today: “same same” (one of thailand’s most adored english phrases…who knows where in the world it came from because i've definitely never heard an english speaker say it…)sunbathing, dipping in the pee-warm beach water, indulging in the fresh pineapple (or sah-bah-roht… thai vocab word of the day!) offered temptingly from the beach vendors, and sweating profusely in the heat I still am quite unaccustomed to… which –not to mention- surely reeks of beer from last night’s escapades. good riddance though. my body could do without the excess of formaldehyde (supposedly one of the main ingredients in the many chang beers i consumed on walking street). my only concern at the moment, therefore, is whether the congealy greasy street meat I just ate is going to result in a magic cure for my hangover or a 24 hour case of explosive diarrhea….
last night’s quintessential pattaya experience made it clear to me yet again that I made the right decision coming here. first, roaming the streets of sunny plaza in south pattaya on the back of my teacher friend’s motorbike (and by roaming I mean dipping in and out of narrow alley-like zigzagging streets that kept the ride exciting, though made it so I hadn’t the slightest clue how we got to the bar we finally stopped at). once there, we got the full lowdown on pattaya’s infamous sex scene, thanks to my new friend’s expertise in the area of gay thai boys and all associated fetishes and fantasies that money might buy. he filled up in on exactly how the system of “renting” little thai boys works (in case we might ever get hit with the urge). he explained that the boys working at the gay bar –at which we were presently enjoying happy hour- expected the average minimum of about 1,000 baht to be taken home for the night to make many and all of your fantasies involving little thai boys come true (he apparently has an explicit list of precisely what he likes that he whips out on such occasions). the next morning, a further tip of at least 500 baht is also expected. this, like the overall fee, is mostly property of the bar manager, with very little actually going to the ones having to do the dirty work of sucking on skinny bald mens’ toes, or whatever that crowd might be into these days…
importantly, the distinction between this type of “beer bar” and an actual “go-go bar” is that the beer bars are casual places anyone can go hang out and have drinks (as we were doing) and not feel the slightest obligation to participate in such festivities (or, in my case, even be fully aware of the real purpose of the place as a sexual rendezvous meeting point). go-go bars on the other hand, have the sole and blatant purpose of choosing a boy/girl to take home. literally, “I want #32.” and bam. yours for the night. these joints lack even the slightest pretense toward being something less seedy and uncivilized than they are, and it is not uncommon to see genitalia flying haphazardly across the stage or even shoved in your face, as we would soon find out in our front row seats at the “wild wild west” show…
welcome to boyztown.
i won’t deny how much I enjoyed critiquing the 40 or so boys parading across the stage in teeny-weenie camo bikini bottoms, cowboy boots, and number badges for easy identification (names would have just confused the whole dehumanization bit). it was admittedly refreshing, that double standards between men and women simply do not exist here. nor do stigmatizations or judgments regarding sexual preference, or simply sex in general.
no. in thailand, and especially pattaya, there is something for everyone, and the sex industry is cimply considered a service like any other. showing off naked bodies on a stage like pieces of meat up for auction is not a cause for feminist uproar as is so often the case in the united states. in america, such places are nothing more than a perpetuation of the notion of women as big breasted small-waisted sex objects to be used and abused for the pleasure of men. here though, it seems different. people come in all shapes and sizes to suit any and all types of taste and sexual orientation. our friend, full of wisdom and knowledge of the thai culture from his 8 year relationship with his thai boyfriend tells me: thais think of sex differently. for the thais, sex is like lunch. if you’re hungry, you eat. if you’re horny, you have sex. no need to make a big ordeal out of such a basic human need.
however, while the spectacle of downtown pattaya represents the fun and adventurous surface of the issue of sex tourism in this country, the sex industry has equally dark and dangerous aspects of exploitation, abuse, and underage workers. whisperings of the sick world of child sex trafficking in the area show just how little of the reality of “sex tourism” that the bright neon lights and scantily-clad promoters of the go-go bars actually reveal…
but anyway…. musings on the philosophical implications of this culture’s unique outlook on the issue are beside the point. all i can personally attest to is the entertainment aspect of the one amusing show i attended…
unfortunately, my favorite boy (number 32 i think? …the only one not skinnier/prettier and a better dancer than me…well maybe still prettier, but at least his body was definitely that of a man, rather than a 12 year old girl like many of the other boys…) was not in the actual show. though the erotic dancing in belly dancing skirts, ballet-inspired solos by the lead ladyboy, and under-the-blanket peep scenes of intense 3-boy sex positions (all set to dramatic lighting and music, of course) was still very much entertaining. our poor straight boy companion in the group was such a good sport throughout the whole sheer skirt/erect body parts intensity of the show that afterwards, we all agreed he deserved some boobies.
next stop: boyztown’s older, longer, more intense, and much more famous sister neighborhood: Walking Street. (all i can say on the subject is i have definitely had my whole year’s helping of thai boobies…)
5.6.10
beach time
my second week of my new tradition in this new life as a thai kindergarten teacher is in full effect this weekend: stay out until 4, roll out of bed next morning, be at beach by 11am. next: bake hawaiian tropic-oiled skin in hot thai sun, write in journal about fabulous new beach lifestyle, eat and pray and love with ms. elizabeth gilbert, dip in dirty jomtien water when heat becomes unbearable, come back to towel, flip sides, repeat.
one of my many favorite things about my home beach here is the rental lounge chairs. for only 20 baht they’re yours for the day, complete with the whole umbrella/table/trashcan setup, not to mention a chair attendee to serve and assist you with whatever you need! after college in colorado -where it often still snows in may (by which time it should clearly be sunbathing weather rather than blizzarding)-i've been just itching for the heat and sunshine. so, my personal setup involves laying on my towel directly adjacent to, rather than under, my private shady chair area. this strategic positioning generates half-sympathetic half-curious glances from the local and visiting thai beach-goers. they, looking polar opposite to myself, are carefully hiding every inch of their skin in head-to-toe street attire and don’t creep out from under their umbrella spots unless to go scoop up their fully-clothed thai bambinos splashing in the waves. undoubtedly they are wondering why this poor white girl is choosing to soak up the rays and purposefully darken into the hideous shade of brown that thais avoid at all costs.
one of my many favorite things about my home beach here is the rental lounge chairs. for only 20 baht they’re yours for the day, complete with the whole umbrella/table/trashcan setup, not to mention a chair attendee to serve and assist you with whatever you need! after college in colorado -where it often still snows in may (by which time it should clearly be sunbathing weather rather than blizzarding)-i've been just itching for the heat and sunshine. so, my personal setup involves laying on my towel directly adjacent to, rather than under, my private shady chair area. this strategic positioning generates half-sympathetic half-curious glances from the local and visiting thai beach-goers. they, looking polar opposite to myself, are carefully hiding every inch of their skin in head-to-toe street attire and don’t creep out from under their umbrella spots unless to go scoop up their fully-clothed thai bambinos splashing in the waves. undoubtedly they are wondering why this poor white girl is choosing to soak up the rays and purposefully darken into the hideous shade of brown that thais avoid at all costs.
31.5.10
restaurant noname
i sit in restaurant “noname” in the company of my fellow whities that this restaurant clearly caters to….finally humbling myself enough to realize that my thai vocabularly of about three shakily-pronounced words wasn’t enough to get by in the few authentic thai joints on my overwhelmingly touristy beach neighborhood. i realize that despite the thai girl staff, this is clearly an expat-owned bar –judging from the england football jersey hanging above the register. still, i seem to be the only english speaker. i receive equally blank stares when i say my sawadeekaahhhh as when i say eat? lunch? even the pervy old men sitting around me are speaking in a language i don’t recognize…
at least the place has a witty name –or lack of name-plus a steaming bowl of bomb curry that i've been gloriously living off of these past few days…
at least the place has a witty name –or lack of name-plus a steaming bowl of bomb curry that i've been gloriously living off of these past few days…
30.5.10
language stupidity...
…more and more inevitable moments of cultural stupidity as i forget how to articulate in english the meaning of the symbol of a dog with a red line across it. once i finally realize what the nice apartment owner lady was trying to ask me, i stupidly say “Do not enter, Dogs!” thank god my brain finally decided to kick itself into action, correcting myself “No dogs allowed.” i would have felt unforgivably braindead if the entrance door to their quaint little apartment complex was forever adorned with the warning to all english-speaking dogs: “hey you, do not enter!”
later is my first desperate search for coffee in my new country. i don’t allow myself to take the easy way out after barely being in thailand 24 hours by walking into one of the many expat-owned cafes beckoning to me with their all-english signs of “fresh coffee” and “english breakfast!” so instead I find a small café-ish looking hut with signs purely in thai script, aside from the one reassuring word in english: “coffee.” i attempt to convey my desire for iced black coffee, pointing to the espresso machine, miming “cold,” and pointing to the sugary powdered milk product on the counter and shaking my head vigorously. i speak directions slowly and quietly in my best articulated english, as if my low volume would somehow help the words more easily sneak into the sweet spot of comprehension in the barista’s brain. my feelings of reassurance when the understanding clicks between us overshadows the blatantly bemused looks I earn for my lack of desire for sugar. in this culture, i soon realize, sugar receives just as much appreciation in all aspects of cuisine as the famous thai chilies and spiciness. since i know the embarrassment of trying to explain my order will be the first of many similar instances to come, i try to ask how to name my order in thai, in hopes of lessening the ordeal for the next morning’s café visit. plus, opportunities for learning are everywhere in a new country. this may just be my first thai vocab word on my journey toward fluency…
it takes me several stupid moments of back and forth repetitions (attempting to perfect my adopted thai accent of course) to realize that all he is saying is “iced espresso”…surely wondering once again why this poor confused farang hadn’t just asked for it in the first place…
later is my first desperate search for coffee in my new country. i don’t allow myself to take the easy way out after barely being in thailand 24 hours by walking into one of the many expat-owned cafes beckoning to me with their all-english signs of “fresh coffee” and “english breakfast!” so instead I find a small café-ish looking hut with signs purely in thai script, aside from the one reassuring word in english: “coffee.” i attempt to convey my desire for iced black coffee, pointing to the espresso machine, miming “cold,” and pointing to the sugary powdered milk product on the counter and shaking my head vigorously. i speak directions slowly and quietly in my best articulated english, as if my low volume would somehow help the words more easily sneak into the sweet spot of comprehension in the barista’s brain. my feelings of reassurance when the understanding clicks between us overshadows the blatantly bemused looks I earn for my lack of desire for sugar. in this culture, i soon realize, sugar receives just as much appreciation in all aspects of cuisine as the famous thai chilies and spiciness. since i know the embarrassment of trying to explain my order will be the first of many similar instances to come, i try to ask how to name my order in thai, in hopes of lessening the ordeal for the next morning’s café visit. plus, opportunities for learning are everywhere in a new country. this may just be my first thai vocab word on my journey toward fluency…
it takes me several stupid moments of back and forth repetitions (attempting to perfect my adopted thai accent of course) to realize that all he is saying is “iced espresso”…surely wondering once again why this poor confused farang hadn’t just asked for it in the first place…
29.5.10
day one.
the airport: a traveler’s first live glimpse of a country’s culture. an ambiguous place of transport that reveals no secrets. tourists thrown together with locals, cultural pioneers side by side with in-transit passerbys. faces reveal curiosity and ambivalence, interest and apathy.
Bangkok International Airport, first impressions: extremely noticeable lack of bombs/fires/guns/riots. (glad i opted to leave the bullet-proof vest at home, despite every warning that the red shirt situation was reason enough to postpone my trip to bangkok, tell my employer that i simply couldn't make it, and sit at home in my sleepy small town waiting for the "action" to subside...). my new dutch airplane buddy and i depart our vessel greeted by nothing but clean, spacious interiors, welcoming smiles from all sides, and friendly giggles at my enthusiastic first attempts at the thai language. driving from the airport to pattaya with my ever-so-wee taxi driver is unmistakably reminiscent of the exotic costa rican tropics. palm trees everywhere. suffocating heat and humidity. light blue-grey clouds hinting at an imminent equatorial thunderstorm. the only big difference is the beautiful – and completely unreadable- thai script adorning the signs and billboards. i am surprised to discover right away that even i have been guilty of the typical american assumption that the whole world speaks at least some english, apparent in the obvious cloud of consuming yet smiling silence i was sharing with my driver. my collection of “talk thai now” tracks i downloaded in a hurry to my new indigo ipod instantly become my savior as i search for some other friendly phrase besides the “hello” and “thank you” that i've already overused. my few sporadic days of preparation squeezed between the college graduations, 20-hour cracked-out road trips, and celebratory Vegas missions all crammed into the month of May-hem left me with less time than usual to adequately research my destination.
even so, after memorizing the generic prolonged orientations specializing in culture-shock metaphors and “how to survive without skippy peanut butter” lectures that had preceded my previous international endeavors, being thrown into an exotic country and language with little to keep me afloat but my own bubbles of excitement feels unbelievably refreshing.
Bangkok International Airport, first impressions: extremely noticeable lack of bombs/fires/guns/riots. (glad i opted to leave the bullet-proof vest at home, despite every warning that the red shirt situation was reason enough to postpone my trip to bangkok, tell my employer that i simply couldn't make it, and sit at home in my sleepy small town waiting for the "action" to subside...). my new dutch airplane buddy and i depart our vessel greeted by nothing but clean, spacious interiors, welcoming smiles from all sides, and friendly giggles at my enthusiastic first attempts at the thai language. driving from the airport to pattaya with my ever-so-wee taxi driver is unmistakably reminiscent of the exotic costa rican tropics. palm trees everywhere. suffocating heat and humidity. light blue-grey clouds hinting at an imminent equatorial thunderstorm. the only big difference is the beautiful – and completely unreadable- thai script adorning the signs and billboards. i am surprised to discover right away that even i have been guilty of the typical american assumption that the whole world speaks at least some english, apparent in the obvious cloud of consuming yet smiling silence i was sharing with my driver. my collection of “talk thai now” tracks i downloaded in a hurry to my new indigo ipod instantly become my savior as i search for some other friendly phrase besides the “hello” and “thank you” that i've already overused. my few sporadic days of preparation squeezed between the college graduations, 20-hour cracked-out road trips, and celebratory Vegas missions all crammed into the month of May-hem left me with less time than usual to adequately research my destination.
even so, after memorizing the generic prolonged orientations specializing in culture-shock metaphors and “how to survive without skippy peanut butter” lectures that had preceded my previous international endeavors, being thrown into an exotic country and language with little to keep me afloat but my own bubbles of excitement feels unbelievably refreshing.
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