Waking up in a dump house

Thailand, Pattaya,
16 Jan. 2011.

I wake up to a female hand, pudgy fingers groping underneath the orange colored hotel provided towel wrapped around my waist... though still snoring Nong's hand is allready on the move betraying me she has got a wed dream, probably remembering last night's little party after our dinner date at the Nana nighttime food market...

I have a faque image of Nong sending a motorbike taxi rider to the Nat Two Guesthouse at Khao Sarn road with my room key and my passport, telling him to pick up my old and worn backpack, showing me the 160 Baht, ten o'clock bus ticket from the Akemai bus station for today, I remember our walk back to Soi 23, both of us very much in need of fresh air - wheter it be possible to get fresh air in Bangkok I leave to the reader's  imagination - maybe we really needed that short walk to clear our heads instead...

I leave Nong with her dreams of lust and carnal inclinations, dressing quietly, shouledring my backpack, my long time travel frien, taking the bus ticket and the bank slip - the inetrnet proof of one week free of charge at the New Star guesthouse located on Soi Honey-Inn, courtesy of Nong, or maybe her Norwegian sugar daddy Per who is probably waking up right now wondering where the heck his Thai house keeping nurse is, the administrator of his fat wallet full with Scandinavian Kronor, Norwegian Pensionaer Penge used for a free bus ticket and a week at the New Star...

The corridor of this dumphouse betrays me the true nature of this hotel, a place where the rooms go by the hour or are else occupied by bar girls from Nana Plaza and equally rowdy Soi Cowboy which is just around the corner from Nana's...

An ancient looking washing machine with a plastic bin full with obvious female clothing, I sidestep a pink bra and even more intimate ladies garments lying at random around this rusty old monster, crates full with empty beer bottles stapled on top of each other line the walls, the sounds of a Gecko on the prowl, some human produced screams coming from one of the rooms telling me that some of the girls living in these tiny rooms took their customers home last night, a scrawny cat's head emerges from the plastic clothes' bin, sleepy feline eyes watch me curiously, more interested in me that in the erotic sounds of humans making out...

Though I still have plenty of time to catch my bus I opt for a motorbike taxi, remembering vividly how any five minutes walk in this Asian sweltering capital can break the perspiration out of my Farang pores in huge rivulets, floods of salty and alcohol rich sweat that will leave me soaked to the bone and chillingly cold in my bus to Pattaya...