Kanchanaburi, 28 Febr. 2014.
There must be a bastion of debauchery in whatever is left that passes as a female brain inside this skinny girl's head who looks like a victim of one of Hitler's concentration camps, we might be seperated by numerous religious and linguistic as well as socio-economic barriers but the iodiotic expression of her face promising me a night of carnal activities that would even put Caligula to shame, and the only thing I have to do is pour more and more Thai moonshine whiskey down that throat that if a lighter would get anywhere near it would be in some highly inflamed danger of a Down-Under bushfire...
Shit, this woman has been drinking so much of this flammable high alcohol content liguid even her nipples are spouting moonshine whiskey, she is seriously going from aggressive drinking to combatively knocking it down her over damaged body...maybe I should phone the Bangkok Zoo and inform them where they can pick up there missing three toed sloth...
Not that I have much inclination to go down the sack with her, never mind a drunk woman between the stained sheets is every man's ultimate Crime Passionel, worthty even of a bunch of months in bangkok's most infamous Hilton where food is horribly disgusting and matrasses non-existent, a rusty bucket for your feces and rats and over-sized cockroaches for addional nutrient supplements, fry these critters and you will have Isan food that goes for fifty THB a bag in the Nana Plaza food market, statuary rape of the drunk retarded will get you there in no time unless a small but substantial bit of tea money is paid to the tightly brown clad brotherhood of corrupt local Thamruat...
She even wants a bout of armwrestling with me but I prefer to keep my mental attentions on the clan of Dutch Farang Pensionados all having arrived from Farang Heaven Pattaya today and in dire need of female free lives in Kanchanaburi for some weeks - boy do they know - ...
Friday, February 28, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
A magic cave
Near Thong Pha Phum, 26 Febr. 2014.
This cave is like magic and too much of a temptation not to give in to, though I can quite easily make it to Kanchanaburi before nightfall the irrefusable urge to spend the night here is just overwelming...
I am not all tat unaccustomed to caves filled to overflow with Buddha statues in Thailand - or Laos - that as always remind me that according to Lord Buddha, the Greatest of mankind, we only inhabit our bodies temporarly and should therefore by comfortable in our here-and-now abodes...still when opportunities arise I grasp them together with Hong Thong whiskey I ussually refer to as Honky Tonky whiskey and often as Ting Tong whiskey - the Thai word for NUTTY - this cave should not be turned down as an overnight abode for the here and now coming night, campfire and cooling down Khao Pad Khung from a nearby roadside restaurant will contribude possitively to the fun, and I don't mean HIV possitively, after all no girlie-bar from here to high heaven around so Pas De Danger there...neither do I have any intention to get intimately familair with the many Thai monkeys around this humid hole in the Karststone jungle clad mountains...
Apart from countless Buddha statues, every nook and ridge is filled up with plastic figurines from the Comic book department as well as anything imaginable in the minds of Hollywood film producers, over a hunderd various toys all facing each other like armies in some Roman war film, GI Joes waiting for Vietnamese King-Kongs, Superman squared off against his Numero Uno mate from the Justice Leaque Batman, A red and blue dressed Spiderman locked in frozen comat with a dozen Starwars figures, the kicker Yoda doll, a full thirty centimeters tall, included which somehow gives me the impression my old childhood pal/hero with the red and blue piyamas might be in for his ultimate demise here, size might matter here but Mister Yoda is not on the dark side after all...beware, beware...
bamboo pole ladders in the back of the cave point to several more layers of the comic plastic universe of superhero Ting Tong magic but being out of a torch and scared of the Thai spirit world makes me decide not to push my luck though wondering seriously whether or not how many floors this cave really goes up, maybe as many as the Bangkok highrises but without storey thirteen, the unlucky number and always excluded in Thailand's skyscrapers...as a matter of fact rumour has it Bankok building companies ship all their thirteenth floors off to arch enemies in the regio like Cambodya and Burma hence these countries unfortunate histories...an egocentric way of foreign aid I guess...
This cave is like magic and too much of a temptation not to give in to, though I can quite easily make it to Kanchanaburi before nightfall the irrefusable urge to spend the night here is just overwelming...
I am not all tat unaccustomed to caves filled to overflow with Buddha statues in Thailand - or Laos - that as always remind me that according to Lord Buddha, the Greatest of mankind, we only inhabit our bodies temporarly and should therefore by comfortable in our here-and-now abodes...still when opportunities arise I grasp them together with Hong Thong whiskey I ussually refer to as Honky Tonky whiskey and often as Ting Tong whiskey - the Thai word for NUTTY - this cave should not be turned down as an overnight abode for the here and now coming night, campfire and cooling down Khao Pad Khung from a nearby roadside restaurant will contribude possitively to the fun, and I don't mean HIV possitively, after all no girlie-bar from here to high heaven around so Pas De Danger there...neither do I have any intention to get intimately familair with the many Thai monkeys around this humid hole in the Karststone jungle clad mountains...
Apart from countless Buddha statues, every nook and ridge is filled up with plastic figurines from the Comic book department as well as anything imaginable in the minds of Hollywood film producers, over a hunderd various toys all facing each other like armies in some Roman war film, GI Joes waiting for Vietnamese King-Kongs, Superman squared off against his Numero Uno mate from the Justice Leaque Batman, A red and blue dressed Spiderman locked in frozen comat with a dozen Starwars figures, the kicker Yoda doll, a full thirty centimeters tall, included which somehow gives me the impression my old childhood pal/hero with the red and blue piyamas might be in for his ultimate demise here, size might matter here but Mister Yoda is not on the dark side after all...beware, beware...
bamboo pole ladders in the back of the cave point to several more layers of the comic plastic universe of superhero Ting Tong magic but being out of a torch and scared of the Thai spirit world makes me decide not to push my luck though wondering seriously whether or not how many floors this cave really goes up, maybe as many as the Bangkok highrises but without storey thirteen, the unlucky number and always excluded in Thailand's skyscrapers...as a matter of fact rumour has it Bankok building companies ship all their thirteenth floors off to arch enemies in the regio like Cambodya and Burma hence these countries unfortunate histories...an egocentric way of foreign aid I guess...
Sunday, February 23, 2014
About water buffaloes and bar girl letters
Kanchanaburi, 23 Febr. 2014.
Eating spicy pig colon salad with a number one bottle of Leo beer watered down with Naam Kheng to flush it away, a sizeable Buddha on a wooden shelf draped with numerous garlands of marigold looking over me and, hopefully, protecting me from the alarming number of traffic accidents in King Bhumipol's willfull kingdom, the wooden carved penis next to it with jasmine flowers further improving me good luck or so I hope while gobbling down my lunch out here in the boonies on my way to the Three Pagoda Pass, my rented motorbike which is surrounded by a herd of crazy water buffaloes faithfully awaiting the continuation of this trip...
Rumour has it the Thais believe water buffalo are immortal and after the rutting season they are supposed to mate like crazy with their offspring overflowing the Isan villages and thereby forcing the Isan clan of females to migrate to the Thai capital where the only option left for them is dancing around the infamous pole inside the many Go-Go bars in Soi Cowboy and Nana Plaza...a hard to believe story, really...
The only big tears baby buffalo story I know off is that of bar girls letter to European punters who have lost their bulshit detector and believe their holiday love is waiting on tables, faithfully awaiting their return, modest illusion while in reality they are playing the role of serial monoganists cashing in monthly on the many hubbies abroad...the buffalo sob story who has died and poor Mum is out of income, please send money my Tilac, me love only you, always truely you and only...
Been there, know that, as a matter of fact I wrote many of these bar girl letters for them, substituting bad English, German and Swedish for free glasses of Mhekong, and no to all you out there who lost Beaucoup D' Argent over these pieces of begging paper, no need to get upset, the scribes outside the Suzie Wong will quite happily take over your grievances and drill holes in my immortal soul and hurl my present coporeal body into a quagmire of Farang hell beyond your imagination, the monstous affront of cheating them out of their precious Song Roi THB per letter reason enough to come at me late at night while intoxicated to the max upon leaving the Suzie Wong, with leaden pipes and knock all my remaining teeth out, leaving me a bloody heap on the Soi Cowboy sitewalk...the main reason I always sleep over when writing bar girls letters, oh yeah and don't forget, you lovesick punters, Mum is sick and the family's only water buffalo died so please send money quick and fast. Your Tilac loves you only you and you alone!!!
Eating spicy pig colon salad with a number one bottle of Leo beer watered down with Naam Kheng to flush it away, a sizeable Buddha on a wooden shelf draped with numerous garlands of marigold looking over me and, hopefully, protecting me from the alarming number of traffic accidents in King Bhumipol's willfull kingdom, the wooden carved penis next to it with jasmine flowers further improving me good luck or so I hope while gobbling down my lunch out here in the boonies on my way to the Three Pagoda Pass, my rented motorbike which is surrounded by a herd of crazy water buffaloes faithfully awaiting the continuation of this trip...
Rumour has it the Thais believe water buffalo are immortal and after the rutting season they are supposed to mate like crazy with their offspring overflowing the Isan villages and thereby forcing the Isan clan of females to migrate to the Thai capital where the only option left for them is dancing around the infamous pole inside the many Go-Go bars in Soi Cowboy and Nana Plaza...a hard to believe story, really...
The only big tears baby buffalo story I know off is that of bar girls letter to European punters who have lost their bulshit detector and believe their holiday love is waiting on tables, faithfully awaiting their return, modest illusion while in reality they are playing the role of serial monoganists cashing in monthly on the many hubbies abroad...the buffalo sob story who has died and poor Mum is out of income, please send money my Tilac, me love only you, always truely you and only...
Been there, know that, as a matter of fact I wrote many of these bar girl letters for them, substituting bad English, German and Swedish for free glasses of Mhekong, and no to all you out there who lost Beaucoup D' Argent over these pieces of begging paper, no need to get upset, the scribes outside the Suzie Wong will quite happily take over your grievances and drill holes in my immortal soul and hurl my present coporeal body into a quagmire of Farang hell beyond your imagination, the monstous affront of cheating them out of their precious Song Roi THB per letter reason enough to come at me late at night while intoxicated to the max upon leaving the Suzie Wong, with leaden pipes and knock all my remaining teeth out, leaving me a bloody heap on the Soi Cowboy sitewalk...the main reason I always sleep over when writing bar girls letters, oh yeah and don't forget, you lovesick punters, Mum is sick and the family's only water buffalo died so please send money quick and fast. Your Tilac loves you only you and you alone!!!
Saturday, February 22, 2014
The rocks of despair
Kanchanaburi, 22 Febr. 2014.
I watch Miss Nit enjoying spicy and well cooked Som Yam Khung with steamed rice, eating around the favorable lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves and galangal roots, picking them out of her bowl with indifinite care, bit by bit arranging them on a seperate plate in a nice heap somehow worth photographing for the folks back home or those 2000 plus followers, ahum ahum, I am supposed to have on FB, her cilliconed nose and purple eyes sacks still bearing obvious signs of the female brawl she was in a few days ago back at that Sok Ka Prok watering hole where the local Hot Momma scene is hard to believe, even for an old crazy Farang hand like me...
I try hard to ignore the two English lagerlouds at the next table, young and guileable, apparently having just arrived from Bangkok, their talk full with sexual inuendoes about the Nana Plaza, Soi Cowboy Go-Go bars. They both look like shit, unshaved and desperately in need of a hot shower, a total mess and unless they put themselves together they might well end up in the gutter...maybe their intentions for Kanchanaburi have Nada and nothing to do admiring the world famous Death Bridge across the river Kwai but all with a much needed rest and relaxation after cavoting with Isan born bar girls in the Thai capital. Good work of personal private eye investagation on their part I would say...
Thailand can do that to first time male Farangs, the bar scene luring them into a life of false promises it fails to deliver, great looking women, sexy and cute, cold beer and sunny weather, tasty food and "crooked" smiles, all of it a mirage, nothing to it but an illusion, doesn't really exist, in case you didn't realise it, so sorry to shatter your newly found ego and self confidence but you are running for the rocks, about to crash, money gone and Pas De Filles Jolies Locales mates...
They are like sirens whose melodious singing and promising Asian dark colored shiners pull us the Farangs in all the way to utter and irreversible destruction...
But then who am I to judge these two young English blokes who by the looks and souds have obviously been slandering their hard earned dough at the Isan born clan of females and have come to Kanchanaburi to get their act together, been there, done that...
The rocks of despair are no stranger to me...pondering, pondering while Miss Nit is happily devouring her Som Yam Khung, knocking down her cold Heineken like there is no tomorrow, after all it is yours truely who is paying the bill, Pauvre Moi quite literally soon to be...
I watch Miss Nit enjoying spicy and well cooked Som Yam Khung with steamed rice, eating around the favorable lemon grass, kaffir lime leaves and galangal roots, picking them out of her bowl with indifinite care, bit by bit arranging them on a seperate plate in a nice heap somehow worth photographing for the folks back home or those 2000 plus followers, ahum ahum, I am supposed to have on FB, her cilliconed nose and purple eyes sacks still bearing obvious signs of the female brawl she was in a few days ago back at that Sok Ka Prok watering hole where the local Hot Momma scene is hard to believe, even for an old crazy Farang hand like me...
I try hard to ignore the two English lagerlouds at the next table, young and guileable, apparently having just arrived from Bangkok, their talk full with sexual inuendoes about the Nana Plaza, Soi Cowboy Go-Go bars. They both look like shit, unshaved and desperately in need of a hot shower, a total mess and unless they put themselves together they might well end up in the gutter...maybe their intentions for Kanchanaburi have Nada and nothing to do admiring the world famous Death Bridge across the river Kwai but all with a much needed rest and relaxation after cavoting with Isan born bar girls in the Thai capital. Good work of personal private eye investagation on their part I would say...
Thailand can do that to first time male Farangs, the bar scene luring them into a life of false promises it fails to deliver, great looking women, sexy and cute, cold beer and sunny weather, tasty food and "crooked" smiles, all of it a mirage, nothing to it but an illusion, doesn't really exist, in case you didn't realise it, so sorry to shatter your newly found ego and self confidence but you are running for the rocks, about to crash, money gone and Pas De Filles Jolies Locales mates...
They are like sirens whose melodious singing and promising Asian dark colored shiners pull us the Farangs in all the way to utter and irreversible destruction...
But then who am I to judge these two young English blokes who by the looks and souds have obviously been slandering their hard earned dough at the Isan born clan of females and have come to Kanchanaburi to get their act together, been there, done that...
The rocks of despair are no stranger to me...pondering, pondering while Miss Nit is happily devouring her Som Yam Khung, knocking down her cold Heineken like there is no tomorrow, after all it is yours truely who is paying the bill, Pauvre Moi quite literally soon to be...
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Different Kanchanaburi
Kanchanaburi, 19 Febr. 2014
There is nothing in the way to compare Kanchanaburi to, for example Pattaya , generally speaking anyway, easy days on the bicycle or motorbike exploring the countryside during the day, Wads and caves which are of course full with Buddha statues...
Spending my nights at some open air watering hole, a bit like a shop with big Frigos full with cold to the touch Chang and Leo, dirt cheap at only Ha Sip THB a big condensed bottle, a couple of stone tables in front and an old Mamma that back in Pattaya or maybe the bar scene of Nana Plaza or Soi Cowboy would have been a Mammasan constantly hassling you to buy lady drinks and bar fee them...
Take the bar out of the girl pretty much impossible though a good bar fee and one can take the girl out of the bar though...all balck hair and dark Asian shiners, young and beautifull and all originating from the Isan. Not here, no more " you very handsome" and "where are you from?", "you pay drink and bar fee me", more like a bunch of over-aged nympomanaics having a thing going for Farangs and too much booze while waiting for the opportunity, no THB transactions like Ha Roi Baht across the street in one of the cheap backpackers hostels where the rooms go by seventy to two hunderd a night, clean and daily maintained, Mhe Ban jobs for the Burmese labour force while the aforementioned local females chat up the newcomers, sometimes even fighting over them, a bottle of Chang on the chilconed nose of the competition, not really the way I like a Chang bottle to be used...
The shop might be popular but Sok Ka Prok and too many ladies past their prime with a taste of nighttime activities with Mister Farang from Ancient Europe, worth fighting over and worth drinking local female livers to yellow bits...
An army of different Hot Mommas, bored to hell and beyond, wanting Nada more but free of charge, free of hassle S*X, yeah, Kanchanaburi is different in all ways...
There is nothing in the way to compare Kanchanaburi to, for example Pattaya , generally speaking anyway, easy days on the bicycle or motorbike exploring the countryside during the day, Wads and caves which are of course full with Buddha statues...
Spending my nights at some open air watering hole, a bit like a shop with big Frigos full with cold to the touch Chang and Leo, dirt cheap at only Ha Sip THB a big condensed bottle, a couple of stone tables in front and an old Mamma that back in Pattaya or maybe the bar scene of Nana Plaza or Soi Cowboy would have been a Mammasan constantly hassling you to buy lady drinks and bar fee them...
Take the bar out of the girl pretty much impossible though a good bar fee and one can take the girl out of the bar though...all balck hair and dark Asian shiners, young and beautifull and all originating from the Isan. Not here, no more " you very handsome" and "where are you from?", "you pay drink and bar fee me", more like a bunch of over-aged nympomanaics having a thing going for Farangs and too much booze while waiting for the opportunity, no THB transactions like Ha Roi Baht across the street in one of the cheap backpackers hostels where the rooms go by seventy to two hunderd a night, clean and daily maintained, Mhe Ban jobs for the Burmese labour force while the aforementioned local females chat up the newcomers, sometimes even fighting over them, a bottle of Chang on the chilconed nose of the competition, not really the way I like a Chang bottle to be used...
The shop might be popular but Sok Ka Prok and too many ladies past their prime with a taste of nighttime activities with Mister Farang from Ancient Europe, worth fighting over and worth drinking local female livers to yellow bits...
An army of different Hot Mommas, bored to hell and beyond, wanting Nada more but free of charge, free of hassle S*X, yeah, Kanchanaburi is different in all ways...
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Beer for breakfast
Kanchanaburi, 10 Febr. 2014.
There are times that God's responses are sort of hard to catch, a bit like pusuing a sweet, silvery threat of divinity through the vast reaches of unknown cosmos, fumbling to the divine light that you know of on a undescibably mental level it does not really exist anyway, no way to see through the mysterious shrouds of divinity...
And then off course you have to be r...eligiously inspired any way, something remarably missing in Pauvre Moi, matter of fact anything in the field of theology has been merely locked to the superstitions of the dark Ages and therefore seriously backward, brainwashing tactics by Latino mumbo jumbo, a holy carnival by stained glass mystics and crazy obsessions of stigmata bodily symbols, believers prone to the hysteria of wooden effigies that shed salty tears by the sackfull, take some odinary tap water do some weird abracadabra over it and call it holy...or else the rafed about madness coming out of divine Mekka...
Yeah, if I keep up this anti-theology madness of mine up some more sentences I might well loose my FB friends by the mighty numbers...but then it is the nutyy madness invading my Farang mind while I sit in the garden of Miss Em's family drinking beer for breakfast and eating barbequed pork, squit and Gai, a few strips of beef and watch her sister drink Thai moonshine whiskey like there is no tomorrow...
I seem to remember picking her up last night at one of these open-air water holes back in Kanchanaburi, something like you and me in my room spending the night together though totally banned of course by the holy Pope in Vatican City, extra marital affairs so plenty here in the Land of Smiles but Oh so frown upon by those member of the cloth, the devotees of Allah and Mohamed was his prophet...just good old fun the way the Thai like it and bestow Pas D' Importance on it....
To only thing I need to worry about now is getting the 15 or so kilometers back to Kanchanaburi on the back of Miss Em's motorbike without loosing my limps and mental good health, after all she is pretty Mao too...
There are times that God's responses are sort of hard to catch, a bit like pusuing a sweet, silvery threat of divinity through the vast reaches of unknown cosmos, fumbling to the divine light that you know of on a undescibably mental level it does not really exist anyway, no way to see through the mysterious shrouds of divinity...
And then off course you have to be r...eligiously inspired any way, something remarably missing in Pauvre Moi, matter of fact anything in the field of theology has been merely locked to the superstitions of the dark Ages and therefore seriously backward, brainwashing tactics by Latino mumbo jumbo, a holy carnival by stained glass mystics and crazy obsessions of stigmata bodily symbols, believers prone to the hysteria of wooden effigies that shed salty tears by the sackfull, take some odinary tap water do some weird abracadabra over it and call it holy...or else the rafed about madness coming out of divine Mekka...
Yeah, if I keep up this anti-theology madness of mine up some more sentences I might well loose my FB friends by the mighty numbers...but then it is the nutyy madness invading my Farang mind while I sit in the garden of Miss Em's family drinking beer for breakfast and eating barbequed pork, squit and Gai, a few strips of beef and watch her sister drink Thai moonshine whiskey like there is no tomorrow...
I seem to remember picking her up last night at one of these open-air water holes back in Kanchanaburi, something like you and me in my room spending the night together though totally banned of course by the holy Pope in Vatican City, extra marital affairs so plenty here in the Land of Smiles but Oh so frown upon by those member of the cloth, the devotees of Allah and Mohamed was his prophet...just good old fun the way the Thai like it and bestow Pas D' Importance on it....
To only thing I need to worry about now is getting the 15 or so kilometers back to Kanchanaburi on the back of Miss Em's motorbike without loosing my limps and mental good health, after all she is pretty Mao too...
Friday, February 7, 2014
The butterfly trap revisited
Kanchanaburi, 07 Febr. 2014.
Having a Chang, Kwot Jai, together with Fat Peter in the bar that brazenly advertises with "Get Shitfaced On A Shoestring", half my brain concentrating on the nutty shit chat fat Peter is on about, the other half of my mental capacities listening to the drunk roaring of three similar fatsos at the next table, the young sexy bargirl at their table on the phone with her Thai boyfriend in a weird mix of Khmer and Isan accented Thai, two waitress - or should we call them bargirls as well - hovering nearby and exchanging excited giggles at the outragious things their Isan sister of the night is telling her local BangkokTilak while her English man twice her age - at least - is bragging to his mates how he has proposed to her, paid the family a half million Baht Sinsot, and a Humvee for her brother...
The Fat fool is gonna build a house for her up north where they'll live together happily ever after though the lady of his choice, bending over every so often to pick a fench frie from his plate before continuiing her conversation with Mister Tilak in Bangkok assuring him she is on the pill so Pas De Problem there and most definitely YES after the cermony will be over and the house will be built it will be goodbye and adios to Mister Madly In Love from good Ole England, and YES her Bangkok bazed local Tilak can keep the Humvee - somehow I wonder if the Humvee is Amercian army surplus from the Gulf War or the real brand new thing shipped over from the good old US of A...
Somehow I also wonder if this is her first wedding ceremony with a naive Farang or maybe wedding number two or even number three - these elderly European lonely males coming to the Land Of Smiles all seem to get their pockets lined, falling for the Butterfly Trap like old brick stones falling out of the walls of a hunderd year old church that has never seen a renovation job...
The one and only thing I don't wonder about is that Hubbie won't get his Sinsot back nor the deposit for that house he plans on building up north, he will get the sack though as the new Farang Tilak as soon as his wallet is clean and empty though...sure as hell not freezing over in tropical Thailand...
Lets have another beer, Peter and please don't ask me why I have that idiotic smile on my face all the time...
Having a Chang, Kwot Jai, together with Fat Peter in the bar that brazenly advertises with "Get Shitfaced On A Shoestring", half my brain concentrating on the nutty shit chat fat Peter is on about, the other half of my mental capacities listening to the drunk roaring of three similar fatsos at the next table, the young sexy bargirl at their table on the phone with her Thai boyfriend in a weird mix of Khmer and Isan accented Thai, two waitress - or should we call them bargirls as well - hovering nearby and exchanging excited giggles at the outragious things their Isan sister of the night is telling her local BangkokTilak while her English man twice her age - at least - is bragging to his mates how he has proposed to her, paid the family a half million Baht Sinsot, and a Humvee for her brother...
The Fat fool is gonna build a house for her up north where they'll live together happily ever after though the lady of his choice, bending over every so often to pick a fench frie from his plate before continuiing her conversation with Mister Tilak in Bangkok assuring him she is on the pill so Pas De Problem there and most definitely YES after the cermony will be over and the house will be built it will be goodbye and adios to Mister Madly In Love from good Ole England, and YES her Bangkok bazed local Tilak can keep the Humvee - somehow I wonder if the Humvee is Amercian army surplus from the Gulf War or the real brand new thing shipped over from the good old US of A...
Somehow I also wonder if this is her first wedding ceremony with a naive Farang or maybe wedding number two or even number three - these elderly European lonely males coming to the Land Of Smiles all seem to get their pockets lined, falling for the Butterfly Trap like old brick stones falling out of the walls of a hunderd year old church that has never seen a renovation job...
The one and only thing I don't wonder about is that Hubbie won't get his Sinsot back nor the deposit for that house he plans on building up north, he will get the sack though as the new Farang Tilak as soon as his wallet is clean and empty though...sure as hell not freezing over in tropical Thailand...
Lets have another beer, Peter and please don't ask me why I have that idiotic smile on my face all the time...
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Fat Peter in Kachanaburi
Kachanaburi, 05 Febr. 2014.
Hard to believe but that overweight fat figure on his bicycle is Fat Peter, Little Shit Richard's arch enemy back in good old Mokum, "If I cannot go to Thailand, he can't" is Richard's main response to Fat Peter's wintery stints in this number one tourist destination in South/East Asia...Richard who has been after Fat Peter for years and sworne to put that huge butcher's knive of his up his fat ass untill he stops breathing and bleeding, who scared Fat Peter out of the neighborhood and away from these freely accessible homeless centres where the coffee and Appie Heyn donated soup is foul of taste but at least free for the taking, more money to save, more dough to spend in Fat Peter's favorite holiday destination during the cold and windy days of the Dutch winter, just not so clever to show off your little pics of local female conquests in these converging places of the Amsterdam homeless, drunks and booze addicted, crack smokers who might well take a dislike to those maybe fatter than them but better off...
I always thought Peter would spend his winters in Pattaya staying in that crazy shorttime trade place in Soi Thirteen, aka Soi Yamato where the lobby is great for taking a beer and making bets with the likewise just how long these johns will spend upstairs, watch the Kathoys drag in Farang customers who are too Mao to realise what they will find between the legs of their "lady" of choice might well be unsuspected and most definitely unwelcome...yeah, dear reader of this blog we are talking the P.S. Guesthouse, the most notorious wh*rehouse of all of Pattaya and probably of all of South/East Asia...
I guess Fat Peter also felt the need to be away from Pattaya, or maybe is in the mood for a change, just like me, cheaper accomodation, cheaper food and less girliebars though the bar across the road advertises with "Get Shitfaced On A Shoestring", the giggles coming from inside and the harsh english of lagerloud Brittons should be a dead give-away exactly what sort of clientele the bar caters too, as do the neighboring alcohol selling crap places, promising something for the nights to come...
Still, all in all Kachanaburi seems only slightly less tranquil as eighteen years ago when last I was here, leaving the girliebars alone and do my daily excursions I could spend at least a full week here...
Hard to believe but that overweight fat figure on his bicycle is Fat Peter, Little Shit Richard's arch enemy back in good old Mokum, "If I cannot go to Thailand, he can't" is Richard's main response to Fat Peter's wintery stints in this number one tourist destination in South/East Asia...Richard who has been after Fat Peter for years and sworne to put that huge butcher's knive of his up his fat ass untill he stops breathing and bleeding, who scared Fat Peter out of the neighborhood and away from these freely accessible homeless centres where the coffee and Appie Heyn donated soup is foul of taste but at least free for the taking, more money to save, more dough to spend in Fat Peter's favorite holiday destination during the cold and windy days of the Dutch winter, just not so clever to show off your little pics of local female conquests in these converging places of the Amsterdam homeless, drunks and booze addicted, crack smokers who might well take a dislike to those maybe fatter than them but better off...
I always thought Peter would spend his winters in Pattaya staying in that crazy shorttime trade place in Soi Thirteen, aka Soi Yamato where the lobby is great for taking a beer and making bets with the likewise just how long these johns will spend upstairs, watch the Kathoys drag in Farang customers who are too Mao to realise what they will find between the legs of their "lady" of choice might well be unsuspected and most definitely unwelcome...yeah, dear reader of this blog we are talking the P.S. Guesthouse, the most notorious wh*rehouse of all of Pattaya and probably of all of South/East Asia...
I guess Fat Peter also felt the need to be away from Pattaya, or maybe is in the mood for a change, just like me, cheaper accomodation, cheaper food and less girliebars though the bar across the road advertises with "Get Shitfaced On A Shoestring", the giggles coming from inside and the harsh english of lagerloud Brittons should be a dead give-away exactly what sort of clientele the bar caters too, as do the neighboring alcohol selling crap places, promising something for the nights to come...
Still, all in all Kachanaburi seems only slightly less tranquil as eighteen years ago when last I was here, leaving the girliebars alone and do my daily excursions I could spend at least a full week here...
Saturday, February 1, 2014
A dinner date with daughter number one
Bangkok, 01-02- 2014,
She is arriving twenty minutes late, out of breath and winded, excusing the delay by the massive traffic jam on Rama Four road, half the city converging near one of the Yingluck opposed roadblocks...usually Bangkok's traffic jams are the easy lie everybody uses and nobody ever gets called upon, allowing a couple of hour by an overstreched businessman for some much needed relaxation with miss Mia-Noi, how could the loving wife ever question the heavy traffic excuse, nobody in his right mind and with a lover on the site ever wants the notoriously feared Bangkok traffic jam problem to be solved...Maybe good old daughter number one wanted some extra time with her own Amante Micheal on her free saturday before her dinner meeting with the Farang father from Dutch Farawayistan...who am I to disagree...
Her giggles and fun at seeing the pics of her half sister Charlotte will be ample reward for the miss of Mister Tilak Micheal's administatrations tonight though her happy mood will sink again when even after all these years I still refuse her access to the FB pages of my thieving family members, not much ado about that part of life, those that are high on my shitlist are low on my list of favorite conversation topixs...
her easy talking making it not all that hard to ignore the loud belching and laughing at the next table, pretty drunk Khemr men with the nauseating smell of half cooked dog meat on the breath, the sort of smell that can make you gag, their Thai moonshine whiskey bottles come from outside but the restaurant management seem well aware of the Khmer reputation for causing mayhem and uproar, enough of that nowadays in the street of the Thai capital, don't need Khmer shit indoor even though half the clientele will be out rather sooner than later looking for other locals of entertainment to spend their hard earned dough...
Maybe we should do likewise, drinking big condensed bottles of Kloster can be more fun with the absence of Khemr lagerlouds after all...
She is arriving twenty minutes late, out of breath and winded, excusing the delay by the massive traffic jam on Rama Four road, half the city converging near one of the Yingluck opposed roadblocks...usually Bangkok's traffic jams are the easy lie everybody uses and nobody ever gets called upon, allowing a couple of hour by an overstreched businessman for some much needed relaxation with miss Mia-Noi, how could the loving wife ever question the heavy traffic excuse, nobody in his right mind and with a lover on the site ever wants the notoriously feared Bangkok traffic jam problem to be solved...Maybe good old daughter number one wanted some extra time with her own Amante Micheal on her free saturday before her dinner meeting with the Farang father from Dutch Farawayistan...who am I to disagree...
Her giggles and fun at seeing the pics of her half sister Charlotte will be ample reward for the miss of Mister Tilak Micheal's administatrations tonight though her happy mood will sink again when even after all these years I still refuse her access to the FB pages of my thieving family members, not much ado about that part of life, those that are high on my shitlist are low on my list of favorite conversation topixs...
her easy talking making it not all that hard to ignore the loud belching and laughing at the next table, pretty drunk Khemr men with the nauseating smell of half cooked dog meat on the breath, the sort of smell that can make you gag, their Thai moonshine whiskey bottles come from outside but the restaurant management seem well aware of the Khmer reputation for causing mayhem and uproar, enough of that nowadays in the street of the Thai capital, don't need Khmer shit indoor even though half the clientele will be out rather sooner than later looking for other locals of entertainment to spend their hard earned dough...
Maybe we should do likewise, drinking big condensed bottles of Kloster can be more fun with the absence of Khemr lagerlouds after all...
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