on the hunt for Korean and Japanese males but too expensive for the Hindus who lust after their milky white skin and extremely straw blond hair...a couple of lost young backpackers looking for cheap accomodation whom we advicce to take the subway to Huapolong Train Station and from there on to Khaoo Sarn District by Tuk-Tuk...
The long ride home on the back of two motorbike taxis with both the taxistas covered in heavy Thai prison tattoes racing down Silom Road, intent to be the first to reach the Sangri-la Hotel due to Nong's promise of a 100 Baht bonus for whoever gets there first - bad idea in Bangkok's 24/7 notorious traffic jam - but we survive the ordeal and consider it Sanuk - the Thai concept of fun - to sheer through cooked-food stalls on the pavement scaring the hell out of innocent tourists enjoyng a healthy noodle soup after having visited Patpong's nightly tourist market...
We do make it safely to our destination though where the uniformed guards play Thai checkers on a hand-drawn board and where we share the elevator with a young skinny bloke in the company of no less than five excited Hot Mommas. Obviously this bloke originates from American billionaire's parents, maybe even has the bridal suite that is rumoured to have it very own jacuzzi...if so this young nervous fella is in for a treat...as are the ladies' empty wallets tomorrow morning I suspect...I watch them all getting out while Mister Spoiled Billionaire's Son fumbles with his room key, trying hard to avoid my blue shiners...
Keep checking my blog because the best part is as yet to come...Miss Jiff has found me in my habituary internet cafe, desperate to watch today's episode of Star Trek, featuring Jean-Luc Picard whose name after nearly two weeks of daily watching and demanding me to pronounce to her, she still breaks her Thai tongue on. At least they have Thai subtitles!
12-03-2010.
I lie on my back, eyes closed, trying hard to shut out all the noice outside in the Soi, trying hard to return at least mentally to Bangkok, to Sukumvit Road, a serious effort to get my last visit in cronological order before walking down to the internet cafe down the road, hoping nobody will knock on my door, no painting sessions or free Startrek episodes on my TV that Miss Jiff likes so much...still have about 45 minutes left before that starts though so I should be out of here in ten...
So there we go again, back to Bangkok's rowdiest district where at least half the world's nationalities can be found at any given moment...
Where I find myself walking the short distance from Nana's to the Starbuck for a cup of Mocha, both Nong's and mine's favorite cup of Java, our bellies pleasantly filled with Pla Ra, a fermented fish dish and rumoured to be also Thailand's Premier's Abhisit most looked after meal - maybe the reason his political opponenets like to throw it at him packed in a transparent plastic bag with extra hot chili sauce added during political rallies - steamed rice and more Chang...we pass Siberian pr*stitutes of which there are plenty nowadays on the hunt for Korean and Japanese males but too expensive for the Hindus who lust after their milky white skin and extremely straw blond hair...a couple of lost young backpackers looking for cheap accomodation whom we advicce to take the subway to Huapolong Train Station and from there on to Khaoo Sarn District by Tuk-Tuk...
The long ride home on the back of two motorbike taxis with both the taxistas covered in heavy Thai prison tattoes racing down Silom Road, intent to be the first to reach the Sangri-la Hotel due to Nong's promise of a 100 Baht bonus for whoever gets there first - bad idea in Bangkok's 24/7 notorious traffic jam - but we survive the ordeal and consider it Sanuk - the Thai concept of fun - to sheer through cooked-food stalls on the pavement scaring the hell out of innocent tourists enjoyng a healthy noodle soup after having visited Patpong's nightly tourist market...
We do make it safely to our destination though where the uniformed guards play Thai checkers on a hand-drawn board and where we share the elevator with a young skinny bloke in the company of no less than five excited Hot Mommas. Obviously this bloke originates from American billionaire's parents, maybe even has the bridal suite that is rumoured to have it very own jacuzzi...if so this young nervous fella is in for a treat...as are the ladies' empty wallets tomorrow morning I suspect...I watch them all getting out while Mister Spoiled Billionaire's Son fumbles with his room key, trying hard to avoid my blue shiners...
Keep checking my blog because the best part is as yet to come...Miss Jiff has found me in my habituary internet cafe, desperate to watch today's episode of Star Trek, featuring Jean-Luc Picard whose name after nearly two weeks of daily watching and demanding me to pronounce to her, she still breaks her Thai tongue on. At least they have Thai subtitles!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Days in Bangkok, part two.
Thailand, Pattaya,
11-03-2010.
Not really sure I am all that happy with my digital camara in my hand, showing Jan from Haarlem the photos of my art work adourning the walls of my room at the New Star. Not that I mind showing my stuff to Jan, I have after all promised him this little digital art show for days but always left my camara in my room...no, the real problem are the two Hot Mommas sitting next to us here late at night on this stone bench aptly named the Dutch Bench because of all the Dutch old hands to Pattaya converging here at this late hour...
No, the real reason of my discomfort is the serious misunderstanding between these two drunk as skunks ladies of the night, pulling hair and expensive Ray Ban sunglasses flying through the air, high heels smashing watever is left over of the 400 Baht sun protection...needless to say I put my camara away in a hurry - just in time too with one of them being pushed hard and landing all over my lap, that would have been my camara otherwise going after the Ray Ban sunglasses I guess - and make a hasty retreat together with Jan and Kees, another Dutch old hand and frequent Dutch Bench visitor...
Better I blog some more about my recent visit to Bangkok's rauchy district called Sukumvit Road instaed...
Two big condensed bottles of Chang into the waiting time here at Nana's waiting for Nong's imminent arrival and watching the cooked-food stalls preparing for a platoon of hungry Hot Mommas having a quick meal before their shifts at the various Go-Go bars all over Sukumvit Road...where my two Kathoy "friends" at the next table have upgraded their conversation from the advantages and disadvantages of having the s*x operation to the merits of having a German elderly silver hair Sugar Daddy with too much cash in his wallet and a Jelly-O beer gut to having an English young lagerlout as a foreign lover, still energetic in bed but with less cash in the pockets ...I smile beningly every time they look at me pretending to understand Nada in Thai...looking with greedy eyes at the silver bucket with ice on their table containing a big bottle of Mekhong whisky...
The approaching evening's darkness is filled with delicious smells coming from cooked catfish caught fresh this morning from the Chao Phraya river no doubt, noodles with pork so thoroughly cooked it will melt on your tongue, grilled chicken and salads covered in all sorts of tasty sauces, somne of them mixed with coconut milk, cinnamon or chilies, my appetite is getting the better of me and I am about to start ordering though still waiting for Nong...
When suddenly my Buddha amulet - a long-time gift from my awaiting evening's dinner partner, starts to burn slightly, betraying to me she must be near, playing her little Karen magic parlour tricks on me again...sure enough "me love you big time" a familiar female voice behind me, having crept up to me, wanting to surprise me as she always does...we Wai each other politely before she is in my arms, forgeting about the Thai aversion to public shows of emotions...I wonder if we should speak Thai tonight and give away my little eavesdropping secret to our Kathoy neighbors who are watching our little bear hugging contest with keen interest, let them know I have been secretly amuzing myself these past two hours listening to what they thought was their little kathoy-related conversation topics...
More to follow tomorrow.
11-03-2010.
Not really sure I am all that happy with my digital camara in my hand, showing Jan from Haarlem the photos of my art work adourning the walls of my room at the New Star. Not that I mind showing my stuff to Jan, I have after all promised him this little digital art show for days but always left my camara in my room...no, the real problem are the two Hot Mommas sitting next to us here late at night on this stone bench aptly named the Dutch Bench because of all the Dutch old hands to Pattaya converging here at this late hour...
No, the real reason of my discomfort is the serious misunderstanding between these two drunk as skunks ladies of the night, pulling hair and expensive Ray Ban sunglasses flying through the air, high heels smashing watever is left over of the 400 Baht sun protection...needless to say I put my camara away in a hurry - just in time too with one of them being pushed hard and landing all over my lap, that would have been my camara otherwise going after the Ray Ban sunglasses I guess - and make a hasty retreat together with Jan and Kees, another Dutch old hand and frequent Dutch Bench visitor...
Better I blog some more about my recent visit to Bangkok's rauchy district called Sukumvit Road instaed...
Two big condensed bottles of Chang into the waiting time here at Nana's waiting for Nong's imminent arrival and watching the cooked-food stalls preparing for a platoon of hungry Hot Mommas having a quick meal before their shifts at the various Go-Go bars all over Sukumvit Road...where my two Kathoy "friends" at the next table have upgraded their conversation from the advantages and disadvantages of having the s*x operation to the merits of having a German elderly silver hair Sugar Daddy with too much cash in his wallet and a Jelly-O beer gut to having an English young lagerlout as a foreign lover, still energetic in bed but with less cash in the pockets ...I smile beningly every time they look at me pretending to understand Nada in Thai...looking with greedy eyes at the silver bucket with ice on their table containing a big bottle of Mekhong whisky...
The approaching evening's darkness is filled with delicious smells coming from cooked catfish caught fresh this morning from the Chao Phraya river no doubt, noodles with pork so thoroughly cooked it will melt on your tongue, grilled chicken and salads covered in all sorts of tasty sauces, somne of them mixed with coconut milk, cinnamon or chilies, my appetite is getting the better of me and I am about to start ordering though still waiting for Nong...
When suddenly my Buddha amulet - a long-time gift from my awaiting evening's dinner partner, starts to burn slightly, betraying to me she must be near, playing her little Karen magic parlour tricks on me again...sure enough "me love you big time" a familiar female voice behind me, having crept up to me, wanting to surprise me as she always does...we Wai each other politely before she is in my arms, forgeting about the Thai aversion to public shows of emotions...I wonder if we should speak Thai tonight and give away my little eavesdropping secret to our Kathoy neighbors who are watching our little bear hugging contest with keen interest, let them know I have been secretly amuzing myself these past two hours listening to what they thought was their little kathoy-related conversation topics...
More to follow tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Days in Bangkok, part one
Thailand, Pattaya,
10-03-2010.
Not exactly the first time I find myself back in the lobby of the New Star Guest House with baby Jacky in my arms, baby-sitting this little Leuk Kreung infant while Miss Fohn - his Mum - is out and about with some Farangs, making the dough on her back in some sleazy hotel room, helping out some young Englsih blokes in desperate need of Thai s*x after an all night boozing enterprise...
Luckily for me Jacky went to blissfull baby sleep soon after I sang him Jan Klaassen was trompetter, the only song I know by heart, so I can dwell on my last visit to Thailand's capital, my little social visit to Nong while Per, her Norwegian sugar daddy was off to Chiang Mai on a motorbike tour with his Pensionaer friends, hoping for a night free of charge in their expensive Sangria-La Hotel suite where I happen to know his stash of fine Cuban sigars and the location of his equally tatsty Regency whisky...
Back on the motorbike taxi in Bangkok's notorious traffic jam from Ekamai Eastern Bus Termanal when my phone warns me of an incoming text message MEET ME AT NANA'S, ha, we just pass Nana's and with years of experience I text back OKAY with one hand while hanging on for dear life to the motorbike with my other hand, giving the toothless driver the full fare though Nana is ony a mere five minutes from Ekamai, in the very heart of Sukumvit District, the rauchiest and sleaziest tourist area in all of Bangkok...
Everybody and everything lives and propers here, middle class Hindu males holding hands and giggling nervously while checking out the numerous GO-Go bars, huge arabs from Saudi Arabia dressed in white-colored long Djalebbas, their wives strolling the obligatory few paces behind, their faces covered with the Chador, Muslims from the south and middle-aged Farangs holding hands with Thai Hot Mommas from the Isan Sisterhood, a few Sikhs on an improbably quest for the right bars...
Nana's covered with cooked-food stalls mostly manned by Isan farmers still longingly remembering their rice paddies up north but by now having black lungs due to Bangkok's incredible air polution and the inevitable nictine addiction...
It is still too early for the real meals to be prepared but snacks on sticks are numerous with pork meat balls, barbequed chicken legs, dough balls and squid, pieces of water melon, cat fish and satay, all can be eaten from a bamboo stick, good starters for the main dishes later during the night...
I take a seat at one of the iron tables ordering fried cat fish and a Chang beer to wash it down while amuzing myself eavesdropping on the heated conversation of two Kathoys at the next table, wheter or not get the operation, wether or not the org*smic experiences will still be there after the op, wether Farangs like Kathoys more with their male tools still intact or maybe not, what hormone pills to take to get bigger b*obs...
This is definitely gonna be fun waiting for Nong to arrive. In my head I already have it all worked out for my blog when all of a sudden I am called back to present time with Baby Jacky loudly proclaiming his thirst for baby milk and the receptionist ladies smiling at me benevolently while I perform paternal duties that are not mine to perform...will habve to get back to this story later...
10-03-2010.
Not exactly the first time I find myself back in the lobby of the New Star Guest House with baby Jacky in my arms, baby-sitting this little Leuk Kreung infant while Miss Fohn - his Mum - is out and about with some Farangs, making the dough on her back in some sleazy hotel room, helping out some young Englsih blokes in desperate need of Thai s*x after an all night boozing enterprise...
Luckily for me Jacky went to blissfull baby sleep soon after I sang him Jan Klaassen was trompetter, the only song I know by heart, so I can dwell on my last visit to Thailand's capital, my little social visit to Nong while Per, her Norwegian sugar daddy was off to Chiang Mai on a motorbike tour with his Pensionaer friends, hoping for a night free of charge in their expensive Sangria-La Hotel suite where I happen to know his stash of fine Cuban sigars and the location of his equally tatsty Regency whisky...
Back on the motorbike taxi in Bangkok's notorious traffic jam from Ekamai Eastern Bus Termanal when my phone warns me of an incoming text message MEET ME AT NANA'S, ha, we just pass Nana's and with years of experience I text back OKAY with one hand while hanging on for dear life to the motorbike with my other hand, giving the toothless driver the full fare though Nana is ony a mere five minutes from Ekamai, in the very heart of Sukumvit District, the rauchiest and sleaziest tourist area in all of Bangkok...
Everybody and everything lives and propers here, middle class Hindu males holding hands and giggling nervously while checking out the numerous GO-Go bars, huge arabs from Saudi Arabia dressed in white-colored long Djalebbas, their wives strolling the obligatory few paces behind, their faces covered with the Chador, Muslims from the south and middle-aged Farangs holding hands with Thai Hot Mommas from the Isan Sisterhood, a few Sikhs on an improbably quest for the right bars...
Nana's covered with cooked-food stalls mostly manned by Isan farmers still longingly remembering their rice paddies up north but by now having black lungs due to Bangkok's incredible air polution and the inevitable nictine addiction...
It is still too early for the real meals to be prepared but snacks on sticks are numerous with pork meat balls, barbequed chicken legs, dough balls and squid, pieces of water melon, cat fish and satay, all can be eaten from a bamboo stick, good starters for the main dishes later during the night...
I take a seat at one of the iron tables ordering fried cat fish and a Chang beer to wash it down while amuzing myself eavesdropping on the heated conversation of two Kathoys at the next table, wheter or not get the operation, wether or not the org*smic experiences will still be there after the op, wether Farangs like Kathoys more with their male tools still intact or maybe not, what hormone pills to take to get bigger b*obs...
This is definitely gonna be fun waiting for Nong to arrive. In my head I already have it all worked out for my blog when all of a sudden I am called back to present time with Baby Jacky loudly proclaiming his thirst for baby milk and the receptionist ladies smiling at me benevolently while I perform paternal duties that are not mine to perform...will habve to get back to this story later...
Palaces of sin
Thailand, Pattaya,
09-03-2010.
I am looking at the unshaven guy in my bathroom mirror, a grey stumble covering my chin, grey that was once blond but with the coming of age and worries has turned to this depressing greyish color...
Not that I should feel unhappy having only last night returned to Pattaya and was straight off to a GoGo Bar in south pattaya, having been invited by two elderly britons on the minibus. Both of them new to the scene and in deperate need of their own personal Pattaya tour guide, offering me free drinks and hoping for the rauchiest bars in town...
Not that I am an expert on Pattaya's sleazy bars, that part of my Pattaya life is over - been there, done that sort of stuff when I was still staying with Lucky and his mate Mick in Soi Yamato - but the offer of free drinks after two days in Bangkok meeting up with Nong, was irresitable...
Bars where the girls give life s*x shows on stage, shooting ice cubes into your drinks using their private p*rts as a means of propulsion - I kept my hand over my glass of whiskey for hygenic purposes though my new-found buddies had no such qualms knocking down their drinks spiked with female bodily juices like it was cocoa with an overdose of sugar...
Nor did they mind sticking their fingers up certain feminine or*fices where a hunderd or more fingers go up on any given night in these palaces of sin, where the Mamasan will come over to check if a inflated lady's drink could be extracted from heated up Farang minds, maybe the bar fee for a quicky upstairs though I have seen real pen*tr*tion taking place too in these bars - a mere hundert baht and male equipm*nt is expertly freed from the closed confinement of sweaty Farang shorts...
Eventually my western-trained Guild Complex takes over though without any real reason but I know from previous experience that this crazy Guild Complex will be my nocturnal bed partner for the rest of the night - my bar hopping amigos are way too buzy licking fingers that were only mere moments ago up in h*les that they imagined when they met me in that minibus from Bangkok to Pattaya's rauchy and sleazy night life, to see my hasty retreat enjoying themselves to the max, never having heard of personal envolvement with this army of Hot Mommas...
So here I am looking at this haggard face looking back at me in the early hours of the morning, remembering returning to the my New Star room in Soi Honey-Inn using the back alleys, trying to evade possible local female friends in need of free lodging, wanting to be alone, wanting to willow in my feelings of guild and sorrow...well, by the looks on that stupid Farang face at the other side of my bathroom mirror, I would say I did a good job of it...
09-03-2010.
I am looking at the unshaven guy in my bathroom mirror, a grey stumble covering my chin, grey that was once blond but with the coming of age and worries has turned to this depressing greyish color...
Not that I should feel unhappy having only last night returned to Pattaya and was straight off to a GoGo Bar in south pattaya, having been invited by two elderly britons on the minibus. Both of them new to the scene and in deperate need of their own personal Pattaya tour guide, offering me free drinks and hoping for the rauchiest bars in town...
Not that I am an expert on Pattaya's sleazy bars, that part of my Pattaya life is over - been there, done that sort of stuff when I was still staying with Lucky and his mate Mick in Soi Yamato - but the offer of free drinks after two days in Bangkok meeting up with Nong, was irresitable...
Bars where the girls give life s*x shows on stage, shooting ice cubes into your drinks using their private p*rts as a means of propulsion - I kept my hand over my glass of whiskey for hygenic purposes though my new-found buddies had no such qualms knocking down their drinks spiked with female bodily juices like it was cocoa with an overdose of sugar...
Nor did they mind sticking their fingers up certain feminine or*fices where a hunderd or more fingers go up on any given night in these palaces of sin, where the Mamasan will come over to check if a inflated lady's drink could be extracted from heated up Farang minds, maybe the bar fee for a quicky upstairs though I have seen real pen*tr*tion taking place too in these bars - a mere hundert baht and male equipm*nt is expertly freed from the closed confinement of sweaty Farang shorts...
Eventually my western-trained Guild Complex takes over though without any real reason but I know from previous experience that this crazy Guild Complex will be my nocturnal bed partner for the rest of the night - my bar hopping amigos are way too buzy licking fingers that were only mere moments ago up in h*les that they imagined when they met me in that minibus from Bangkok to Pattaya's rauchy and sleazy night life, to see my hasty retreat enjoying themselves to the max, never having heard of personal envolvement with this army of Hot Mommas...
So here I am looking at this haggard face looking back at me in the early hours of the morning, remembering returning to the my New Star room in Soi Honey-Inn using the back alleys, trying to evade possible local female friends in need of free lodging, wanting to be alone, wanting to willow in my feelings of guild and sorrow...well, by the looks on that stupid Farang face at the other side of my bathroom mirror, I would say I did a good job of it...
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Five times the marital life
Thailand, Bangkok,
07-03-2010.
Drinking my early morning 7/Eleven instant coffee on my usual bench on the boulevard, some Hot Mommas asking me for a bit of change - after all they too want coffee while hoping for a Farang looking for a pre-breakfast shorttime - mobile cooked-food vendors doing a brisk trade with these hungry ladies of the night who had no busibness last night and are therefore still haning out here...
A huge 6 foot four Dutchman from Amsterdam somewhere in his late fifties and in the possession of a huge belly that falls like Jelly-O over the waist of his rediculous shorts, sweating profusely, drinking a huge bottle of Chang despite the still early morning and trying hard to explain to me the hazards of married life - he should know having been married and devorced five times already...
Like how his first wive was a f*cking sadist who would smack the offspring repeatedly and couldn't stop belittling them, telling them to have a close look at their father who never accomplished anything in his life...
How his second wife would rave he was a s*x addict just for the occasional look at a good-looking babe walking by in the street - a pretty normal thing for any man to do, even I have to admit to that - and would give him endless speeches of the dangers of HIV and STDs...and all that for a casual glance at a young woman in shorts showing off a pair of endless great sun-tanned legs...
The one that was way too dominant in bed complaing all men followed their s*x instincts and had no consideration for a woman's org*sm, who would want to go to that dirty beach in Ymuiden at least every weekend...
Then there was Wendy who was always threatening with divorce and expensive lawyers who would squeeze his b*lls totally empty when she wouldn't get her way, long shopping sprees and a platinum bank card were her desires but hardly any s*x in the marital bed...
The last wive was always argueing with the Maroccan neighbors expecting him to constantly be on her side while doing her act of the Albert Kuyp market fish monger but was way too lazy to do the household chores...
"no, my mate, these days I can follow my own s*x instincts", he concludes before turning to Miss Penn who is busy eating her twenty baht barbecued chicken legs paid by stupid me, arranging a four hundert baht shorttime and off they are leaving me alone again pondering how fascinating it is to see two total strangers walking off to the privacy of a paid room , who gonna have s*x within five minutes after their first meeting...well, this is Pattaya after all...
07-03-2010.
Drinking my early morning 7/Eleven instant coffee on my usual bench on the boulevard, some Hot Mommas asking me for a bit of change - after all they too want coffee while hoping for a Farang looking for a pre-breakfast shorttime - mobile cooked-food vendors doing a brisk trade with these hungry ladies of the night who had no busibness last night and are therefore still haning out here...
A huge 6 foot four Dutchman from Amsterdam somewhere in his late fifties and in the possession of a huge belly that falls like Jelly-O over the waist of his rediculous shorts, sweating profusely, drinking a huge bottle of Chang despite the still early morning and trying hard to explain to me the hazards of married life - he should know having been married and devorced five times already...
Like how his first wive was a f*cking sadist who would smack the offspring repeatedly and couldn't stop belittling them, telling them to have a close look at their father who never accomplished anything in his life...
How his second wife would rave he was a s*x addict just for the occasional look at a good-looking babe walking by in the street - a pretty normal thing for any man to do, even I have to admit to that - and would give him endless speeches of the dangers of HIV and STDs...and all that for a casual glance at a young woman in shorts showing off a pair of endless great sun-tanned legs...
The one that was way too dominant in bed complaing all men followed their s*x instincts and had no consideration for a woman's org*sm, who would want to go to that dirty beach in Ymuiden at least every weekend...
Then there was Wendy who was always threatening with divorce and expensive lawyers who would squeeze his b*lls totally empty when she wouldn't get her way, long shopping sprees and a platinum bank card were her desires but hardly any s*x in the marital bed...
The last wive was always argueing with the Maroccan neighbors expecting him to constantly be on her side while doing her act of the Albert Kuyp market fish monger but was way too lazy to do the household chores...
"no, my mate, these days I can follow my own s*x instincts", he concludes before turning to Miss Penn who is busy eating her twenty baht barbecued chicken legs paid by stupid me, arranging a four hundert baht shorttime and off they are leaving me alone again pondering how fascinating it is to see two total strangers walking off to the privacy of a paid room , who gonna have s*x within five minutes after their first meeting...well, this is Pattaya after all...
Friday, March 5, 2010
Henk and Yaa Baa
Thailand, Pattaya,
05-02-2010.
His bloody saliva is flying through the early evening air while he is screaming into my ear, trying hard to convince me he has been set up by all these d*rned good for nothing P*tazas from the PS Guest House...I am pretty sure Henk is once again under the influence of heavy Yaa Baa smoking, the very reason of his present predicament, his on-going problems with the Thai Justice Department, having been arrested in the lobby of PS Guest House several months earlier with his suitcase full with Yaa Baa pills - apperently close to 50 pills - while waiting for his minibus to the airport...
I am trying hard to evade the wed speckles of his watery speech covering my bare arms, shifting my bulk here on the boulevard, trying hard to make sence of his stories, how he used Yaa Baa in combination with Viagra and Kamarga to have an 24 hour a day er*ction so he could do that he always dreamed about, sleep with 1000s of Thai Hot Mommas, use his claustrophobic room at the PS to usher in 4/5 Ladies of the night at the same time, had them lining up outside his dingy room. Even the notorious Kathoys that rule the lobby of the PS at night were no longer safe from his s*xual Yaa Baa induced lust and desires...juicy details fly through the air combined with how he has spent all his black dough on these bitches that have ratted on him to the police...
I have actually already heard the story by all the old hands to Pattaya, how he badmouthed the police after his arrest refusing to pay the 200.000 baht bribe, telling the Thai men in brown how they could all go to Buddhist hell and beyond, rediculing them, ending up in a police holding cell full with Kathoys who broke his nose and seriously beat the living daylights out of him, how in the end he paid 400.000 baht to await his trail in freedom but with his passport down at Soi Police Station - no way to leave the country - his litte useless visit to the Dutch embassy in Bangkok to ask for a political asylum status to he could sneak out of the Thai Kingdom, his crazy stunt on Pattaya People TV accusing the local police of setting him up and the beating in jail he got...
I seriously consider leaving this frustrated *sshole whose spittle is still flying all over me, still raving about the Thai corrupt police mixed with complaints about Jan-Peter Balkenende's cabinet's agreement with Thailand to declare all the black money stalled in this Asian Kingdom by Pattaya Dutch old hands to the Dutch VAT department, how he really HAD to f**k away all his dough because of this crazy immitation of that stupid Potter caracter over there in no-good Holland...
I have no doubt that Crazy Henk who is very obviously under the influence even as we speak, totally addicted as a matter of fact, is in deep sh*t, having paid yet another 500'000 to his lawyer to grease the judge for his trail probably next year april...yeah what about greasing the public prosecutor, Henk? What about some more black money to grease the guards that will quite happily make your time awkward once you will have to do eight years or more, money for food and a matress up there in Bangkok Hilton...
Good luck to you, Henk but I hate to break the bad news...maybe you will figure that out yourself once you break the habit of these little red pills mate...
05-02-2010.
His bloody saliva is flying through the early evening air while he is screaming into my ear, trying hard to convince me he has been set up by all these d*rned good for nothing P*tazas from the PS Guest House...I am pretty sure Henk is once again under the influence of heavy Yaa Baa smoking, the very reason of his present predicament, his on-going problems with the Thai Justice Department, having been arrested in the lobby of PS Guest House several months earlier with his suitcase full with Yaa Baa pills - apperently close to 50 pills - while waiting for his minibus to the airport...
I am trying hard to evade the wed speckles of his watery speech covering my bare arms, shifting my bulk here on the boulevard, trying hard to make sence of his stories, how he used Yaa Baa in combination with Viagra and Kamarga to have an 24 hour a day er*ction so he could do that he always dreamed about, sleep with 1000s of Thai Hot Mommas, use his claustrophobic room at the PS to usher in 4/5 Ladies of the night at the same time, had them lining up outside his dingy room. Even the notorious Kathoys that rule the lobby of the PS at night were no longer safe from his s*xual Yaa Baa induced lust and desires...juicy details fly through the air combined with how he has spent all his black dough on these bitches that have ratted on him to the police...
I have actually already heard the story by all the old hands to Pattaya, how he badmouthed the police after his arrest refusing to pay the 200.000 baht bribe, telling the Thai men in brown how they could all go to Buddhist hell and beyond, rediculing them, ending up in a police holding cell full with Kathoys who broke his nose and seriously beat the living daylights out of him, how in the end he paid 400.000 baht to await his trail in freedom but with his passport down at Soi Police Station - no way to leave the country - his litte useless visit to the Dutch embassy in Bangkok to ask for a political asylum status to he could sneak out of the Thai Kingdom, his crazy stunt on Pattaya People TV accusing the local police of setting him up and the beating in jail he got...
I seriously consider leaving this frustrated *sshole whose spittle is still flying all over me, still raving about the Thai corrupt police mixed with complaints about Jan-Peter Balkenende's cabinet's agreement with Thailand to declare all the black money stalled in this Asian Kingdom by Pattaya Dutch old hands to the Dutch VAT department, how he really HAD to f**k away all his dough because of this crazy immitation of that stupid Potter caracter over there in no-good Holland...
I have no doubt that Crazy Henk who is very obviously under the influence even as we speak, totally addicted as a matter of fact, is in deep sh*t, having paid yet another 500'000 to his lawyer to grease the judge for his trail probably next year april...yeah what about greasing the public prosecutor, Henk? What about some more black money to grease the guards that will quite happily make your time awkward once you will have to do eight years or more, money for food and a matress up there in Bangkok Hilton...
Good luck to you, Henk but I hate to break the bad news...maybe you will figure that out yourself once you break the habit of these little red pills mate...
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Two dead bodies on the road
Thailand, Trat,
02-03-2010.
In over a full week of being on the move in Phnom Penh, walking up to eight hours a day and despite the heavy trafic, I saw no accidents though the heavy motorbike invested flow of mad city dwellers on their way to God knows where, always moving around me when I crossed the streets, a bit like a wave engulving me. I soon enough learned to cross Phom Penh's busy roads like the locals, don't wait but go for it at a steady speed though not to soon and everybody on a motorbike and even cars will evade you like the waves of the mighty Thai ocean - or was it the Phnom Penh trafic ocean. Don't hestitate or try to return to your safe spot on the sidewalk...they will go paranoid...
Just outside Phnom Penh and well on my way to Koh Kong in my dirty and rusty local bus trying hard to keep some sort of managable control over my tortured darms - if there is one major thing in Cambodia I didn't like it was with a GREAT leap forward the food - I see my first trafic accident in this dusty and hard to understand country. A overloaded minibus banged into the side of the road, its load all over the place, a motorbike pretty much in a state of total loss and two equally total loss looking local human bodies....
My old and beat up local bus has to swarve around the beat up motorbike as well as the two dead bodies, heads and chests caved in pretty much like that overloaded minibus they quite obviously had a head-on collision with...young lives wasted even before they could actually start them...and all that on a empty belly and darms that growl in protest...
Tomorrow I will be in Thailand. No more long hikes but easy mornings on the boulevard, enjoying the meditational feelings inside my Farang skull brought about by my afternoon painting sessions...I can hardly wait!!!
02-03-2010.
In over a full week of being on the move in Phnom Penh, walking up to eight hours a day and despite the heavy trafic, I saw no accidents though the heavy motorbike invested flow of mad city dwellers on their way to God knows where, always moving around me when I crossed the streets, a bit like a wave engulving me. I soon enough learned to cross Phom Penh's busy roads like the locals, don't wait but go for it at a steady speed though not to soon and everybody on a motorbike and even cars will evade you like the waves of the mighty Thai ocean - or was it the Phnom Penh trafic ocean. Don't hestitate or try to return to your safe spot on the sidewalk...they will go paranoid...
Just outside Phnom Penh and well on my way to Koh Kong in my dirty and rusty local bus trying hard to keep some sort of managable control over my tortured darms - if there is one major thing in Cambodia I didn't like it was with a GREAT leap forward the food - I see my first trafic accident in this dusty and hard to understand country. A overloaded minibus banged into the side of the road, its load all over the place, a motorbike pretty much in a state of total loss and two equally total loss looking local human bodies....
My old and beat up local bus has to swarve around the beat up motorbike as well as the two dead bodies, heads and chests caved in pretty much like that overloaded minibus they quite obviously had a head-on collision with...young lives wasted even before they could actually start them...and all that on a empty belly and darms that growl in protest...
Tomorrow I will be in Thailand. No more long hikes but easy mornings on the boulevard, enjoying the meditational feelings inside my Farang skull brought about by my afternoon painting sessions...I can hardly wait!!!
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