On my tour of SE Asia, I couldn’t stop writing. I was filling up my Moleskine so quickly that I had to start writing in super small print just to ensure that I didn’t run out of space before I returned to Japan. It didn’t work and I had no choice but to buy a shabby notepad in Laos. I stopped recording daily entries altogether when I returned to China (because I wanted to live a “common” life).

Anyway, you may have noticed that for every date I was traveling in SE Asia, a corresponding entry in this blog does not exist. That is mostly do to lack of time and motivation to transfer my thoughts from paper to the PC. If you really live something 100%, I believe, then once is enough. No need for flipping through the photo album or reading old entries.

I must admit, however, that it is also partly do to self-censoring. I do have a couple of entries that are ready to be posted here, but I have yet to press the ‘publish’ button. One is from Thailand and details my first (of three) nights on Patpong, a red light district in Bangkok. You have seen the pictures from Patpong in the Gallery. Another is from Cambodia and details the night when I was hoodwinked by a guy with one ear and was offered a one night stand from a Laos/Khmer fire cracker.

Today I read an article about the growing strain in the relationship between tourists and Thai people. It closely mirrored my observations made while in Bangkok - a begrudgingly accepted interdependence of falangs, free markets, and paid love.
Before visiting Thailand, everything I had read and heard about Thai people was positive. Friendly, benevolent, warm-hearted, etc. I remember writing about my experience in the Chengdu airport, before catching my flight to Bangkok, about the cool demeanor of some young Thais that were on the same flight. I hoped it was a sample of what was to come. And it was, at least while I was in the airport. My flight landed in the middle of the night, so I had to hang out for 7 or 8 hours. A security guard and I started talking and he was more than helpful, retrieving maps for me and offering tidbits about Thai people and politics. But my final impression of Thais was that they were a people of frustration. I use “frustration” because the definition I found - defeated: disappointingly unsuccessful - most accurately describes what I sensed from them and, by the time I left, felt in my own heart.

“Asia’s most exciting city” was actually a twisted economic initiative in which a race to the lowest common moral denominator begets foreign currency…and I was accomplice to it. They got my USD, my time. They also got me thinking.

Thai women may be the most beautiful in the world. Hell, even the lady boys look good. I once wrote on the LBs, “You never know, so if you don’t roll that way, my advice is to keep your distance…or learn the hard way.” I digress. After a late night at the bar, I would wake very early in the morning to take walks, observing the locals commuting to work. Young Thai women, the same age as the strippers and hookers (and the same age as me) at the bars, dressed business casual, waiting in the smog-filled humid august air for an air condition-less bus to carry them to the office. What was the source of the worn look on their faces? Were they the same girls from the night before? Like superheroes, changing uniforms? If not, where did their paths diverge from the others? Had they been the recipient of a more privileged upbringing? Or, after all, was it just a matter of choices? What did they think we (foreigners) felt about them? Did they care? I had so many questions…and only a woman could answer them, which brings us to excerpts from the Thai entry titled “Thai Girls Gone Wild”.

If at first you don’t succeed, Thai Thai again. I did it Thai way. Nothing you can say can take me away from Thai girls. Thai me up Thai me down. Pick your poison. All our suitable, especially since things change in an instant. But we still can’t find Pad Thai noodles.

A few points. First, in my opinion, traveling to another country and not making a connection with a local is equivalent of going to a fine restaurant and not checking out the bathroom - it’s the worst case scenario. I try to eat local food, transport as the “common” people do, etc. But most important is dialogue, idea exchange. I’m in Thailand, I want to talk to Thai people. And if I have the opportunity to do so, especially with someone so beautiful, you’d better believe I won’t pass up the opportunity. Carpe diem, baby!

Second, thus far I’ve found that the locals in Bangkok make it especially difficult to have any meaningful exchange because one is not sure if they’re talking to you out of genuine interest or just as a transition to sell something. In all fairness, maybe she was trying to sell me something, but nonetheless, I was willing to take that risk, not only because she was beautiful, but because, and this is my final point, I firmly stand behind my belief that the best way to know a culture is through its women. They are synthesizers of it all, good and bad.

Skip ahead…

Before I go on about how this unforgettable night unfolded, let me explain a few things. First, I think its kind of pitiful that Bangkok is known, most notably, for its red light industry. Second, I don’t see the point - not only because I believe it helps perpetuate the cities reputation but, more importantly, because it doesn’t interest, stimulate me. And I can say that because I’ve seen it all before. Besides, in my opinion, there seems to be little practicality in paying to see or get something you should otherwise be able to obtain pro bono.

Was it the Singha (beer)? Was it peer pressure? I don’t except either as reasons why I went ahead with it. As one author wrote, “liquor does not intoxicate; one intoxicates oneself / lust does not blind; one blinds oneself…” In the end, I must say, unapologetically, I wanted the experience. Bangkok is what it is. They’ve positioned themselves (no pun intended), so I’m just playing in an environment that has been created by the people and co-signed by the government.
And a Bonus. Here is an excerpt from the Laos entry.

Taking a break from dancing, I sat down and saw a girl waving in my direction, motioning to come onto the dance floor. I didn’t recognize her, so I thought she was targeting someone behind me.

But then she walked up to me. Super petite and quite cute, her name was Miah. Half Lao, Half Khmer, she explained. I should have known she wasn’t 100% Khmer, otherwise she wouldn’t have been so cute. I hate to say it, but Khmer women are not attractive. Lao women, as I would find in the months to come, are rather pretty.

“You want to dance”, she asked? ” “No thanks, I have a girlfriend” “Where”, she replied? “In Japan”, I countered. I smiled, pleased with myself. Brow wrinkled, looking confused, she said, “Well, your in Cambodia, enjoy your holiday.” Impressed by her whit, I conceded a small chuckle while I gathered my response. “Do you have a boyfriend?”, I asked, expecting a negative reply. “Yes”, she said. “Where?” “In Canada.” “Then?”, I exclaimed, but she already had a response. “Let me finish”, she said with all the attitude that her small frame could contain. “But sometimes I like to have fun. Tonight. One night. No problem.”

Whoa!

To be honest, I’ve never had a one night stand. Well, except with myself. And actually, I’ve never been propositioned to have one. Or, at least not so frankly. I politely declined and she only said, “But I like you”, before walking away. Later, when I was preparing to leave, I saw her again. She gave me a hug, a kiss on the cheek and said, “But I really like you”.
It’s irrelevant. No deal.

I slept for most of the flight, falling asleep immediately after take-off and waking for the last 20 minutes to have the midnight snack the stewardess had left on the tray table to the right of me. I occupied the window seat - 7a - and the other two - 7b and 7c - on my side of the aisle were unoccupied.

We landed around 0210 Thai time, one hour behind the standard time in China. BTW, did you know that, vast as it is, all of China has only one time zone. That is true Parker Lewis Can’t Lose style - “synchronize watches”. Are you too young for that? Am I dating myself with that reference?

Anyway, I got stamped in and made my way to a waiting area (the only area) where I would try to rest until heading to the hostel in the morning. I met a security guard re-enter the secure area to exchange cash. He let me go and once I was finished, we chatted for 30 minutes or so. He’s originally from the city of Roi Et. He was kind enough to grab me a map and some tourist info on Bangkok. I had already started studying a map I had taken earlier. I sat for the next 5 hours, until around 0800, in a hard, orange plastic seat and traded short spurts of shut eye for peeks at veiled women flying in from the UAE and Euros with their clear bags that they’re required (do to terrorist scares) to use for carry-ons.

I went to the Men’s room and washed up before heading to the bus stop outside the terminal. By this time it was 0930. The bus came about 25 minutes later. On my way to the hostel, the first thing that caught my attention was a large billboard on the side of the highway proclaiming, “Welcome to the World’s #1 Rubber Summit”. Well, if that ain’t irony - the Rubber Summit being held in Bangkok, of all places - then I don’t know what is. The second thing that struck me was the plentiful and large (think covering the side of a skyscraper) assortment of pictures featuring the king and queen, along with the reminders to, “honor the king and live a self-sufficient life”. I’m sorry, but any people who bow submissively or look so admirably to one man, be he a King, President, CEO, or rock star, are, in my opinion, not fit to inhabit this earth. It made me curious about the mentality of Thai people. I came to learn that they are super-defensive of him. Basically, they are fanatical to the point of annoyance. Did you know, it is a crime to step on money because the king’s face is on it?

Rewind, the first thing that struck me was all the Western men with a “Thai Trollop” (credit someone else for that expression) on their arm. Seems so common, like watches, you’d think they were accessories. But I can understand why - the Thai women I’ve seen thus far have been overwhelmingly gorgeous. So, without a Thai girl, I almost felt out of place. But don’t worry, because when I got off at my stop, there was a guy, picture book and all, offering me anything I could want, and plenty more that I didn’t. I politely declined and proceeded to the hostel - The Urban Age.

I chose this hostel because it had good reviews, some of which mentioned that three girls ran the place. Sure enough, when I arrived, I was greeted by three smiling faces, one of which knew me from emails we exchanged last week discussing my arrival time. I checked in and was shown to my room, a six-person dormitory. I grabbed my needle and thread and, resolving to fix my fly, headed back down to the lobby, where it was cool, to fix my zipper. I took my time and, after an hour or so, had my crotch stitched up. I changed back into my shorts and decided to venture out for some local food. Much to my disappointment, I was told that it was a national holiday - Mother’s Day - so many eateries were closed. Instantly, I began to compare (well, maybe I had already started the comparison when I saw the Thai beauties) Bangkok to Chengdu.  Surely Chengdu ren wouldn’t let something as minor as a national holiday prevent them from eating out. Beauties and food, it’s really apples and oranges, or should I say xigua and durian, so I decided to cool it with my comparative analysis and just enjoy each place for what it is. One of the girls directed me to a local spot - Dee’s Silom - just around the corner. I ordered a water and a noddle salad, which was, allegedly, “spicy”. But they taste buds came back with a negative verdict.

After lunch, I wandered the empty streets before finding my way to a statue of king Rama that sits in front of Lumphini Park, where I sit now on the bank of a lake while the black clouds of Thailand’s rainy season congregate above. As I made my way out of the Park, it started raining. I took shelter under two different Thai-style gazebos, moving from the first to the second as the rain fall fluctuated. After a short time, the clouds passed and I made my way back to the hostel for some planning. After a while, I set out, once again in search of local food. I walked for an hour before finding something that looked appealing. In a tarp covered market, I ordered a bowl of noodles and two pancake-like patties that included egg, some type of seafood, and a side of sweet sauce. I crushed and relaxed a bit before heading to a drug store to by shaving materials and deodorant. I finally manned up and bought Nivea brand. Finally, a resolution to my the yellow pits syndrome. I bought solid white style, but they also offered the roll on variety. It made me think of when, as a kid, I would lick deodorant. Not good.

Anyway, back to the hostel and met Sam, from Scotland, who has more interesting stories than I do hairs on my ass (that’s a lot, but you’re not allowed to confirm this). One of his stories, the best I’ve ever heard, could easily be turned into a book or movie. Nathan, from Dallas, was also staying in the dorm. He and I talked for quite some time and at great length about Japan, working, and travel.