Working It: A Bar Boy's Collection Of "Walking ATMs"

Silom Soi 4: one of Yod's old fishing holes.

Yod leaned back in his chair, locked his strong arms behind his head and forcefully exhaled a column of cigarette smoke into the early evening air.  A bird sitting amid one of those fine examples of wildly creative Thai wiring above him chirped - perhaps in protest - and took off, dropping a generous dollop of bird shit onto the ground next to the stylish athletic shoe on the left foot he had sticking out in front of him.

"You see?" he smiled "I'm lucky!" I couldn't disagree with him. Yod was lucky; a survivor of a club life, and, as he figured it, possibly set for life.  At least as far into the future as many young people tend to look nowadays.  He knew he wasn't anything close to a spring chicken on the club market; he was, in fact, pushing the boundaries of twinkiedom. He was stunningly handsome now in his early 30s, and one can only imagine what a gorgeous figure he cut at college age.

It didn't bother him in the least that he was nearly finished with the active nightly work of being offed and having to make it seem as though he was attracted to - or interested in the slightest - in the person who had rented his attentions. In fact, it was a great relief. Granted, sometimes there were women who came into the club and offed him for his services ("big!" he said, pointing to his crotch), but he'd very rarely been interested in the men he'd been with. He could "do it", but he knew what he preferred.

Not Yod's complex, but a
good example of the type:
simple,but comfy

Some were younger and somewhat attractive, but most were nearly twice his age; faking enthusiasm or performing acts he didn't care for in the interest of a tip was often a challenge.  If he hadn't needed to be too intoxicated to agree to the tryst he could almost always "rise to the occasion," but sometimes he was merely an object to penetrate, and some customers were rough.

"Act like man, but they not," he said. "Just feel like man if they treat me same dog."  More than a couple of times he'd called the event to a halt, dressed and left, even though it meant no tip. A few times he'd had to struggle to leave, and once he'd had to fight his way out. What he said about those customers doesn't need to be repeated here.

Yod knew he was being used, and he treated his job as just that: a job. As some guys do, he also ran his own "business". Early on he'd been advised to encourage repeat business - a sound practice in any business, come to think of it - and he put great effort into what a friend had done, which was build a clientele who would send him money after they'd gone home.  Regularly.  It was then he promptly left the bars he freelanced in and started to take things easier.

It's a common story those who rent admirers hear early on, if they're listening, be they customers of of either sex.  Anyone who's known someone who has dallied overseas while in military service has probably heard the story in one form or another; the ship leaves Subic Bay in the Philippines and two weeks later the letter arrives: "I'm pregnant and it's yours".

As I said, Yod didn't work the short-term market all that long, preferring to tap the Walking ATM market instead. His rent and basics were paid, but his business was of the longer-term, better income type. As an example I'll cite a common story: "I'll leave my club life and wait for only you if you can help me with Bt ____ a month until you come back to be with me."

Yes, it's dishonest - probably fair to say morally reprehensible - so save your comments. It doesn't excuse his lies, but there are countless examples of farang saying "I want to bring you to my home country to be with me" (or variations on the theme) and then disappearing after the evening, too, and that's pretty crappy behavior, too. You hear that sort of story nightly if you eavesdrop for any length of time in lots of gay and straight bars where a farang is making their moves on a Thai.

Yod had built his business well. He currently had seven guys who regularly sent him money, thinking Yod was their Special Boy and waiting for them to return to visit him, and none knew about the other.  Two from the United Kingdom, two from Germany, one from France, and two from the USA. There were three others who were irregular contributors - Bt3,000 for his actual birthday and the likes - but these were added bonuses, as they rarely visited.

His regular monthly income was in the neighborhood of - get this - 45,000 baht per month, and he had no actual job. That's $1,500USD, or 1,100 Euro.  It might not sound like a lot where you're reading this, but in Thailand it's pretty darned good money. In addition to this regular income, two had believed they were the ones who had built the handsome home he showed pictures of where his mother, father and two brothers lived. They hired help now for the rice and cassava planting and harvesting, and his brothers attended good schools.

He said the easiest ones were the ones who came to visit on a set schedule, because the others could be scheduled around them. Only once over seven years had he needed to beg off or re-arrange a visitor's time in Thailand.  Some of the men he really did feel an affection for, and once he'd felt so sorry for a Dutch man who had fallen hard for him that Yod made up a story to end the relationship to avoid hurting the man too deeply. If he had wanted to settle down with a man, the Dutchman would have been the one. "He very very kind to me and act like Thai way," he said, but that wasn't what Yod wanted.

Yod spent a lot of time at his real home in the agricultural area outside of Bangkok proper, but also had regular stretches in Bangkok and other tourist areas where he managed his bank accounts and kept in contact with his guys from a variety of internet shops. Although he was out of the club scene, he figured he could always make room for one more farang; besides, he enjoyed time with his friends there. His one regular remaining vice was smoking tobacco.

Unlike many Thai club/bar/sex workers he spoke of, he'd dodged the drink/drug/gambling webs and had salted away a small fortune. His family was well taken care of, and he was considering settling down with a woman and making his own family.

After three hours of chatting we called it an evening. Yod wouldn't let me pick up the tab for himself, my translator friend and I. I look forward to following his story.

The "Sick Water Buffalo" Story

Water buffalo in Northwest Thailand

"My family needs a water buffalo," lamented Tum, a reasonably new friend I'd met a few years ago. "The old one was sick for months and died four weeks ago. My parents didn't have the money for a veterinarian and neither did I, and they'll need him for the rice fields soon. Now my family is really in trouble." He looked down at the plate of food  in front of him and was quiet.


[Note: Although Tum speaks in the somewhat halting, broken English some Thai do - as many of us casually learning a second language might well do ourselves - I've taken the liberty of changing his words in the interest of readability and respect.]

If you've read many of the Thai forums, done much research on tourist experiences, rented many "admirers" or had conversations with Thai from several levels of society you've most likely heard a similar story. If one's to be cynical about it it goes on the same list a few others already occupy: "my mother (or another family member) needs an operation", "my brother (or another family member) was in an accident" and "I'm short money for my room rent" topping the list of regulars. 

I was mightily surprised to hear the "Brother in a Motocy Accident" story once and then learn that, sadly, it was true. That story from April 2011 is here, if you'd care to read it.

Of course, there's also the basic "I need money for food" story, and that's usually the easiest to remedy: walk with the person to the nearest food vendor's cart and buy them a meal. At least they will have eaten for the day, even if they continue to panhandle as soon as they're finished and use that money for - ahem - less desirable purchases. 

Getting back to Tum, though. The water buffalo story looms large in the legend of Thai-Farang relationships at some levels; the top one or two, I'd say.  Others may have had different experiences, but it's one of the two I've heard most often while doing research on another project. I almost always manage to show some sympathy and get off the subject as gracefully as possible, but since I had someone to help translate for me I allowed the conversation with Tum to drift into what I was fairly sure was going to be a request for funds... and I was correct. 

Tum, the oldest of four kids, was a club worker with four years behind him, and he hadn't been doing well the past few months. He'd changed places a few times, gone out of his way to stay on the good side of the mamasan when necessary and been a willing companion to those who showed interest in him, but his luck with the number of offs and the tips from them just hadn't been on his side. Now he - and his family off in Isaan - were in a pinch. 

Like a number of other club workers he'd built up a support network of customers over his four years on the market, but he was tiring of the grind and longed to be back home where he wanted to start a family and settle down. He said he didn't lie to the farang he'd been in contact with - he didn't play the "you're the only one and I'm waiting for you" game - so those who had helped him in the past were already tapped out. 

Now he was still short about $150USD. While that may not sound like a lot to some of you, I can put a student through school there for an entire year for that amount. To keep things in perspective, though, it's about what I'd spend for two or three nights in a room on holiday there, too, so everything's relative, I suppose.

Tum excused himself to use the toilet, and I - knowing full well it was a foolhardy idea - turned to my friend and quickly (before he could ask "are you crazy?") asked him to see if Tum was agreeable to a repayment plan that he (my friend) would be OK handling for me, and he reluctantly agreed. Tum said it would probably take him a year to repay the money, but that he would agree to do so. My friend shrugged his shoulders and gave me that "up to you" look, and I looked Tum in the eye, shook his hand and said "OK".

I had to go to an ATM to withdraw the cash, and although some of you are most likely sitting there saying "you moron... that's just what he did with you, the walking ATM" that's not how things turned out.  I was flying on a hunch and not more than a bit of faith that he'd ever be heard from again, but he was. I'm in regular email contact with my friend, and every so often I'd get a "P.S. - Tum stopped by my work and brought me money again this week", and when I next saw my friend he had the entire amount for me.  I didn't ask if he knew how Tum had gotten it - from tips or other Walking ATMs or whatever - but there it was, in the envelope my friend had kept it in.

I had a photo of Tum, and we went back to the club I'd found him in, where several of the guys there said "he finit, go home". My friend talked with a couple of them and found out that he had indeed left the club circuit, gone back into the Great Northeast, and had plans to soon marry the young woman he'd dreamed of returning to.

Now that's a real happy ending.

The Ladies And Clubs Of Walking Street, Pt. 2

Visit my club! ...  No, mine! ... No, MINE!

Yesterday's post was quite a step off the ordinary path for me, but so it goes. As a rule, I very rarely find myself in a club where the admired on stage are of the female persuasion - or close to it - as it's not where I'd usually choose to spend an evening, but an open mind helps if you're willing to see something more than the one-knee shuffle so common in the gay clubs.

Hookah bars are becoming
more common in some areas
of Pattaya

Mind you, I don't have anything against straight people as long as they act gay in public, to cite the old joke. No offense to reader Paul who'd asked the "where can I go to meet some ladies on vacation" question, either, but I felt a bit out of my league as far as specifics go.

I suppose from what I've been told that the system works much the same as far as bar fines (off fees), worker drinks and tips in the club, etc. goes in a females-for-hire club as it does in a males-for-hire club, other than I'm told that sometimes the drinks can be a bit cheaper. Supply and demand at work there, most likely; straight clubs outnumber gay ones by at least 10 to 1, I'd guess off the top of my head.  Probably by more. I'd also put a substantial bet on the likelihood that the amount of "tea money" regularly paid to get those in charge to look the other way is higher... wink-wink, nudge nudge.

It's more than a dime a dance, but company is available.

There are many other places to drink, dance, socialize and meet company for a short or longer period in Pattaya, just as there are in Bangkok.  Beach Road is dotted with open-fronted lady bars, as are many of the side streets up towards Second Road and Third Road - all very lively places.

Lucifer's either listing some or bowing a welcome to his disco on Walking Street

Walking street was mentioned as the example because (A) it's a fairly wide open - and perhaps safer - area (B) it's usually full of other tourists, so you're not alone in an unfamiliar place, and (C) because there are plenty of other places to look through, shop or dine if you tire of The Hunt or need time to get up some courage before locking and loading. Those who enjoy a more concentrated selection of ladies and bars might try something along the lines of Soi 8 off of Beach Road, but watch your wallets.

So, until I'm there again and follow through on a promise to myself to gather more stories from the women than the men, this will have to suffice.

Hope you enjoy the pictures... and your weekend.

The Ladies And Clubs Of Walking Street

There. THAT'S where I wanted this photo from yesterday to be.

For the very new among you, Walking Street is a nightly phenomenon similar to the night market area along the streets of Silom Road and Patpong in Bangkok; assembled and jolted to life at dusk but sleeping by day. Not that there aren't plenty of touts along Walking Street in the daytime trying to pull you into a tailor shop, but the street is open to vehicular traffic, too.  At night it's pedestrians only. The main difference is not having to snake through a thousand other visitors between stalls on the sidewalk on Walking Street.

Probably not the "Living Doll"
Cliff Richard sang of, but
there she stood one night.

While Walking Street is only one of many areas in Pattaya to find a grouping of bars, go-go clubs and discos it's the one more tourists are likely to experience. You won't find as many families with small children along the other slightly darker sois where ladyboys and girls nearer their expiration dates wait for someone to off them, for example.

Walking Street is worth a post of its own, and I'll get to that soon. Today's post is for "Paul", who emailed me to ask where he (as a straight man) might go as an introduction to Pattaya Night Life. Paul said he was recently divorced and going through a renewed stretch of sewing his wild oats and was taking a trip with friends to Pattaya as a self-professed sex tourist. Just to be clear: I don't judge anyone who's fair and respectful of other humans, so while I feel he's likely to miss out on 99.5% of the other things Thailand has to offer, it's entirely up to him.

Not being an aficionado of females as romantic partners on any physical level for decades I was somewhat at a loss, but then it came to me: Walking Street!

Yes, I'm aware that a person could be taken - in more ways than one - in most any bar setting, but I figured this way he could at least get a nice dinner and be measured for a suit before being fleeced, drugged or assaulted (just kidding there - we often have some control over the direction of our own fate if we use a modicum of caution and good sense).

Girls tout for clubs along Pattaya Soi 1, not far from Walking Street

A man looking for a Rented Admirer of the female variety won't want for choice along the main stretch of Walking Street, and some of the side sois, also. There are dozens of clubs with some stunningly beautiful women there, some at the opposite end of the spectrum, and most everything between. Some have more between their legs than others, but that takes us into an area I'd rather cover another day.

It's not all "pay for play" - you can merely enjoy the company of a desirable person for an evening of companionship and drinks in the club, too, so don't get the wrong idea here.

We've covered Rented Admirers a couple of other times, and although the genitalia differs, the idea behind it doesn't - so maybe check those articles out here and here. (I don't judge anyone who's fair and respectful of other humans, just so you know).

"Hallloooo, hansam man!" A common siren song you'll hear as you walk along Walking Street. Well, that and "Hello, my friend! Can I interest you in a suit?"

Some clubs are beginning
to cater to those who wish to
rent a falang

That said, here are a few shots of lady and ladyboy clubs along Walking Street. They're not reference points for specific people - they were taken some years ago, and workers tend to change jobs/clubs/professions as often as money and whim dictate (kind of like many places in the West), but it gives you an idea of what some of the clubs look like.

For those of you wondering, the bar fine or off fee to have someone accompany you off premesis for any amount of time varies, just as it does in a male club. I'm advised the fee is between 300-500 baht for the club (depending on the desirability of the worker on one level or another) and a tip of around 1,000 baht to your admirer.

One last thing: for those newbies who don't read the posts about gay clubs here, or who found this by a search, be advised that renting a "freelance" admirer from the street is often riskier than renting from a club.  A club has a reputation and usually at least some standards and reputation. A freelancer in the shadows of Beach Road may have an agenda... and nothing to lose.

Repeating an image to illustrate a warning that bears repeating

Next: a few more Walking Street club photos

A Preview: Lady Bars On Walking Street

Looking back towards the start of Walking Street in Pattaya

My apologies, folks. The unexpected death of a long time friend has thrown me off course here today, so I'll skip the photo essay I was working on about the girly bars along Walking Street and make an effort to get it posted tomorrow.

Night Photos, Part 22: A Late Evening Walk In Pattaya

A panoramic shot of the shore along Beach Road in Pattaya, from an angle you don't often see.

Other than the festival night shots at Laem Singh there hasn't been an installment of the Night Photos series since June. Popular consensus is that you've been spared long enough. Well, popular with me, anyway, and since I've been running for close to three years on faith that what I find interesting you'll at least find tolerable here's another batch of long-exposure night shots - all taken around the Beach Road area of Pattaya one evening.

The Oriental Star restaurant glows brightly onto the water of Pattaya Bay

I liked the colors on the water and the blurring of the tiny waves in the top shot. It's a view of Beach Road you don't see photos of very often.

Speaking of Beach Road, there's always a vast assortment of ladies of the night, lady boys, transsexuals  transgender, tran-most-anything along the walkway there, some deeper into the shadows than others.  There were some actually "working" behind me on the beach under cover of darkness. It's one of the few times I've felt compelled to keep a closer eye on my camera and wallet.

It's not even fair to call them "rented admirers" as I've been told it's strictly business along there, for the most part. Nothing against it - work is work - but the World's Oldest Profession can be a trying one, I've learned from those who've made a living at it (on one level or another).

Male, female and in-between prostitutes along Beach Road.

On side streets things can be quieter, but from the beach you need to be alert and sometimes spry to get across Beach Road. Despite traffic signals installed to make it somewhat safer for pedestrians to cross, rumor has it locals can still collect a bounty on tourists. Or so it seems, if you're trying to get across.

Looking North from the curb on Beach Road, Pattaya

And why would you cross the road?  Why, to get to the other side, naturally. Restaurants, beer bars, open air clubs, tailors, opticians, massage storefronts, go go clubs and businesses of all stripes catering to the visitor line beach road and the side streets nearby.

Business lights can give things a warm glow late in the evening

As the weather begins to chill where I am it's easy to daydream of lazy afternoons along the beach and leisurely dinners in small, cozy eateries on the side streets of Thailand.  Not difficult at all to admit I miss it.

On Avoiding Being "The Ugly American"

The Three "Stoolges" on Walking Street, Pattaya

For the sake of argument, let's agree that we're not dealing with The Ugly American, the 1958 novel by William Lederer and Eugene Burdick and sticking with the common usage: a pejorative term for a "stereotypical offensive American: a loud, boorish, nationalistic American, especially one traveling abroad, who is regarded as conforming to a stereotype that gives Americans a bad reputation" (Encarta dictionary).

It's unfortunate the term seems to focus mostly on those of us in the USA, which in and of itself is exclusionary enough - after all, there are plenty of other countries in North and South America that contain unpleasant examples of humanity - but I suppose it's all part of it, isn't it?  We're the real Americans, damn it. Now, if the behavior were limited to only we from the US that'd be a different story, but the label of Ugly American fits people across the wide spectrum of races, countries and cultures. You may have an example or two that pop to your mind... I certainly do.

It's reasonably important to remember that we - like it or not - are all ambassadors of a sort, and should behave accordingly. If you read up on your planned destination(s) it's not difficult to learn enough about the local customs and traditions to be a gracious guest.

Two obvious examples most readers here should know about visiting Thailand: it's always wise to be respectful of the royal family, and climbing up onto a statue of the Buddha for a snapshot - or any similar disrespectful actions like it - are likely to get you into trouble, but opening your own personal Pandora's box of less-desirable facets of yourself can, too.

Regardless of how pointedly acerbic your own "humor" may seem be to you or those who understand your "style" at home, sarcasm rarely translates well into another language (or culture). At best, you'll merely confuse the person you're dealing with; at worst you'll come across as an asshole and lose face, which is probably the more likely of the two possibilities, since many who think their wit isn't understood just compound the social gaffe by pushing it further.

The three men sitting on stools at a beer bar (ladies as Rented Admirers optional) are enough of an illustration, I felt, so there's the image.  The one on the far left was being pleasant while interacting with the girls at the club, and the one in the middle appeared to be doing the same.

The Hulk on the right, however, appeared at the time to be a force I'd prefer not to deal with.  He'd been lurching up and down Walking Street a couple of times while I was there with a friend, and we (and others) gave him a wide and clear berth.  Swaying back and forth he actually growled as he moved along. At first I'd thought he might have just been burping, but that wasn't the case.

My Thai friend leaned in towards me and gave me his opinion on where this walking refrigerator may have been visiting from, and he may have been right - but I just said "Ugly American", without thinking. Then I had to explain it, and this time it didn't take much of an effort to get the meaning across to him.

He told a story about seeing one of millions of balding, pot-bellied later-middle-aged male farang haggling with a vendor at the JJ  weekend market a few months before. Haggling is expected by many vendors; a good-natured (if sometimes slightly aggressive) but respectful bantering back and forth in an attempt to reach a "win-win" agreement on the price of an item. This particular episode had begun to escalate beyond banter, and my friend stopped at a safe distance to watch them.

The short version is that the farang actually began to holler about "being an American" and not being willing to be "ripped off by some bandit". When the vendor tried to smile it off and turn away, the farang grabbed his arm to turn him back face-to-face and lunged at the Thai. Vendors and others nearby joined in and gave the Ugly American what he had coming to him, to my way of thinking.

The people who over-indulge in public to the point of losing control of their manners and/or civility can be the worst of it, but the man at JJ was merely a pig-headed fool of a bully, pure and simple.  I'd wager we all run into similar folks on a daily basis. There's rarely an explanation as to why they're such mean-spirited creatures (bad childhood, inferiority complex the size of a Buick, monthly cramps, small penis, inability to hold a civil relationship together... who knows?) but they're there, meaning here and there, anywhere around the globe; being miserable and freely willing to visit their misery on anyone within reach, figuratively or literally.

Readers by now are well aware I'm not one who studiously follows dogma of any stripe, but there are some basic rules of life that I subscribe to, and one of those is what many would call the Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have others do unto you.  That covers nearly all social situations, and if you don't allow it to tarnish while traveling it'll serve you well.

Trip Report 6: Night Club Photos, Soi Twilight

A panorama view towards Suriwongse Road from our table at Maxi's on what's commonly known as Soi Twilight

A Soi Twilight tout invites me
upstairs to his club

After his detour through Bangkok Nursing Hospital earlier in the day my friend Ben was both weakened and weary, but around 18:00/6:00pm informed me that the siren song of the clubs had been powerful enough to drag him out into the night - and let's hurry up about it, thank you very much.

I reminded him that the siren songs of olden times weren't a positive force; in Greek lore they came from females who enticed passing sailors to stray off course close enough to their islands that they'd wreck their ships on the rocky shore, but evidently he was already under the spell.

As for me, I was rested and in fine form, so when my office worker friend arrived we were both happy to go out for dinner and an evening of people watching with him.  Knowing I'd be busy out and about with Ben I'd more or less put my usual rounds of interviews on hold for at least the first couple of weeks of the trip, but that was fine as it freed up more time to take pictures.

Available light photography has interested me for years, and although I don't have anything close to a fine digital SLR instrument I've come to accept that I can practice and learn with most anything that will allow longer exposures. I'm also encouraged that what are lauded as "excellent photos" on some sites actually aren't, so although my images are sometimes hit-and miss in my own eye I'm not all that far afield.

The three of us made our way from the Sala Daeng BTS station to dinner at Maxi's, where we sat and enjoyed a mild breeze until it was opening time and Ben was ready to make a beeline to the Tawan Club on Soi Thantawan. We walked along with him and went in for a drink. I had no interest in staying long, so I reminded him of his doctor's advice before my Thai friend and I left him to his wiles, going out to try taking a few more images of the area.

Originally there were to be four of us coming to Thailand this trip for a conference, but two had to cancel out close to our departure date, so the two days booked in Bangkok weren't spent seeing the Grand Palace and other newbie sites, but it had been a pleasant stopover, regardless; even with the hospital stop.

My friend and I took our time walking back to the BTS station, stopped at a 7-Eleven for water and a couple of other things and returned to my room for the night. Tomorrow Ben and I would be making the scheduled move to Pattaya, and I wanted some rest.

One last thing today. Please remember that merely because someone appears in a photo taken in a public place (such as the club area featured today)  it's by no means fair to imply anything about their beliefs or lifestyle, any more than a photo of me in a mosque makes me a follower of the Muslim faith.

Trip Report 4: First Night In Bangkok

The possibilities aren't limitless on a free night in Bangkok, but there are few limits in general, if you know what I mean.

[This is Part 4 of a trip report about my most recent visit to Thailand. Click HERE for the a link to the rest.] 

Soon after 6:00/18:00 we walked the three minutes or so from the Glow hotel to the Chong Nonsi BTS station and boarded for our short ride to Sala Daeng, where we planned to grab a bite to eat and wander about a bit before the clubs opened. Both of us were a tad off schedule, sleep-wise, but then it was just 04:00 back home, so that was understandable.  Nevertheless, adrenaline and the overall excitement of being on vacation seemed to be serving us well so far, and we were both hungry.

I had plans to meet a friend after he got off from work and catch a movie, but my travel companion was out on the prowl, tom cat style. Having only had one previous visit to the Land of Smiles  - one which allowed him precious little time to explore the nightlife on his own - he was quite the excited bunny, as a British friend of mine there sometimes says.

This was NOT taken on a BTS train during the evening commute hours, but much later in the evening

I asked him if he had a preference on where to sit and eat and he chose The Balcony, on Silom Soi 4, across from the Telephone Pub. I'd only been there for a drink years back and to stop and take a couple of photos one afternoon while wandering around, so I agreed. The story and pictures from that 2010 post are here.

By the time we reached the Sala Daeng BTS station the night market stalls were more or less in full swing. The stalls are often on both sides of the sidewalk; backed up to the front windows of established business and sticking their own backsides off the curb and into the gutter and street itself, making it difficult to walk along what's left allowed for pedestrian traffic.

From the elevated Sala Daeng BTS station

In the more congested areas there's just barely a width's space for two normal people to walk side by side - or one rotund person.  If someone stops to look into a stall or purchase something it's a challenge for one person to get through, period.  That only happens every ten feet or so, though. Murphy's law seems to apply here: the more you want to get from point A to point B, the more people will be stopped in your way. Backpacks are the worst, because the beasts of burden wearing  them usually seem oblivious to the inconvenience they cause by swinging them around when they turn in a crowd.  Luckily many of those bulky bags are more at home in the Khao San Road area, and that's a place I've not felt necessary to visit more than once.

Dinner at Balcony was pleasant enough. Restaurants can sometimes change cooks and wait staff like a tourist changes hotels, and that can sometimes make for an uneven experience. When you add individual preferences for spiciness and the likes it's not fair to be critical about faults that aren't glaring or things not exceptional about a meal. Let's just keep it at "it was pleasant" and I'd add that wouldn't avoid eating there again.

To be fair, both of us were more tuned in on what was going on around us along the soi.  Like I know I've said here before: sometimes you walk past the scenery, and sometimes the scenery walks past you. In addition to the nice looking Thai themselves there seemed to be a few mixed tourist couples who were also enjoying the surroundings, and that sort of participation by what I'm assuming are heterosexual people in a mainly homosexual environment is heartening, I think.  When visitors aren't there to make fun or be judgmental I feel it often furthers an the understanding that leads to acceptance.

All SORTS of things for sale around and about the Patpong Night Market area!

We sat and visited with some of the folks passing by and soon enough it was time to settle the check bin and make our way out of Soi 4 to the right and head down to cut through the Patpong Night Market to get to Suriwongse and then to Dungthawee Plaza, better known at Soi Twilight. There I bid my friend happy hunting and caught a taxi to go meet up with my friend.

We never made it to the movie, but I was getting pretty tired out by the time we'd met up and I'd sat and watched him eat his dinner, so we just walked around for a while before he rode back with me on the BTS to my hotel before heading to his condo. I knew a decent night's sleep would make tomorrow a more productive day, so I was ready to turn in, but not before stopping to take in the lights, sights and sounds from the elevated BTS platform. It doesn't matter how many times I'm here, I still appreciate those moments when I stop and it truly sinks in: I'm back in Thailand again!

Telephone Pub And Restaurant - Silom Soi 4

A panorama of four images, from across the soi

[Use the "Translate" menu to the right for Chinese, Spanish, German, Swedish and other languages]

You don't have to be a gay person to have an enjoyable evening of people watching on what I believe to be Silom's most popular side street, Soi 4, but you do need to have more of an accepting nature than some folks can muster.  To my way of thinking a straight person who is able to say "no, thank you" should do just fine.  If you're a deeply closeted gay person who doesn't want to be seen in an area accepted as mixed you may have slightly more of a problem than others, but don't let that keep you away.

A Muslim Thai friend had never been to any gay area in Thailand and asked if I'd take him when I was there a couple of months ago.  He is the one who is living within the constraints of an arranged marriage, and you can read that story here, if you wish. While he was quite nervous about someone he worked with or knew seeing him there he sat there bug-eyed as folks passed by along the street in front of our table at Telephone Pub.  We'd only been there on the terrace for 15 minutes or so when he decided he'd be more comfortable (and perhaps less visible) inside.

Plenty of seating both inside and out

If you are gay you've undoubtedly have your own stories of dealing with it while at the hands of ignorance, prejudice or persecution on one level or another.  Some of us have only had to deal with taunts and name-calling, some of us have suffered far worse. My own story isn't relevant here today, but suffice it so say I tend to avoid situations where I'm liable to be put into an uncomfortable situation when it's at all possible.

The atmosphere on Soi 4 has always been a comfortable one for me.  There are enough bemused straight couples and assorted curious folks who are just exploring the area - or in to eat at Sphinx, a fine spot towards the back end of the soi - that I'd venture to say most anyone could sit out at a table and be bothered by nothing more than the drifting cigarette smoke from someone nearby.

You can't miss the sign from Silom Road

Telephone Pub itself is one of the longer lived places on the soi, having been there about a quarter of a century.  As I understand the story the owner(s) used to be partners with the owner(s) of the Balcony, directly across the soi. Telephone was opened when those folks parted ways.  Balcony is also still quite a going concern, and both have their ardent supporters.

These photos were taken in March, and while they probably belonged in the "Night Photos" series I wanted to mention a little more about the place itself to encourage you to try an evening there or at another of the places along Soi 4.  It's not quite as colorful as Soi Twilight, but it's a good starting point for newbies who aren't as interested in the go-go clubs.

There's more on the Telephone Pub website.

The green dot shows the location

Night Photos, Part 20: The "Twilight" Zone

Among the clubs, early one evening on Soi Twilight

It's in the low 50s Fahrenheit where I am this morning, but it's reported as being 90F in Bangkok under patchy clouds as I write this.  As chilly and wet as it's been here I think I could deal with a warm humid evening, watching the scenery pass by my seat at an open-air spot on Soi 4 or Soi Dungthawee/Twilight in Bangkok. In fact, it's a compelling daydream.

The top image is a composite of four, and I only point that out again because the man in the lower right isn't an amputee; the blending software did it.  When items in the field of view move it can make some interesting choices.

The relative quiet before businesses open for the evening

Other than a grouping a couple of months ago from the area around the Amphawa Night Market and a batch before that from around the Pinnacle Hotel from last September there haven't been many available light night photos, and although it's only Thursday morning and I still have a laundry list of things to do before a busy weekend ahead my mind is already doing its best to kick itself into "neutral".

Even the employees are taking things easier at this point of the evening - around 19:30 - and the genial camaraderie is always nice to see, I think.

The Rise And Fall Of A Go Go Boy: Conclusion

Although this story is about a go go BOY, HIV doesn't discriminate between males and females

[This the second of two parts about a friend of mine who was working the World's Oldest Profession in Bangkok.  If you found this via a search Part 1 was yesterday. There are places where those with HIV can get the treatment they need to prolong their lives if they choose to make the effort, but the best course of action is prevention.  If you play, be safe.  If you can educate someone else as well, all the better.]

Tiger By The Tail - Conclusion

Pee had no idea of how much time he was out, but told me later that when he first regained consciousness he saw an almost blinding white brightness through his slightly-spread eyelashes - so bright he wondered if he was still alive or in heaven. He drifted under again briefly and was greeted again by the same bright light, although now it was joined by a pain.

He opened his eyes more and realized the light was sun pouring through the window onto him, seemingly made even brighter by the white sheet his face was pressed against.  As he became more aware he could tell he was face down on the bed, and the pain was radiating from a point below his waist line in the area he usually called his "back door". He could tell something was very wrong, but the effects of whatever he'd been drugged with still had a blanket over his conscious thinking and he turned slowly to sit up, feeling the need to use the bathroom.

Then he saw the blood.  There was blood and another bodily fluid he was no stranger to smeared around on the sheet where he'd been lying, and when he managed to stand up with the help of the nightstand he saw more where he'd been sitting.  There was the sickly sweet smell of blood and the somewhat starch-like smell of semen.

He staggered off to the bathroom, leaned on the vanity counter and looked at himself in the mirror, his mind racing despite the after-effects of the drugs. Turning and looking over his shoulder he saw the mess was spread on his lower back, on his sides, on his buttocks and down his thighs.  Not a lot, but a mess, nevertheless.  He was still woozy so he sat on the toilet and realized for the first time since coming to that he was alone in the room.

He stepped into the shower and washed himself thoroughly, as though he could make it all go away by scrubbing himself well enough.  He examined himself after drying off, and other than some bite marks on his shoulders and some scratching on his sides he had no cuts or other injuries, and the bleeding had stopped.  There were no towels, and he walked out into the main room naked and wet, hands covering his genitals out of nothing other than habit.  Although towels were strewn about the room they were all used and dirty in a manner we don't need to go into here.  He finally pulled the top sheet off of the bed and wrapped it around himself before going over and closing the drapes.

The farang was completely gone.  His small bag, clothes and personal items were all missing.  Pee hadn't noticed when he'd first gotten up and gone into the bathroom, but he'd packed and taken off while Pee was still unconscious.  Pee's clothes and small bag were still in the room, although not where he'd put them the night before. Someone had gone through them, and while his wallet, ID and money were still there his "regular" phone was gone.  The spare was still zipped into the pocket inside the bag, though, and he called Dum, his co-worker from the club.  Although Dum had been sound asleep he hurried to the hotel, met Pee and helped him back to his room, where he cried on Dum's shoulder; partly from the humiliation and shame and partly from the pain that sharply reminded him he'd been violently violated somehow - he just couldn't remember how.

The short version of the "what the hell happened" story is this: the farang had checked in just hours before offing Pee, using a credit card that had yet to be registered as stolen by the rightful owner.  He'd paid the night clerk to look the other way, brought Pee back to his room, and then invited a number of others to join him for a party. The night clerk said there were at least six, and Pee was the party favor.

Pee - for a couple of reasons - couldn't make himself go back to work for a few weeks, but he called Tum back home, and after swearing him to secrecy he told him what had happened.  Tum, naturally, was worried that Pee had been exposed to HIV, but Pee refused to even speak with him about the possibility.  Pee had himself tested for STDs (he'd received a couple as parting gifts at the "party") and he stayed away from work as long as the doctor advised.

Subscribing to the "if it's my time to die, it's my time to die" line of thought Pee returned to work several weeks after he was raped. He had a photo he'd received from the farang over a year before and  had copies of it printed and circulated among friends in other clubs, hoping someone might spot him, but that never happened.  Anyone familiar with how things go in a club area know how lucky the guy was that he wasn't spotted.

Three months to the day of the rape Tum took the bus down to visit Pee, accompany him to get his HIV test and stay with him until his results came back.

Pee tested positive. Later it was determined to be a particularly difficult to treat sub-strain.

Even knowing it was a distinct possibility he'd be positive Pee was stunned numb, while Tum was inconsolable and cried on and off for the rest of that day.  Pee wept some also, naturally, but he'd been steeling himself with the aforementioned fatalistic attitude learned at his father's knee years before, and his tears were more for Nee and his daughter.  Tum also felt that this was an unalterable death sentence, even though I spoke at length with Pee about treatment.  He took medications for a while, but had trouble tolerating them and finally just said "if it my time, it my time".

Despite being intelligent on so many other levels Pee believed this was beyond his control.  He began going to the temple on a daily basis, meditating and praying for hours at a time.  He ate well and still exercised, but he dropped his gym membership and began to decline offs.  "I have enough money," he said one time on the phone "If I die my family will be good.  They have a house, they have the farm, they have the animals and a lot of money in the bank" - and he was probably right.

"Yes, but they won't have you, Pee," I tried to explain one time. "Think of Nee and your daughter."  He couldn't be swayed, and as I was feeling somewhat hypocritical for pushing him (I abhor how people all too often push their dogma on others) I backed off.

Pee's popularity declined with his looks and his health, and after he left his original club the places he worked became less and less desirable.  Eventually he was only getting offers he knew were risky or dangerous to his health and the siren song of home finally won out.  He packed up a few things from his rented room, gave away the rest to friends and called Dum.  "I'm finished.  See you in a few hours."  Dum met him at the bus station.  He told me later that he couldn't keep from crying at Pee's appearance when he climbed slowly down off of the bus.

From the bus station Pee returned to what he used to joke about as his "Farang Palace" - the house that multiple Jacks had built. Nee still wanted to marry him, and so a ceremony was arranged and they began what they both knew was to be a shorter than usual life together.  Pee loved his daughter and happily took over as many of the daily duties as he was able to, just to spend the time with her - while his health continued to decline.

I asked Tum to please promise to send updates on Pee, and I told him if I could I'd make time to go see him when I was there this Spring. Tum promised he would, but since Pee was no longer seeing a doctor, taking any medication or accepting any help whatsoever there usually wasn't much to report, other than he wasn't doing well - which I could guess myself.

Two weeks ago while I was preparing a family party to celebrate several January birthdays my phone chirped to announce the arrival of a text message, and it was from Pee's phone.  Being the eternal optimist I'd hoped it was some good news from him (sometimes he'd text a greeting for my birthday or other holidays), but it wasn't from him - it was from Tum.

Six words: "Pee die today. Email to me."

I stopped what I was doing and sent Tum a short email asking for a little more detail. He must have been right there to receive it because he replied within 15 minutes.

"Pee happy now," he began. "Now he in heaven and resting much. He sleeping three days before, no drink no eat. Nee and me stay him all. He stop breath today, now his spirit go to heaven. Pee want me send you something.  What address you?"  I sent back my mailing address, thanked Tum for letting me know and for being a good friend for Pee and went about my duties setting up the party, although my thoughts returned to Pee's death more than a few times throughout the day.

The next morning when I was doing my usual routine of candles, incense and trying to make peace with the universe I offered up a wish that his passing was peaceful and that his journey continued smoothly.  As usual I added the hope that perhaps someday our paths cross again somehow.

Three days ago an envelope arrived from Thailand, and I saw it was from Tum.  Inside was the photo from years back of Pee and I that my translator friend had taken.  Our arms were still over each other's shoulders, and we were both still smiling. There was a piece of note paper folded in thirds over the photo.  When I opened it up I could see writing too shaky to be Tum's, so I know Pee had written it.  It said:

"Remember happy times.
From friend Nong Pee."

I'll look at that picture and remember him often.

Strolling Into The Tawan Muscle Boy Club

There was going to be a little more of a story to go with the above clip today, but life threw a curve ball and it didn't happen, sorry to say. Face facts: most of those who'll be interested in seeing it couldn't care less about the story, anyway.

The gist of it had to do with trying to get back to my room after picking up some lantern puzzles at a sidewalk stall of sorts on Suriwongse Road (that January 24, 2011 story is HERE).  I'd cut down the side soi where Tawan and the Mango Tree restaurant are to get myself back to Silom and the Sala Daeng BTS and was drawn into the club by the door tout.

I'd been taking a video to show the soi anyway, and evidently the tout didn't care that the red light was obviously on because he looked directly at it and still called me in. There's not much to the clip since I shut the camera off after I sat down. I rarely visit the club unless I'm taking a newbie there, but I sat for a drink and then went on my way.

Life As A Go-Go Boy, Pt. 4: "Finit"

Night view of some of the same area seen in the day in Part 1.

[This is the conclusion of a four-part story. You can find Part One, Part Two and Part Three by clicking the links. While the facts of the story are true some things have been altered to avoid identifying any specific club.]

Things went better for Chaa after the first couple of times he was taken out of the club by a customer, meaning after he'd had time to learn more of the game from Na. More often than not he was able to manipulate the situation by feigning ignorance (real or not), playing on the emotions of the customer, declining to do something he found unpleasant or offering different services than what had been requested. Most times the farang on vacation didn't want to go back to the club and try again, so they gave in and settled for what Chaa would do with them.  Sometimes his tip was cut some because of that, but it was worth it if the customer had horrible personal hygiene, an aversion to showering or some physical thing that Chaa simply couldn't rise to the occasion for.  We won't go into all he shared about this, in case you're eating.

Dee got into the habit early on of fondling Chaa when he'd pass within reach, as did Boss.  Dee seemed to do it with everyone, and since the others had found a way to turn it into a playful thing with no harm intended, Chaa went along with it.  He added his own line to it, sticking his hand out at her after a grab and saying "Twenty baht!"  The others soon joined in, and as odd as it sounds they pulled together as many others do in trying circumstances and became somewhat of a half-ass family, looking after and taking care of each other.

Boss, on the other hand, became a handful - especially when he was expecting or demanding access to what he considered his property.  He would punish them in a variety of ways, but the worst of it wasn't even a specific punishment, it was his unpredictable outbursts of temper when he would sometimes lash out at the closest guy who wasn't quick enough to get out of his way.

As close as I've been able to figure it out he actually had a horse rider's crop he kept with him most of the time, except during business hours.  When he was conducting his "pep talks" he'd sometimes snap it on a table top for emphasis, but it was talked of in hushed tones that he'd struck a few boys in his time, and none were still there when Chaa had heard about that. He also had a voracious appetite for the boys themselves, and was liable to demand favors at any time. As he was rather rough with them many had left his employ for that very reason.

When he was looking for some company upstairs, either before work or as the club was closing, he'd walk around the club whistling the same tune every time, leer at the guys one by one and then have Dee let them know that it was their turn. Chaa didn't know the tune was, but when he whistled it for me, I recognized "I'm In The Mood For Love", although I didn't try to explain this perversity to him. Nobody there was happy to hear him whistling the tune, and some even left work early if it was near closing time, risking the fine for doing so, and boy, did Boss love coming up with fines for his guys.

There were so many possible infractions that Dee was assigned the task of keeping track of them, and they changed so often that even she had trouble remembering some of them. Showing up five minutes late was one fine, more than 15 minutes late was a higher one, an hour late and you didn't get your "salary" for the night.  You were fined for not getting enough drinks bought for you within a specific period of time, or for not getting an off in a few days. In addition, Dee would sometimes be instructed to discourage customers that spoke with her from selecting you, so you ran out of money and had to borrow from your friends or rely on them to eat.

Chaa was popular with the boss and he cringed with he heard the whistling because he knew he may be in for another rough ride, but he felt obligated and somewhat trapped. The first night Boss was kind of nice to him, but shortly thereafter he became rougher and more physical with Chaa. To begin with he called Chaa "Dark Eyes", but that gave way to a nickname Chaa didn't understand and I won't repeat here on the blog.  I didn't explain it to him when he asked my friend and I, either, but we told him it wasn't a nice word. At the time Chaa just said "Well, he not nice."

The week before I met him Chaa was talking with Na one afternoon and told him he just didn't think he could do the job any more.  Being a very nice looking young man he'd been popular with the customers and had been taken off by quite a few who were overly kind to him and tipped him generously.  Maybe they realized he was still relatively new and unspoiled, maybe they sensed he was truly a gentle soul who didn't fit the often raucous club life so many of the guys fall into - a life of partying, shiny baubles, cell phones and, worst of all, drugs.  Chaa was intent on saving every bit he could and sending it home. His immediate goal was to earn enough to replace their still-ailing water buffalo, have a new roof put on the house and add some to the family savings as a back-up.

He ate as cheaply as he could, bought slightly used clothes from his flashier friends as they tired of them and bought new ones and even had a friend cut his hair. He had just sent a large amount home for his father toward the purchase of a young male water buffalo, and now had only enough to eat for a day or so unless he got more money at work... but he was fed up with being used and abused, and just wanted to go home.

Two days before I'd met him he'd been into work early to lock a gift he'd bought for his father in his locker, and he heard the whistling.  Chaa tried to get himself out of the club before Boss saw him and was just a few feet from a clean getaway when Boss called out his name and told him to stop.

He was leering and wiggling his eyebrows at Chaa as he approached him (it was funny when Chaa did it for us, but I'm sure it wasn't at the time) and this time Chaa said "No".   As Boss's face got red and he began to charge through the club at Chaa, Chaa picked up the only thing within his reach - a common broom - and swung it to keep Boss away, cursing at him. While swinging the broom it slipped out of his hands and flew across the club; the bristle end knocking a light down and the handle smashing two bottles of liquor.  Boss flew into a rage that just seemed to grow and grow.

Dee came running from the back when she heard the glass breaking, and arrived just in time to see Boss with the broom held in his hand, gripped near the bristles and wound up to strike Chaa with the handle.  Chaa cowered against the wall and turned by reflex to protect his front side.  Boss swung and Chaa felt the intense snap of the handle across his thighs.  Dee shrieked and began begging Boss to stop, but he turned on her, ordering her to stay out of it unless she wanted some of the same.  She shouted across to Chaa to run and he was already heading towards the door when Boss caught up with him and gave him the blow that would leave the second bruise I saw.

In front of the club Chaa met a few of his co-workers arriving to the club who understood by the fear on his face that he was in trouble, and they intercepted Boss as he came storming through the club door.  Several of them held him back, wrestled the broom away from him and shoved him back through the club door that Dee had been holding open, watching it all unfold.

Boss was still bellowing and screaming for blood, saying he had friends who would "take care of" Chaa if he didn't pay for the damage and lost booze, and that he knew where he lived, so there would be no getting away. One of the guys went into the back and phoned Chaa to alert him.

By opening time Dee had managed to calm Boss down, telling him that Chaa had been contacted and that he was sorry and would pay off the damages, which was true.  What Dee didn't tell him was that Chaa planned to leave and go back to his family as soon as he paid it off.  Boss agreed - and the next night, being a man of his word, Chaa returned to the club.

Up front the guys all acted normally, but when Boss would be out of the room several came over to congratulate him for standing up for himself.  One said he would have used the broomstick to do to Boss what Boss had done to most of them.  (Although Chaa was pretty somber while relating  this saga to my friend and I, when he got to this part he laughed until he nearly choked).

When I took him out of the club that night he still had a tab owed to Boss - and no money for his ticket home.  After we'd finished talking that night I asked if he wanted to sleep in the unused bed in my room, and he nodded yes.  I got him to understand that I needed to get some of my copious notes in order before I went to sleep, and handed him the remote for the TV.  He said "I shower," and went into the bathroom, where I heard the water running for a while and then the sounds of someone splashing in the bath tub. After he started draining the tub Chaa showered, came out with the towel wrapped around him and announced "Play water!"

I wondered what he was talking about, so I went into the bathroom to look while he crawled into his bed, propping himself up and flipping on the television to a Thai channel.  He'd taken the bubble bath liquid I'd bought at Watson's or some place there for a lark, read the Thai directions and taken a bubble bath. He told my friend the next day that he'd never had a tub bath before, which isn't at all surprising; at home he used a plastic bowl to pour water over his head from a large drum of water in their bathing area.

I worked for a short while and then showered and crawled into my own bed and slept.  The next morning we went for a walk on the beach where no conversation of any importance was needed, but I had time to think.

When my friend arrived around lunchtime we spent a few more hours talking with Chaa, and I corrected my hasty notes from the night before.  While Chaa was using the bathroom I asked my friend "What do you think?  Do you think it's a legitimate story?  How much of this do you buy?"  My friend said he believed in it enough to pay part of Chaa's fine and his ticket home if I wanted to do the rest of it.  His opinion was good enough for me, so when Chaa came out my friend asked him if he wanted to go home - today.

Chaa looked puzzled for a moment, but when he realized what we were proposing he burst into a wide grin and started speaking excitedly in Thai.  What he was saying was "Really?  Really? You will help me do this? REALLY?"  Turning to me he asked "Sure?"  "Sure," I said.  Chaa was nearly beside himself and he hopped - actually hopped - around the room, like a kid on Christmas morning.

We took him to his room and my friend went in with him while I waited in the car. He bundled up what little he had there and told one of his roommates that he was going to live someplace else. We left his stuff in my room while we went and ate and did some shopping for small things he wanted to take home with him, and when we figured Dee would be at the club we stopped in there.  Dee knew what his bill was, and we had her call Boss down so I could have the satisfaction of handing him the cash and letting him know myself that Chaa was leaving. Boss took the money, but told us to get out of his club, which we gladly did.

We went and picked up Chaa's belongings from my room and took him to the bus depot, where I gave him money for his ticket home and another sizable chunk my friend thought should pay for the roof repairs they'd need done soon, as the rainy season was bearing down on them. Chaa was again overwhelmed, but he had the sense not to bounce around the bus depot like he had earlier.  "Thank you...thank you," he kept saying, repeatedly unfolding the bundle of cash from his pocket, then folding it up and putting it away again, as if it would disappear if he didn't keep checking it. "I happy. I happy."

My friend - who is easily old enough to be Chaa's father, as I am - gave him a lecture of sorts, saying he'd better not find him working like this again, and Chaa said he had no intentions of ever doing that again. Turning to me he said "Finit (finished). Shuah."  Although farm work would be tougher he knew he belonged with his family, and still looked forward to starting one of his own.  He pulled out a photo out of his wallet of a lovely young woman he identified as his girlfriend, the girl he intended to marry.

When it came time for him to board the bus we said our farewells and Chaa hugged both of us, thanking us again.  He was crying, but they were tears of gratitude - and I wiped my eyes as he climbed up into the bus and waved at us from his seat by the window.  When the bus pulled away I said to my friend "Well, honey... there goes our boy!"  My friend laughed and pushed me away, saying "You're crazy, you know that?"  "Yes, I know," I said, "but sometimes it's a good kind of crazy."

[As a follow-up - for those of you who like such things - with my friend's help I've been in sporadic contact with Chaa. He's remained in Saraburi, married his girlfriend (she now lives with him and his family) and has a baby boy - who it appears in the photo I saw to have inherited Chaa's eyes.]

Chaa's dark eyes