Falling in Thai by Michael j Bradley - Gadabout Life

Falling
in Thai
by Michael j Bradley
Be Careful what you dream
You might just be asleep
For Jourdan
Prologue
A locally grown cup of hot chai; a treat to end a

day of trekking on the dark side of the mountain.
Cold and wet but drying, sitting affront the loggia
watching as the sunset behind the mountains
resigned its pink glow. And with it, the evening air
cooled. In between sips he arranged on the table
those aged maps as you would a jigsaw puzzle, cut
with an irregularity typical of old Tibetan
handmanship. He needed to concentrate, to focus
on the task but his mind was elsewhere. A
clattering of dishes and pans traveled out the
kitchen, as did an aroma of exquisite herbs and
steamed veggies. Beneath that, a hum of voices
and ambient music all contributed to an amicable
ambience.
As soon as the meal was served he scoffed it
down, pausing between mouthfuls to write
scribbles down on snippets of paper - those used to
tab customer’s orders - notes of guidance he would
later refer to as he perpetuated this his fourth and
final expedition.
Everything he had planned on this trip was finally
coming to fruition, unraveling like the tale of a
book. A classic. In his ignorance he knew nothing
of the danger lain ahead nor, of my presence on his
back following the trail; patiently watching,
stalking, needing to confront the silly sod having
waited patiently for this appropriate moment to
arise. Subtly observing him as, after completing
his notes, his meal and drink paid for, bidding
farewell to the restaurants sparse clientele he stood
upon weary legs on the move once more; and as he
made his way carefully down towards the Valley
of Vultures, i followed.

� � � � � � � �
The old horse in the stable
still
yearns to run 1.000 miles
1

Leaving Had Lek. The morning sun scorched a
hole in the brain of a heavy, hung-over head.
Another night - another whisky bar, gambling
foreign currency at the casino on the border.
Gambling’s illegal in Thailand; highrollers seeking
a game must cross into Cambodia to play. Also
illegal is prostitution but i’ve heard men tell me
they go to Bangkok and end up fucking strangers.
The laws, it seems are tangible. Police will turn a
blind eye to slap on the wrist offences in exchange
for a little money, saving time and curbing
bureaucratic red tape. When i was in Laos they
were selling drugs to keep girls out the jungle and
off the streets.
The ticket instructer came to me with her metal tin
of money jingling. I said “Pattaya”, rummaging in
my bag to find my wallet in the compartment next
to my toothbrush and a softback. She gave me
change for two twenty baht notes as the bus
charged down the highway. Sitting back, i rested
my head and watched the world go by; the wooden
houses melted in the blur.
“Bang Lamung” said the driver as the bus
pulled into Pattaya and we all disembarked as
quickly as we’d got on. I was relieved to stretch
my legs all the way to the Family Mart next door.
“Pbinai beach?” I asked the attendant.
“Where you want go?”
“The beach” i answered. She told me to head
straight down the end of the road. When i left the
store, i negotiated my way across the dual carriage
road, then hailed a song-thao coastward.
I knew i was on Pattaya Nui because that was
where she told me to get off.

We headed down it, over a roundabout and onto Beach road. I
get off the song-thao just as another honks
A tuk-tuk honks its tooter at someone breaking
highway code. I thought it was me but more
probably that motorist who just jumped a red light.
Roads in Pattaya are dangerously fast and very,
very busy. Outrageous! Trying my best to walk
along the narrow pavement, littered with street
vendors offering Pad Thai and kow pat for
pennies, i walk halfway then cross over to the
other side. More motorbikes whiz around in font
and behind me. Whoop, there goes another. Better
on the promenade. This path - full of good time
girls sat on the bamboo tree’s stone surrounding,
touting punters – leads one along the seafront.
Street peddlers selling island cruises bade me as i
pass. Smartly-dressed traders tout Nepalese
fashions to anyone. A flamboyant sign read
Take a trip on Koh Samet
No thank, that’s not for me. I’d lost my wallet in phet
pnom. My cash, not my card. It had cleaned me out. I
was waiting for another e-cheque, scrimping and saving
til it came. I walk to Walking Street. The notoriously
sexy sleaze capital of South East Asia, some say the
World. I know you’ve all read about it. “Dirty and
salacious, - leeringly vivacious.” Girls carrying
placards covering their body advertise Drink Promos inside.
Those clubs are set behind the bars. I wish i could sell
my arse. Salient signs blink, vivid with color;
enlightening the tranquil place…... A hum of drowned
tunes and raised voices spill out the discotheques,
talking in turns, patronizing merriment. Its a loud

nuance to the sober, drying out of the humility. Some
staggering or swaggering and all the time wasting away
a day in the heat. You can bet Stella’s enjoying herself!
It’s the festivities that are making such glee. As i go
into the Seven11 to buy some cigarettes; i see there’s a
queue forming.
I felt like a bear abandoned at Paddington Station. I need a
drink - to hydrate but also to unwind me; a jar of honey.
Moving on; short-wearing white people exhibit the same
discomfiture. They flock in their own little groups as overwhelmed
as i by the scope of it all too much to take in on your
first time. Anyone can see it as an over-populated, built up area
littered with bars, parlours, net cafes and eateries, plus places
selling sex. Though drugs, gambling and pornography are
virtually nonexistent, promiscuous sex in exchange for money
is accepted and encouraged by varied factions of Thai society.
Taxi drivers will drive you to saunas and short-time rooms. As
if i– like everyone else went out looking to get laid this evening.
Hink, hink, from another hooter. Do i need a lift or am i
walking in a prohibited zone?
Girls here wear so very little; their sun scorched skin glowing
golden, covered patchily with occidental styled garments barely
covering anything. An average British bloke wouldn’t be seen
dead in a pair of shorts on an evening. But this isn't Europe and
the constant heat is the perfect excuse to undress; and show bare
flesh off to a standard.
Over here, Thailand the country formerly known as Siam is
blessed with some extremely attractive natives in both face and
body. Some people, forty-plus posing as teenagers. Even the

odd Thai boy becomes a luscious female as they grow through
puberty and change into natural Katoys. All can be found here
in this notorious coastal city on the Bight of Bangkok.
To a newcomer the whole patronage would seem brash and
somewhat immoral but to an afflluent regular with a favourable
exchange and the cash to boot its easy play and the night is
young.
Trans-pacific tourists and all kin of local people come to
Pattaya for a good time; the foreigner’s party and the local
shindig. Winston’s, Crazy bar, Happy Days. The entire place
pulsates with testosterone fuelled intemperance.
“You massage?” asked a chorus of masseuses; all were wearing
matching outfits. I stopped walking and warmed to their smiles,
sitting with them on reclining chairs outside their parlour, bent
over a stool on which lay a bowl of food. Each had a fork or
spoon and took turns to pick and chew mouthfuls from it;
slapping their lips before swallowing. Suggesting i tried some
when i sat down they then force feed me, laughing as it burnt
the roof of my mouth. There’s something about in jokes.
‘Nam, nam’ i stressed. One slim, young girl understood me
and fetched a glass of water.
‘Where you go?’ asked another.
“I’m looking for Soi Sip-Sam. Do you know this?” I showed
the address scribbled on notepaper. She looked at it, her
colleague also leaned in and peered, and then they passed it
across the table to an older lady.
“Soi Sip Sam. That’s far from here. You should take songthao.
Taxi motor"
“Okay. Kop un karp” I said thank you and kept on walking.
Of all the advice i really didn’t need it would have to be, take a
taxi! They’ve got shorter legs Dave. It takes them longer to walk
places .I’d have thought of hailing a ride myself. Yet
everywhere’s choking from carbon monoxide poisoning.

“Excuse me. Do you speak English?” a questioner came
from the pedestrian crowd.
“Yes. Yes i do” I replied, “what is it?”
“I’m trying to find the tourist police,” he said. He sounded
like a Londoner. I scanned the surrounding buildings in a turn
of the head, “I’m not sure which one it is you need?”
“Damn it, i’m supposed to be flying home today. My flight
has been cancelled and i need to reschedule urgently!”
“Oh, are you having problems?”
“Yip” the stranger confirmed “i only came out here for a
friend’s stag party”
“Really, your friend’s getting married;”
“So was i actually. At least, i was supposed to be. I doubt
she’ll go through with it when she finds out what’s happened”
A motorbike driving up the wrong side of the rode almost took
us both out. I saw it coming and warned this passerby to step in.
I wanted to ask him what had happened, why his fiancé would
now not marry him, but the opportune moment had passed.
“They definitely said it was on this street” he said then swore
vulgarly.
“You should talk to your agent. Who did you book with?”
“Some travel company in Southall.” He stated; then added,
“I’ve sent those arseholes mails all this week. They say it’s
not their problem; that i have to sort it out myself over here. I
mean, how can heck can i book an outbound flight in
Thailand at short notice?”
“It does seem odd” I said. I’d have liked to be of more aid
but could only leave him in his stupor. Incoberacne seems to be
the problem with dodgy airline bookers, there is no extra
service... And with global warming causing several pr4oblems
in the third world its deemed tourists own fault for being greedy
in traveeling un the first place. All the locals i met in Lao said
they’d never left their own country. That’s why i took the bus.

Sat in a luxurious chair in the NetCafe i consulted an E-Map of
the city taking bearings from the coast outside and behind me. I
double checked some local information on Chonburi and drew a
little map of my own; asking the net staff for their intelligence
while pointing to the destination shown on the screen and
saying, “Pattaya Klang, Sai sip jet, pbinai?” I got some more
long directions and the offer of a motorcycle taxi ride. I
declined for money’s sake.
The screen was giving me a headache as i scanned the short
list of emails and read posts up on FactBook. After half an
hour's surfing in the netcafe i decided to take a break, and sat
outside in the warm night air on plastic chairs by the roadside,
motorbikes buzzing past on their way to anywhere. I smoked
another cigarette with prerogative.
The Kings of Leon playing out the Hang Loose Bar next door.
Pattaya is a built up area. The Beach Road, known as First Road
or Sai Nueng runs all the way along the coastline and from it
you can see the boats in the distance; inland they built up
seaside attractions to make an entertainment plaza . Head one
way, do a U-turn and you’r on second road. Head the other way
and you’d be drifting out to sea.
I stopped at a bar at the end of Soi Seven and bought a beer.
STEVE/match/Southall
With that confrontational situation behind me i was justifiably
less concerned with saving money and far more eager to get
away from there,
“Taxi!” I gave a thumbs up to the rider sat across the street
on a makeshift bamboo taxirank. He seemed most keen to have
my fare as I crossed over and brandished the crumpled note
paper from my pocket with Nong’s address on it. He handed me
a helmet as i strode onto the bike and then held on as we plowed
through traffic on the coastal road then reaching the end –where
Walking Street starts- followed the one-way system onto third

oad. I didn’t know any of the names of these streets when i first
went up them. It takes time to get your whereabouts.
Street in Thai is Sai. Soi is the name given to smaller streets,
avenues followed by a number like 1st Avenue and other
avenues of New York City. Nice and simple
The address Nong gave me was Flat 5, Soi sip-sam. So i take
the taxi bike to 13th street. A slimy side street filled with tall,
grey structures. As i'd already seen a photograph of the building
i figured i would be able to work out my way from the main
road- following my eyes; but when we pulled up i didn't
recognize a single thing! It took me a minute to realize that my
post-adolescent, speed demon driver had taken me to the wrong
place - another soi sip sam in the other part of town. I was about
to discover that the Thais have more than one first avenue.
Let me explain, soi sip sam Pattaya klang means Avenue 13
off Pattaya Central and you have another Avenue 13 off of
North Pattaya road -soi sip sam Pattaya nui. The whole system
is stupid and confusing and now i am lost all because of it. This
guy wants me to pay him for dropping me off in the middle of
Toyland, Soi somewhere! a place totally unfamiliar to me… I
argued with this kid for ha minutes, considered running off and
assumed being chased by a band of mad moto-taxi riders.
“You” he stated bluntly pointing to my head. I realized i was
still wearing his helmet. As i removed and returned it i asked
the driver if he’d take us back to where we started, or if we
could try to find the real Soi Sip Sam but he seemed not to
understand and anyway i knew i would be paying the fair
wherever we went and figured i couldn't afford it! Instead i paid
him his eighty baht and hoped he was pleased. From there i
walked, traversing the road we rode up, cursing in English and
wishing i was back there. I recalled the circumstance which lead
me here; telling myself a little story to help gather and grasp
this current situation better.
I had arranged to meet Nong; that was the reason i came to

this hell-hole! It sounded stupid, with hindsight to have listened,
taking her pidgin English as gospel. If i can’t find the house, i
am going to have a problem. Alone, locked out wearing my
boxing shorts and flowered shirt. I feel shabby and just know
i’m going to be spending the night bouncing around the bars.
First stop is the 7 for another crispy seaweed snack then on to
the nearest bar i come to. I call myself an idiot on the way then
satisfactorily find reason to blame everything on Nong; and on
dodgy local street names.
I keep on moving and choosing from the superabundance of
fast food vendors. How about a sausage; or noodles? I could
order pad Thai - fried noodles with crunched up nuts, tofu and
lime. They eat it with hot sauce and wash it down with Pepsi
green - oriental flavored coke, cola with a twang.
I didn’t know if i wanted to eat or not, it was so hot. Spicy
chilli’s the staple diet in Thailand, they eat it from a young age -
even young children eat hot chilli- but i prefer a burger and fries
every now and then, Farang food to make me feel normal.
I don’t know how they can eat that stuff every day. I hover by
a burger stall and point to something that looks edible.
“Fi Ly” the lady suggests.
“What about that thing,” i pointed to a plate, “what is that?”
“Grasshoppers”
“Urgh!” I thought there is nothing more repulsive than eating
an insect but bought some to try. They didn’t taste bad at all and
i did manage to hold them down. I don’t think i could have
stomached the beetles. Oops, i spilt a little sauce on my shirt
and blotted the stain with a tissue. Wanting to look my best, i
smartened myself up. You never know when you could meet
someone special.
The burger soaked up the alcohol and i’m just about ready
for another, strolling along with the hordes, occasionally
scanning window displays or looking over my shoulder as bikes
approach from behind, ridden by girls with flaying dark hair.

Its late now, just gone eleven; back on Walking St staring
into the open plan bars; folk dancing or sitting chatting,
watching the football game on T.V. Fried squid, Tony’s short
time rooms! It only takes 15 nadee i think to myself.
Then i stumble upon Tony’s gym; open twenty four hours a
day, a great place to get fit. Paying for a one-off session i get to
work on the abdoms. Looking around it seems this building was
the former home of a nightclub, Tony’s nightclub perhaps.
There’s a giant fish tank in the disused elevator that lead up to
the second floor balcony - panning the outer wall. The place
was swanky. A bar stands empty, no longer in use. The place
feels energized - haunted - as the musical bass thumps through
from the discotheque next-door. I drink a bottle of still
Lipovitan and stretch off on a dance podium. Then pump
weights like a body builder. It feels great to be in a new world.
Feeling the fatigue after about forty-five minutes i decide to call
it a night. It has been a long day and i wish i was at home; in
bed with a good book. I took a power shower and applied some
of the complimentary body-firming lotion, thinking where to
head next, walking or taxi-meter? What do you think navel? I
button up my shirt.
As i leave the air conditioned gym, the heat i’d almost
forgotten was there hits me again, like someone’s left the
central heating on one hot and sunny day. Its very warm here
even now at si toom; this climate is making me thirsty for sure.
Fortunately further down the street i find the cocktail bus, called
Cock pit. A camper van - pink and neon lit - with a roof
and window that unfold into the bar. Transient music is playing
as i read and decipher the Thai/English menu. Pink Champagne.
Screwdriver. My Thai. All cocktails served at a lesser price than
in most of the bars here.

I choose my usual then sit and enjoy the sound of music and
watch people passing. I wish i’d of found Nong’s home. I could
be relaxing there now. Yawning i summon the energy to move.
“Yabba” I’m hassled by more peddlers selling ephedrine – F
as they say in England. Then a sexy girl ushers me into a Soi,
FCUK Me screen printed on her T-shirt.
“Me go your hotel” she suggested. I removed my arm from
her clamping bosom.
“I don’t want sex with you” I stated clearly, then when she
didn’t retort said, “I have no money” Still she didn’t seem to
believe that i’d be stood in the centre of the sex capital of the
world; a tourist with no money. Had i been robbed, was i a local
resident or simply, lying? I moved on and she followed me back
onto the sai.
Walking back out onto Soi 8 i went into the Hang Loose Bar. A
girl in red hospitably showed me to a vacant stool and then
asked, "Would you like some drink, Mister?" her accent, Thai
stroke Hollywood movie style. I chose beer as a prelude to
supper. The T.V shows the football game, the score; still nil-nil.
A white man watching avidly in a flowery shirt sat nearby. His
demeanor struck a chord with my own.
As the commentator advised the referee just blew the whistle
for a foul tackle the waitress appeared with my beer, and bin
holding the chit.
“You support United?” came a voice in real life.
“No, Wanderers”
"Where are you from?" I recognize fluent English spoken
with a European accent.
I paused; "London"
"Ingles"
"Si" I assume he's Spanish.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
"I’m travelling" I answered but my speech was unclear.

“Traveler”
"I want to see South East Azia"
"Well you’ve come to the wrong place. Pattaya’s not Asia,
its not Thailand even."
“It isn’t? So, what is it then?”
“Pattaya is heaven and hell combined” he said with a wry
smirk. I wondered what made this man an expert.
I left and moved on to the next dwelling on route. Now,
there is no pavement at all.
At the end of the street, stopping at the Memory bar - sitting
down, drinking another beer - i watch the talent passing by. I’d
been looking at her as i drank, stood outside the Tiger Bar
dancing and touting passersby. I gave her a second look from
across the street. She must have seen me staring for she smiled
straight back. She waved as i walk towards her, or maybe past.
“Hey handsome man!" she say “where you go?” I sought to
ignore her, paying no attention to her comments proceeding
quickly ahead, with no intention of looking back; but hang on a
minute... This girl was dressed to impress in an all black,
skimpy number with shoulder straps matching her hair, devil
horns attached to her hair-band. She looked the double of a girl i
met in London, the same facial features and frizzy hair. She
stood in the road and blocked my path. I wondered did she do
this to everyone who passed by or only to me. Was she
speaking from a rehearsed script composed to attract falangs? -
More than likely; yet was i really handsome and would she want
to come with me if she knew where i went? I could only find
out...
“Pbinai?” She enquired nodding in the direction i was
heading. I kept on walking, and then grabbing my arm; locking
hers into mine she began to harass me. I could not help but
notice the scent of her perfume in the fetid air; and how good it
smelt. She asked, “You want play pool?”

“What do you want?” I asked and she said “Go with you”
Her hair was tied back; still some dropped down the side of
her face and fell in her lip. It appeared she did want to come
with me, she wouldn’t let go of my wrist. I played all
dsenfranchised as she dragged me in by the arm, led me to one
of their tiger-skinned bar seats then bounced onto the one next
to me. It felt quite snug. The table cloths were all done in tiger’s
skin also. The walls and pillars were mirrored and signed by
guests. Jonna woz ere 95. Nine fans rotated on axis overhead. There
was a pool table with orange felt; a cuddly tiger sat on the table
light.
As it was happy hour i played ball and bought her a drink,
ordering beer and coke.
“What your name?”
“Dave” I said.
“Where are you from?”
“Ireland”
Liverpool player on the attack, passes to
best’; who shoots and scores. 1-0 to Newcastle
“Go on son!” a Farang shouted out.
“What your name?”
“Ae” She said.
Ae. Such an unusual name, i thought and pretty, persuasive
eyes; a dimpled little pixie nose and a broad grin. She was
definitely the prettiest girl i had met in Thailand so far.
I explained that i was here in Pattaya looking for a friend’s
house but the address i wrote down was wrong or misleading
and when i finally got there i couldn't find it. I could see she
didn't grasp much if anything of what i said.
"Vroom vroom" i straddle a bike through mime, "Taxi!"
"You want taxi?" She asked ready to flag one.
"No, i do not! Thank you" I reach out and waylaid her.
She smiled and stopped for a moment, then she says,
“How long you come Thailand?”

“Song duan” I replied in Thai.
“Oh, you speak Thai good. I think you here long time.”
She knew not what such a compliment her assumption was to
me. “Where your hotel?”
“By the beach. King Plaza”
“I know it nice place”
“So what do you suggest i do? Go with you?”
“Ok” She was so vivacious and friendly, i felt myself
floating into her.
“Where your girlfriend?”
“No have!” I replied then asked if she had a boyfriend. She
said she didn’t, they all say they haven’t. “Did he die?”
“No, silly. I not married” she giggled, “Are you?”
“Nope”
“You want marry Thai girl?”
“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility if she can understand
plain English!” She laughed, her head resting on her locked
arms, slid down it, jaw first.
“What you look?”
And her pearly white teeth broadened her grin.
“Pud Thai, nid noy.”
"You very clever boy." she teased.
"Thank you" she understood.
“You holiday?”
“Nak Muay”
“Oh boxing” She sprung up like a bunny and began to rabbit
punch in my face.
“Yes the science of 8 limbs. Nak Su”” I added putting a fist
to my chest then an elbow to block. She looked perplexed again,
seemed not to understand me, “you know, knee. Elb..” I
gestured a knee strike but lost my balance grabbing an arm for
support. I was on my fourth beer
Michael Owen on the attack, passes one,

two and scores. The Toon Army go 1-0 up in
the closing minutes.
“What game’s this?”
“The F.A Cup Final” said a bloke at the bar.
“You’re joking aren’t you..? Newcastle United win the
F.A…” My train of thought was interrupted abruptly as the
channel flicked to a music video. I saw a short, young looking
bargirl holding the remote.
“Hey Mister, you want boom-boom me?” she blurted out
brashly.
“No thank you” I stated quite rightfully, “i’d rather go
without” She did not seem to appreciate, “it”
“You want play game?” Ae asked and pulled out boxes of
games from under the counter. One was Connect 4 and the other
a Thai game involving two dice in a box, tabbed with the
numbers one to nine.
“How do you play?” I asked. She began a demonstration,
throwing the dice into the box. She then tabbed the number nine
which was the sum of the two dice. Throwing again she tabbed
five, then seven continuing until only three and nine were left.
She couldn’t play as her dice read four and six. She slid the
game to face me then she poured the last few dregs of beer out
my bottle. I threw five times and lost.
I saw Snakes and Ladders and then suggested, “Lets play
Connect 4. I haven’t played for years” thought it was a child’s
game; i was wrong, i lost.
“How old you?”
“Twenty-two and you?”
“You older me”
“How much?”
“Guess”
“I don’t know”
“Go on guess. How old do i look?”

“Erm. I’d say twenty-five”
“Twenty one” I said then said, “Do you smoke?”
“No” she says, “I good girl.”
“You don’t drink, don’t smoke. Why work in a bar selling
such things?” I sought understanding. The conversation died a
death as she just shrugged my question off.
“What you come here for?” she then asked. At that point i
became a little bit bored with all the questions.
“I’ve answered that question one hundred times!” I joked
light-heartedly. She seemed puzzled again, “You Yellowman,
Hollander?”
“Irish” I lied. My Grandfather was from Belfast. She seemed
to be making herself seem interested; that was her job and i
figured she's asked that question a hundred times which is why i
didn’t answer honestly.
“Where you come from?”
“Issan”
“The north” I pointed up and she nodded.
"Are all the girls from Issan as pretty as you are?" I asked
that clichéd old question. She gave an affirmative answer and
nodded again.
The short young bartender changed channel again. I felt like I
was dreaming when Ae reached over and held my hand, smiled
in my face. A street-seller appeared at an appropriate moment,
brandishing roses. I splashed out, buying one for twenty baht
and gave it to her. She seemed totally flattered as she took it
from me, pressing it to her lips, twisting the stem so the vivid
red petals brushed her nose, and smelled.
Its aroma matched her perfume.
Her friend Wan came over to our table, starting conversation
by asking the same "getting to know you" questions that can
bore a traveler to death. Ae kindly answered on my behalf.
“You remembered good” I put my arm around her midriff.
“Sure! What your name again?” She jokingly asked.

“Dave” I answered then asked "What is your real name?"
And after a moment she answered, “Anchalee”
“You want go short time Anchalee!”
“Ha, ha,” she put her hand on my leg and squeezed my thigh
“Now i know you Thailand long time…”
Two hours later Annie and i were still sat talking, contiguously
becoming acquainted. I had a 1000 baht tab on drinks for Annie,
this other bar girl and myself, spirit mixers - all expenses, but
better than being alone, drinking. She told me she finished work
around 2am; i could pay her bar fine. Go home with her.
“You can come my place” she said enticingly. It was a
tempting offer! I looked at her and saw beauty, but at a price.
"Two thousand baht" she’d quoted. I scrunched my face up
giving the impression i really couldn't afford it.
"One thousand," i bartered.
"Two" she instilled confidently. I’m not sure i like where this
is going. Was it really going to happen or would something
come between us? And if it did go ahead, would it be romantic?
I wanted a moment to think about it, and to way up the financial
cost.
Putting her elbow on the table, she sighed and pressed her
head to her hand. I saw she wore a silver ring on her left hand
and a tattoo on that same arm. "A pretty petal" i quipped, using
it as an excuse to stroke her.
"Lotus." She said the translated word for the flower; must
have shown it to a load of people. Truth be known, i was
willing to pay two thousand baht to spend the night with her,
but i had to go to the ATM.
"I have to go!" I said and she said. "Go with you"

� � � � � �
If you’ve read it tell your
Mum.
We stood somewhere dark. Close, a cacophony of partying
people enjoying themselves and closer, the distasteful stench of
sewage made their own. But it didn't matter; we still got it on in
that alleyway. Then we were walking again, back to Walking
Street. Now it was noisome.
We took a songtail barely a kilometer back up, disembarked and
then walked under the arches which proudly named the tourist
promenade. I had passed through here before. I'd been lost in it
earlier but i was no longer alone standing out like a sore thumb.
Ae was guiding me by the arm. People side stepped out our way
as she led me through a bar and into a disco at the back. The
glass doors had Rock stenciled on one and Star on the other.
They were opened by two Thai gentlemen who welcomed us in.
It was loud inside, the bass reverberating through the whole
place. Vivid colors painted the walls, matching the décor;
mirrors reflected follow spots and at the top, the disco ball spun

patterned lights around the room. It was mind numbingly
entertaining. The music was hip top forty. Girls in groups,
holding hands and dancing, partied. Some girls danced with
their partners. All were wearing the latest trends. And there
were boys in flowery shirts; jelled hair, grooving juxtapose.
I stood at a little table familiarizing myself with the
surroundings. The tune's relentless haunting melody, the
chiming bells creating a mood echoed in my ears. The
wondrous music electronic mixed by DJ Domination. I'd heard
this one before and tapped my feet. Annie waved her head from
side to side, twisting like a belly dancer, doing her best to entice
me onto the floor. “Ooh! the sexy bitch”
I stayed still, rooted, “you can’t dance to this music!”
She heard me but still didn't comprehend,
"I’m going to the bar." I said and jostled my way through
the crowd.
The tune changed, clumsily mixed by the deejay. A sample
saying Jibe funny. A kid offered me some Ecstasy but i had to
decline. Anchalee was my drug, i got high in her presence.
The bar was busy and on the drinks menu- lit up behind the bar
were a selection of low-priced cocktails clearly displayed. I
queued then bought two. A gin and tonic in one hand and a
glass of beer in the other i managed to get back to our spot
through the jiving crowd without spilling a drop. I placed the
glasses on the adjacent table and smouched up beside her,
bending at the knee so my pelvis rubbed up her buttocks. As she
turned around i looked closely at her face and saw the mortified
look on this poor girl’s face. It wasn’t her, it wasn’t Anchalee.
Somebody else had taken Ae’s seat; she’d gone, totally gone.
“Excuse me” I said and turned away hoping she’d be right
behind me. Now it was dark and all the girls looked the same. I
scanned the floor for that distinctive pair of strapped, heeled
shoes - those that had me earlier on – and her black dress as
worn by so many others. Where was she?

Another girl danced, delectably drunk a few paces away.
While i turned and scanned the room, staring at strangers our
eye’s met. She looked about sixteen and Vietnamese or
Kampuchean - had that deep, sea tan. Swaying from side to side
without falling over she moved toward me, then placed her
hands on my legs - propped up on the seat. Slouching her
intoxicated self against me she moved her hands toward my
crotch then leaned in and cheeked me. I could smell stale liquor
on her breath. No girl has ever done that to me before. (It is so
odd after growing up in a frigid society such as England to
come to Thailand and have girls literally fall into your lap)
I placed my hand on the bare flesh of her thigh, pressed my
head against hers – just like i did with Ae, my chin rested on her
shoulder.
I shouted into her ear, "Do you come here a lot?" then when
i got no response "its really loud in here isn't it?" It was almost
impossible to communicate above the sound of the music. I was
intoxicated, this girl was too, drunk and slobering all over me.
What kind of night were we going to have together? At the
moment it looks like i’m going to back to a bamboo hut on my
own. I offered her Annie’s drink and we clanked our glasses
together. All the time i kept one eye open for the girl i came
with. I wondered what had happened to her blaming my
ugliness for her early, untimely and downright rude departure. I
didn’t want to lose her. She looked great, we’d gelled from the
moment we met. Why had she gone like that; where had she
gone? Back to the bar where she worked! I thought for a
moment then i went on the dance floor, scoping for that sheath
dress i’d been unbuttoning only moments earlier.
“Excuse me sir. I think you’ve had enough to…” I could see
a waiter thought but never said. Gimme a break, buddy.
I spoke poshly in my head, like an Englishmen. Girls danced in
environmentally friendly minis and white tops like angels in
Hawaii. The mix had changed but the crowd was still dancing.

My eyesight started to dwain before a blur of coloured skin and
then Anchalee motionless –yet for some gyration of the hips
talking to some Thai's. I wanted to go straight up and kiss her
and hold her and divulge my feelings for her; but i knew that it
would only upset the Thais. She was with her friends who
would only laugh in my face. They were locals, in their own
gang.
She saw me looking and returned my smile mischievously.
Stopping at a table grounded, i wished i had my drink and
pretended that i did. I saw the beauty in her aura and stood
broad shouldered and erect on a platform
Trophy butted like the Kid into their little Jap Crap gathering. It
bulged out my trousers as did my wallet, i had paid for her time
and i had a right to enjoy myself. Still you know how territorial
locals can be. Some of them turned to look and then turned back
to themselves obviously talking about me. Then the little crowd
dispersed and she came back to me, took something from her
handbag and asked, “Where my drink?”
“Where your friend?” I asked and got no reply, “you want a
drink! I bought one for you” The tune changed, this deejay
didn’t have time to waste and raised the tempo.
“Where your hotel?”
I was oh so impressed with this girl; i’ve never known anyone
take their toothbrush clubbing before.
The party went on until 5am. It was early morning when we
stepped outside. The sun coming out, the streets now drenched
in daylight once again. The air was crisp and quite fresh. I took
some deep breaths and embraced my date. "Are you hungry?"
"Gin kow?" she ask.
"Hungry" i pointed at my mouth. She shook her head. We held
hands and took a walk along with a small fraction of the
dispersing crowd that had just spilled out the Rock Star bar. The
streets were all but deserted, a passing car occasionally honked

its horn offering us a lift and then, coming the other way a
transvestite all dressed up. Their lipstick smeared and sequin
tights laddered.
"Where we go?" I mimicked.
"Up to you"
"No, up to you"
"You’re Hotel?"
"Not tonite"
“Why not?”
“No have”
“Come on,”
“Come on you!”
“Darlin’ you don’t think i’m a smarmy character do you?”
“Yeah. You gay boy. Feel my ass”
“You like!”
"Can come my place"
"Really?" i said a little eagerly.
"1000 baht" she testify.
“Before you said 5oo!”
“I changed my mind”
"Come on darling," I bartered "i buy you drinks, paid your
fine."
"Five hundred!"
And we made a deal.

� � � � � �
Jade must be chiseled before
it can be considered a gem.
2

Apartment blocks in Patt are typically unlike
those in Europe. They’re painted vivid colors,
pink and green, yellow and blue. Her flat was on
the fourth floor (including the ground floor). She
shared it with another bargirl called Kat who
wasn't home then.
There was only one room which had a mattress
and a T. V. It smelt of babies but also of an unusal
florally sort of scent. The walls were tiled and the
windows, screened. There was no carpet. A door
led outside onto the porch and another led to the
bathroom. The toilet was styled like those in
France; without a seat. I took a wide squat bent me
knees and unzipped. There was a sudden scurrying
movement captured in the corner of my eye – a
small green lizard. A gecko. Ae entered the water
room just as he disappeared through a gap in the
ceiling. “Take off” She said gesturing to her top.
“You take your time; David”
“Ab nam. Ab nam. Sockapog” she rambled.
I took my top off to reveal tanned skin and lean,
skinny arms whilst really needing to fart.
“You like monkey!: Ae said gazing at my hairy
chest as i removed the rest of my clothes. When i
helped her take off her dress and saw her flesh
underneath, her privates still hidden by frilled pink
lingerie- i became firm. Leading me through the
Thai method of washing whilst giggling with
excitement we took a much needed shower - the
sweat now turning to slime - Thai style.
"Jesus H" i cried as she threw a bowl of cold
water over my head; the water got in my eyes. and
then rubbed soap over my body with her gentle

hands. Then i did the same to her but not as
efficiently, even clumsily. Her wet skin glowed
like sweat droplets in the hot South East sun. was
soft, her legs long and slender, tanned as dark as
leather when wet. Beneath her jet black hair, she
wore silver earrings shaped to the Chinese yin
yang symbol. Some 7 soap cleansed us, rinsed and
towel dried. It smelt of geckos.
Clean and free of the unpleasant odours one
acquires on a night out parting in Pattaya we lay
toweled on her mattress and talked. I caressed her
naked body; my mouth salivated then i rolled her
over; flash the gash. I felt compromised as the
towel fixed to my naval uncaught itself and
openfaced, love started to play its merry tune.
"Just a minute, cowboy," she spoke in perfect English.
"What is it?" i asked balancing awkwardly on my forearms,
"Did i forget to use a condom?"
"No," she answered, "you forgot to pay me"
But i had not forgotten, i’d hoped she had; she hadn’t evidently.
"Well, you really know how to kill the mood, don't you!" I
humored and bagged a bit of time; she just looked at me and
said nothing. Having to get up i rummaged for the money which
i had purposely hidden in the zip compartment of my jeans just
in case she put drugs in my drink at the disco.
“I have 500…”
"One thousand" she barters.
"Sorry darling, i don’t have" i lied like a Thai girl, "Only
500... Like we agreed" I waved the cash i’d eased from the wad
of notes in my wallet. She couldn't kick me out, not now. “I did
pay for you to get off work, remember?”
“Okay five hundred,” she agreed appeasingly then barked,
"Hurry up!" I stuck a 500 baht note in her underwear put my

hands back where they were and got comfortable; feeling
warmth pressed up against her.
She said i was handsome and ran her fingers through my hair;
but because i was wearing a lot of hair gel her hand got stuck
halfway across my scalp pulling a few hairs out as it did - i let
out a halfhearted yelp.
Caressing her breast with my tongue and sucking her nipple,
slow and sensuously like it was the tit of Cindy Crawfords’
i made her groan and claw my back; like a tiger. Temptingly she
asked, “You want do doggy?” and turned over exposing a tattoo
of a scorpion creeping across her backside. I stuck my fingers in
the elastic of her panties and pulled them off. I could see
moisture, sparkling around the lips of her vagina. I longed to
kiss them for one time but chose not to. I didn’t know where
she’d been. My teeth were biting into her flesh. Using the other
hand for balance i nestled up beside her, doing my best to get
into a snug position. Annie was about to scream her head off
when the front door opened rudely.
“Oh God!” came the exasperated gasp “Sorry, sorry!”
The intruder clamored in obviously pissed as a newt!
“Noooong!” Annie gave out a sigh of dissatisfaction and-
complaining in Thai- went to consult her padmate. Feeling
vulnerable and embarrassed i quickly covered my bare bum
with Annie’s skimpy top.
Anchalee pottered around the sink, speaking Thai with this
flat’s other resident, Nong. The only word i recognized was
Farang. She returned with a glass of water and then started to
ask me more questions like, how long had i been in Thailand,
where was i staying? She knew the Alpha hotel well.
“So why you come to Thailand?”
“I’m searching” I answered
“Searching, for what?”
“My soulmate”
“What is mean?” she said.

“Soul” I pointed to her then me “mate”
I hoped she caught my drift.
“Come” she stood up and gestured for me to follow her as
she climbed out the window and onto the metal staircase that
ran up the side of the building. I followed her onto the rooftop
terrace looking out across Pattaya. I saw the cars and concrete.
The sun had risen high and was now shining boldly, casting
great shadows over the city.
"Beautiful" said Annie.
"Beautiful. Just like you." We embraced again and petted.
Then it was eight o’clock and i suggested we go for breakfast,
somewhere nice. So, we went back down the fire exit and
crawled back into Annie and Kat’s apartment. Kat had fallen
asleep on our mattress. I offered Annie another 200bht and
bribed her back into bed. We tried to act quietly as if Kat was a
little baby girl in our bed would could wake up at any moment
but she just kept on snoring in rhythm and slobbering what
sounded like “Farang and chips… Falang and dips”
We went downstairs and around the corner to an eatery. I ate
sausage and eggs and she slurped noodle soup with chilli.
Despite our lack of sleep Annie and i had a vivacious energy
about us throughout the morning
Later that day Annie and i went riding on her moto. She showed
me the King RAMA V statue up high overlooking the coast, the
streets and in the distance, mountains. A bird’s eye view; we
felt like doves perched in a giant tree. Eating ice cream and
sharing coffee we talked a little in Thai and English. I counted
from one to twenty in Thai. Then we rode along the palisade to
the Big Buddha at Wat Phra Yai – built the year of the Jubilee.
A bold statue twenty times real life, protected by Naga, a sevenheaded
dragon of Buddhist mythology. A seller sold four caged
birds; saying 100baht would set them free - bringing good luck
to us both. But Annie told me they just flew back to the nest.
Then we heard a bird sing in the tree.

A sign imposes the prohibition of shorts and miniskirts yet a
couple of tourists passed wearing what they came in, their
summer attire. Annie asked about England, what it was like
living in London, said that she would like to go there and would
i take her home with me when i went back?
As i explained i didn’t live in the city, but slightly out of it
and if she was free when i went home i would definitely take
her with me. I felt a little guilty as i couldn’t tell her that i
would not be going back to England for an awful long time and
hade the sneaking feeling before that our souls would come to
part.
Miss. Anchalee was a holiday romance. A beautiful Thai girl
i’d only just met. She spoke basic English and my Thai was
much worse. We communicated best when we made out,
kissing and groping
When Annie asked, “Do you love me?” I explored the
sincerity in her eyes and wondered how much she loved me.
“Chan rak koon” she leaned in to kiss me and we both tasted
of vanilla. We fought with food and were fooling around when
a local man crept up with a Polaroid camera and captured our
romantic moment on celluloid; a photograph to keep. I willingly
paid him two hundred baht for the souvenir.
We got back on the bike and drove down the hill to Jomtien
for some fried chicken; ate it by the beach – the sea breeze
blowing in our faces. And then home via the Sukhumvit Road,
back to that same cozy apartment where we spent last night
together. I sat sipping green tea and watched her get ready for
work. She washed again with the bucket then came back in a
towel and toweled off. Her wet hair she wringed out as if like a
sponge. I made a comment to break the silence while she
sprayed deodorant on her breasts and under her armpits; a floral
scented aerosol. Then i sat there gazing not gawping with my
legs crossed as she put on latex leggings and a blouse - and

swigging the cooled tea. Eyeing herself in the mirror Ae hitched
her skirt up an inch then turned to me and said “let’s go”
I asked, “Do you have Thai boyfriend?”
i went around the bars for beers on my own. I was literally
buzzing and though we’d only been apart for a few hours i
began to miss her, my stomach pining to be close to hers again
soon. Other girls made themselves available to me that night but
i felt so washed out from the time spent with Ae i really didn’t
fancy another Thai.
There was a fight on Walking Street; Muay Thai. You could
cut the tension with a knife or drown it in a bottle of whisky.
A crowd of people gathered around the ring, exchanging each
other with comments like, “ass kicked” and cheer as the bigger,
better fighter unleashed a round kick to his opponents’ temple,
knocking him unconscious on the floor. A round of applause,
the winner bows to the four corners of the audience and i weigh
up his size. The chubby, young Thai boy circulated the crowd
afterwards collecting tips in a beer glass.
“You’re a good fighter,” I say to him and tip a 20THB note,
an equivalent of under 50p sterling. He wais and asks it i have
fought before. I told him i trained at the Shaolin temple for 3
months.
I went back to the Tiger Bar at midnight and chatted with Rita,
the girl who’d changed the channel curtly from the football
game last night. We shot a game of pool. There was no sign of
Anchalee. I asked Rita where Ae was but clearly failed to make
myself understood. Rita beat me two games to one. I called her
“Little Tiger” as the classic Survivor tune played out.
“I go. I come back later” I said and left onto Beach Road
because i was feeling uncomfortable. I tried to let the natural
beauties of the coastline compensate for my unbalanced
emotions and my concern over Anchalee’s whereabouts, but the

view only accentuated my melancholy mood.
I grabbed a burger and then popped down to Soi six, to the
Queen Vic; an English style bar - so authentic in design - you
would be forgiven for thinking you were actually in Soho.
I overheard two men talking in English as i satiated.
“You wear a tie” said one - his Crocodile Dundee accent
giving it away. “You wear a suit and you wear a Thai on your
arm.” I was amused. This guy had a dog collar round his wrist
and an earring in his nose.
"What are you looking at four-eyes?" he shouted in my
direction. Then i realized it was him; the Aussie bodybuilder i’d
seen ogling girls at the cinema. I fumbled for a suitable answer.
Something cheeky but not insulting; this guy was built up and
obviously drunk.
"Nothing" was the best i could do.
"Well why don't you look somewhere else?" he asked
rhetorically. I was mortified, casually biding my time observing
some of the other people passing and sitting infont of me and
being verbally harrased. Why did this yob have to shout over
and insult me?
A fish out of water. "Why don't you stick it up down under?"
I said and left quickly before he stood his lard arse up. His
friend laughed, he didn't.
I kept one eye out for the drunken Ozzy and his mate. The
bottom of my coke can turning to dregs.
When i returned Annie was back, i saw her with a gentleman
leaving the Tiger Bar. They held hands and were kissing. Rita
turned to me and purveyed another beer “Is that the girl you
want?” she spoke blatantly, embarrassing me.
“No it doesn’t matter. I want watch a T.V show” I changed
the subject. Rita shrugged, “no understand” as i continued to

anter; the entire time i kept a subtle eye on Annie and her
punter. They were parting, exchanging numbers. “Next time” he
said clearly attracted to her and i figured maybe he’d be back
tomorrow to pay her fine. He left; she turned, came over and sat
down to face me, priggishly. I blanked her disapprovingly.
I know she was a bargirl, it was her job to service customers
but i’d guessed they were few and far between; what with so
many girls on offer each night. I didn’t expect last night’s
declarations of love to be under threat so soon. Yet she was so
good looking, naturally she’d be popular, attracting attention
from all sort of tourists. Was her job Thai hospitality or blatant
prostitution? How many men had she been with and did she use
protection?
It is not just STD’s like aids and hepatitis that you can
expose yourself to in the act of promiscuous sex. Flu and viral
infections can diminish your health too. Did she kiss her
clients? Was her health at risk in this profession? Was it my
concern? I turned and asked her,
“You been busy?” She smiled at either the question or at me
and paused before she replied. “Nid noy”
“Make money?”
“little bit..” I thought she was embarrassed and i felt hurt. As
if now that she'd befriended me we should be an item. I wanted
my girlfriend all to myself. But i couldn't expect her to give up
her day job. I had to accept things the way they were. I didn't
say it but we both understood.
“Do you think i can stay at yours again?” I asked Anchalee
at an appropriate moment while she served drinks to the bar’s
sparse clientele, “I can pay you”
“How much you pay?”
“How much you want?”
“Same same yesterday. Five hundred baht” Annie hustled.
“Okay” I happily agreed in the hope that tomorrow she
would stop charging me money and let me stay for free.

When we got back to her flat Kat was home early.
“What happen you?”
“Mai sabai”
Great, now i have to share a mattress with both of them, and i
wanted a good sleep. I offered to crash on the floor out of
simple courtesy and my offer was appreciated. I lay there
wishing i had found the real Soi Sip Sam the previous night.
Being on the third floor i woke up sweating, the humid heat had
risen to such a high temperature. It felt like we’d been having
hot sex even if we hadn’t. Kat was mumbling in her sleep again.
I went out and bought some bottled water from the 7 eleven. It
was almost as warm outside as it was indoors, upstairs.
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap ffor southall
I returned to the Tiger bar casually after that and to my pleasant
surprise, Anchalee was there every time. I found it convenient
that i could call in when i wanted. Often after a night out
crawling the bars, (the pier on the edge of walking street that
juts out over the sea, supported by i-beams stumped
underwater) you can sit out there drinking on the edge of the
bight. I’d then meet Annie later outside her place. She didn’t
finish till 2am seven days a week so i had to hang around in the
hope she’d be home at a reasonable time. It was better than
going to her work and putting up with the tetchy Tiger staff then
be obliged to pay that bar money for her. But sometimes she’d
be early or late or she wouldn’t come home at all. I’d be left
hanging around and feeling crap. I wondered where she was or
who she was with. Those nights she did come back we’d stay
up late until the early hours of the morning. Then sleep until
lunchtime. The afternoons were our time together. I’d follow
her wherever she went and was learning a lot about Thai society
in the process. Ae showed me it all from the Thai angle.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Tat night I dided not to pay Annie for her company and went
out cruising some bars alone instead. I felt all bluesy and
couldn’t sleep so walked along Beach road crossing Pattaya
klang to Soi Six, an avenue packed with adult entertainment.
The street was typically littered with smartly clad girls; genuine
Thai beauties who sat there all day and night desperately
seeking twenty minutes of your precious time. You could smell
sweet chilli in the outside air, and sex.
“Welcaaam” came the prolonged chorus in flawed English.
A group of ladies wails like a chorus of seals on the arctic shelf,
circled by pigeons. I doubted they fathomed the true meaning of
the word. My eyes were wandering, my mouth drooling, the
cash in my wallet burned a hole in me denims. I had caught
what they call Yellow Fever; there is only one known cure.
I sat killing time at the Soi 6 Corner Bar, nursing another
niggling pain in my abdomen. I’d spuffed my guff again, spent
another 500baht.
"Another Tiger" i asked the ever so sweet, if not
scintillatingly pretty Lek though i didn’t really want one.
"No plobrem," she crossed the bar and bent down to the
bottom shelf of the fridge.
"Look who it isn't!" i heard a familiar voice from behind. I
did not want to turn round but looked over my shoulder
instinctively and saw that Australian dickhead approaching.
"How’s it hanging?"
"Who wants to know?"
"What are you drinking, Steve?" asked Lek.
"The usual"
"My name's Dave" i said boldly offering him a hand and he
shook it. His hands were sweaty.
"I’m Steve" he said what i'd already gathered. Then i said,

"you here on a holiday?" making conversation.
"Naw, I live here," he declared proudly "i got a wife over
here too."
"You married a Thai!"
"Sure. A sexy bitch named Foon. What about you?"
"I've got a girlfriend here. She's cute, i love her"
"Is she a bargirl?" he asked abruptly and i paused;
"What if she is?" I said offended by the question.
"You can't love a bar girl unless you're paying to" Steve
proclaimed. This guy had me stumped for words!
"How would you know who you can or can’t love?"
"I just know,” he dropped his head and rolled his eyes,
“you can't love a bar girl"
"If you're such an expert, why don't you write a book?" i
suggested, jokingly yet slightly annoyed with his attitude,
"You could call it; Steven's Analysis of Cross-cultural
Relationships with Thai Women!"
"I could. But who would buy it?"
He seemed almost excited at the prospect.
"I would buy it Steve" Lek popped in sweetly.
"You can't read."
"So..."
“I would get it translated. A Thai version and an English"
"One for the girls and one for the boys," i added
facetiously.
"No, this could be big. Bigger than the Love Guru’s How
to Boom-Boom Thai Girls Handbook. Now that was a
bestseller!” Steve supposed.
“As if you could write something like that”
“You never know, perhaps i could”
“You write it,” i said cuttingly, “I’ll buy it”
"All i was saying mate is that i've been there, i know
exactly what you're going through."
"I’m not going through anything; besides, was Foon a

working girl?"
“That’s none of your business!”
I looked in his eyes. I’d stumped him.
“Well,” he stumbled for the right word, "She worked in
a…” and after a second “a parlour"
“A massage parlor?”
“Yes. Not a brothel”
“Thai massage” I sounded sarcastic.
“But she has no need to work now that i’m taking care of
her”
“You can’t call it work really can you, sleeping with
someone for money? It’s hardly a profession”
“Listen, these girls earn good money. They are repairing
the financial deficit caused by an unfavorable International
exchange rate.” He informed me in a sudden shift of tact.
“What?”
“You think i’m joking” It wasn’t funny.
“Just be careful what you say.”
“But seriously, it’s all about greed and exploitation!”
“And you believe that.”
“My Father was an economist back in Oz. Every morning
over breakfast i’d hear the same talk… The money’s in
Thailand; the money’s in Thailand! That's why i’m out here,
buying swag on the cheap; hopefully in a few months i’ll be
a millionaire!"
He could see i was amused when i twigged he was talking in
Thai money…
“One million baht! Now that cash would show you a good
time”
“Thailand’s a crazy place…” He put his arm round me
“Pattaya is the craziest, proper. It takes time to get used to life
in Azia…”

It takes time to get used to Azia. The words echoed through my
mind as i stepped off the Songtail home. By the time i had
gotten back to the bar Annie wasn't there. Apparently, she'd
gone home early, alone or with someone, i don't know. I saw no
point in going round there to find out; better go back to my little
bamboo hovel at the outskirts of town, that which i shared only
with the mosquitoes. It would be light in a few hours. Walking
back the alcohol in my system turned my emotions, aggressive.
The incessant badgering from taxi riders irritated me; the
dehydration, the arid heat was taking its toll; and some noodles
that i’d eaten caused cramps in my stomach. I felt dirty, needed
a shower. I longed for Europe once again.
I turned up drunk at her flat at 4am. I’d been walking around for
hours; speech slurred i serenaded her window. Kat came to see
what the noise was,
“Hey Mister. Be quiet please. We asleeping,”
“Kat! Its me, Dave” I shouted under my breath, “Is Anchalee
there?”
“No, she not come home”
“Oh” I’d carried this flowery necklace from a bar
saleswoman last night; brought it all the way home - nid-noy
just for Annie. I wanted her to be there… I was gutted.
She popped her head into the frame and they both started
giggling, and told me to come up. She opened the door for me,
dressed in her XXL T-shirt with Honey Lover written on it; she
slurped with the straw of her iced Ovaltine drink, enjoying its
sweet taste.
Annie talked about me getting a flat with her help,
accommodation meant for Thai’s. She quizzed me again about
my sleeping habits. I kept saying,
“No i don’t have hotel. I sleep on the beach”

She laughed again, “You sleep the beach? All night itching.”
“I sleep fine on the beach.” I pressed
“Mosquito bite you”
“I like Mosquitoes”
The next night i was forced to admit that she was right. I
couldn’t sleep for itching. The bugs that weren’t there in the
daytime came out at night. I ended up knocking on her door
again.
Each morning at Pet mueng this communist alarm call
broadcasts over the tannoy. Eight intermittent beeps signify the
time (the first time i counted seven) followed by Thailand's
National anthem. According to law you must be up and out of
bed, standing tall to respect the King,
"Wake up" insists Kat, "if the Tamblowat come to the door
you be arrested."
"They'll take you away!" added Annie
"Leave me alone," i spoke from slumber, "They not take me
away. Besides i have a nice dream."
"You dream of me, Dave" asked Annie sitting on the edge of
the mattress.
"Of course" I replied and dozed back off.
I woke up bright and early about 10am and felt recharged after a
deep sound sleep in my sweetheart’s arms. Feeling frisky i
decided to have a workout so Annie dropped me off in South
Pattaya at Tony’s Plaza and i took up a membership. Tony's
boasted tennis courts and swimming pool, yoga, sauna, schwing
cycling… The list was on the wall; all covered by my monthly
membership i’d taken up a week before. Old fashioned free
weights lathered with a layer of dust and the smell of body odor.
A space was devoted to stretching off, which was useful for the
continuation of my Kung Fu practice.
One day training i met Bradley, a black belt Shaolin monk

famous for his local Muay Thai bouts.
“Hey kid. If you have problem with that guy let me know; i
take care you.”
“Who Steve? Thank you very much; but he’s harmless - just
messing around.”
“What are you looking at, butthead?”
Steve was there. He was pumping out bench presses, straining.
"Hello mate," i do my best Oz accent, "ready to work out?"
"Just a light one today" he answers modestly.
"Were you out last night, too much to drink?"
"A couple. Work hard, party hard. No time to sleep" He
pushed out reps, "Up at 7am for gym training then back to bed
for a siesta laters."
“The way to spot a ladyboy is in the way she walks. Like this
one; you see the way she shifts her bum in the air, all tight like
tennis balls?”
“Yip”
“That’s the ladyboy walk”
“They all walk like that!”
“Most; they’ve got it here between the legs”
He took it upon himself to advise me on the local scene whilst
coaching me on hardcore body building techniques.
On top of his fitness commitments Steve ran his own,
unlicensed business. He financed his stay here buying local
goods then selling them on at a marked up price back in Oz.
This was the business he was so reluctant to tell me about when
we first got talking presumably because he did not have a valid
work permit – they’re of such importance here.
And also he ran a sideline as a self employed tour guide for all
his Ozzie mates, who came to Pattaya for partying. There

weren’t enough hours in the day, he told me.
His mates came over a week or two at a time. Steve’d do his
guided tour of the best bars, places to eat then give advice on
what and what not to do with the Thais, while they chose which
girl they wanted. A kind of sex shrink for eager but inexperienced
Antipodeans. When one gang went back, more of his mates
would fly over and he’d do the same party thing with them.
“It was hard work” he reckoned but kept it up and seemed to
really enjoy it. It got to be so well organized he’d send out
letters; invitations to bogus golf tournaments. His mates would
get their invites through the post, saying to their wives over
breakfast,
"Honey, check this out. There's a golf tournament going on
in Pattaya... I wouldn't want to miss this for the world. Do you
mind if i go?" ...but there was no tournament. The only sport
they’d participate in was the odd game of pool. Or they’d watch
a footie match on TV. They were there to shag Thai girls, on a
geezer’s holiday behind the back of anyone Aussie land.
At least that’s the way made out.
“Munner here’s hit the big five – O, haven’t you mate?”
“Damn sure i have”
“Really, he doesn’t look a month past forty.”
“No. I’m not. I’m only 38”
“We mean he’s had fifty shags” Steve advised.
“All Thai girls” he said with a smile on his face.
“Not including the wife then” I presumed.
“I’m not married.”
“Good”
“Phil’s the only one who’s married”
“Hey, check this one out… Hello darling, where you going?”
On occasion they’d wake in the morning after the night before
and find themselves with a ladyboy.
“Strewth!”

Some of his mates dabbled in drugs. According to Steve they
took Yabba a mix of ephedrine amphetamine, which translated
means “Crazy Medicine”. And that’s exactly what it is. I asked
Steve if he used drugs.
“Absolutely not!” he answered but how where to get them if
i wanted some.
“Thai girls suck” said Brad
“Will you look at that! Now that is a fine booty!” Phil said
ogling Anchalee’s behind. I started to get annoyed. “Did your
mate not tell you that our girlfriends are off limits?”
“Actually… he did. I’m just messing with you, mate”
Monday morning i was due an early morning jog with Steve,
stood waiting outside the complex when i arrived fifteen
minutes late.
“Fit and ready!” he said.
“Ready as ever”
“What are you eating?” enquired Steve.
“Shompoo”
“I didn’t ask if you’d washed your hair” he continued,
“what’s that thing”
“Shompoo” i repeated, “not shampoo you dunce! It’s a rose
apple” I informed him and took another bite from the delicious
light fruit that is actually a close relation to the apple family but
with digestible skin. We got into a stride.
He was taller than i was but his bulk weighed him down.
“Phil’s still sleeping it off”
“Where’s Munner?” I asked
“Fuck knows. Probably at the Police station”
“The Tamblowat took him away!” i exclaimed, “That’s
serious”
“You got to show them a bit of respect, you know”
“Of course. Do you think they’ll let him out?”
“For Yabba! Fine, bail, deported. Nothing serious”

“No” i added
“Check out the talent!” said Steve as along the footpath,
casually idling on the benches were Thai girls dressed in black.
Party girls bathing in the morning sun after a heavy night.
"Looks like they never got a punter," Steve chipped in, then
"I'd give her a going over."
"We'll catch her on the way back," I suggested leading the
running. When Steve wasn't making sexist comments about the
women he ogled, he was singing Men at Work constantly as we
ran “I saw them in concert last year.”
“Brilliant”
Back at the bar enjoying a rehydrating drink Steve and this guy,
Omah and i conversed.
“How far do you reckon we ran this morning?”
“Ten kilometres exactly” Steve said. “I've counted that route
on my bike.”
“Ten kilos!”
“I’m exhausted. Still i could still putt a few on the 19 th hole!”
“The nineteenth hole” Omah and I laughed
“It just goes to show when you run as a team, you get more out
of it"
"I should come with you. I can run very well!" boasts Omah, "I
ran with the Kenyan Olympic squad"
"That's amazing,” I said interested "The Kenyans make great
runners because they're slim."
“Yes. Every morning” he says “We run in Africa to a unified
beat. Many people can be seen out running”
“You run from gun” Steve chips in in an African accent. I
chuckled but Omah continued, “If you want to run like a
Kenyan, you need some performance enhancers!”
“Springs on the soles of your shoes?”
“No you nugget, drugs. Anabolicas. You need the Juicy
Lucy”

“Then you will run very fast. As do I”
“Okay,” I thought about it for a second, “Those things are
bad for you. They give you breasts and make you fat and they
can cause arthritis.”
“Don’t be such an old woman…”
“You’ve been working out. Why not give yourself an edge?”
“They were invented by the Nazis; they’re poison”
But they wouldn’t let it lie. They sat they’re badgering me,
using persuasive methods which included peer pressure and
Puniverse jibes. In the end i gave in.
“Let’s say i did want to use steroids… Where would i get
them?”
“You buy them from a pharmacist on the Sukhumvit Road.
Doctor Wong's” Steve’s eyes brightened as he satisfied his
obsession with the road to Bangkok, “And they might solve
your little problem with that Annie bird.”
“What problem's that then?” I asked and suddenly wished i
hadn't.
“Come on mate, everyone in the Tiger Bar knows about it,”
“Do they now?”
“Yip, even Omah's heard about it.” Steve looked seriously at
me then turned to Omah. "Haven't you mate?"
I turned to Omah, “Would you like to let me in on what
everyone's talking about?”
“Listen, Dave” he put his hand on my shoulder “a couple of
injections from Dr. Wong and you'll have a hard on the size of
the Eifel tower.” They both burst into a roar of laughter. I did
not find it funny; looking around self consciously then leaning
in and lowering my voice; i spoke firmly, “I do not have a
problem,” I declared, “It just so happens that Annie and i enjoy
plenty of erections. But i will go and see Dr. Wong if it suits
you. I could do with enlarging my biceps; but only my biceps.”
Steve was always the joker. The self-proclaimed king of bar

talk, but i saw through his drink-binging, womanizing and
arrogant chauvinistic attitude as merely a front. Underneath the
facade was a genuine, sensitive guy who had basically been let
down in love one time too many. His jokes - funny or not - were
a defense mechanism used to brush things off; a disguise to
subterfuge his sensitive nature.
“Lets knock back one more then call it a night,” he said
finishing off his last, “I want to be drunk when i bang the
missus."
After saying goodbye to Steve and Omah i went to the Tiger
Bar but Annie was nowhere to be seen. Then she pulled up in a
Vitara. As she got out of the car i saw her hug and kiss this
older man goodbye. She came to me all smiles, bouncing
vibrantly along the path,
“Who was that?”
“My father”
“That was your father!” I was momentarily dumbfounded
and stuttered, “You should have introduced us”
“He have go Bangkok. Big business” she said and rolled her
eyes.
I can’t believe that Thai people are so openly affectionate; i
also wondered why her father looked only a few years older
than Ae and had blonde hair.
“Are you ready?” Tonight we were going out for dinner to a
rather fancy restaurant. Restaurants here cost a fraction of those
in Europe, hence i was able to lavish her with extravagant treats
without denting my bank balance. It was the perfect evening for
us both.
On this particular occasion we ate at Francesco’s, which
served Thai and foreign food; cordial was the mood. After
dinner which consisted of fried noodles, bruschetta and
imported wine i brandished a jewelry box from my shirt pocket.
Inside was a silver ring…

I was due to go and meet Annie at 10pm as i did on most
nights. After showering i flicked through the T.V looking for
something in English. They showed news bulletins; pictures
displayed drug dealers arrested for possession with intent,
machine guns in the boot of a car, reenacting the crime on film
using the actual perpetrators as actors; it seemed surreal. I had
to switch to local music, tuning in as i dressed to go out.
Then began the opening credits of a movie in French and
subtitled – on one of the foreign cable channels. I became
amused after the first five minutes. I enjoy a good foreign film
and stayed in to watch it. By the time it had ended the time was
approaching midnight. I arrived at Google and was dismayed to
see another bloke talking to Anchalee -chatting her up. I can
hardly say I was pleased. This time i promised that i wouldn’t
steer clear out of etiquette; sitting at an adjacent table patiently
waiting my turn with the most sought after lady in Tiger Bar.
Oppositely, i walked straight over to their table littered with
beer bottles and an ashtray full of butts.
"So, how's it going folks?" I quizzed, audaciously interupting
their little chat.
"Crikey, didn’t see you coming there. Good to see you
mate," replied Steve; Anchalee waied me.
"What are you two talking about?"
"Football," Steve said, "Ozzie rules!" He knew that would
frustrate me; growling as he spoke he put his arm around her
waist, "I was just becoming reacquainted with the little lady."
“Reaquainted?”
“Well, you’ve told me so much about her mate; already i feel

like i know her!”
"Get me a tiger would you?" I ordered for a change from the
elephant beer and Annie waited off. As she did i caught
Steve observing her rear. "Not bad," he winked.
"What do you think you are doing here?" I spoke firmly.
"Having a beer" Steve stated the obvious.
"I can see that... You haven't." I said as a shcoking sus[ision
dawned on me.
“What?” he just gazed and with a wry smirk, shrugged his
shoulders like butter wouldn’t melt.
Annie returned to the table in between serving drinks. She
was acting all moody, asking me why i hadn't shown up earlier
like I had promised.
"Firstly, i never promised i'd be here." I defended my
position, "Besides, i wanted to stay home and watch a movie. Is
that not alright?"
"You want watch movie?" she's all jealous, and about to
throw something at me, i can tell, "What you watch?"
"Pas de Panique. A French film, with subtitles…" i answered
with aslight exageration, "you know, words on the bottom" I
echoed my speech with an in-synch hand gesture.
"Mai kow chai!”
I thought it sweet that she thought i was cheating and i, the
same of her.
“Lets go to Chalkie’s. Shoot some pool!” Steve suggested
enthusiastically.
“I should stay here…”
“You go,” Annie insisted, “Have good time,”
“Sure?”
“Come on buddy,”
Steve and I left for Chalkie’s on another booze cruise.
“What’s the score?”
“Three nil to me”

As we drank beer and played five-ball, the latest Euro chart
hits playing out, Steve blathered on about business. I was surely
subdued.
“I was going to set up a business selling steroids online in the
UK two years ago when i was in London”
"I couldn't find his place. There's a load of pharmacies on the
Sukhumvit"
"Yeah, and they probably all sell roids. I didn't want to say
anything infront of Omah, you know what those Africans are
like with money. I've got a business plan and i thought you
might like to come in on it..."
"Go on..."
"Steroids can be bought over the counter here for a fraction of
the cost overseas. I shipped them to my mates in Oz and made a
big mark up... I was thinking we could do the same, selling on
the U.K. market. You could do some of your Internet gagetry,
(Russan email)" I gave him a nod and an expression of
enthusiasm.
“Here’s a sample,” he put a pink pill in my hand.
“What is it?”
“Anabol; from Doctor Wong” he said winking. Then he
stroked his cue, cannoning the black off the cushion onto my
red hung over the pocket, knocked it clear into the baulk and
dropped.
“Woo ho. That’s five-nil mate, and another round on you.”
I was absolutely livid as i went to the bar to by him yet
another G&T.
“What do you want?” asked Bart.
“Mai Thai”
“When you play the shot you’ve got to make sure your
cueing straight; otherwise as you stroke the cue will strike off

target.”
Pools your game. My sport is golf
“Is it? What’s your handicap?”
“I’ve had a hip replacement”
“Ha, ha, ha mate. You need to pitch & putt”
Our digressing chat dwindled, our concentration distracted as a
tanned pair of slim legs inside a black dress swanked past us
and onto a barstool. I got an idea,
“How about a little wager?”
“Hit me”
“That broad who just sat down… Don’t stare!”
“Okay, i see her”
“I bet you a hundred baht that i leave with her before you’ve
finished that drink”
“Christ. You are on!”
“Double or squits”
He downed his G&T then burped rudely.
“Watch me!” I said and made a move. She noticed me
coming, approaching from behind.
“Excuse me, i couldn’t help but notice you from over there.”
“What your name?”
“Katya” she spoke slowly emphacising the end tone. Her
face was pretty, enhanced by a lot of make up and dark
mascara. Her lip, sultrily crooked.
“And you?”
I paused, “Douglas”
Then i asked “Where are you from, Katya?”
“I am from Russia”
“What do you do?”
“I come here for holiday, take a break from work”
I winked at Steve.
“You speak very good English.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t…”

“Excuse me” Steve said before putting his hand on my
shoulder, “is this man bothering you?”
“No he’s being quite charming”
“We were just to become acquainted”
He leant in and speaking directly to me said,
“Sorry buddy, but a bet’s a bet”
We walked home via Subway. I held her hand and my sub in
the other.
“Gambling is illegal in Thailand”
“If you don’t pay I’m going to kick your arse!”
“Want to play for a thousand?”
I won't say anything to Foon about your misehaviour with the
girls here..."
“I wouldn’t worry; she doesn’t speak a word of English”
In the early hours, back at Annie’s, her and i had a little heart to
heart. I quizzed her about the Aussie.
"You know that guy Steve?"
"He come to the bar sometime"
"Yes. Did he pay your fine?" I interrogated. She shook her
head, "Annie, you would tell me the truth wouldn't you?"
She nodded.
“I don’t mind you seeing Falangs just nobody i know, okay”
She nodded again.
Okay, crisis over. No problems. Nothing had happened; they
were just friends. According to Steve, Anchalee was not his
type. And Anchalee made a promise to steer clear of Steve, his
mates and anyone else whom on my insistence is out of bounds.

She dropped me off at the end of Sai Song and i walked and
walked around again
“Nong! Its you!”
She paused before it clicked, “David… So pleased see you.”
We embraced.
“Why you not come see me?”
“I tried… I looked all over for your house. You gave me the
wrong address,” nsulting her by addressing her as a stupid
someone.
“No. I tell you where i live on the phone.”
“You did not, you told me the wrong place”
We were arguing already.
“Soi sip”
“Yes soi sip at the other end of town,”
She paused. “You take the wrong one.”
I’d of thought that was obvious, nodding.
“It’s just round the corner. You want me show you where i
live?”
“Sure” I embraced the idea and we walked off down the
street slowly catching up on the latest news from the clan.
Apparantly her sister had left Cambodia and was now way
down south near Kuala Lumpa,
“How does she find the heat?” I asked
“HOT!” Nong replied.
“I guess she is used to it”
“But next week she go Singapore. It will be very – this high.
What do you do in Pattaya?” She said. Her question put me on
the spot but i had no need to lie. I mentioned Steve and my
friends at the Tiger Bar.
“How come you say come visit me and then not show up,
Dave? And now you are just standing there next to me!”
“I know, its weird.”
“This is it, my place” she stopped outside a quaint little

chalet.
“You live here!” I was surprised. I’d been walking past
Nong’s house every day for a month, “This is Soi sip sam!”
“Uh huh” she confirmed.
“Is this what you do? Your job”
“Uh-huh. You want massage?”
I’d cheated on annie. It was revenge, an act of, meanness.
Annie and her flatmate and this other girl; Nong - buzzed
around the place. Nong stood in front of the mirror preparing to
go out. After finishing her make up she hitched her skirt up an
inch. I tried not to watch as we sat on the floor to eat some spicy
pork soup and sticky rice. Annie’s phone rang; she answered
with a masculine voice, “hello;”
Then she said, “I not be there, tnight. Me not working” I did
not know what to make oof it, she was speaking in English to a
man as if i was not even in the room. She finished the call quick
I asked, “who was that?”
She said, “Farang; i pretend be ladyboy otherwise he call me,
call me, call me.” I left it at that.
Moments later, Annie was doing the washing up and hosing the
kitchen. As i declined the meal and went in to speak to her, i
saw her fiddling, attaching the hose to the taps. Cursing as she
dropped one end she complained that she was busy and that i
was distracting her simply by offering to help. What a wench!
As her back was turned i picked up the spare end of the hose
and put my thumb over the hole - for a joke - anticipating a
gush of water would spray over her but when she turned it on
the hose spat back and dislodged itself from the tap. It somehow
managed to bust the faucet; water flowed out the mains.
“Look what you make me do” she grumped.
I tried to stick my thumb in the hole to stop the flow of water,
and suggested she turn the main tap off wherever it was. Ae was

going mental and her friends -hearing the commotion as the
water gushed out- came in to meddle. I got my head down to
stopping the random flow of running water using my thumb to
block the flow. Ae went out to find the local plumber. I stood
there like a melon and tried to explain to Nok hovering over me,
“She ting tong… Its not my fault. I can fix this.”
“Why don’t you just fuck off?” she replied nastily, denting
my feelings. Some little Chinese-like guy came into the flat
with his toolbox. I likened him to Mr. Miagi. He fixed the leak
within minutes with some amateur assistance from me. He left;
situation over. I sulked, smoking a cigarette on the veranda.
Inside i heard the girl’s sharing a conversation in their own
language. I couldn’t understand what they were saying but i
sensed it was about me.
I had decided i'd had quite enough of Pattaya. The late
nights, the noise, the pollution all culminating into a big
headache for me. I was sick of waking in the afternoon with a
hangover that lasted all day. My body was polluted, head
aching; i felt nauseous and downright sick.
I was about to tell Annie that i was leaving, and hence we
wouldn't see each other for a while, if ever. I had a script
arranged with a justifiable excuse and a plan for the future to
ensure we would still be in touch with one another whatever
happened.
“Annie listen. I have to leave Patt; something came up,
something personal which i don’t have time to explain to you
right now – you probably wouldn’t understand me anyway but -
i have to leave here. We can still communicate on internet chat
sites…” I planned the speech in my head, rehearsing the best
way to break it to her. I had to expect a very probable overreaction.
Before i could say one word, she looked in my eyes
then dropped them and told me she was pregnant.
“Oh dear God”

At first i was thrilled. A little shocked but pleased none the less.
My very own baby, half Thai-half Farang. An egg in the nest.
But given time to sink in, considering the implications -the
future i would be obliged to see through i wasn’t sure i wanted
it. I would be tied to Anchalee forever and everyone would
`know we were together. It seemed a big commitment.
I could have walked away just like my father did, ignoring
my responsibility, left Thailand and forgot about it. I know a lot
of men do that wehter they choose to or not. Its their porogative.
But i couldn't. My kid may be sixteen before they miss their
father. Down on their luck and financially tied. Running away
from problems at home. How could i not be there for them
then?
I thought about it and thought about it. Then i got really
drunk and thought about it more. I drank so much my heart
burned. I spoke with strangers and i talked to Steve. In the end it
became clear what i had to do.
"Pregnant!" Steve blurted, repeating what i'd told him. I
hushed him looking over my shoulder, seeking discretion. He
wouldn't know the meaning of the word.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty damn sure” I insisted
“Its just some of these girls,” he elevated his chest as if he
was about to hurl, “they lie and deceive naive, young, foreign
fellows like yourself”
“I am not naive. She passed a pregnancy test”
He looked at me condescendingly, “A preg test?”
“Yes. A pregnancy test from Dr. Wong”
“Jesus Christ Dave, girls round here keep those things
stashed in their knickers, specifically to con punks like you into
thinking that they are pregnant. Women pay up to a thousand
baht for a positive preg test,”
“So you’re saying she’s tricked me; she’s lying”

“Its happened before. A girl done it to one of my mates”
“But what if she isn’t? I mean what if she is really pregnant;
what do you think i should do then?” I quizzed.
And he said "Take her up the Sukhumvit Road and get an
abortion in Bangkok. That's what i did and i don’t regret it."
“Foon had an abortion..!”
“It wasn’t Foon for crying out loud. It’s some slapper i
banged in Patpong.” he said uncaringly.
“I’m surprised you bothered to fork out for that.” i said, sat
there mortified at his downright meanness. At first i thought
Steve was a funny guy; now i realized he’s utterly degrading to
mankind. Yet i enjoyed the favorable light his character shone
on mine and felt at that moment that the Thai’s deserved this
treatment. Anyhow, Annie’s pregnant, i know she is and i’m
obviously going to have to decide for myself what the best way
to go for both of us.
He lined up his shots like Steven Hendry at the Crucible,
played and potted a spot then made his way around the table,
“I’ve been thinking why don’t you and Ae come out for
dinner with me and the missus? Foon would love to meet you
and it would be a good excuse for her to get off work,”
I couldn’t refuse; i had nowhere else to turn. At least Steve
spoke fluent in a language i could understand. Besides he was
right, it made sense. Get her away from all those bad Thai
influences repeatedly encouraging her to mess with my head.
Foon used to work the bars; they’d have something in common.
Anchalee would see how happy Foon was and maybe wish to be
the same.
Annie and Foon got on like they were old school friends.
Me and Steve did our best to chaperone.
“Did you see Dr. Wong?”
“Can we talk about this some other time?”
“Why?”

“Tonight, Annie's here and Foon…”
“So, they're not gonna understand what we're talking about,
are they?”
“They may do. In fact they probably use Dr. Wong’s for
their contraception”
“Come on buddy. Lighten up”
“Can we just leave it?” he looked at me funny, “let us enjoy
our evening with the girls”
"Okay, but we'll finish this discussion tomorrow, over a
beer."
We returned from the gents and the food had been served.
“Where you go? You two toilet long time.”
“Just powdering my nose,” Steve said.
“And I was having a… Number 2” They didn’t get it. I
turned to Foon, “Steve tells me you’re a wonderful cook… Gkin
kow” Smiles.
During dinner Foon and Annie got on like old school friends,
talking in their customary high pitched voices. Steve and i
avoided the usual sexist rhetoric and were able to sustain a
reasonable conversation in between mouthfuls of spicy fried
rice, occasionally digressing to a tedious repetition of the same
pidgin words caused by a fundamental lack of understanding
each other’s native tongue.
“Beats a tin of beans; don’t you think?”
In between courses it was the ladies turn to visit the wash room.
“What were they on about?” I asked Steve who looked as
bemused as i – sounding paranoid. “Did you say something to
Foon; is that what they’re talking about?”
“That Annie’s pregnant…”
“Shh… Stop saying that word. I’m sure they’d know what
that means in English. There not as stupid as you think Steve”
“Mate; i have not said anything to Foon, she wouldn’t know
anything; unless Anchalee’s told her herself”

“And she probably has, let’s face it.”
“Maybe. Who knows eh?”
“What are you going to do now?”
“What can i do?”
` “Give her the abortion. It’s the best option”
“How much do you think an abortion would cost though?
What did you pay when you had it done?”
“Ten thousand”
“Dollars?”
“Baht. But it was three years ago, with the global economy
the way it is these days i would estimate you’d pay around four
thousand five hundred; maybe less.”
“What is funny about this?”
“Nothing. I’m trying to help you. Its going to cost you
200quid. That’s all; give her the money and get off the hook.”
“I haven’t got 200quid.” My voice broke.
“You must have money somewhere!”
“Actually, i have. I’ve got a gold ring wedged up my arse,
you wouldn’t happen to have a pair of pliers on you, would
you?” I joked, Steve didn’t laugh.
“Well i haven’t got it if that’s what you’re angling after.”
“Forget it pal. I’ll sort out some other way.”
Well that was that. The dinner had been a shambles. I was a
nervous wreck until Steve and i downed a bottle of martini that
the girls declined to drink. I embarrassed my girlfriend and
insulted the restaurant staff, god forbid the whole of Thailand.
I had to explain to her that i didn't love her anymore. Tell her
that we couldn't be together nor could we have the baby. Lie
blatantly, to protect myself and our unborn child. I had to make
her think she wasn't wanted and wouldn't be cared for; that the
best thing for her to do was have the abortion.
"Don't let them know you care" Steve's bad advice ran
through my head. I looked straight at her, into those beautiful

dark eyes i’d glimpsed into. I tried to find the words i’d
rehearsed earlier but, nothing came out. I couldn't bring myself
to do it. I did not want to hurt her feelings; i didn't even want to
break up with her. Plan B flashed through my head.
"Why don't we go away together?" I asked spontaneously.
"Holiday!"
"Yes. Phuket, Ko Phan-Ga; or Phi-Phi island? That's where
they made The Beach," But i doubted she'd seen it.
"We can go Issan. See Papa"
“Issan,” I didn’t know it. I was not convinced.
“The north. Now its rain season, we kin kow” she stuck two
fingers in her throat.
“Okay. I like kow; we’ll go to Issan.” With that it was set;
we'd go up north to visit her family.
A week later we were ready to shoot up there. I’d taken time off
of working Steve’s Russian job.
After seeing Annie i went to the Mod’s Bar to meet Steve and
talk beezness. “I’m the brick and she’s the cement” he said.
“What are you two talking about?”
They were laughing as i sat down.
They changed the subject. I figured they were talking about
cross-cultural relationships and didn't want to bring up the hot
news concerning Annie and i. I commented on the game on
T.V. and how Newcastle won the FA Cup. Nok hinted that she
fancied Paul Gadcoine. The conversation quickly returned to
Thai hospitality.
"I was gonna go there, after i've been to Issan maybe i won't
bother now.”
"You’re going to Issan?" Steve's ears pricked up as Bart got
back to work
"Yeah Udon Thani. Anchalee and i" I sounded blaze.

"Yesterday you were gonna tell her to get lost."
"So…" I defended my inability to dump her, "I decided we need
some time away; free of the negative influences of Pattaya."
“What about the business?”
“It can wait till i get back. Can’t it Steve?”
The silence descended an atmosphere you could cut with a
knife, as if i’d just stood on his big toe.
“Whatever you have to do” Steve said.
“It seems like the way to go, all things considered.”
"Strewth mate.” Steve restituted himself as the consolidating
friend i needed, “I've warned you. You're going to get yourself
in a right mess"
I sat on the street corner drinking Chrysanthemum tea. It was
raining; the monsoon now upon us. Annette popped into my
mind out of nowhere.
� � � � � � �

If a single member of a
family eats,
the whole family will not
feel hungry
3
We were in the middle of making love. It was
Sunday. For dinner we'd devoured chicken
vindaloo, a spicy, ready meal from the
supermarket. After dinner we skipped desert and
went for a natural metabolism boost; sex.
We were just getting somewhere, sweating,
groaning and while i was banging her i
accidentally broke wind. I'd done it a couple of
times before but on this occasion she found

particular distaste in my humour. Ann asked me to
stop and i wouldn't, things got a bit heated and it
culminated in me alledgedly imposing myself
upon her. She called me a rapist and told me to get
out, slapped me repeatedly and threw things
around.
"That could of knocked me out!"
"It was meant to" she replied
"You can’t rape your own girlfriend” i told her,
“What is the big deal? Sometimes i have flatulence
that i can't control - it just comes out.” I argued, “I
blame your cooking". But this outraged her more,
"Eat this" she hollered hurling a cheap vase at
me which missed my head by an inch.
"Watch where you hurl those cheap ornaments."
I shouted as she looked around for something else
to throw at me. She began to growl like a dog. I’d
never seen a woman act like that before. It
frightened me so i made to leave.
"What a drama queen." I thought.
"Don't come back" she shouted after.
I went to drink myself silly then later, returned
home and apologized. She forgave me. Situation
over? But i was so wrought by this incident i sent a
letter to an Agony Aunt in a magazine talking
about Annette’s over-reaction and seeking advice. They
presumed i had stirred suppressed feelings from her childhood.
Miss. Cupid also said i was an insensitive man with bad
manners and should think twice before i bed a woman; which i
thought was a little harsh. I had apologized after all.
After a while the arguments became more frequent, over stupid
stuff. I felt it was time to call it a day but i knew she'd be pretty
cut up about it. I figured this was the best thing for both of us
and in time she would too. We decided to give it one last

chance.
Annie and i set off early afternoon, Wan Athit on an adventure.
Both exciting, accompanying, protecting the other. I'd paid
Annie's bar fine for the night before -which to me seemed to me
to be a pointless act - and she had reserved one week’s holiday,
unpaid. I booked two tickets to Sakkhon Nakkon/Udon Thani.
Once at Ban Phai we would be picked up by Mr.
Nonchalongsat, Annie’s Father.
We played the number 9 game on the bus and had a picnic of
sandwiches, seaweed and crisps, and sweet orange juice from
plastic cups. Gazing out the window, the countryside looked
beautiful. On the inside Annie looked better.
“What did you do for a living before” I asked Anchalee.
“You know what i do”
“But you don’t work the bars in Udhon Thani!”
She turned awkwardly in the seat to face me,
“My parents grow rice, Dave.” I held her cold hand.
As i felt a little apprehensive about the break, i found myself
asking last minute questions as we approached Nakkhon about
domestic customs in Thailand and also character descriptions of
her key family members, Her father, elder brothers and even her
dog,
"Does he bark at Farang?" I joked, half serious planning to
make a good first impression. When walking up her driveway i
found out he not only barked; he tried to bite.
Annette used to have a cat. A furry ginger thing that made me
sneeze. It was for that reason i never really liked it, but i'd
stroke it sometimes.
On one occasion i kicked it out the front door. In fact it was
that damn ginger pussycat that split us up for good…

"What are you thinking?" Anchalee interrupted my thoughts
stroking my palm with her painted fingernails.
"Nothing." Nothing i wanted to reveal. Old flames still
burning in my heart. I was back on the bus with my girlfriend,
my new, gorgeous Thai ladyfriend and eager to meet her family.
Why was i spending this time mulling over the past? Missing
old acquaintances; regretting things i simply could not change,
feeling guilt whilst trying to abscond myself from any blame.
“Can i eat the last pow?” I held Annie's hand and pecked her
cheek to make her feel wanted and to compensate for my short
attention span. Then gazed out the window and munched the
last pow in our picnic.
The journey took ages, or at least my arse felt that way as the
wheels of the bus rolled along. Travelling starts to suck when
you’ve done it for way too long,
“Its fun to travel, isn’t it?”
“Fun” Ae slowly turned her had to me, adjacent to the
passing scenery,
“To travel” i added
“Trawel” she mimicked. Then there was a pause.
“What’s travelling in Thai?” I asked
"Sawadee krap" the Thai's came out to shake my hand. We
were greeted with the warmest welcome from Anchalee's
family. The dog barked me into the house. Their home was very
wooden in itself, which gave a primitive, ancient even majic
feel; and what wasn’t wooden was made of metal. It was dark
and smelled of incense. On the walls were pictures of King
Bhumibol and of countryside and military warships and a poster
depicting a Muay Thai boxer.
The place was snug with character if a little foisty on the
glands. We sat down at a table to eat. The dinner was fuelled
with conversation and though i couldn’t understand much - if

any of it at all, i got the distinct impression they all were talking
about me. Little Lek was constantly bursting into fits of
laughter and it made me feel quite uneasy. I aspired to ignore
this hurtful discourse and their liberal use of the F word.
After dinner, helping Annie do the washing up i had to carry
cold water up in buckets from outside as their tap had reduced
to a mere drizzle. Yet the lack of more modern convenience was
– I felt – a worthy exchange for the benefits of rurality.
These people were shorter than i and their roof was low in
places, projectiles dangled from the ceiling. I banged my head
off something like five times and developed a hunchback from
bending over into doorways while avoiding the low roof. I had
to condition myself to bend at the knee not the lower back.
As it got darker we sat around lounging, digesting the food
we had scoffed. Annie taught me some of the Thai language and
i amused the entourage with my pronunciation.
“In Thai we have forty-four symbol” said Annie.
“Si sip si”
The sound for each symbol is like a word in itself. They have no
punctuation marks; commas, full stops, semi-colons etc. Their
sentences just go on and on and on ¡s pronounced ae.
Annie had her own bed in with her brothers and i slept outside
in a hut made of bamboo. Her Mother was Indian – a Sikh and
even though she had died when Annie was young her presence
could still be felt in the house. When i first entered i made the
god awful mistake of giving an unintentional cold shoulder to
her deity; the glorious Queen Shiva, Goddess of the country
formerly known as Hindustan, who was positioned in a
prominent place above the dinner table.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” I bowed my head in a polite display of
respect realizing who i’d insulted but Annie’s Father still stared
at me quite sternly.

“I thought it was just for ornamental purposes,” i said
candidly joking, pleading absolution on the ground of
ignorance. But it was of no matter; i was to learn that Mr.
Srisawang always looked stern - like Master Lee in Revenge of
the Shaolin Fist.
Annie took the time to teach me some of her dialect. She put her
hand on my heart and said “khohn” wrote คน on paper and did
her best to explain its meaning to me. Then she drew this, ขึงขัง
khueng khang, and again Ae pointed at me. It was extremely
difficult to learn from Annie’s lesson as she knew not the
English definitions nor i much Thai. I patted my head and she
said, “glao” and drew เกล�า
“Glao” I mimicked as best i could as if a parrot were to chirp
“cupboard”
We spent Sunday evening at the night market, feasting on
niblets of food - corn on the cob, sweet rice and pandan green
custard, fried insects, fruit shakes and more - sold for pennies.
There were stalls and stalls of endless treats; a treasure troves
worth of fine handmade garments and iron masonry. I paid
particular attention to a single-bullet gun small enough to fit in a
shirt pocket. A band played music and people danced to it. A
Thai singer sang some songs from Creedence Clearwater
Revival. The midnight moonlight shone a light on us.
Back at home we got back drunk. I think Anchalee was drunk
from her first ever alcoholic drink. We fumbled around and
tripped over stuff in the dark then laughed under our breaths at
disturbing the peace. My politeness and her portrayal inhibited
no more. It was so different to our time together in Pattaya. I’d
almost forgotten the whole world existed outside of that place.

Now i was absorbing the positives of my current surroundings.
Annie’s hometown.
On Sunday afternoon Annie showed me the lake, the name
of which i couldn't pronounce. We fed the ducks, talking.
“I had a great time last night with you”
“It was fun wasn’t it?”
“Sure was”
“And i think Issan is great, Udon Thani is a lovely place” I
commented on what i’d seen of the city, and also the scenery
around the lake. Greens and browns a lighter shade.
"I think we are falling in love" I said romantically.
"What mean, falling?"
"What mean!" I wanted to demonstrate; standing on the
bamboo table then removing my wallet i fell, quite deliberately
with a splash into the green water scaring a few ducks as i did.
She screamed and laughed at the same time.
"I fell… I fell in love." I spluttered and she understood me,
reaching out a hand to help me out the water,
I grasped her hand bearing my weight on hers. She lost
balance and toppled over after me, squealing.
“I fell in love with you Anchalee” People heard and then
watched as we fooled around in the water but nobody minded.
The water was warm and the scorching sun dried us out again in
no time.
Back at Annie’s house we lay wrapped in a blanket; our clothes
drying out on the patio. Still amused from my stunt at the lake
she jokes, "You are a duck, quack,”
“Quack”
“QUACK!" waddling over to me on sparrow legs.
“You are duck!”
“Me no care!” she said,
“Me no too”

“I not like to be duck. Me want boyfriend. Duck have no
boyfriend”
“Atleast ducks can swim” I said and she looked at me funny.
Looking into my eyes she said, "I’m falling love with you"
It was slightly mispronounced but i understood her; returned her
gaze for as long as i could without blinking, sharing a moments
intimacy with her living, breathing soul.
“Whats falling in Thai?”
She thought for a moment,
"Dtohk."
"Djohk?"
"Dtohk" she corrected.
"Pom dtohk rak koon." I said "I fell in love with you" …in
Thai i think. But it is not the common phrase it is in English
and i don't think it impressed her. But we both found our lake
dive funny. And i meant everything i said.
"Do you want to get married?" I placed the palm of my hand
on her stomach and felt a baby’s kick.
The conversation was in Thai. Annie seemed irate, and as
usual i could barely understand a word of it. Her brother was
irritatingly playing with a wind up car and making an awful
amount of noise so i asked him, “Aren’t you a bit old for toys?”
He looked blankly at me. Then the lights were dimmed and she
brought out this box, placing it curiously on the table before me.
It was made of colored blue card, sealed with a ribbon. Attached
on a piece of string was a label in bold English that read, PULL
IT
"Surprize!" They all shouted in unison and clapped and
cheeringly declared a toast. Annie hugged me as her brothers
poured soda and whisky to carouse; expected me to down mine
in one. The mystery box had exploded with a fire-cracking bang

exhuming bits of colored paper like confetti on the table, the
family and all over me and Anchalee. They all sang,
"Happy Birvday to you,
I joined in the singing,
Happy Birvday to you”
“Happy Birvday dear David”
“Happy Birthday to you”
I was stunned, disbelieving even. I wondered how they could
have surprised me with this when only i knew that today i'd be
twenty and i had chosen to keep that secret. There was only one
recalled explanation. As we continued the celebrations i took a
moment and worked it all out…Annie had noticed my birth date
when i showed her my passport that day in at Tiger, and she had
memorized it. An easy one to remember being 6th June,
"How sweet!" i thought to surprize me with a party present
and so smart of her to remember the date. It proves they're not
so dumb after all. I hugged her and then her brothers hugged
me.
"My brother" Lek grinned from ear to ear.
"Brothers three" added Wan "like when we were kids."
I was flattered. Celebrating a birthday i'd chose to ignore.
Accepted by a genuine Thai family; but i found myself
contemporaneously wondering why Wan had described us as
three brothers. Anchalee told me she had only two, Lek and
Wan. Was i filling someone's place? Had her other brother died,
or was he on drugs and did her father banished this undesirable
from their home? Was Anchalee so embarrassed by it that she
didn't even acknowledge her own flesh and blood existed? I
couldn't know; it wasn't my business to but, the fact that she'd
lied troubled me so much it over-shadowed my evening and

almost spoiled the whole holiday. Did i know everything about
Anchalee? I lay in bed and wondered; then the following day i
asked her a serious question.
Annie was washing up early that morning, had nam. I
approached her as she bent over the bowl, placed my hand on
her shoulder.
“When we get back down south we have to go to Bangkok”
“Bangkok?”
“Yes, to see the Doctor; about the baby”
“Baby okay”
“No you don’t understand. I want you to have an abortion”
“Abort…” she stammered, her eye’s cupid. I mimed killing
as best i could; she didn’t take it very well. I could see her face
was heartbroken and that broke mine. But i cut my feelings off,
barricaded them with my own hurt, and the bitterness the hurt
had caused.
Annie and i didn’t say very much to eachother after that. A
while later we made to leave and say our goodbyes. Annie was
in tears and though i had a feeling i would never see her family
again i, wasn’t. And though i had expected her father would
mention the baby and the abortion, he never said a word.
Perhaps for fear of being misunderstood.
The journey back to Pattaya was long and quite subdued, or at
least Annie seemed that way. I on the other hand, was excited
and eager to be back in Patt. I missed the beers and the freedom
away from the restrictions of Annie’s watchful family. The
village they lived in was pleasant but there wasn’t much to do. I
looked forward to some drinking games overlooking the coast
with Steve and Omore–which i’ve decided will be his new

nickname. I was focused to work hard on the internet steroids
business and play hard after hours with the big boys. Expat
style.
“Are you okay, honey?” I asked but received no reply. I saw
she had her earphones in and figured she wasn’t ignoring me,
rather listening to that crap Thai music to be heard everywhere
we went to. I burrowed my head in the flimsy paperback i
bought from the market, a poorly written, light-hearted romance
first published in the seventies. Blocking out the background
noise and bracing my upper body on the bumpy road; holding
the book at chest level just inside the sunshade. Quote from
paperback
We got off on the Sukhumvit Road in Pattaya, Annie wanted to
get back to work so i hailed a tuk-tuk to drop her off. I
accompanied her and popped in for a beer, feeling parched from
the long ride home. When we arrived Lek was there in his fancy
shirt and stupid pink tie which i wanted to wrap round his neck
and throttle him with until he turned the same poncy color! He
stood staring jealously at me; ignoring him i moved to the bar
and ordered my own beer then took my favorite seat by the
front and gulped it down. Turning back i saw Anchalee was
changed into her sexy work clothes. She stood at the bar talking
with Lek who sees me watching the two of them and gawps
back; Annie turns and they both blank me. I stroke the residue
on the side of my glass then drink from it. Lek maneuvered
himself near to my table collecting empty glasses.
“You have good time Issan?” he said with sarcasm, his face a
rye smirk on his face.
“Yes, i did rather” I phased him out with posh English he’d
barely understand, “Gave her the… you know”
“Maaeng!” Lek screamed, “Why Farang not leave this
place?”
I hesitated for an answer, vexed under the pressure of his

intimidating glare and then said, “Because we’re paying your
wages,” I raised my glass and toasted Thailand. He made an
intolerant/ineligable sound i couldn’t spell, turned and waltzed
off with his head lowered – a sign of respect.
Back at her place after work Annie was sick and throughout
most of the following morning. But she still insisted on going to
Tiger in the evening.
“What do you think is the problem?” I asked her whilst
stroking her back like Aunt did with i as a child.
“Mau bpanha.” She said in words i would understand. But i
didn’t fathom what she meant so asked her to elaborate.
"My father take me to hospital, have operation"
i was still amazed by her English eloquence.
"What kind of operation?" i asked. She shook her head,
gestured to her stomach then puked up out the window onto the
railings. I told her she must not go to work that night; suggested
instead that we stay in and eat some spicy food, and drink some
wine; but to no avail. She would only stay off if her legs
couldn’t carry her or her limbs all were broken. If Ae was going
out, so was i. I was beginning to realize that this nightlife scene
was physically and mentally addictive.
After the previous hostile encounter with Lek i thought it best to
stay away from him and so escorted Annie only as far as First
Road. I told her to take it easy and not work too hard as i kissed
her goodbye. Then i took a walk along the beach, skirting the
locals and Farangs who all seemed to have somewhere more
important to be than i.
I was just finishing my drink on Soi six when Steve arrived and
greeted me with a warm Aussie salute.

“How did you like Issan?”
“It was great” I said positively.
“Did they throw shuriken stars at you?” he humored, making
Gong Fu sounds.
“Not at all, we got on great”
“Its not easy when you don’t understand them is it? God,
when i met Foon’s folks” he shook his head, snickering.
“Every family’s different Steve”
“Of course, i don’t mean any offence, mate”
“Of course not; none taken”
“So listen, now that you’re back we can get on with some
serious work.”
“Yes Steve, I’m gonna get cracking tomorrow. Get the
steroid sales website finished in a few days.” – I was being
optimistic “When that’s all done and dusted we can start selling
overseas”
“Awesome. Make some big bucks!”
“Absolutely” I affirmed.
“You don’t sound too keen, mate”
“I’m tired Steve, i just got back. It was a long coach trip
and…”
“Hey, don’t let me pull your chain. Go home, get an early
night, some good sleep and don’t let Anchalee deprive you of it
when she gets home.”
“Early night! Its almost ten now”
“Is it?” he checked his wristwatch “Crikey, i better get off.
I’ve got an important meeting over a game of poker but i’ll be
out running in the morning if you’re fit for it!”
“I doubt it but if i do…”
Steve supped his last and left. I went directly home with the
key to Annie’s place. I wasn’t going to meet him at 8.45am the
following morning; bollocks to that! I had to have a lie in after
this travelling.
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

I woke that morning with a headache from hell, a thirst and a
full bladder. Fumbling to find my way to the bathroom i slipped
and landed painfully on the tiles. The floor was drenched –
some-thing sticky all over. As i moved to the door my flip-flops
stuck to the floor like plungers. Feeling around to find the light i
am engulfed with a sense of foreboding – a premonition that
something bad had or was about to happen. I turned it on -
brightness blinding my eyes temporarily.
"My God," I see my hands are blood red. Beyond them i see
more blood and Annie lain on the floor. She is motionless. I go
to her and slip again falling; crying out in short felt pain, my
body landing juxtapose to hers. Leaning over carefully i pulled
her shoulder toward me. Her head rocked lifelessly to a stable
point; then, motionless. Her face was still, lifeless. I should call
for help. I go to the phone but something stops me, if only the
language barrier. I don’t know whether to cry or scream.
"She's dead" I say out loud, "Annie's dead" And then i
checked her pulse to make sure she was. That i hadn’t got it
horribly wrong. Part of me expected Lek and Kat to jump out of
the closet, fancy-dressed, laughing, screaming “Happy
Halloween” or some silly thing. But it didn’t happen and what
had happened? I wasn't sure.
I lay with her for what seemed like forever, holding and
stroking her. I picked her up but her heavy head rolled odd and
erratically on a limp neck. I sobbed hopelessly, mumbling
words of contempt for the God who’d let this happen.
In the bathroom i cleaned up, washing away the tears and
brushing my teeth. I got dressed; my blood-stained underpants, i
threw away. Reentering that abhorred dwelling, i went back to
the corpse i’d sobbed over moments before. Stroked and kissed
her forehead, cold now. "See you later, Tiger Lee" I said
through tears as i left the apartment.
I got on Annie’s bike. The key in the lock turned, the engine

started and i whizzed off down to second road. It was 7am, the
Tiger bar may just be closing. Lek would be finishing his shift.
I had to find him, tell him, ask if he knew anything about this.
"Where were you last night?" i tormented my hands around
his collar.
"What you mean, Farang?"
“Annie’s dead!” I said and his eyes glazed.
I looked closely at his reaction,
"You did it didn't you, you jealous son of a bitch." my
aggresive script was interupted as Nina got involved.
"He here all night!" she screamed as i battered his head,
hammer fist style. He shielded himself with his hands. More
Thai's heard the ruckus and came to intervene. Confronted by a
growing number of locals butting in and defending their own
without knowledge of the dispute, the heinous crime which i
accused Lek of; i saw sense and conceded... Lek's allies
intervened, escorting me away like a pack of dogs. As i backed
off, shouting abuse instinctively, they followed me all the way
to my bike and watched, shouting back as i drove off.
So if Lek didn't do it then, who did? And how could i have
slept through that; had i been drugged? It just didn't add up.
Why would someone do something so unjust to a beautiful
person like that? Where was her lover to protect her?
I rode and rode my bike until the petrol ran out in the middle
of nowhere. I was hungry but couldn't eat. Agonizing over what
had happened, my reality blurred into fiction. We had drinks,
went back to the room and made out as usual. I did a light spot
of reading then feel asleep. I'd been warned not to fall asleep
with Thai girls. You wake up to find them gone with all your
valuable possessions.
"Sleep with one eye open," I heard them say. But i hadn't
been robbed. Only my sunglasses were missing and i probably
left them by the pool.
I could still go to the Tamblowat. My head was telling me to

tell the truth. Do the right thing and own up to my part in all of
this. Volunteer my cooperation with the tourist police before
they got to me; consult our family solicitor on Regent Street. I
do not want to spend time in jail at the notorious Bangkok
Hilton. They have homosexuals in there and cockroaches. Six to
a cell would be terrible. I saw a program about it on T.V and it
looked grimy! I'd crumble in there i know i would.
I had to slow down, meditate; like i’d learnt at the temple in
Cambodia. Sit and think of nothing. But how could i think of
anything but Annie?
Somewhat ironically my fear of being punished is what
stopped me from doing what i should have done, i’m sure i'd
have been stupid if i did. I had to speak to Steve for one more
piece of his precious advice.
“Maybe it’s the Pattaya Psycho!” Steve said ly. “He takes
hookers back to his lair and then rapes and kills them” He
started to laugh and i got very vexed.
“If you won’t go to the Police, i’ll have to drag you there.”
“What,” I backed off, “You’d grass me up!” The thought
infuriated me; answering interrogatory questions to the police
about my relationship with a deceased Thai hooker was the last
thing on my mind. He lunged at me and so i kicked him low in
the abdomen. His lunge became a hunch as i struck his solar
plexus but it didn’t stop him; he still came at me and a scuffle
ensued. He had me round the collar; i slipped underneath him –
between his legs, eased his wallet out his back pocket and made
for the door. When i saw he was to pursue me i thwarted his
chase with a swinging kick just above the knee. He lost balance
before i spun a backfist to his temple.
When i left Steve’s he was either unconscious or pretending
to be. Walking down the open stairs i counted the money in his
wallet then hid it in the basket of his motorbike, under some
bits. I had no need for his personal documents but i did take the

$200s cash in Thai baht. I know it was a crap thing to do but i
needed the money.
Once again i found myself in a serious dilemma and was
completely solo. The best bet was to decamp completely from
the vicinity- flee the crime scene, literally... Drive back across
the border to Cambodia, view some Khmer antiquities. I could
book a last minute flight out of Bangkok but if they're already
looking for me by then, they'll nab me at customs. Maybe i
should write a letter for Winston's Solicitation, with mail signed
for delivery. Either way i’m still stranded in South East Asia. I
could email Josh. In desperation i turned to alcohol. What a day
it had been.
I woke up with the same gut feeling and yet another hangover. I
told myself it was time to quit alcohol for good. But that
afternoon i had a can of Chang in my hand and once again i was
on a direct course to my own personal oblivion. The first beer
tasted great, perfume to my taste buds but the next four gave me
acid indigestion. Thoughts churned round in my head like
goldfish in a bowl. I enjoyed a moment of clarity. My memory
tracked back to England; seeing Auntie Winnie lying
motionless on the bathroom floor, and the subsequent days
leading up to my departure from Britain. Traveling was therapy
and i’d travelled a thousand miles since that dire day, growing
as a person all the while. Now it was time to hit the road once
more.
I made the plan to leave by bus up the Sukhumvit. I’d rather
take my motorbike as i loved riding it and could have taken the
coastal route down to Ko Chang. The only problem was i'd have
to steal the bike, or i'd be paying 100 baht per day until i
returned it. So i returned the bike in exchange for my passport
then made some basic preparations for the journey. By 5pm i
was behind my schedule and thought postponing my departure

till tomorrow would be a good idea. It was possible that i'd be
arrested ambling around Pattaya for another 18 hours or so but
if i laid low the risk was minimal. There's not a massive amount
of Tamblowat in Thailand, except the Traffic Police -they just
stand in the road directing traffic during morning rush-hour
taking great pleasure in blowing their whistle- and the army. In
England a cop car cruises past every twenty minutes and
besides the English police are wankers. Just as my erratic
thoughts machinated my escape a white and Cornell red police
truck passed. I kept walking and watched it drive on, disappearring
in the distance. The sun was burning hot and the strap on
one of my sandals had snapped. I hunched my foot, hobbling a
little so it wouldn’t detach itself.
Once on Pattaya Klang i was in due need of a rest. I decided to
pay a visit to Nong’s massage parlour. She was sat outside in
her flowery Thai trousers and blouse eating rice. Nong invited
me to eat with her then commented on my demeanour; said i
looked glum. I braved a smile and said that I was fine. I asked
her what the things were she was making with leaves and
ribbons.
She said, “it’s for Loi Krathong”
“When is Loy Gatong!”
“Tonight… Many people. Have good time” she said. I asked
her where it was and she replied, “Where there is water.”
It was the first full moon after halloween; the party was in full
swing. Lanterns and fireworks lit up the night much like the
English’s celebration of Guy Fawkes capital punishment.
A crowd of five gathered to set off another lantern into the
sky. As it made an ascension cheers and flashes of camera
added to our merriment, consolidating our unity. On that night,
celebrating with the Thailanders, i said goodbye to Anchalee.
As is customary in many of Thailand festivities, ascending

lanterns and sailing boats light up the eyescape. Spirits, lost
souls are known to follow the light. I lit a candle on a little
paper boat, and set it sail. Watched it float away across the lake
- at the bottom of which it is said, lies Naga - Dragon - a serpent
god from ancient mythology who turns the water into rain.
It rained on Loy Gratong.
� � � �� � � � �

The absence of proof is not
the proof of absence
4
I scanned the scenic city limits as we ventured up
the Sukhumvit. The bus was busy and Chinese
like. The streets all the same, were redeveloped in
the pre-millennium rush, like the suburbs of Paris
or Düsseldorf. If you've seen one suburb, you've
seen them all. But who’s been to the Urb?
And would you want to?

It rained again heavily throughout part of the
evening, crashing on the bus roof and windows
and on the entire Sukhumvit. My mind was droned
with the voice inside my head. Memories from
recent times. Regrets of the past. I wanted to get
off the bus and turn back but something stopped
me, if only the door, closed electronically or our
hasty trajectory in the opposite direction.
Bangkok's Eckamai station was in the city and yet
separated out in nowhere. I had optimistically
hoped to get off in the commercial area and do
some window shopping but i didn't know at which
point to get off, or if we were even in Bangkok at
all or a suburb thereof. The driver and bus
conductor couldn't advise me as they didn't
understand plain English and showed no desire to.
I went to the Information desk and said i wanted
to get to the Kow San Road.
"Taxi Meter" answered the girl.
"Okay. Catch a taxi from the bus station. That
makes sense, doesn't it?"
I lifted my baggage on wheels and maneuvered it
around the dirty and grimy but rather colourful
walkways of the station; past market stalls trading
shoes, watches, wallets, noodles and more. Finding
the moto taxis i sought a rider to take me to that
destination and then asked him,
“Can i fit my luggage on the bike?”
“Sure!” he replied and took it from me, placing it between
his legs. Twenty minutes later we were on the Kow San Road
that famous street in Bangkok where you can buy anything from
tattoos to travel tickets to anywhere.
Pulling up and paying the reasonable fair for a cross-city
journey through dense traffic. Kow San Road was hot, humid

and bustling. The air was hot and clammy as i expected it’d be.
Spying an internet café i popped in to check emails and
search engine the city, seeing what it offered in the way of guest
houses and entertainment. Despite my few days lapse the
activity of my webmail was minor.
Win a trip to Laos with HostelPalace.Net
Cumslut Lisa does the business
Hey M8 its JOS
Clicking on this one it opened after 5 seconds
Howdy Mate,
How goes you. I’m in Ko Chang having a ball of a time
Seems these Thai’s now how to party! I take it your still
In the Chonburi area, is that right??
Get back to me and then we can hook up later
JOS
I’ve just come from there you idiot, i am not going back. I can’t.
I suppose i should have checked my emails before i left Pattaya
but i just never thought of it; i wasn’t thinking clearly. If
O’Sullivan’s about he could help me sort this out. Then again
he may just makes things worse. I replied with an email telling
him i was headed north. Actually, i said i was already halfway
to Chiang Mai just so as to avoid insulting my good old English
school friend by heading in the opposite direction, five thousand
miles from home. It was all i could do.
At 3.34pm the café filled with school children eager to play
games as their daily education was ended. The volume rose as
whoops and raised voices caused a cacophony of nuisance.
Critically distracted i decided to take a coffee break and asked
the attendant if it may be possible to leave my backpack there
until i returned,
“Keung shamong” I said. She looked unsure,

“You don’t have bomb in the bag?” she asked.
“Of course not… Why on earth would i blow up an Internet
café?”
She gave no reply, but nodded and pointed to a corner that
she deemed an appropriate place to leave my backpack for half
an hour. I placed it down, casually. Well it isn’t Iran after all. I
spent half an hour drinking soda in the sun then went back
inside and wrote up some entries in my good old travelogue.
Following Steve’s comments about Nana Plaza being the
official sex capital of the World, i thought it would be good to
check it out. I needed cheering up after all that’d happened.
“It’s a blinder,” Steve’s words echoed out my memory. I wasn’t
particularly in the mood for it but why not when there’s nothing
else to do. Besides i wanted to see her dance one last time.
“These girls are horny as hell!!! Tits, and ass and booty…,
you will not be able to abstain.” I chuckled at his words as i
boarded the B.T.S, Thailand’s brand spanking new and squeaky
clean underground network that whizzes around the big city in a
flash, quashing traffic congestion. It compares London’s Old St
tube station to a sewer rat’s layer. Still my legs tired from
walking up and down escalators.
Nana Plaza was bold, typically citified and rather
intimidating to a new arrival - playing it cool, ambling my short
time there. The typical colorfulness mirroring Pattaya. I found a
bar on the corner, Suzie Q’s. Indoor, air conditioned yet the air
was so smoky. I took a seat and bought a drink for the privilege.
The view in front of me looked enticing… a girl naked but for
her knickers, dancing and jigging her boobs around. She looked
directly at me as she did. I wet my fingers with beer to comb my
hair and returned her stare.
“She’s a beauty isn’t she?” A southern voice called out to
me. I turned and saw the gentleman interrupting my strip show
was Negro. He wore a flowery shirt and a ponytail, his hair was

eceding.
“Yes,” I hastened to respond then kept on watching, my eyes
were transfixed on her rear. After her dance, to a scanty round
of applause she climbed down from the podium. Come and
dance on my pole darling. I thought. As she passed she asked if
i wanted to buy her a drink. I suggested that if she worked there
she shouldn’t have to pay for her own drinks, (when i worked at
the fish n chip shop we’d get all the food we could eat) but she
didn’t understand. I figured i’d wait a little while; there were
more than enough girls here and i had all night. Besides, my
thoughts were on Annie. Subconsciously, i still loved her and
seemed to be having a really hard time getting over the
shocking incidents that had happened a few days earlier. No
matter of the superabundant adult entertainment that i was now
surrounded by - the hot, horny chicks that would entice money
from you trouser pocket, i was torn. One of the girls dancing
came over to talk to me, “You want play pool?” she asked. I
shook my head and she walked away.
“Not your type?” the black guy presumed obtrusively.
“I’m not here for sex” I said blankly and he laughed.
“Why are you here then?” I didn’t bother to answer but put
the glass to my lips and drank a little. I wasn’t in the mood for
casual conversation with strangers. But shortly after, as another
dancer approached me, smiling at my glum face until it altered,
i cheered and talked a little more.
“You like dancing?”
“I like drinking” I joked and swigged some more.
“I work for a magazine,” I showed her my two front teeth,
“I’m researching for an article.”
“A magazine huh.” She seemed impressed rolling up some
tissue and popping it in the spittoon. As we talked the song
changed, the mood lifted with the tempo
“You live Bangkok? I come your room”
“No thanks. I’m just passing through. I’ve got to catch a train

in a few hours.” She looked at me then walked off.
“Where about in America are you from?” I asked. He was
older than i and his maturity showed.
“Oh, I’m Canadian,” he said and then told me that he came
here every three months for holidaying. “There’s a lot of
Americans come here too, a lot of people from the states.”
He told me he met a guy in Suzy Wong’s who was in
Vietnam; “had this great scar on his leg, walks around Bangkok
wishing someone would put a bullet in him. He can’t leave the
place… His buddies died here and every year he comes back.
It’s an obsession with him. This poor guy didn’t even want to
go to Vietnam the U.S drafted him in there, You’re going tomorrow
we’ll pick up you up the letter read; otherwise it could mean jail or
worse. Sometimes they’d disappear in the middle of night. A lot
of guys skipped over to Canada, across the border to avoid the
war. Some of them stayed, never returning to the U.S.
“You got your two types of soldiers” the Canadian
continued, “Your first has that survival instinct that kicks in the
minute they step out there in the jungle; like Rambo! The other
type is overwrought with fear. You can bet, up on point that guy
is wishing someone would just shoot them in the head and get it
over with!”
I could only listen as he went on, “you’ve made your peace
with God, okay. Give me the worst!
“This guy was point man, and that’s how he survived,
because he was point, all his buddies behind him got tagged,

they’re laying dying all over the place.”
”What’s point?” I asked as i watched his thumb forming the
shape of a gun.
“When soldiers were deployed on a mission trekking thru
no-man’s land, they’d send one man out ahead… that guy was
point-man and behind him the rest of the squadron would
follow. The point guy leads the way; he has to have his eyes
open. He’s walking slowly following the path and then whoop,
he sees a trip wire. So he tells the rest of his team and they
know they got to step over it. He’s got to have his eyes open.
“In jungle warfare the gooks would dig out a hole in the
ground, put spikes under there and cover it up so you can’t see
it… If you fall in, splat you’re dead meat! Or they’d build a
wall of bamboo, spears that flung up in the air... Trip the wire
and its gonna nail ya!”
“I saw that on Rambo too”
“And they shit on the spikes, man. If you get nicked with just
a little graze on your arm, its gonna be infected for weeks.” He
shook his head, almost laughing at the thought.
“So our guy sees the wire… he stops, waves back for the
team to hold their position,” He raises a gesturing arm, “But as
he stopped one of the new soldiers was nervous, runs out to him
as if to say, “What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?” And in
doing so the rookie tripped the wire!
“Our guy took a dive backwards and the wall of spikes
caught his leg; his leg jammed the trap and it stopped the
spikes! A quarter inch in front this rookie’s face,” He put a flat
hand up like a wall, ”all the pointed ends covered in shit, like
this close to his friends face.”
“So it saved his life…” I shook my head, amazing.
“Yip. He said he couldn’t walk for three days.” he continued,
“They’d walk into an ambush; exchange serious rounds of
ammunition. After a while the Viets would fuck off, retreat
back. The Americans would secure the area, climb up the little

ocky mountain put the American flag on the top and return to
base with a “well done boys lets go back to camp and drink
some beer!” he took a swig. By now i was becoming bored with
the conversation. I came here to watch the strip show not to hear
morbid war stories.
“Then the next day they’d come back and the Vietnamese
would be back up there laughing. They’d have to fight the
whole thing over again, going up and down the same mountain.
“It was their habitat; they knew how to fight in the jungle.
The Americans didn’t.” He said. I was bemused. I liked this
man, was listening to his conversation and believed what he told
me as gospel; but i would presume in war any ground obtained
would be secured and guarded. And why would you be stood on
the top of a mountain laughing when you could get your head
blown off like a patsy?
I went to get some fish and sticky rice outside as the dancer
prepared to get back on stage. Soaking up the alcohol and
smoking one of the Vet’s cigarettes as the city honked around
me. I spent a moment thinking about Uncle, his involvement
with the Nazis. The compelling excerpts from his diary i had
read at the beginning of my journey. I had come to believe
whilst in Vietnam, that the war did not end in 1945. Did it hell!
What was the Korean War and the Indo-Chinese wars if not a
part of that whole worldly war. And were they not a product of
certain countries quests for dominance of the world itself? Just
as they were ultimately a byproduct of Colonization. The din of
motorbikes vibrated along the street.
When i returned to the strip joint i bought a beer at the bar.
The bartender asked me a question i could barely hear over the
acoustics.
“You been talking with that guy? He’s crazy” said Cactus
Jack. Cactus Jack then introduced me to the rest of the
entourage, here to appreciate the cabaret.

“Hey, Snake. This kid’s been talking to Crazy Coll.”
“Is he really crazy?”
“Really. He’s a loon!” added Snake. Lee. Billy. “Sorry what
was your name again?”
DAVE!(2)
“Lets set the record straight...It was them; the U.S Marines,
some married but away from their families, stationed out in
Hanoi or Saigon, under orders to rest and recuperate. They were
the ones who started it all.” He was referring to prostitution -
adult entertainment for men. “This kind of thing,”
“They bombed the shit out of Lao and Cambodia, then came
down here and fucked all the women” added Bart
“They say Lao is the most bombed country in the World"
“But Lao’s tiny…”
“It’s a beautiful country”
“You don’t realize the power of the Communist regime- and
their genetic bond. If we were fighting Azians then we’re at war
with Azia.”
I waited at Bangkok station for the train. It was quiet and not
the least bit intimidating. I remembered when the Polizei woke
me up at the station in Berlin. After i’d been robbed, asking for
my ticket, disrupting my few precious minutes of sleep. Then i
thought about my recent discourse with the Vet at the strip
show. He said that when the marines returned to the States they
were made to feel ashamed that they’d been in that war. Folk
called them “Baby-killers” and the whole time no-one told them
why they were there. “They never ever told anyone that they
had been in that war." Not even their own family.
At 5.4am, tired, drunk and dehydrated yet buzzing with the
energy of the city, i stepped onto a Thai train for the first time. I
almost collided with two ladies carrying trays of food in

opposing directions. Then another passed with snacks rolled in
paper. I wasn’t sure if they were for sale then and there or were
in fact on their way to the buffet car. Choosing a seat and sitting
i waited for the snack lady to follow. I was peckish, i fancied
something savory after the beers we drank. I flagged her down
and asked what the package was taking the time to untangle and
open it.
“Pancake” she announces as i finally got the wrapping off.
Fishing for 10bht as egg noodles came the other way i bought
those instead. The pancake lady hovered wanting a sale. I raised
my empty hands signaling my money had all been spent.
As i sat up to eat more sellers passed calling out their
offering.
“Water for you?” asked one but i’d already bought water for
the journey from the stalls outside the station.
When the train began moving the sellers stopped. I was
pleased; i’d not sleep with them calling out their menus but
anyway i was not sleepy yet. Gazing out the darkened window
as we made our way out of Bangkok, the scenery flew by in a
symmetric blur; behind the trees as strobe. A woman adjacent to
me was sleeping with a cloth around her face, her son lay flat,
resting his head on her lap. The sight reminded me of when
Auntie Winnie and i used to travel by bus to the coast.
I sat up awake but there was people sprawled out sleeping all
around me. I did notice a towel on the floor but on a closer look
see it is actually being used as a blanket. `Denim jeans were
partially hidden under the seat and a toweled torso and head
under the other. I’m sure the floor’s clean. I’d like to lie down
and snooze like everyone else; a bed at third class price with
just a little less comfort. These little short fuckers fit perfectly
on the two berth leather-seat cushions but Farangs are generally
a foot or so taller and my legs protruded awkwardly out into the
aisle. What could i do? Hunching up- trying various positions in
order to get comfortable; none of them worked.

I gave up and stood up, negotiating my way to the buffet cart
to buy a drink. Men sat smoking cigarettes in the carriage ends;
out the doors which were wide open!
A sign read SEATS FOR MONKS and indeed, below it
was an orange-clad skinhead, meditating. I walked on down the
aisle; people gazed up in curiosity at the foreigner in 3 rd Class
but their stares did not insult me. I reached the end of carriage
eight and found the sliding door closed. I wouldn’t dare try and
open it. God only knew where it led.
I stood alone, balancing and pissing out the open door of the
train traveling at 90kph down rickety tracks, rattling like a
rollercoaster ride. There was no handrail! I held on tight to
something and perversely fantasized about a rail traffic
accident; death by train. If you were suicidal or partial - you
could jump. And as i considered for a moment, ending it all to
be with Annie our souls forever locked together the wind blew
so strong from the force of trajectory, it made my eyes water
and gave me chills. After all this i was not quite suicidal yet i
think the rest of Thailand most surely of been. I won’t ever
complain about the unnecessary E.U health and hygiene
regulations ever again
I closed the door with the flimsy handle and zipped up as we
slowed down to a halt. Breathing a calming sigh; returning
carefully, irately, as my heart beat faster i found my way back
to my seat opposite the lady with the towel on her face; her son
was sitting upright now.
A view caught my eye out the mostly blackened windows.
We’re in a suburban town and i could see a typical Thai street.
Shop shutters, cars and a noodle stall catched my attention, then
a bamboo bar with glitzy, beckoning lights. I considered getting
off. Exercising a little travelling freedom. The view from a train
always moves me. It all looks like Disneyland.

The tiredness now was taking over. As my brain slipped into
a sudden slumber my neck gave up and my head thrust forward
wakening me up. I wriggled around on the germ covered seat,
sleeping for five minutes before a stiff pain forced me to move,
and shuffle some more. I awoke only to droop to the other side.
I was cold and wished they’d close all the windows. Only
bringing short-sleeved shirts to the tropics seemed sensible.
Why were the fans on when the windows all were open; to let
the smell in presumably; and the mosquitoes too?
I had to get up and try my best to close the windows but they
were wedged in with grit. Getting my recently washed sleeping
bag out would get it dirty. Guess it’s a spot of cool air i could
do with. Oops there goes another smell from Hell. Is that
human? See this is why i hate travelling by train!
I really want another coffee. I suck a mint and think of dieting. I
hoped the food sellers get back on at the next stop.
The wonders of traveling the Orient. .After about an hour we
stop somewhere. There are no signs at this train station and i
wouldn't see them in the pitch black anyway. Sellers get on
calling out and parading noodles, waffles and coffee! I stand up
to count my left over change. He passes me and i tap his
shoulder. Coffee in a bag. Coffee in a bag! Fifteen baht. Wake
up juice. Its strong, instant 3in1 stuff - not piping hot though it
should have been when brewed – you have to watch them. I sip
it. Passengers are woken up but no one else is buying anything.
The lady with a towel on her face has risen and disembarked. I
remove my footwear and put my ankles up to rest. More sellers
are passing. Someone please buy something, i feel greedy.
Coffee is good for you. The coffee woman passes a third time
calling "Cafe lorn” in a rhythmic accented mumble. I guess it
makes sense. They may not have seen or heard her the previous
two times, sleeping still and after they’ve been wakened by her

early morning call, they would like to buy a cup now. But
nobody does.
I could fancy a second cup but then i’ll just need to go again.
Due to the foul odours coming from the toilet cubicle i had
released my bladder into one of two sinks next to the toilet
while everyone was sleeping. I didn't realize it was blocked.
I need a cigarette but have run out so i go to the end of the
carriage and borrow one from another passenger to calm my
nerves. Inhaling quickly i hang on for life. I look and the door
handle is infact broken. Carriage 11 jumps a fraction of a
second before carriage 12. I fantasize about the train derailing.
Atleast in a seat you stand a chance. This is worse than flying. I
smoke faster and inhale as much as i can. Then i quit and flick
the butt you know where - which is illegal and a fineable
offence.
Ok scary bit over, my heart thuds from nicotine rush. Was i
concerned an Inspector would come along, catch me smoking
and throw me off the train?
A young man and woman walk up and down outside
shouting the same thing over again. I don't know what they're
saying. Maybe they're selling stuff. Baffling.
Daylight has returned and lit up the vivid green countryside.
Out the dusty window i see rooftops with pointed ends.
Gardens and junk and flags. Girls cycling to the school. Ugly
factories Billboards picturing the King. We seem to have slowed
down a bit; approaching Ayutthaya. A tannoy blasts out in
Thai. I don't understand, it is probably not important. I lie
sideways in an L shape and fall fast asleep.
Bangkok to Chiang Mai is a twelve hour journey and it could
become rather tedious. I could have taken the bus and watched a
movie. Equally, it feels like one of the best journeys of my life,
leaving Bangkok.
I notice ants on the floor crawling around a waste bag. How
did they get on board? Star trek personal projection? A man

touches my leg as i read my travelling in Thailand book.
Looking up slowly from under the rim of my cowboy hat i
anticipate,
"Feet on the chair, smoking, pissing in the sink, rape and
murder?" I prepare my defence. He smiles but i don't know
what he's smiling at. I just look at him and he walks off. I take
this opportunity while stationary to try again at the sliding door.
Its open now and i am in the buffet cart, all old and wooden and
rickety with naff chairs. I feel like i’m in a western. Just goes to
show, the Azians made the west wild. I bet they can change a
1,000 baht bill… They can and they do, the barmaid, a
gorgeous, tanned girl. She eye’s me coquettishly. There’s
probably a brothel in first class!
The exits are open on either side. Carriage eight is juddering
to and fro, rattling. As i dash through the danger i see a glimmer
of light out the corner of my eye. Gaps in the upholstery. It is
the Wild West and i’m in it. "Lets eat before we get to Texas!" I
indulge in some fantasy roll play. Ants patrol the table. A
uniformed man is eating also – not sure if he’s train staff or
tamblowat. Play it cool, cowboy. Don't show any sign of having
anything to hide.
I buy a brew being especially nice to the staff.
"This is dandy" sat on a death train hurtling towards Chaing
Mai drinking beer at six in the morning and pretending i’m on
Back to the Future. I spare a thought to my backpack, alone in
Carriage 12. I hope no one is going through it. I crave another
cigarette. I think i’m going to stop smoking.
Staring out the window across the tracks at Ayutthaya Station i
see another Thai train like the one we’re on. Some palm trees in
giant wooden boxes, a bin full of rubbish that a kid just threw a
can into and more fast food. A policemen crossing the tracks
about to board the train catches my attention… And another
anxiety attack begins. What did i do, why did i run? Are they

coming to arrest me?? I’ve got 500bht in my passport, a token
bribe to lay off any twisted Police; but i’m not sure it will
work… I wish this had never have gone this way. I’ve been left
in an awful mess. I need to take a poop.
I’ve been sat in the toilet for 45minutes with my foot against the
door and nothings coming out. Looking down through the
pisshole i can see the ground rushing past below. We’ve slowed
down a bit and seem to be approaching another station.
I unlocked the door and peered out the window. We were
indeed approaching another stop…I cautiously passing and
joined the cue for the door, alongside a small oldman more
likeamidget. As we got nearer I realized the little guy was not
waiting to get off. He was stood smoking and as he flicked his
butt and made to leave he gave me such a stare it made me
wonder if he wasn’t in on it.
Disembarking at Lopburi there were station guards so i stopped
and pretended to search my gear. The grassy verges and shrubs
to the sides of the tracks were too inviting to an exhausted soul,
so i dropped my backpack and lay down; seemingly oblivious to
those around me. I dozed off.
Awaking again, shortly after from a sorely missed chill and
an itch, i took out my sleeping bag and wrapped up; still airing
out my hairy chest and armpits. My neck ad face felt dirty,
sockapog. Around me, one or two Thai’s went about their
business, unloading a van. They didn’t notice, or didn’t bother
me sleeping in the shrubbery.
The sun woke me up an hour later as it reached its height; as
did the Bangkok commuters waiting for their train and a man
sweeping leaves. Once awoken i thought it best to move,
packing up my things hurriedly i lumbered them out of the
station park and off along the main street. I turned off down a
not so busy road with more patches of greenery and considered

esting there another hour or so, in shade of the early morning
sun; i was so exhausted, falling asleep as i walked. My plan to
sleep for twelve hours on the train to Chiang Mai had been
unessasarily interrupted. Perhaps i need not of disembarked
from the train. I would never know, but now i was stranded in
Lopburi. The effects of the alcohol coupled with sleep
deprivation were turning my mind negative; the euphoria of
Bangkok city had worn off. I felt wasted, sick, tired and ill. My
skin was clammy and dirty. I could have gone to a cheap hotel
if this place had one, but on i trundled aimlessly, a gadabout.
Through the ancient kingdom which blends with nature and the
new. Statues stand tall and crooked, staring back at you.
But shortly after i saw the beckoning ruins of a temple, and
climbed across them to the refuge at its center. Collapsing on
the ground i wished would swallow me up, i genuflected. What
had i done, why did i run. I couldn’t answer that question and
offered no excuse albeit for a serious situation tha had
overcome me. What could i have done; if things were different
would it have changed the past? I passed out, slept sound for
another hour or more, entering back into my dream -whatever it
was- and embracing the euphoric effects of slumber.

� � � � � � �
The Dragon-King’s temple is
flooded
5
Awaking refreshed in spirit if not in body it took a
moment for me to gather my surrounding then

after a few moments more i left, desperate to
relieve my thirst. On leaving, climbing the same
decaying foundations i had come upon, i saw the
signed name of this ruined temple; Wat San Paolo
- another comparable similarity with the Spanish
language. It took me back to my time in Russia.
The time when -as an inexperienced traveler- i
made some careless mistakes that brought me
trouble later on when the cold kicked in.
Belligerently determined to continue i’d trundled
on when what i should have done, for my own
benefit, was stayed and rested.
The Wats of Lop Buri built with red and black
firebricks – made of stone that look like they were
mined from Mars - around 200 years ago during
the reign of King Narai the Great, are revered in
Thai society. I couldn’t possibly deny the spiritual
coincidence that had led me here. After settling on
the coast in Banglamung with Annie for four
months my relentless, vagabonding lifestyle had
recommenced. I gulped down water and kept
walking east and south along side streets, stopping
at a fried banana stall to snack.
Hot and tiring i stopped on the old Wat Bandai
Hin. Suffering from acute exhaustion i sought
refuge surrounded by this deep structure. After
months of traveling and a life of introspection i
sought to find my own self once more. I though
perhaps i ought to meditate like the monks in the
hope to be enlightened, but experimentation in
Buddhism would conflict with my strong Christian
upbringing. I would not seek to expose
Catholicism in such a contradictory sense. Bowing
down at the centre, shielded from view, i asked

myself; did God do this? May i hold him responsible? I’m not
sure what i wanted to hear.
Before me where bits of broken dolls, Buddhas and what-not -
token items there for the purpose of consecration.
Perpetuating through the afternoon, passing Wat Phra Prang
Sam Yod temple i found the Lop Buri monkeys, loads of them,
climbing vertically up telegraph posts, on cars and rooftops
altogether scavenging food. A taxi driver stood amongst his
kind with a slingshot, took aim and laughed as they scarpered.
From out of nowhere a ladies scream aroused attention, “He
stole my handbag! The monkey stole it”
An older local man rushed to her aid, but no one’s going to
catch that monkey now ascending the temple wall. He looks
back and laughs, portraying a broad chimpanzee chin, then
opens the bag and spills its contents out, shaking it over his
head, somewhat oblivious to its contents.
I still chuckled as i replayed the event in my head strolling
aimlessly on across the tracks and down another soi and over a
bridge; through an archway was a little village with yet more
traders. Finally i came to rest at an old temple ruins. A sign
indicates it is the ruins of Wat San Poalo. I step-stoned over the
remaining foundations then lay on the grass, using my top-sheet
as bedding. I felt dirty as, itching and uncomfortable. It was
only when the rain came, warm and wet. I stripped off and
allowed the warm water to cleanse me, a natural shower.
I checked the time on my waterproof wristwatch; the
shorthand was pointing north by north east, the longhand – east
directly toward the 7 which is where i headed next. It was then
that i got lucky and found accommodation i couldn’t refuse,
Noom.
I wandered around exploring the guest house - my new habitat
like a hamster given a new hut. Inside the owner’s living room

were photos of his daughter's graduation. She looked pretty. I
asked him what she studied and he told me that his daughter
was a qualified teacher. He seemed most proud.
I passed through the living space and into the lobby, sitting
down on the bamboo chairs to eat breakfast- a black coffee and
sugary rice thing. I enjoyed some light reading selecting texts in
English from the book exchange and browsing through each of
them, inhaling the crisp air whilst yawning.
Lopburi seems very easygoing. Exactly what i needed after
all the stresses and strains of Pattaya with its hectic nightlife and
dense concrete connobation. Today i uncovered was
Wednesday. There was a market on the street outside Noom.
Food, music and whatever other knick-knacks you could find.
And early each morning they burn all those excess calories off
with outdoor aerobics in the communal square before the
pictured King; just like in Beijing. I stood and watched from
afar and did some of the techniques to the music.
A guest surfaced after i’d been up for about two hours. He
was clearly foreign, European and after a brief exchange i
learned he was from Switzerland; here visiting his girlfriend. He
went on to tell me that he’s here for three weeks, travelling
alone, and he’s going to Buffalo Bridge where they made the
famous World War film.
“They were building the railroad, right through there. A lot
of the slave labourers died” he informed me. We both agreed
how shocking it all was. And fascinating.
I love it when strangers ask me personal questions and waffle
on about their own exploits simply because i speak English.
After our chat i contented myself with some reading, and
enjoyed the comforts of the guest house.
The wonders of being a traveler abroad.
As i read more backpackers climb out of a taxi-meter.
They came and sat down on the barstools in this makeshift

estaurant. New arrivals in their little 18-30 club planning their
short-stay down to the last, with the help of their trusty Lonely
Planet - the travel guide too heavy to carry. I can’t help but
overhear their loud jokes and unrealistic travel stories; blatantly
made up jargon that they just happen to find witty or
scintillatingly entertaining cause their own holiday has been so
boring. One of them just burped. Sorry but backpacker jokes are
old and contrived and not what i would find particularly funny;
half of them pilfered from Backpack All Over. Thank God not
everyone wants to leave the sanctuary of their own home to
venture out and explore parts where other tourists have
definitely been before.
I cheer myself up with an OO’ pessimism. On a roll i turn to
these Americans and their stupid accents. Could they not alter
their tone to par their current country? That is, after all how
dialects originate. Do they think they're still in the States and
can get away with sounding like they do in America?
They will be in a state after some of the local moonshine!
Does everyone else in the World not find there accent irritating
like Dame Edna on your laptop all day long?
"Ayuthhaya sounds good." says one.
"I just like going to places that are really like..." she stumped
for words other than "...somewhere that i'll like."
"I was thinking the same thing, totally awesome"
Its not awesome darling its awful.
"I wouldn’t want to go to somewhere like Vegas when we
could go to Cali."
But you can't go to Cali unless you take a plane.
"Oh shoot me." I could do that.
Later that evening, sat alone on my bed with a bottle of rice
spirit and some still Red Bull – the perfect mixer and various
smoking paraphernalia feeling glum. Every time i drank from
the can, my mouth came out in a rash. There were these horrid

spots all around my lips. Assumingly rats sneak into the depots
and urinate on the merchandise. My room had holes in it - those
giant air vents; so voices and music flood through the walls. I
can hear a whining outside; a cat it seems, one possessed by a
demon, voicing a sound like a wailing child. When stroked cats
purr, but i can’t get my hands on this one. She scarpers every
time i go near. It’s a little unnerving. I could go out, yet tonight
i fancied an early one. What would i be doing in Britain now i
wonder? If i was in England i'd be out with mates - on a bender
in Brixton but i’m boxed in on my own feeling sorry for the
World. Bored i decide to take a walk, find a bar and maybe a
girl to talk to…
The streets were peaceful; desolated by the rain. Shop shutters
shielded doors and windows. Food trolleys stood vacant A
musty smell of fried food hung still in the air. Chinamen
wearing oriental hats passed without glance. I kept my gaze
lower than theirs (a sign of respect) and kept moving. Hearing
moto-bikes approach from behind i stuck to the path, getting
lost a little then finding my way back on track. The time was
now 12am. Ha toom. The monsoon upon us, starts to downpour
again. The rain so heavy it flooded the streets. Taking shelter
under a canopy in a little shopping arcade i smoked a cigarette
sitting on the stone table and chairs, in the middle of which a
tiled chessboard was placed. I played with imaginary figures
against a surreal opponent. Each move calculated until the King
was cornered; and check was mate.
1am. I stopped, enticed by food odors from an eatery still open;
shutters at the front and seats and plastic table-clothed metal
tables spilling out onto the pavement. Glancing briefly at the
menu in English i ordered noodle soup with pork sitting down,
opening the lid of a blue box containing forks, spoons and
chopstick. Also in the centre of the table were a jug of water

and a dish of chilli soy sauce. The waitress come cook brought
me a glass full of ice and i poured myself a drink.
Rain dripped down from the canopy above the eatery. The
roof bore no guttering so the water fell with force, splashing
heavily on the walkway, wetting Thais buzzing around below.
The lady served my food. Noodles and soy bean sprouts with
meat added to the top, the pork balls boiled in the pot with herbs
and some other ingredient i’m wasn’t too sure about. Chewing
the fatty meat i hit a bone. It is soft and chewable and clearly
supposed to be eaten, otherwise they’d not have put it in my
soup. I added too much chilli soy. I’ve got a feeling it is going
to come straight out the other side - best be heading home. The
roof of my mouth was on fire and my nose ran. Grabbing some
extra roll i left, assuming they wouldn’t have paper in the guest
house toilets. I paid my bill –a mere 25bht.
Walking back briskly in the rain, i tried not to waddle like
man who really needs to go. Pain bit my abdomen. Estimating I
have about three minutes before it starts to get messy I made a
dash for it, but one can’t run with excruciating stressed bowels.
Stopping, stood still as the pain jabbed down my anus,
Back at the guest house i fiddled for a moment with the key
now stuck in the lock, twisting till it almost snapped.
"Stupid bloody thing" i cursed as it finally opened and urged
myself to hurry into the communal bathroom.
With seconds to spare i made it, pulling my pants down and
positioning my arse safely over the toilet just as my bowels
released, spraying a flurry of brown excrement indiscriminately
into the bowl. What a relief! Ridding my stomach of unwanted
food i needn't have eaten. Pork undoubtedly plagued with
unfriendly bacteria… There's still more to come, this was
verging on diarrhea and i would surely be sick if i could only
get my head over the hole. But it felt good to release it, and my
stomach pain subsided.
Damn foreign food.

I just know the latrine is going to clog up when i flush. The
drainer made the size of a plughole – it’s going to be a squeeze,
like trying to get chocolate sponge through a keyhole. I may
have to stick a hand in and break it up a bit! Just let’s hope it
doesn't flood.
I pressed the flusher; it swirled around and started to go
down then clogged as i expected making an awful glugging
sound. Little bits float around disgustingly. I pressed the handle
another three times but it would not budge. I decide to quit
while i am ahead. If someone notices let’s hope they blame the
fat German. I made for my room, leaving the toilet quietly.
The next morning i woke up again bright and healthy. I was
pleased to see my turd had gone and also that some new faces
had arrived.
I go over, "Hey girls, planning your trip?"
"Sure are!" they say in unison.
"Maybe i can... help ya" I get into role.
"We were supposed to be heading down to Koh Tao." the
cute one said.
"We were supposed to be in Koh Tao" the other one echoed.
In fact they’re both cute.
"We missed our coach" said the cute one
"I've just come from there" i said interrupting.
"Really!"
"I got off the boat this morning." i nodded.
"Get over yourself! Was it good? Did you enjoy it?"
"Did you go diving?"
"I dived... snorkeled" I say flapping my hands as if i were
breast-stroking. They confer between themselves about the
wonders of diving the deep blue sea. My ex girlfriend just died
last week and already i’m chatting up girls.
As it happened, that little chat cheered me up. I lulled around
in Noom all day, resting and recharging. Later i got talking to

Alec an American English tutor headed for Sukhothai with a
friend.
“We got to catch a bus to Chiang Mai”
“Chiang Rai”
“Right, Chiang Rai that’s what i said”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Alec asked.
“Actually” I hesitated “I was going to go to Sukhothai”
I was waiting for Chuck to offer me a lift when i heard the
ringing bell of an ice cream trolley. I ran out to buy myself an
iced sandwich with rice, peanuts, a little Thai fruit - like lychee
and carnation cream drizzled on top. Frozen cool but already
it’s melting.
Jerry and two people who i'd say were definitely European were
chatting as i made myself a coffee. I hovered around the
bookshelf then joined their boring conversation.
"What do you think, Dave?" asked Jerry giving me an
opportunity to break my silence.
"What do i think..." i took a moment to prepare my answer,
“Its funny that you ask actually... Just the other day i met a Thai
lady who was with a foreigner. "Falang" as they call us."
I thought he was referring to the toilet.
"Farang!" Jerry shakes his head. "It means Frenchman,
right,"
"No i do not think" pipes Pierre
"Yes, yes it does," I insist and Jerry agrees, "Its from colonial
times. And that's exactly why they hate us because we
conquered them."
"Its true, even your own wife can hate you."
"Especially!"
“That’s why, when you ask them for something they pretend not
to understand, then call for back up.”
“It’s a hustle that one”

“Oh excuse me,” Pierre fakes a high pitched accent, “me no
understand, let you speak my brother”
We laughed in unison.
In the evening i relaxed reading that really heavy travel guide
from Mr. Tan's bookshelf. I overheard those two girls talking in
the double room next door to mine, their light voices traveling
through the paper thin walls and air vents, snippets of their
conversation distracting my reading.
"Ich haß ihn beim chatten mit seiner Thai-Ex erwischt. Er hat
ihr erzählt wie wir Sex hatten- Ist das nicht eklig? Ich fühl mich
so einsam plötzuch..." said the blonde girl who i believed to be
Norwegian.
"Ach was, das arschloch verdient dich garnicht. Vergliss
ihn!" her friend spoke more like German or Dutch. I guess
they'd come to ride motos and snub the English still about some
grudge over the channel isles. Give me a Thai girl to talk to
please. I rummage in my Thai translation with acoustics
practicing my converse. The word of the day today is Melloo.
Melloo, Melloo, Melloo, Melloo. It means I don't understand.
I think i'll use that a lot. While i was lost in thought the girls
conversation slipped into English.
“I’m so tired from lack of sleep… being sick”
“Wasn’t it something you ate?”
“I don’t think so”
“And you’ve been sleeping all day. Maybe you should go to
a hospital”
“I’m feel better now”
“That’s good Laura. I don’t want to be traveling while you’re
ill”
“Sorry”
“I know its not your fault. It is just that if something..;
anything could happen”
“Do you know what happened when i went to use the toilet?”

My ears pricked up, “Someone had been in there before me and
clogged the whole thing. They hadn’t flushed and i tried to… I
was retching!”
“My God that’s disgusting.”
“I know. I had to wake Mr. Tan up. He got the plunger out,”
“Oooo. Yuck”
“It was… GROSS!”
“I bet it was that weird guy.”
“And they’d used all the toilet roll wiping their ass”
The girl on the right shook her head. I blushed
“What a waste of paper”
The cat that whined like a little girl last night came to me and
brushed itself against my leg, pressing her head into my toes
and meowing as cats do, as though in a kind of despair.
I sneezed.
Before leaving Lopburi i wanted to see those amazing little
monkeys who inhabit the northern end of town, taking cream
buns and sticky rice as gifts to feed them. Across the tracks Phra
Kaan shrine pays homage to their little monkeys in the form of
a depicting statue ten times their size. I see them feasting and
fighting over the food i dropped them. Then i casually caught a
tuk-tuk toward Sukhothai.
Picking up some literature on the way i learned that
Sukhothai was a former Kingdom of its own and the old capital
was in Tambon Mueang Kao twelve kilometers outside the
modern city. The old city now in ruins was part of the Khmer
Empire. The buildings of Buddha built in stone were aged yet
impressive and seemingly timeless.

Before leaving Lopburi i’d checked accommodation on the
computer at Noom’s. Got a guest house lined up, once again a
fraction of the cost of those in Pattaya.
I got there around 7pm and checked in. After my shower i
went to eat, but i didn’t have to go far; staying in the guest
house and eating food cooked by the landlady, Fon. It tasted
good and filled me up after a journey, fasting. Her husband
Daeng was also to eat so i thanked them both then retired to my
chalet to sip warm soy milk and whisky. This room was
decorated in white and grey patterned tiles. There was a long
shelf spanning the room and a raised platform which housed the
double bed. Above the bed were two stone air vents in typical
oriental design- figure of eights. All were covered with
mosquito nets. A row of clear, blurred tiles let in daylight at
dawn, as did a window. The curtains were knotted in the
middle, the fall off resembled a hanging fish. There was a light
and a fan. Basic and very cheap.
I wanted to wash. But the soap was at the 7eleven. The sink
drained straight out onto the bathroom floor. And a friend
stayed with me, an enormous cockroach coloured dark amber
with V-shaped antennae, which act as an extrasensory radar
similar to a T.V Ariel. It’s unfortunate enough to be spending
the night in the room with me. Outside voices come through the
windows opened to let air in. The walls are paper thin or should
i say the ceiling is paper thin and on top of that a rain-proof cast
iron roof slopes diagonally down; protection against monsoons.
You find yourself warm, dry and exposed to all surrounding
noise - traffic, dogs, voices and general clattering usually
caused from the routine dishwashing and tidying up. I snoozed
in a pool of sweat.
Unable to sleep i went out for a walk down. Passing the usual
vending kiosks, and the oriental streets. Sat by the river i
smoked a cigarette. And listened to the crickets.

Sukhothai was subdued for some reason and i wanted the
congregational gathering that there had been in Lopburi.
The next day I was sat out on the wooden veranda, shaded from
the sun in full view of the flowers.
“Sawasdee” came a friendly voice,
“Monsoon” I replied, cheering up.
“We like raindrops falling from the sky” said Fon, “flowing
through streams, wallowing in ponds, crashing down waterfalls
and on into the sea”
“Then back up into clouds.” I completed her verse.
She smiled a pretty picture of happiness then went about her
chores. Cleaning out empty rooms as guests had left.
There were some watching T.V. I went over to introduce
myself but they showed little interest in my comments. I guess
they're tired and probably have loads of Farangs making
conversation simply because they come from the same part of
the world and therefore speak better English than the locals. In
fact i've been able to communicate with practically all the
Europeans i have met in Indo-China yet when i was in Europe
hardly anyone understood me. I think they pretend to not
understand, not to speak English simply to snub us.
Just when i was starting to twiddle my thumbs i met Raymon.
Ray had long curling black hair tied back in a ponytail. He
looked like a Spaniard and was wearing a white shirt of Indian
design. He had a stern look which softened when i said hello to
him as we passed in the yard. We began talking and became
friends, realizing we had a lot in common. He was unhurriedly
making his way north from Koh Samui.
“I was in Ayuthaya; beautiful, beautiful city”
“Really, i was going to stop there,” i lied.
“It was awful. I had a guest house by the river”
“Awful. Cool” I repeated. As Ray and i were both going the
same way we agreed to travel together

At Sukhothai station Ray and i waited for a bus north to Chiang
Mai. A gang of American tourists arrived by taxi, talking loudly
in their very own accent whilst packing a load of luggage -
backpacks and bags onto the bus- squishing Ray and i together
on the back seat. “I don’t see why they don’t just get some
leather strap-ups and call themselves suitcasers.” I said to Ray,
“At least that way they’d fit better into the compartments”
We plowed on completing the journey that, weeks earlier had
been interrupted by the suspicious behaviour of the train police.
This time there were no hiccups and after a long and rather
tiresome bus ride i found myself sun lounging in the famously
cultured northern city of Chiang Mai. An old and ancient city
close to the countries northern borders… And to China.
In the center the ancient city sits - one square kilometer
across - enclosed in walls and bordered by a moat. Within this
old defended fortress, the streets weave and bend like Seville in
Southern Spain, a place i had visited with Auntie Winnie. Here
there are plenty of guest houses, bars and restaurants,
reasonably priced.
Ray rented a motorbike and gave me a guided tour of Chiang
Mai. The Seven Hundred Year Stadium, night bazaar and the
Airport Plaza. Ray had travelled extensively in Thailand - alone,
with girlfriends and had visited this city more than once before.
He told me a bit about the North, the province of Chang Mai,
Pai and Mae Hong Song. I took an opportunity, sat eating
Thalis at the Royal India to question him about the border
crossing. I asked about the landscape and crossing procedure
without revealing too much about my predicament and the
reason for my vested interest. Ray had ridden the border route
and reported that there were military signs with warnings not to
cross. They read,
Fallangs keep out. We shoot!

He said if i tried to cross illegally they would shoot me!
"They would never shoot a Westerner." I contradicted. He also
said you could walk across the border at the northern crossing
into Burma at Mae Sot.
“Walk across!”
“For the day”
We chilled in the shade from the afternoon sun at a bar in the
centre of Thaipaya, drinking beer, smoking and laughing at the
idiosyncrasies of the world and the peculiarities of Thai
customs.
After eating we went to Walking Street which ran between
the Thaipaya Gate side of the moat and the night bazaar. A
bustling area with an avid nightlife i would consider a red light
district. It was similar to Pattaya’s only not as immense and
without the coastal aspect. As it was Sunday, the famous
Chiang Mai market was on that evening. It offered an array of
quality goods, gifts brought by hill tribes to the northern city
from as far as Burma or China; or handmade by local tribes.
Ray was Christmas shopping for his sister’s family in Australia,
enquiring as to the price of engraved, silver cutlery or
personalized plates. I spied a stall selling weapons, knives and
knuckledusters which i really needed. I bought one,
“Why do you want one of those?” Ray asked.
“For self defense” i insisted to his amusement. He may not
have appreciated the danger of travelling solo; walking around
town on your own risking being assaulted by a lady boy, or
ravaged by a stray dog! Not that it was likely to happen here of
course, this place was very chilled out… And it was easy to
congregate - make your own religion.
“Wow!” We partied, absorbing the charm of the female
hospitality there to entertain. Afterwards the bar-girls we'd
befriended dragged us to Spicy, the nightclub by the moat -
drunk and you won't float – it was so precariously positioned
people reportedly drowned in it every new year.

“I think they’re just too lazy to fence it off”
“They’re Buddhists,” Ray commented “they believe strongly
in reincarnation. When you die in this life, you live on in the
next”
“I know that!” i said, “I still wouldn’t want to fall in”
At the entrance to Spicy was a food stall, a bouncer with a
truncheon; and on the wall by the door - a blatant sign that read,
No Ladyboys
Inside it smelled of halitosis.
The girls summoned our attention by bopping to the cheesy
music that the DJ struggled to mix; doing sexy dance. Ray was
loving it, i amused myself with yet another beer and then was
dancing like Travolta later on. I look back and Ray’s talking to
a bargirl, relaxing in the club after her shift was over. What a
pleb! I could see he was putting on the charm. I carried on
drinking, checking out the local amusement and bopping along
to the tunes.
Later, Ray had gone off, probably with that girl he was
talking to. I made my own way back home, weaving my way
through Thapae’s labyrinth of side streets until i found our guest
house.
When I returned to the Hostel, opening the door I caught Ray
and this young Thai girl sitting erect on the mattress doing what
appeared to be the G-spot jiggy, or the Kangaroo shuffle! Ray it
seems also picked up tips from the Love Guru’s How to Boom-
Boom Thai Girls Handbook
“What the f..?”
“S. s. sorry!” I hastened to leave, closing the door.
“Its alright mate, we’re just getting warmed…” The door
hinged closed drowning out the din. What’s he playing at, the
pisshead. I wasn’t going to get any sleep till that butterfly
girlfriend of his got out of our room. Until then the three of us
are all being kept up.

I popped across the street and grabbed a Singha from the
lobby of the hotel, chatting with the night security about finer
beers and late shifts and how warm it was outside even at such a
late hour. It was hot and i was dehydrated.
The following day was the first cloudy day in a month or more.
The polluted sky had fallen; a gaseous mist swamped Chiang
Mai... Later the rain would come, but only a drizzle.
We made plans to head for the border over a sobering English
breakfast. I could have stayed in the city and eaten more foreign
food but Ray had to go on a bus excursion - all inclusive Visa
Ride. There was a space left in the minibus so i negotiated a
free lift to Chiang Rai.
“Sorry about last night”
“It was a little embarrassing”
“We weren’t shagging!”
“What were you doing?” I almost pried.
“She was giving me a Thai massage” Ray answered
“I thought that was shagging!”
“No. It was healing therapy. Her uncle’s a monk at Wat Po”
“Oh, that explains it” I said feeling enlightened.
We left it at that. Her uncle was a monk from Wat Po. I mopped
runny egg up with a half slice of toast.
“Are you tired?” I asked Ray as i saw him yawning.
“I only got two hours sleep! i need matches to keep my eyes
open”
“That girl kept us both awake last night” I complained.
“Mate, you should have just come in. We wouldn’t have
minded.”
“But i would Ray; besides i don’t think i’d of slept with you
two going at it.”
“There was no need for you to stay out all night!” Ray said.
“Its not a big deal. I went back to Spicy and enjoyed myself”
“Did you pull” Ray asked.

“Pull what?” I returned.
Returning to the Airport Plaza i spent some of the remaining
money i bagged from Steve; bought some new camping gear. A
tent, sleeping bag, compasses to take on my rural journey and
make it more pleasurable.
I was excited; it felt good to hit the road, especially after
sharing a room with the love guru and his short-time girlfriends.
It was time to move on, besides i felt like i was being watched
wherever i walked. As if an unbeknown entity was reading my
mind, watching my every move. I wouldn’t want to stay,
standing out and get myself arrested and deported.
I told Ray i was heading further North into the jungle when i
got off in Chiang Rai and he gave me his phone number to
contact him when i returned. I got my camping gear checked
and packed.
“Why did you buy a tent,” he laughed, “you going
camping?”
“Yeah, trekking in the jungle.”
He looked at me like i was weird.
“We can’t all stay in posh places every night” i defended.
“You might die out there…”
“Yeah, right” I said sarcastically.
“Seriously! You’ll need a guide” he insisted.
A guide; i thought for a moment. It was a good idea and figured
to conduct the help of Hill Tribesmen once i got out there.
“So where are you going to go; Lao?” asked Ray.
“No. I’m coming back here. I have to get my visa from Mae
Sai and then i was thinking of going to Bpai”
We partied like hell on our last night, drinking at Spicy until
4am, and then awaking at eight. The minibus driver banged on
our door and we fumbled into the taxi and out of the harsh early

sun. I just remember Ray on his hands and knees checking
nothing had been left under the bed.
The journey took three hours and we stopped halfway at a
service point by the side of the road. I ate some cold egg rice
and we both got water,
“So how long do you think you’ll be up there?” Ray asked
inhaling on an L.M.
“A week, maybe two” I gave the most accurate answer i
could without saying, “I’m crossing the border and never
coming back!” …And well i may be back, if things don’t go
according to plan. I won’t find out till I get there, will i?
“You be careful. Its jungle, hot and arid; there’s mosquitoes,
snakes, scorpions.” He shook his head “Its not like the English
countryside.”
“I know. I’ll be fine.”
“Get a guide, there’s plenty of tours you can book in Chiang
Rai for thirty quid or so”
“Okay. I will, for sure”
Get a guide. The thought was there again. I’d made some
enquiries before we left the city, when passing one of the
touristy shop outlets the day before; the Thai tradesmen sat
patiently behind their desk jumping into action as soon as a
passerby showed an interest n their trek, badgering me with
questions… “Yes mister, trek very good; when you want go?
Two day or three day? Only for yourself…”
I trekked for miles through Poland, Russia and Mongolia. I
think i can handle it. What i really need is a map; an
orienteering map not a road map - showing trek routes and
footpaths for those who fancy an afternoon stroll into Burma.
But there aren’t any here i can find; none for resale.
Most of the commuting routes are now roads, concreted
over, built upon, towns now - the rest is hostile.
“They’re boarding the bus, Dave.” Ray stirred me from my
thinking dream, “Quick, or they’ll leave us behind”

When we arrived in Chiang Rai the bus dropped us off near the
river. I waved a heartfelt goodbye to Ray as the bus departed.
Feeling the heat as i watched it fight its way through traffic and
out of sight. I was back on my own again in a new city, one not
as big or bustling as Chiang Mai.
I followed directions to Lotus Guest House and checked in
for one night, paying a measly 80bht for a single room
surrounded by luscious green palm trees. Needing a good rest
after our late night partying in the hyped up Chiang Mai i
declined early and read three chapters of a love saga.
The bed was itchy and i had trouble sleeping, as seemingly
invisible little insects bit and clawed me. Even when i turned on
the light i couldn’t see them.
The following morning i went out to find a good place to eat
breakfast, praying in Wat Jedyod temple then eating in the little
Thai restaurant opposite, sat on the bar outside feeling joyous.
Ray had been a good travel companion, the first since liaising
with Jut in Cam Pha on the Vietnamese coastline. Now i’m
back to eating alone again, conversing with myself, staring
down the street.
I had decided i could use a guide though i doubted i would
find anyone willing to take me across the border illegally.
However, some local skills focused around the lay of the land
could be useful. All i have seen so far in Northern Thailand is
thick overgrowth and concrete; jungle too baron to pass
through.
I went to consult the trekking guide who advised me that it
was low season, and that it would cost 1800bht to trek; i’d be
paying the price for two. But the trek did include white water
rafting, elephant riding and a trip to see the Longnecks – who,
by wearing large necklaces grow giraffe-like necks. I tried to
explain that i was not at all interested in those touristy things,
but i did seek an educated knowledge of the jungle, routes and

means to trek without sounding dodgy or illegal. He looked at
me like i was crazy.
I could have booked a trek in Chiang Mai for half the price.
I reckoned it would be way too touristy for my liking and left it,
saving my money.
The next day i took a cruise up the Mae Kok river to Taton – a
small town walking distance from the border. It seemed the next
best destination, west of the notorious Golden Triangle.
The fare cost 350bht. The boat was narrow unlike what i’d
somehow envisaged; myself and the other passengers sat at
opposing sides, converse to the river flow and to our direction,
upstream. Our shoulders rested on one side of the boat, our feet
on the other, softened by fitted cushioning.
The water was rough so we had to disembark and walk part
of the way through the jungle paths, stopping at a bar - and at an
Acha village where elephants carried tourists and tourists took
photos of elephants.
We arrived in the quaint town of Taton as evening fell, the
day now winding down, the sun dropped behind the mountains
still lighting a big white Buddha sat high by yet another temple
- the boatman said the temple was Wat Taton.
The fellow passengers and i had all become acquainted on
the four-hour cruise, and though some – a Korean couple and
another Farang – went to find a good quality Guest House in
this expensive village, the rest of us stuck together and sought a
place to eat.
We settled on an eatery just up the bank from the port,
overlooking the Mae Kok we’d just come up. The sky was now
dark and the warm lights from across the river -mirrored in the
water- looked epic. We all commented on the picturesque view.
“It is like Leon” one said.
After dinner, drinks and conversation, the others declined to
their rooms they had booked at that very same establishment

where we had eaten whilst i made excuses and set off into the
dark. I had my camping gear and aimed to find a rural spot,
resisting the temptation to take the easy option and rent a guest
house for the night.
Settling on a spot with a little important privacy i pitched and
crashed. It was unexpectedly cold and quite uncomfortable,
asleep in between a bush and the back yard of a house. I’m sure
i heard rats crawling around, and dogs barked through the night
but i was safe and sound in my new polyester tent.
Waking the following morning, as the sun rose i felt fresh and
elated, breathing the clean country air. I had another lazy day
though i was outside, sat by the river, near the grand, metal
bridge overhead and the landscaped, consecrating rise. It can
feel hard to relax in such public view. And travelling can be
tedious; so i wasted some time... filling the void in my
afternoon. I ate a meal at the same restaurant we had visited
after last evening’s boat trip. There, i saw the eastern European
couple that came up with us on the boat, they said “Hi” and i
returned their greeting.
On the way home just before dusk, after a long, easy day i
bought a drink from the stupid old woman on the corner. A
milky pink thing with floating white bits. I took it back to my
tent to have as a nightcap but when i drank it tasted puke. It was
eight months out of date. I checked the best before date again
thinking it must be a misprint and swore to take it back the next
day, whilst retching. I downed a shot of Thai whisky then
waltzed in their shop the following morning to demand my
money back. I figured she'd be tricky and sure enough when i
asked for a refund the haggard little woman made out like she
couldn't understand a word i said.
"This drink, past the sell by date" I put the bottle in front of
her and pointed out the seriously expired use by date but she

simply stood there; playing dumb. I opened the lid and thrust it
in her face with such pace it very nearly gushed all over.
"Smell" I insisted.
"Falang" she calls and out pops this old man from behind the
T.V appearing to have been woken up from daytime slumber.
The argument continued, myself against the two of them
culminating in their demands that i leave their store and my
threats to call the tourist police. Finally after some negotiation
they refund my money at which point i got o the fridge, taking
as many of those pink drinks as i could carry back to the till i
then dropped them on the counter.
"Out of date" I persisted "Throw in bin. No good" I made
puking sounds. The woman started yelling and the man
brandished a stick. I saw my moment and made to leave
noticing a crowd had begun to congregate outside.
"What happen?" asked a semi-English speaking Thai, "What
you do?" I offered a simple explanation but it fell on deaf ears.
Mistaken for a shoplifter i started to run, fast without looking
back leaving the shouters behind. There was a dirt-track straight
ahead. I'd camped there last night so knew the way well.
Moving hurriedly under stress i collided with one of those damn
pancake stalls on wheels, the driver obviously at fault for not
looking where she was going. Two dozen eggs spilled and
smashed on the pavement and me. I stayed stunned like a giant
mushroom in an omelet, exposed to the foreign curses of these
normally pleasant traders.
In hindsight, now was the time to retort. To stand up with
egg on my face and apologize, try to explain. But i didn't. I kept
on running evading capture like a fox to the hunt, pursued by a
few overactive locals taking the law into their own hands.
I trundled, weighed down by my backpack and hampered by
cheap flip flops. As the mob followed more joined in the chase.
I turned to look back, judging the distance between us. Leading
the pack was a Thai Muay fighter, bare-chested and wearing

vivid red shorts with tassels. In that brief moment i counted a
mob of over a dozen assailants. I was unperturbed. I saw my
way albeit acclivitous. The temple high up on the mountain,
shrouded in mist. Wat Taton, my sanctuary.
Ascending the grassy hill hastily i was left with a choice of
routes; either stay on the grass or take the old stone steps which
led to what looked like a cave. I took the steps. On either side
were great balustrades that segregated the temple stairway from
the jungle. I noted that they had ancient writings on them and
were bulwarked by figurines, stone monkeys and Buddhist
priests. Their sculptured expressions no doubt frowned on me as
i pushed my way through overweight tourists who took
photographs and ate ice cream. Monks dropped their alms and
gawped at my rudeness.
Once at the top i was in the Withan and took a moment to
observe small reliquaries housing statues of Buddha neatly
decorated with flowers and candles. Aromatic incense filled the
air. A white elephant carried a chalice... the bone of Buddha and
in the centre of it all, a giant golden chedi.
It looked plastic but later i learned that it was plated with
gold. Overwhelmed by it all and exhausted from the climb i
stumbled, by now my pursuers had caught me up. I rolled on the
floor as they kicked and spat at me. My cowering body they
battered.
“Farang” they shouted with hatred as if i verily deserved
punishment. The Thai Muay boxer waved clenched fists in fury.
Others bantam, raised their little bamboo sweeping brushes, and
whacked me with them. Bits of dust and dirt clogged my wind
passage. I coughed almost choking and put my arms up in an
effort to protect my face. Tourists there to observe the ancient
relics turned and pointed their cameras at me. A crowd had
formed and some were cheering. I felt humiliated, alone and in
pain then one particularly ugly woman prodded me in the
gonads.

Turning to Buddha, elevated and framed in ivory elephant
tusks i hastily repented and prayed for help. I needed
absolution, quick! Finally the monks intervened, assisted by one
burly American tourist who kept saying, "Take it easy!"
The mob dispersed as quickly as it had formed. I stayed
stunned, humble and bruised. Looking down i saw my bloodstained
shirt, and bits off egg white all over my trousers.
And all because of that pink milky thing.
I sought refuge at the temple for two weeks. The monks
hospitably obliged. After a spell the Monk Superior -as i called
him- suggested i relocate. Slightly offended i felt i was obliged
to adhere to the wishes of the monks yet it worked out for the
best anyway. I was in fact relocated to a Buddhist school fifteen
kilometres north east of Wat Taton; a large building which bore
an uncanny similarity to the Shaolin temple of Shanghia. The
school was situated high up in the mountains and most of the
surroundings was tropical overgrowth.
Our neighbours lived off the land in huts made from
bamboo, wood and iron. Why would anyone want to destroy this
in favour of grimey inner-city blocks of flats? During the day,
local farmers -the majority of them female- worked in the
Paddy fields - the kow farms; farming rice, braving the heat.
I spent my days walking the grounds of the temple, listening
to flowing water, the sounds of nature and children playing.
"Hello, bye-bye" they giggled and hid, seemingly most
intrigued by the Farang passing through as they played around
their homes.
Walking encourages fluid thinking and there was plenty of

that around here. My mind locked on to the other Buddhists,
and i was thinking a lot. I felt safe here but i was also unnerved
by the various little statues scattered around the gardens; some
looked straight at you, others away. I swore i could feel their
gaze upon me, just as you would a living, breathing person.
The areas surrounding the monastery were peaceful and calm
and after a while i ceased stressing at the remoteness of it all.
Yet nothing exciting ever really happened here. Time was spent
sat in an uncomfortable position staring at the wall for thirty
minutes. An important concept of meditation is to nullify the
mind to alleviate boredom and suffering, hence one achieves
enlightenment. Students meandered around, meditating at least
partially all the while. I did my best to do this without
confliction between Buddha and the Christian deity and its
teachings which Auntie instilled in me as a child.
In the meditation hall the absence of walls decorated the room
with mountains and sky. Short gusts of wind swept through
chiming little bells, each one engraved in Tai-Kadai. The roof
was held up by l-beams. On either side, teak wood tables fitted
with benches, i imagine held a banquet in old times. The grain
of wood had become so worn down now the holes and crevices
etched a face with a crooked grin.
I made a good friend here, Monk Tae; he showed me the
routine a monk must follow. Every morning we’d grab our little
metal bowls and go out, along the street to the caterers. There
they’d fill our bowl with food for breakfast.
After eating i'd sneak behind the wall, sit on my log and
smoke. I don't think the monk superior minded me smoking, if
he did he never said, but i preferred to be discreet about my
habit. I'd waft as i exhumed the smoke so they wouldn't see it
rising over the wall.
Monk Len spoke the best English and educated me in

Buddhist wisdom and philosophy. They seemed to stress great
importance in my conformance to their rituals and lifestyle,
paying respect to Buddha whilst living there with them. They
also saw this task as something for me to embrace and enjoy
which, i indeed did to the best of my ability; but i wasn't about
to shave my hair off.
The Buddhists see Christianity as a bogus, fabricated theory;
an idealistic conception for a disenchanted World. But to devout
Christians those views are heresy. We believe meditation is
dangerous, bearing the soul to spirits consumed with evil that
have become lost outside the eternal vortex; trapped in a realm
frequented by the undead. They, from the Christian viewpoint -
reveling in the occult - are verging on satanic yet appease
Buddha. They will never be converted.
I slept under the big female Buddha, sitting seductively, topless
with her hand on her crotch. Cloths hung and blew in the
howling wind; i wrapped up in blankets sheltering from the cold
night and dreamt about Annie.
One night, i was lying half-asleep; trying my utmost not to
meditate and was witness to an apparition. Eerie and isolated,
filled with spirit native to the land. I swear it was Jesus ghost! I
knew it was him because he wore a cross of thorns on his crown
and was dressed in old fashioned attire. Then the apparition
changed, metamorphed into something timid and fragile; God as
a child. I would never dare tell a soul this for fear of being
humiliated, but it happened and it was a sign; a sign of Buddha.
The Almighty Father, who if had lived for a day in the life of
a humble villain would surely walk with angels over the ashes.
God is a gift, rejoice. You never walk alone with he. In him we
trust. I crossed my heart, dried my eyes and recalled Auntie’s
wise words. “As you get older and watch your friends die,
wondering what you believe in just adds confusion”
I remember waking in the morning, recalling my dream.

Condensed mist dripped off the rooftop like melting snow,
steam in cold air. There was a feeling, a presence of Buddha or
someone. It was cold and spooky but also beautifully spiritual. I
was lost in the jungle, stranded in nature's labyrinth, basic
predatorial danger surrounds me. As my eyes led me, Annie
was there before me, shining silvery in the mist, we talked but
she wouldn't understand; she turned away. When i tried to touch
her i woke up.
There i was back in this time, in this place of worship alone;
in a hall of meditation. I saw the early sun push through
breaking clouds and at that moment i decided – rightly or
wrongly – that it was time to leave.
� � � � � � � � � �
A drop of water shall be returned
with a burst of spring

6
As i Packed my bags preparing to leave, Monk Tae
had done his best to waylay me finding questions
from his limited alien vocabulary.
"Where you go? Please Mister, now not good
time to go..." I placed a hand on his shoulder and
bid him farewell. He seemed deeply saddened by
my departure. The glum look in his eyes brought
out emotions i may have suppressed. “I’m a
traveler so i don’t do goodbye’s” i quipped.
As i was leaving the Headmaster was there,
standing under the arch, bold amd gawping. I
turned to face him and waied. He waved back
shewing me away. I knew he was a bigot who had
never appreciated my presence, as a Briton on his
campus. I felt nothing but was glad. Glad to be on
my way, back on the long road home.
Walking along the road i reminded myself of my

life and the current situation. All that business in
Pattaya, the bus up here with Ray, the boat, that
silly incident shoplifting that had led me to Wat
Taton. Passing through town i felt like a convict
just released from Her Majesty's Prison.
I stop and ask ladies from the Acha tribe if they
will guide me to their camp. They nod and wave
handmade bracelets for me to buy. I decide to go it
alone, following the path north of the Big Buddha
sitting overlooking the Mae Kok river. I had to eat
and check my emails so the first stop was the
Internet café – thank Buddha Taton had one –
opposite the boat landing.
Nothing from Ray. Nothing from anyone. I
checked on the Thai immigration site. The fine for
overstaying your Visa is 500 baht a day up to a
maximum 20,000!
Fuck, i was disappointed. After several days away from
civilization, living as a monk and meditating the hours away
with a niggling hope within me always, it was disheartening to
return and find no electronic mail awaiting me. No lead, no
guidance. I had to go it alone, as i had planned; i knew i could
rely on myself. Packing as much food as i could carry i ventured
out into the wild again, pausing to pray for a moment before the
shrine of Buddha.
I was guided, twisting and turning through the jungle using
my compass for navigation through thick, dense and unduly
hostile terrain. The sun, breaking through the clouds, shone
down on my head and shoulders.
After two and a half hours my sanguinity of encountering a hill
tribe village seemed overly optimistic. Perhaps i’d been to
zealous heading straight back out. But its like when you take a
bus, the first half of the journey takes ages then the latter end
goes quicker and when you get to the outer city limits time

stands still because you know you’re there. Right now, i didn’t
know where the hell i was.
A Gecko moves like a whippet over the dried leaves and
branches that form the ground, like a giant ant, right to my feet.
I almost feel afraid of the little guy.
The food I’d brought with me had run out. I drank stream water
to quench from the dry heat, an excruciating heat but also a
cool, cooler than the cities the jungle and its natural shade.
I waded through thick overgrowth, following a path that
gradually turned to nothing. On my hands and knees i crawled
through a gap, brushing off prickly bushes and into long grass.
Upright again and walking on two feet i accidentally trod on
something, a living breathing organism underfoot. Tsssss! His
big and deadly tongue rattled the noise - like a plastic baby’s
toy. I shifted my weight to the other foot and continued on in a
fluster, my heart skipping a beat, primal fear trembling through
my skin. The noise was of a snake. One step and yet more
jungle hampered me. Glancing down below i saw the slimy coil
of the serpent, its body twisted, indented, its head wide and
hostile; King Cobra ready to strike. Ouch! Before i could think
he propelled forward, his venomous tongue piercing the taught
skin around my unprotected ankle. This lethal lizard attacked
instantaneously.
I fell into the overgrowth, the prickly pined branches holding
me, stopping my fall. The snake slithered away; i lay shaking,
pain and poison in my leg. A gash, an open wound above my
ankle. There was no pain at first, only shock, but then it came.
And with it a sense of fear and chaos. I was immobilized, could
only lie there, to heal my wounds. I had stood on the snake by
mistake and the snake had bitten back.
I awoke from a dream, a light sleep made deep through
overtiredness; typically acquired by a novice treking the hot,
arid jungle. I opened my eyes and my ears; all my senses to a

heightened point of awareness. My head felt heavy from
sleeping sound in the sun, my ankle ached and the whole left
side of my body was stiff and sore. I wriggled to a crawl
severely in need of fresh water, moving slow like a snail,
stopping to rest against trees in the shade. My tongue and lips
were glued together, my mouth was so dry. I heard a rustling,
movement nearby. Delerious, paranoid thoughts invaded my
brain. Tiger, elephant? For a moment i winced as the hair stood
up on my back. There it was before me...
At first i couldn’t believe my eyes… I awed at the site before
me. The wooden planks of the steeple, on the top a crucifix; and
those defined gold-plated rings. “It can’t be!”
Bemused, staggering i circled the building, sat quaintly on
the edge of the Burmese jungle until i came to a sign that read,
Donated By those happy folk of Wald Freeden
It was; and underneath that it said,
This church was moved and restored here on this
pot and was opened on 25 th December 1999 by Sir
Habd dama
13 months ago. And the same i assume was written alongside
in Thai. Its impossible i thought i must be hallucinating. This
cannot be the same church that was my sanctuary in the forest
of Wald Frieden almost two years ago.
A young girl tending to the garden noticed my stupor and
came to ask if i needed help. I sat down and said, “nam” resting
and drinking the water she fetched me. Then i asked,
“Yellowman?” putting as much emphasis on tone as possible in
the faith i’d be understood.
and thinking about those happy months i had spent three years
ago when i began my travels in Germany. Sailing over the
Rhyne, trekking in the mountains near Kassell, and this same
church that had been my sanctuary then. Twinned with a twon

in Indochina, they seemed to have rebuilt the structure here in
this spot. Quite amazing! Or perhaps something more divine.
She took me in to this Christian house inhabited by the people
of the Karen tribe. The Karen being one of the original hill
tribes, descendants of the Azian settlers that have traveled
nomadically since the early hours at the dawn of civilization;
closely related to the tribes who traveled to South East Azia,
and then north to baron China as the Earth’s climate warmed.
Seeing i was quite sick and snake-bitten, suffering from a
mild tropical disease, sunstroke and dehydration, the nurturing
persons of the tribe took pity on me, immediately taking it upon
themselves to nurse me. Their young girls brought me water to
quench my desperate thirst. My sunburned body they cooled
and cleansed with a wetted towel, removing my clothing down
to my tiger-skin boxing shorts. They fed me sweet and sticky
rice, pressuring me to eat when i really wasn’t hungry. Feed a
fever, starve a flu... And i could barely refuse.
Smiling, talking in sweet tones, they willed my quick
recovery, and through my ailing incapableness they catered to
my every whim. For a time i thought i’d died and gone to
heaven. Living, breathing and resting in this hill tribe tree
house.
After a time there i fell in love with Fon, the best English
speaker of the tribe, the girl who wore white, whose name
meant rain.
“I’m Christian” I told her about my stay with the monks.
“Have”
“What have?”
“Have Krisptiean. Wan Athit”
I found it interesting that the Thai day we call Sunday is Wan
Athit and Athit is also their name for the Sun.
“My god” I had instantaneously thought of something,

voiced it out loud, “it must be Christmas. What day is it today?”
“Saturday” Fon answered.
“No the date. Number, you know number!”
She didn’t know. I thought rationally, my diary.
“This,” i said, holding the book in my pack. I pointed to the
day then spoke in Thai, “Wan nee”
“Wan nee. Ye sip si” Fon said
“Twenty four, twenty four; its Christmas Eve”
“Kritamas”
“Tomorrow” i said to Fon, “is Jesus’ birthday!”
“You believe in Jesus?” Fon asked in her dialect.
“Sure, but i guess i can’t be truly sure”
“You believe in Santa Claus?”
As part of my healing process, i got up and dressed the next
morning. Sunday, Xmas day and we celebrated Jesus just
befojust as i had done in Germany, two years past. This time
there was no meal, Christmas dinner or pudding. Not even
coffee and cakes. Sitting around on the floor inside where
families, women and children playing with toys. As i entered
each and everyone of them turned their curious little faces and
stared at the foreigner. I was the only occident there.
Smoked herbs were delivered as offerings. A Burman monk
sat at the back lead the service, read in Thai or Sanskrit. His
saffron robes distinctive in their color, differing from the orange
worn by Thais. He waved, inviting me to come for a blessing. I
declined on the grounds of my ailment but the rest of the
congregation willed me on summoning me up so i carried
myself to him.
There was no carols sung or communion wine, only humming.
I spoke with the monk, bald and chubby. Asked him a
little about his country and he, me the same. He seemed
intelligent, though spoke in typical Pidgin English. He showed
me the religious books he’d studied and showed concern toward

my health.
“Merry Kritamas!”
After out chat and my fumbled return to my seat on the floor
the sermon began once more. A bell chimed; the buzz of voices
and laughter. More humming then began a chanting like song.
Ladies, who are unwelcome in Buddhist monasteries sat
praying, their foreheads pressed into their clasped palms;
smoldering jossticks or flowers wedged between fingers.
A bored baby bemoaned, shrieking above the din and outside
older children played chase. The whole service seemed somber.
No snow, no rain, unlike the Christmas i familiar to myself.
There was food when we returned from church to home. Plenty
of it - rice and pork and egg. As Fon and me ate together we
talked about religion, about God, Buddha and each other before
them. One of the men brought me a pipe – medication for the
pain and the healing. It made me high, droopy, I drifted off to
sleep.
Opium tastes of sarsaparilla and flowers; or banoffee pie. A
warm feeling runs through my body and everything looks
brighter. My pain is numbed, my fever subdued but my head
feels heavy. I’ve been awake, toking on the chillum for hours. I
want to smoke more yet i’m not sure if i ought to. Everyone else
is asleep. The cicadas rattle in the jungle and the sky was swept
with stars.
Branwell Bronte was a junkie and so was Major Tom. High on
the effects of pure opium
lit a smoke and chased the dragon. I found myself on the edge
of a field filled with beautiful white and purple poppies.
Papaver Somniferum.
"Opium poppies!".

Sala had a young lady with him, who had seemingly appeared
from the jungle wall. She looked to be in her teens, but these
girls look so ageless, i couldn’t be sure.
His lady-friend’s mouths was also black from chewing betel nut.
He asked if i enjoy a smoke by miming the act of pipe lighting.
He brandished some joi –as brown as his skin and instructed me
to follow him down to a dwelling.
Following the path lead us down and under the canopy of trees.
There were three huts built side by side. Sala led me inside the
first. I see scattered carelessly on the dried ground certain manmade
paraphernalia. Bamboo pots, spoons, scales, a furnace and
a plastic container with a label that read ACETIC
ANHYDRIDE. Engraved on the wooden bench were the
numbers 999. I supposed this was an illegal jungle refinery, for
the purpose of making dangerous narcotics. These fanatics were
turning pure opium into heroin or morpheine!
Sala brandished a bamboo pipe, and smoked - toking it all
up. He then refilled the chillum and passed it to me, a big grin
on his face. I returned his wink and placed the pipe to my lips…
Two foreigners approached from along the dirt road.
“We're from the U.N International Narcotics Control Board,
here investigating the illegal production of opium in Myanmar.”
I thought it was a joke. Sala smiled and gave me the nudge, he
pulled out his gun, as did his sidekick. The two looked frantic,
they weren’t armed,
“Calm down, there’s no need for weapons” said the female.
I stepped into the fore and said “You should get yourselves out
of here before things get nasty” in my brashest Cockney accent.
With all of that excitement calmed down we declined to a hut
further up the hill. The trees here were taller, and the air tasted
different, fresher. Perhaps it was my imagination. We sat

around outside smoking, a kilometer from where we met the
Narcotics people. Sala and his girl’s whispered conversation
dubbed only by the crack of bamboo on the fire - the warmth
felt like the evening sun – and the amplified sound of the gecko.
I smoked a cheroot then went to sleep. The peace of night was
disrupted by the sound of gunfire waking us all with a bolt.
The next day I had a headache and felt groggy. I had a moment
of realization, typically realizing how stupid i'd been coming up
here. It took me over two and a half months to get across the
Thai-Burman border.
Do you know how many borders i would have to cross to get
to England? Twenty or more, getting out of Thailand was the
esay part. This plot my life has weaved is starting to wear thin,
like my malnourished figure. This is not Scott of Antarctic, i tell
myself, nor is it Philleas Fog. Its Dave Dolittle on the run from
himself again. What is this stuff i’m smoking?
“The Police are coming,” said Fon.
“Tamblowat! Why? When?”
“Not sure… They come for deportation. Take us back to
Lao.”
“I thought you were from Burma,”
“Some Burma, some Lao, but we have go to Lao”
“That’s terrible news. What will you do?”
“Wait for them. When they come, go”
“Go where?”
“Back home; to Lao”
I asked her if she wanted to go back home to Lao. She shrugged
as though she didn’t know. And i felt i understood that; empat-

hized with her. I too was not sure if i wanted to leave this place.
Though i did miss the city, i loved the peaceful idleness. They
say the grass always looks greener…I could have stayed there
another month.
“In some days, when you’re well we have someone take you
back to Chiang Mai.”
I looked at her, took heed of what she said and felt the conflict
of interests in my heart. I wanted to say i didn’t want to go.
What i wanted was to stay here; face the music together,
belonging to the tribe that had saved me… But it was not
practical; i had a life they didn’t have. A one different to here.
She looked at me and smiled. Then she said, “If the Poleece
come, they will take you Dave.” It was then i knew, they had
looked at my passport – while i slept or was ill so they knew my
visa was up. I tried not to let on as i said “I don’t care. I will
stay here until they…”
She put her dainty finger on my lips to shush me,
“Wait you get better. Then they come”
I made sure i had a stash of that brown stuff to take with me.
Tabooed and felonious yet abundant here i obliged their culture.
“Can you take me across the border? I want to go Pai. via
Chian saen” I said to the bus driver.
Fon was crying and so were the other nurses all of whom i
hugged goodbye but Fon last. Her face, her hair was a picture i
had seen before. When Annie died i grieved for that face i
would never ever see again. But Buddha prove me wrong.
When i looked into Fon's eyes that last time, as we said our
heartfelt goodbye's, i saw Anchalee staring back at me.
“Turning into clouds” I said as i stroked the tears from her
cheek, quite flattered by this display of emotion. Then i turned
and boarded the truck; waved as we pulled away.

I asked the driver if we could stop briefly in Taton. He seemed
to fail to understand but stopped there anyway to pick up. As he
did i walked briskly on dizzy legs to the internet café opposite
the port. Stoneed from society, a reality i’d almost forgotten. I
was lightheaded, but it felt good - therapeutic even - to be back
in civilization.I bought a Pepsi and checked my emails, to see if
Ray had left note. Perhaps he was in Bpai, or Chiang Mai. I had
to decide where to get off.
Back in Chaing Mai
RE: Hey M8 its JOS
You’ve won $1.0000000000000000000
Clicking on this it opened after 5 seconds
I’m going to be celebrating New Year in Bpai. Where are you?
Ray: I’m in c.M
That coincidental con of simultaneous events assured me that
i was going to a good place and at the right pace. A sign from
Buddha that I was on the right track, yet still i felt a sense of
urgency.
A wise traveler once said, There is not a right way nor a
wrong way. Only different paths to choose.
But bollocks to that… This was definitely the way to go…
When i got back to the truck i told the driver i wanted to go to
Bpai. The lady in the internet café told me the bus turned off at
Mae Faek. “Mae Faek” I said to the driver. Whether he didn’t
unferstand or didn’t bother i couldn’t be sure but with Buddha’s
guide our next stop was Chiang Mai.
I went back to the Royal India and ate a thali. A spicy platter.
Then went out to the cubicles round the corner and unleashed.
I knew i could get a cheap room in the city. If there was one
place that catered well for tourists it was Chiang Mai and
Thapae offered a range of Farang options. English food, books

and rooms for the equivolant of a couple of pounds. Pay a fiver
and you’re staying somewhere posh. I went back to the place
where Ray and i stayed, close to the net café and the restaurant
that did cheap, English breakfast. By now i preferred noodle
soup or sweet rice to bacon, sausage and eggs but i thought i’d
eat the latter while i had the opportunity.
The same book i’d been reading on the way up here, The
Demeter Flower, which i’d borrowed from Noom in Lopburi
was still there on the bookshelf where i’d left it. The tortured
tale of lesbians blessed with an elixir had intrigued me but i had
not finished it. Leaving it in this appropriate place helped to
lighten my bag for the trek but now i had the time and tunacity
to complete it. I wonder if my boxing shorts are still hanging to
the railings
By the time the bus had rode those five hundred and sixty
whatever curves along the snake-bending road to Bpai; carved
skilfully into the edge of mountains – i was altogether a bit sick
of traveling again. The typical bum sores and jarred neck
aggravating my worn, ailed physique.
I had no where definite to stay in Bpai - though i did still
have my camping gear and was ready to explore my way out the
town centre till i found a cozy spot to camp for free. Part of me
wished i was back in the village with Fon. None the less, things
don’t always go as one may wish whence abroad, and notifying
Josh and Ray that i was on my way, and would be there this
evening, made it possible that they’d be hanging around waiting
for me.
I was pleased to get off the bus and popped across the road to
get noodles. I then drank my first beer in three weeks which had
me staggering around, stumbling and falling onto a patch of

grass- where i spent the night. Sleeping sound, dehydrated but
proud to be back in good form.
When i woke in the morning i realized i had actually spent
the night sleeping in the middle of a campsite! The owner now
claimed i owed him 50 baht and demanded i pay up as i picked
up and moved on down the banks of the river. I wished i had
confirmed where Josh and Ray were staying. Until i find them,
or if i don’t, i’ll be back to dosing this time away in Bpai.
After eating breakfast i asked a kind restaurant owner if he’d
look after some of my baggage to give my shoulders a break
from the burden of the backpack i’d carried so far. I was still ill
for sure - weak and lightheaded. I wanted to check my email but
was more in the mood to relax. I hitched a ride to the Hot
Springs
“Ray this is Josh, my friend from school”
“Its Jos. I dropped an H, remember?”
“Sorry, Jos!” I redressed.
“Good to meet you Jos.” said Ray shaking hands
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Meditating,” I said, “at a retreat”
“You’ve been on Vipassina”
“Something like that”
“Next, she’s booking an early flight back to Heathrow,”
“And what did you do?”
“I went back to Koh Chang, didn’t i?”
“You got a girl there?”
“No! For Christ sake Dave, you make it sound like girls grow
on palm trees,”
“They do grow on palm trees! On the islands”

“Listen Bud, I spent most of my days moping aimlessly
around; basking in the sun, feeling sorry for myself and comfort
eating, alone on Lonely beach”
“Had Tha Nam. I’ve been there” Ray pointed out.
“Have you really? Its hot and busy, isn’t it”
“Did you speak to Steve, Josh?”
“Yes, it is but you can get a bungalow and have some privacy”
said Ray.
“I did that when I was with my girl…”
Listening to repetitive breakbeats on and over hi-hats; some
moody bass and a spaced out vocal.
“I’m going to get beers” Ray said standing up and walked.
“What’s that you’re reading?” i asked Josh
“A book about Tibetan Buddhism”
“Any good?”
“I’m just getting into it buts it seems alright actually. It
documents the story of a foreigner exploring these parts. A
pilgrimage. You’ve been to a temple, haven’t you Dave?”
“Yes”
“Do they smoke weed there, ever?”
“No Jos. Not normally”
There was a pause as a bit of breeze offered a moments cool.
Will Time only play that game twice ? MEET JOSH first then
RAY
“So. what was it like in Russia?”
“Moscow was brill; mind so was Berlin”
“Everone’s said Berlin’s cool”
“Poland was good but it was cold. Really freezing cold!”
“I can’t believe you travelled so far,”
“Neither can i! Can’t believe i made it; but you learn as you
go along, i really cocked things up to start with”
“Did you meet your Uncle?” Josh asked.
“Sure. I told you about it didn’t i? In the email i sent last
spring…”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right; how was it?”
Ray was dancing his way back with beers in his hands.
“Weird, but it is something i wanted to do and… I should
have come home then but something pushed me on”
“Are you going to fly back from Thailand?”
“I…” didn’t know what to say. Josh had put me on the spot
with that question, “not sure if i want to”
“Go back?”
“Yes” was the most honest answer i could give.
“I think you should” he said. I thanked him for his sound
advice and then the three of us commenced on the iced beers.
“Josh, I mean, Jos. Did you meet up with Steve?”
“… Eh?” It seems he had drifted.
“Steve Lawson. The Aussie i emailed you about”
“Oh no, we never hooked up. I was only in Pattaya a few
days then took a flight up here”
“You got some grass!” insinuated Josh
“No” i said; i could see the deflation in his eyes, “not grass.”
“Wwhat then”
“Somethi a little stronger”
“What?” he persisted.
“Opium”
“Opium! That’s the stuff they use in hospitals”
“Is that all you got?” I confirmed, I had more but they didn’t
need to know that. One thing I’ve learned lugging bags on my
back- don’t appear to have more than you should need. I made a
pipe as Sal had shown me, cutting a piece of bamboo to size and
making a whole in the middle. It worked well except the hole
was a touch too big for the chillum to fit snugly. We used it
regardless. Late that afternoon, as the day was winding down, I
sat with old friends and indulged the dragon.
Ray said “Is it just me or are the clouds a different shape in
Thailand?”

“Eh!”
“You see that cloud up there,”
“Which cloud?”
“That one up there in the sky. It looks like a big rolled up
newspaper, with a monkey’s head”
I was lying back, looking up at the heavens but i couldn’t see
any monkeys.
“It just looks; different somehow…”
“the bungalows used to be made all of bamboo. I once
returned to a hut smoking and burning after flicking a cigarette
out too carelessly. Too many tourists have set fire to their
chalets, drunken or otherwise and the whole place has gone up
in flames!”
“Holy sweet be jesus” said Josh, “that would not be good.”
“So, now following guidelines and laws imposed by Thai
authorities the bungalows are made almost entirely from stone.”
“Is that right?”
We smoked some more, then sat around the fire on bamboo
flooring; a platform by the river. It was late and i was yawning
but my company- like most others i met- were out of harmony
with nature and seemed to enjoy staying up way after dark.
Chill-out music played, some other holidayers joined us around
the fire and we talked and passed spliffs, decadently breaking
the law. Safe in our clan with our eyes open.
We played card games and Ray entertained us all with majic
tricks as competently as Paul Daniels; an expert magician. I’d
eaten tao-who green curry, boiled with rice. Then we drank
Kombucha, a living culture. I was layig back, relaxing putting
all my woes behind me - not even thinking about them, or my
sly departure. Though i kept tight lipped- Ray and Jos new
almost nothing of what had happened in Pattaya- i found their
companionship an asset, a blessing/gift in a foreign land.
One that spoke a language different to mine.

We partied the night away in an outdoor nightclub, Ting Tong
bar with palm trees and dance platforms scattered around it.
Josh and Ray bought cocktail buckets, we all guzzled down
with straws. Drunk as newts and stoned on marijuana we stayed
until the sun came up then went back to the guest house and
crashed until late afternoon. Pizza time.
“Let’s go trekking”
“I can’t be arsed”
“I’ve done it before mate. Its not all that. You just walk
around the greenery for a few hours. I’ve got to do a yoga class”
“Its nice to have a bit though!”
“What?”
“What’s he on about?” Ray and i looked at eachother
bemused.
“It’s a waste of thirty quid mate”
“We might find some more opium poppies” I knew that
would interest him. After some persistence they agreed to go
and so we went to the guied and booked a package tour for the
three of us, leaving the following morning at 8am sharp. We
rested that day and participated in some light yoga in the
afternoon. Ray was a regular at the studio, Mama situated in an
antiquated wooden two storey house. Josh had the hots for
Mam’s beautiful young daughter Min who wore a black leotard
and could contort her slender body into an array of unorthodox
positions. Ray and i snickered at his gawping, drooling face.
I thought it would be a good idea to get an early night like i
normally do but Ray and Jos insisted on going out and getting
stone drunk, arriving back after midnight. Then the alarm went
off at 6am to a round of groans. They picked us up from our
guest house.
The guide was Thai and thus had really short legs. He walked at
a snail’s pace compared to me. Ray and Josh seemed infatuated

with Claire and Emma, the four of them talked and giggled
strolling along. I, on the other hand was observant; listening for
distinct nature calls, scoping the lay of the land for trekking and
resting purposes, asking the guide questions about edible plants
and insects and which way to eat them.
“Yes, very good” he’d reply not caring to understand me,
“Ride elephant eat banana.”
When we got back to Bpai i was tired and irate. Ray and Jos had
arranged a date with the two girls on our trek. They spent their
evening, shower and shaving whilst arguing jokingly over
who’s was who’s. I don’t know why, I didn’t like either of
them. They left smelling of the same aftershave and i got an
early night asleep on the floor by 7.30.
Nine o’clock the next morning i was leaving Bpai. I’d left Jos
and Ray without saying bye. They came in drunk at 3am
shouting and laughing as Josh stood on my head and woke me
up, proper. I was fuming when he didn’t apologize and said that
he’d done it deliberately and that Ray had told him to; which of
course they both denied, laughing it off, saying i was paranoid.
“I am not paranoid!” I insisted and stormed out the house. I
slept on the porch whilst they clattered around, consulted as to
why i’d flipped and then found the whole thing amusing. Early
in the morning, as they slept off their late night i snuck in and
grabbed my backpack i’d already packed that evening. I
rummaged in Jos’s bag, took 3000THB out his wallet and his
credit card. I left on the early bus out of town.

� � � � � � � �
float a boat;
it can sink it also.
8
If the wind comes from an empty cave, it's not without a reason.
Ten years ago there was only a dirt track from Bpai to Mae
Hong Son which was built by the Japanese in World War 3
along with the Burma-Thai railway,(conquered indo-china). It
just shows how lazy the Thai's are. My theory is that this is due
to the heat which causes lethargy and can kill brain cells. I,
myself spend all day waiting for the cool air to come. When the
sun starts to go down, a calm begins... a time for drinking and
flushing the ninety-five chaos. The bus took three hours to reach
Mae Hong Son. Young military soldiers were on the bus
This beautiful small and apparently airiated City - one of the
hidden gems of the North reminds one of Burma and the Middle
East,-border and port towns often exhuberate their neighbour's
influence such as Nerja in Spain and Cairo. Though i've never
been to Cairo, i know what it looks like and this place similarly
shares a connection with it’s neighbouring nation. The lake with

the Hindu like temple alongside and the mountains where more
places of worship lie - Wat Doi Kong Mon, behind which the
sun set pink. Children play, youths dallied; the locals flaunt
Burmese heritage. I ate a small pizza in an eatery by the lake. I
saw a person that looked the double of Lek walking over the
road…
Consulting a local area map of Mae Hong Son i walk out along
the river, a subsidiary of Mae Bpai; the banks all built up with
stone and thick green, metal railings. It looked like it was built
by the Japanese, or God, a simple structure yet so grand and
complex it could almost not be man-made. Following the
landscaped path the river comes to a V downstream. It flows on
under the road leading to the Bus station, a dammed section
splinters into a field with a flag i take to be a minature golf
course. It spells the end of the day’s exploration; i need to take
a tuk-tuk out to the villages. I have made it this far; negotiated
myself to the edge of Thailand, but i’m still not out of it yet.
I rented a motorbike using Joshes credit-card and took a drive
around a winding mountain road; it was dark when i stopped at
a little shop by the roadside and bought some water and dried
smoked cuttlefish. This spot so remote, the usual ample retail
homes had dwindled down to the bare nessesities a small
community would need. Driving further, through a labyrinth i
came across a wooden shelter and stopped there for the night,
realizing i was by the river i had been tracing on my map.
The shelter had 2 walls and a roof; inside was a bench which
i lay my top sheet over. I took off my socks and got into my
tropical sleeping bag. I made a mental plan to swim in the
morning, sleeping well through the night, while the amplified
sound of rattling cicadas tried their utmost to keep me awake.
In the morning i finished the last of the cuttlefish and smoked a

cigarette. I wished i had a hot cup of tea or coffee but you can’t
have everything. The sun was bright and the air – fresh and
healthy. I jumpstarted the motorbike and got back on the track
in the same direction i was headed, proceeding one kilometre
further on till i rode straight into an army barrack. It was the
Burmese border control. A soldier came out and i told him i was
lost. The road i had driven up, bumpy and dirt in places was to
the river border crossing and despite a few hill-tribe villages on
the way, appeared to go no further than the borderline, heavily
guarded some 5,000 feet high.
There was a footbridge across the river from the military
checkpoint to a recreational area for either the military or for
civilians. It appears the way to cross at this point is to trek
through jungle; find a way back onto the river once across and
in Myanmar and then ride up by boat. Any unauthorized boats
traveling downstream to Myanmar would be fired upon! (I read
in the Bangkok Post that Thai Military Police shot three kids
dead in a car that failed to stop at a road checkpoint)
The guard came out and quizzed me, “You have paper?”
I said nothing for a moment, “Passport?”
“I gave it for the moto” I replied. My heart was pounding.
“You cannot cross here. Illegal” he implied, “go back”
I did as he said and turned the bike around. As i did, i hoped
they didn't shoot me; or change tact and pursue me.
One kilometer backwards the same motorbikes i had passed,
parked by the side of the road intrigued me. There was a
footpath leading to a bridge made of bamboo poles. I walked
across it, exploring and admiring the view. A lady stood
washing in the river. There was a second bridge, after the first
and i saw there were buildings up ahead in the foliage. One of
the bridge’s bamboo poles was too thin and as i balanced on it
my foot slipped through. The other poles closed in around my
shin. I sank and sat, calling out in pain as my skin - scarred
from the snake-bite - took another lashing. Taking a moment to

let the pain subside and untrap my foot, i then had to pull
myself up and proceeded on over the river. I walked with one
shoe on and bathed my bare foot in the cool water, aired it on
the grass and did ankle rotations. Then i passed under the arch
into the village.
I knew it was Acha because of the typical entrance archway -
one you shouldn’t touch on spiritual grounds; but i was limping
uncomfortably and needed something to rest on for balance so
touched the post for just a moment as i passed through.
It must have been Sunday morning and some of the girls
were dressed for a religious meeting. I scowed around looking
for a place offering food, but found none. The villagers ignored
me or just didn’t notice my presence, my limping feet light on
the forest floor. I had some stuff to barter with and wanted to
ask them to guide me across the mountain but failed to make
myself understood.
I sat and rested and thought about what i was going to do.
From what experience i have of the two storey jungle it will be
nearly impossible to trek with such vivid overgrowth and
vertical, steep heights... A guide could direct me through a trail
but i would have to pay someone an awful lot of money to lead
me into Myanmar. And the language barrier’s making it all
more difficult. Bollocks, i’m supposed to be holidaying. I wish
i’d stayed in Bpai and partied with those Josh and Ray. I should
be doing a BA Honours degree at the R.S.C this year and rather
i am in fact stuck in a hot and dirty Third World country asking
to be shot. I’m going to have to find another way out of
Thailand.
I brought the bike back to Mae Hong Son, returned it to the
rental place and checked into the more upmarket Guest House
with a better view of the lake. The veranda, all white and tiled,
framed the buildings on the other side. I watched the sunset,

smoked a cheroot and indulged in a taste of culture. You could
almost reach out and touch the Arabian Middle East a few
thousand kilometers away – as if India was just beyond the
horizon.
Once again i have trouble sleeping in the guest house, as
though - like sound waves - electro-magnetic energy permeates
the walls.
The next day i went to consult my local friend sitting in his stall
outside the Post Office at the top of Walking Street.
"I've been to border crossing on river and there was a Thai
military post." I said doing my best to mime with my hands a
military post.
"Of course" he replied when he got my drift, "Its our national
border point. Think of all the refugees and smugglers who want
to cross in and out our country,"
"How silly of me," I admitted "but i did want to get a little
closer to Burma. I want to take a boat straight through."
“Why you want to go to Burma?” he quizzed.
“Just curious”
He looked at me, winked and said, “You need the Salawin”
“The Salawin. Who are they?”
He replied, "They are a river to the south... from Himalaya.
They mark border with Burma; Thailand."
“Really”
I confirmed what the guide said on a map. The Salawin does
constitute the Thai-Burman border for over 100kms. The river
then flows on into the Andaman Sea.
They couldn't have military points all the way along it... I
should go there to cross a river border.
Wan ang-kan i took the local bus 100 kilos south from Mae
Hong Song to the town of Mae Sariang. I was a little bit anxious
on the bus as there would undoubtedly be stop-checkpoints

along the way - the army rangers would board the bus, scanning
it quickly – perhaps with a dog, and then let it on its way. The
procedure was routine and the rangers would stop all vehicles if
and when the checkpoint was actively manned. If a vehicle fails
to stop they are reported to open fire.
I still have a few puffs of heroin on me. I know it is risky and
i would feel very foolish if i was caught red-handed, but i’m
prepared to take that risk for the sake of a pleasant evening’s
smoke. Besides i don’t see why one shouldn’t be allowed to
possess smack; it is, after all the biggest pharmaceutical drug on
the International market - a renowned aphrodisiac and painkiller
sold in chemists throughout the World. Why should they
persecute me for that? I stashed it in my Y-fronts.
Mai Sariang town is quite mundane and very typically Thai,
reminding me of Fang which we stopped off at in the truck to
Chiang Saen. I found a beautiful room in a cheap guesthouse
overlooking the town’s river, and the wilderness on the other
side. I could have been forgiven for thinking it was the Salawin
itself. The shallow, fast-flowing water curves down from the
mountains, bending before this residential spot and flowing on
reaching the bridge – where sellers in bamboo dwellings offer
enlightenment to locals and travelers alike.
On this street where i’m staying there are some more guest
houses and a restaurant - all offering medium value for a few
backpackers to take advantage and stimulate trade. They have
traveled all the way out here, through the mountains from the
more populated, central tourist havens.
One traveler in particular was a young lady called Helgar
whom i met whilst eating. She was blonde like only farangs are,
and came from Frankfurt of all places. I asked her which one
and she said Frankfurt Unter Oder.
“Are you traversing alone? Where have you been to?”
“Bangkok then Vientiane, from Laos to Chiang Mai”

“And where are you going to next?” I asked.
“Back to Chiang Mai. I have to catch a flight to Singapore”
I wish i could catch a flight. It is alright for some, jet-setting
around south-east Azia on an inclusive ticket purchased in
advance, online. “What about the hardcore backpackers who
trek jungle and get bitten by venomous snakes?” i asked, she
didn’t answer. I left Helgar to herself and went to my room to
pack. It somehow felt sad that this may be the last guesthouse i
stay at in Thailand. With a little luck i shall soon be in Burma.
Every morning at every hour a tuk-tuk runs the twenty or so
kilometers to Mae Sam Lab. On my third day here i went to
catch the 10.30 to the town which sits on the banks of the epic
Salawin. As i board a lady who looks Chinese sits already on
the opposite bench. Shortly after, two more Thais got on and
then Helgar surprised me. Then we set off through this industria
town bearing south, turning right across the south-flowing river,
glistening silvery in the sun. At the other side we turned left
through the green kow fields, and into Salawin National Park;
passing a village balanced ingeniously on a slope and through
an unmanned checkpoint. The road turned from concrete to
sand. I held on to the handrail as the truck hit bumps lifting us
passengers off of our seats. Helgar smiled. At the bottom of
each valley the jungle, crowding around us vertically – seemed
ominous. The sight sent pain to my ankle. I did foot rotations
whilst overting the Chinese lady’s eyes.
“Are you camping?” Helgar asked as i replaced my pack in
an upright position. I nodded, joked, “David Attenborough!”
She seemed impressed; i figured my backpacker jibe had an
impression on her.
We cruise by a river that guides the road; passing another
checkpoint and some wooden homes and motor vehicles. The
track became narrow, a vertically steep hill was on one side and
on the other, huts; homes and retail outlets propped above the

canyon banks. This streaming subsidiary carved into the earth’s
crust shone brilliant. Turning a corner we are met by an
amazing sight and could feel the majical energy of the Salawin.
“This is it.” said Helgar as we disembarked. I made to help
her off but she was fine. Then we took another tea together.
Thai military soldiers were certainly present in Sam Lab,
though they seemed casual and relaxed, as did all –basking in
the heat. I hoped i looked just like any other tourist and tried
only not to stand out. I don’t want to be nervous nor flippant
and questioned then detained for visa overstay.
I see buildings, tribes homes -nothing of a military nature-
across the water on the Burma side; almost a stone’s throw
away yet still out of reach. The river, now in low season is
strong and so wide it dwarfs the trucks parked on the lower
level - the land carved away when the river floods during
Monsoon season. It holds no plant growth or buildings; only
sand and rocks. I walked down onto it from the street, over logs
as footholds - onto the sandbanks. I saw one of te flaying paper
things they sell on the market and it had a stick with it.
On the way down there was a covered waiting room, to buy
tickets or prepare for travel. I walked down further, onto the
sand negotiating a steep drop down to water level. The
riverbanks are formed of giant molten rock that look almost
alien, could be from on a moon on Jupiter. A break yields a
sandy inlet, with many docked boats and a sailor in the retreat, a
watershed of sorts.
“Can you take me to Hong Kong” I said in jest. I expected
the usual comprehension struggle in the response; all i got was a
grunt. “do you have a boat that i could sail on?” Nothing.
The water here is yellow, dirty and littered.
Further upstream, the water turns clean green. I strip off and
swim for a moment in the cold flow of healing tide, soothing

my body’s aches, still numb from my ailments last month.
Would i be able to swim across to the Burmese bank? Damn, i‘d
very nearky drown. But if i were to do that, what chance would
i have on the other side? Ray suggested inflated tires, ones that
you sit in and hold your baggage to, “I’m going to look like i’m
at Butlins waterpark!” I think Ray was referring to that place in
Laos. I’d be better taking a long tail boat.
After swimming, feeling refreshed i moved further upstream.
You could hear the longtails cruise up displaying the flag of
Thailand, which is obviously law for boats sailing these waters.
Two little bananas constituted supper and then i pitched my tent
in the dusk; smoked a cheroot. I now wished it were yellow and
not green and that the ground was not so hard.
See sky eat rice

Clive’s feet
7
The morning bustle of Mae Sam Lab resembles the flurry of a
port town such as Nerja in Spain or Cairo. This village in the
hostile arid jungle thrives on the bank of the river-border; a
contributing community with food and drink and ice cream. T.V
and mobile phones. From their expression one can tell these
dark skinned tribes are genuinely happy living out here; happier
than city folk.
After eating a nourishing breakfast of sticky rice and egg i
went down to the wooden port, my bags i’d safely stashed so as
to not stand out so. Once there i began to make more casual
enquiries, asking if it were possible to sail south to Mae Soooot,
a border town 100kms south on the Thai side. I asked two
people and got no response. After an hour i was sick, my sense

telling me i’d gone horribly wrong some way along the way.
A man in uniform came to me asking if i was lost or needed
assistance. I said i was fine and thanked him for his courtesy.
Then shortly after that another man approached me. To me
he seemed Burmese, with that darker, golden Indian skin – but
many of the people here looked that way. His name was Sala,
his warm smile showed a mouth blackened from chewing betel
nut. He was older than i and wore gold-rimmed glasses; a
familiar look about him. He was Karen - a refugee from Burma
making a permitted trip across the river with a certificate issued
by the Thai millitary. He was located at the Karen Northern
I.D.P Camp, Section 2. A refugee shelter for those displaced by
the fighting between the hilltribe and the Burmese Junta; one of
those living in the wrong place at the wrong time.
To communicate fighting, he locked his hands as though
holding a machine gun and made grunting sounds, “They drop
bomb”
I said, “Mae kow chi,” like I had learned from Fon. He asked
me where I wished to go and I said, “Rangoon!” I was joking
but Sala seemed not realize.
Sala knew someone who could take me to Wat Kitti Wong. I
looked on my map. This temple was only 20kms away, i didn’t
know whether to accept the offer or wait for something better. I
could get stranded at the temple – it has happened before.
down the Salawin river on a longtail boat with Karen Insurgents
transporting supplies.,
The boat sailed south all the way, past Mae Sam Laep and
shortly after the skipper winked at me and nodded, signalling
that we were now in foreign waters. I breathed an emancipated
sigh and lit a cigarette to celebrate my departure from Thailand.
I was exstaticly elated to have finally succeeded in my quest out
of the Kingdom. Still i had to be on guard in this new, foreign

land. A land with different laws and culture and its very own
Civil War/military police.
Branwell Bronte was a junkie and so was Major Tom. High on
the effects of pure opium
lit a smoke and chased the dragon. I found myself on the edge
of a field filled with beautiful white and purple poppies.
Papaver Somniferum.
"Opium poppies!".
Sala had a young lady with him, who had seemingly appeared
from the jungle wall. She looked to be in her teens, but these
girls look so ageless, i couldn’t be sure.
His lady-friend’s mouths was also black from chewing betel nut.
He asked if i enjoy a smoke by miming the act of pipe lighting.
He brandished some joi –as brown as his skin and instructed me
to follow him down to a dwelling.
Following the path lead us down and under the canopy of trees.
There were three huts built side by side. Sala led me inside the
first. I see scattered carelessly on the dried ground certain manmade
paraphernalia. Bamboo pots, spoons, scales, a furnace and
a plastic container with a label that read ACETIC
ANHYDRIDE. Engraved on the wooden bench were the
numbers 999. I supposed this was an illegal jungle refinery, for
the purpose of making dangerous narcotics. These fanatics were
turning pure opium into heroin or morpheine!
Sala brandished a bamboo pipe, and smoked - toking it all
up. He then refilled the chillum and passed it to me, a big grin
on his face. I returned his wink and placed the pipe to my lips…

Two foreigners approached from along the dirt road.
“We're from the U.N International Narcotics Control Board,
here investigating the illegal production of opium in Myanmar.”
I thought it was a joke. Sala smiled and gave me the nudge, he
pulled out his gun, as did his sidekick. The two looked frantic,
they weren’t armed,
“Calm down, there’s no need for weapons” said the female.
I stepped into the fore and said “You should get yourselves out
of here before things get nasty” in my brashest Cockney accent.
With all of that excitement calmed down we declined to a hut
further up the hill. The trees here were taller, and the air tasted
different, fresher. Perhaps it was my imagination. We sat
around outside smoking, a kilometer from where we met the
Narcotics people. Sala and his girl’s whispered conversation
dubbed only by the crack of bamboo on the fire - the warmth
felt like the evening sun – and the amplified sound of the gecko.
I smoked a cheroot then went to sleep. The peace of night was
disrupted by the sound of gunfire waking us all with a bolt.
The next day I had a headache and felt groggy. I had a moment
of realization, typically realizing how stupid i'd been coming up
here. It took me over two and a half months to get across the
Thai-Burman border.
Do you know how many borders i would have to cross to get
to England? Twenty or more, getting out of Thailand was the
esay part. This plot my life has weaved is starting to wear thin,
like my malnourished figure. This is not Scott of Antarctic, i tell
myself, nor is it Philleas Fog. Its Dave Dolittle on the run from
himself again. What is this stuff i’m smoking?
We stopped in Kawdun where the Dontham river merges with
the ours. The skipper tells me that we are 5kms from
somewhere. I think he is refering to the coast - maybe he means

Rangoon. In any case, we shall be arriving there soon. And i
will finally get to see the Andaman Sea
Indiana jo and the situation
I was worried hat i checked into a guest house ona passport
witout a Visa. I had heard that they were very stringent about
these things.
I met a turist in Yangon. An American. He seemed like an
honest chap so i confided in him that i had left Thailand without
a Visa. He told me about Mae Sai, said that you could just walk
across.
I saw a vision in the sky, formed by clouds. It was an image of
God as a child almost eternally youthful.
� � � � � � � �
Water can not only float a boat;
it can sink it also.

8
%�0 �3,� �,5907
For the past three months I have lived an insular existence
ensconced on Heinze Bok, one of 321 islands that form the
Andaman archipelago. This island is peaceful and placed.
Strangers from another world travel here for an active nightlife,
relaxed nature trails and diving in the pellucid waters. The
beaches are idealistically sparse on a coastline clotted with
fishing boats that chug and exhume black smoke like a train
passing through Doncaster station.
Tropical foliage dominates the view; palm trees cover large
parts of land and mountainous areas interspersed with giant rock
formations that have protected the island from the grasp of the
ocean for centuries. I can feel myself floating, lying incumbent
on a recliner in the sun.
Here i have all the time i need to read or write; yet i find my
concentration awash with morbid reminiscences. Blasts from
the past accompanied by a sense of displacement, thus an
inability to relax fully here in this lovely haven. I found a
special place in my soul solely for this kind of moodiness. I
miss Annie and i miss Pattaya. The hustle and bustle, the food
and the tasty girls. God i even miss Steve a little bit even though
i still remember him being a proper arse. Why do people have to
come and go so?
To relieve the boredom of my isolation i tell myself jokes;
some too rude to share and spy on girls with my binoculars.
The modernization, or capitalism of the Andaman has reaped
me one great dividend; an internet café on one of the busy side

streets from the coastal curve. I go there quite regularly to keep
tabs on my comrades endeavours. Jos and Ray are still traveling
together in Lao of all places, Megan has returned to Britain and
i have had no word from Annette despite all those poems and
love emails. And apparently Matthew finally gave up on his
“prolific writing career”; in the end he sold the 7 C’s in Camden
market for a score.
I’m still being followed by the men in uniform and walkie
talkies. I saw one the other day. At the Retreat and in town near
the english bookstore. The Burmese Government wants me
dead. The country is in limbo, the General is dead, Karen
Insurgents have seized Rangoon, now in control of the country
and yet the state militia are sill in operation. They now seem the
insurgents, fighting a guerilla war, and indeed the final battle
has yet to be fought. But here on the island you wouldn’t know
a thing about it; would it not be for the daily news bulletins.
I took a walk down to the shore. Fisherman unloaded their
vessel. Catching their attention i took the opportunity to ask if
they needed help. I needed work. The money from the drugs
was wearing thin. Each exchange was taking a risk. I wanted
something regular. I asked them.
"Come tomorrow. 4am" I think they thought i wouldn't be up so
early.
We anchor the vessel and hand in today’s catch. The stench of
slowly decomposing fish clings to me as I finish for the day and
then stride the ten minute walk to home.
Sometimes i’d rent snorkeling gear and swim out one
kilometre or so to the rocky patches frequented by diving
expiditors. There in the deep i swam with the fish. The density
warping light and sound. In one of the coral crevices was a face;
shell eyes like marble staring back. And a mouth formed by

seaweed stuck to the rock. Another apparition.
I had negotiated some free time on the boat with Captain Yod.
Time alone, to sail, chill and read. I mapped my journey
beforehand and planned to visit some of the islands to the north.
Quaint little islets each of which, no doubt harbored mystique;
an intrigue all of their own - places well worth a visit. They had
such an allure the suspense and excitement kept me awake the
night before. Despite travelling excruciatingly for 18 months i
still hadn’t found the cure for the travel bug. The wanderlust
still consumed me. I’d only had three hours sleep and had to
drag myself head first out of bed.
But when i got out there i felt better.
The sea, serene and vast (and awry) like a giant reservoir before
me.
Waves lapped up against the sides of the boat, constantly
pounding to a relentless rhythm, akin to the breath of an animal.
Without proper sailing equipment i did my best to guide the
vessel on a course...
Sailing along the Andaman Sea, so strong and powerful, it gains
strength in volume. A tsunami could drown us all, annihilate
civilizations just like what happened here a decade ago. But
water is our friend, we cannot survive without it. I sail along
and bob up and down and juxtaposed my own minor existence,
with the vast immensity of God.
I pondered for so long i became dreary and when i came to, i
was lost! Verifying my coordinates once again on the map as
thoroughly as any novice sailor could do in an ocean swept of
endless similarity i used my compass, plotting a course.
Late afternoon, just as the burning sun began to decline i sited
land again; one islet then another and chose to dock the boat on
the latter, larger one.
Making the closing leg of the day’s journey and nearing the
destination i stared in awed anticipation at the idyllic beauty of

this peaceful and untouched paradisal domain. I sighted two
birds perched on the highest point of the tallest mountain. One
flew over the crag and down, nesting in the trees at the base of
the cliff, the other followed on an higher arc.
����
As I drew nearer, figures could be seen on the beach, beckoning
me in. They were locals, I could see that but they were not
native Azians, more likely Western or U.S. Who were they and
where were they from?
I counted three blondes, a handful of brunettes and one red
head i took to be Scottish or Australian; and also a lone ghostly
figure, standing tall and high up on a mountain observing my
approach. The avatar, from a distance appeared foreign, native
and credulously orphic.
I was reluctant to proceed straight into a crowd of unknowns yet
they showed no signs of hostility; on the contrary they cheered
and some waved with both arms stretched showing excitement
at my arrival - suggesting i was to be the first visitor to the
island in some time. For a second i thought they were
castaways, stranded n distress but that was not the case. Two
robust males strode waist-deep into the water and pulled the
longtail to shore.
Thought i’d never get here!
“What’s your name?”
“Dave,” I said.
“Dave. This is Laurie, Jake, Peter, Zak and Carla,” the
appealing, older blonde pointed to each of her allies as they
gave a friendly wave back, “…and I’m Doll!”
“Hi, Doll. Everyone!” I said with a hint of shyness but
sensed warmth from this group.
“So what do they call you?”

“Leo” he winked and fired his fist in the shape of a gun.
These Farangs seemed to be a bunch of freaks! Regardless, we
sat around the fire and ate grilled, fresh fish feeding like at a
banquette. They really are freaks. Fuck that. As night was
falling i was bound to postpone my trip to the inland and spent
the night on the island.
In the morning i awoke a good hour before anyone else. Only
Jale was awake as i packed up and loaded my boat.
“Hey Dave,” Jake called and as i turned to greet him he
jumped into a jog. When he was within talking range he spoke,
“You heading off?”
“Yip, got to get this baby back”
“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”
“I’m probably going to get wrong anyway, what do you eat
for breakfast?”
“Fish!” they said and i laughed, “and rice”
“Same. Same” I said.
Then he squared off as i was about to ask him to help me push
the boat out.
“Don’t tell anyone about us being here” he insisted
“Oh,” I twigged, “Visa problems?”
“Something like that"/ “Kind of; Carla’s been here for eight
years. Years before any of the rest of us got here,”
“Alone on the island?”
“There were more before us. Some Burmans, Thais; wanted
to sail to India.”
“Impossible” I shook my head.
“You reckon?”
I didn’t reckon, i didn’t know, how would i?
“Well i won’t tell a soul, seriously”
“I know” said Jake.
And as we shimmied the longtail in and i jumped in it and
started the engine he shouted, “Sure you don’t need food?”

“Its alright” I declined. “I’ve got a fishing rod.”
I got back to th main island safe and easy. As I cut through
the boundary of a shanty house a dog starts barking followed by
another two. They snarl at me.
I heached into the leg pocket of my shorts for my knuckle
duster. He bit me, digging his teeth in. Pullng away i fell. With
my right hand I hit him hard on top of the head. Again and
again until he stopped growling and stoppd whining and did
nothing. Thepair of dogs still barked yet were cowering. Sat on
the floor, i raised an arm brandishing my weapon.
A fallang heard the rumpuss and came to assist. The dogs
scarpered. "Really, I’m fine" i fobbed his display of concern as
an over-reaction.
“You killed him,” he said, touching the dog with his foot.
“I had to; he bit me”
noticed his shoes were polished leather. He was dressed
smartly in waistcoat,
fawn trousers and a(Stetson) hat. He told me his name was Tis
and that he was Finnish, speaking with an Australian accent.
"You sure you're okay, kid?" I was okay and i went briskly
home.
Two days later i saw that good Samaritan again. This time in the
Fisherman's Retreat. He asked me if i were a fisherman and I
nodded affirmation. I deduced he had seen me working on
Mr.Jui's boat, or if not -perhaps more likely- i stunk of fish.
"I fish with the locals" I answered implying it was a casual
thing rather than illegal work.
"You sail around here everyday, i bet know these islands

well.." he enquired.
"Pretty well" i answered modestly.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, i got a problem, kid.." he shoulders hunched and his
head lowered as he told me the story of his recently deceased
Mother. Apparently, she visited these islands regularly
throughout her latter years after visiting and falling in love with
the place on a diplomatic U.N. envoy to Burma in 1998. Now
her time had passed and her only son Tis wanted to cast her
ashes on her favoured spot on a specific island but wasn't sure
exactly which one it was. Glad to be of assistance in a dilemma
of this kind i agreed to visit the resort where he was staying that
evening to look at this painting his Mother drew to see if i
recognized the island landmarks. We would then sail out to the
island and scatter his Mother’s ashes there.
I also have to meet King tonight, he wants more dope. I'll go
their first and then sort out King.
I walked the stone steps, the surroundings decorated with
exotic flora and ornamental design. The resort was decorated
lavishly and plush. Places like this had a sophisticn swarve not
been my chosen abode throughout my travels in Azia, however,
i was growing accustomed to their sophistication.
Tis greeted me and welcomed me in. He was wearing a white
shirt buttoned halfway up, and smelt of aftershave. The room
was done out in cream, vibrating light with dark pine
furnishings. A faux-fur rug warmed the floor and the table
above held a decanter and a bowl filled full of fruit.
“Cheroot?” Tis offered, opening a box.
“If you’ll be so kind” I said poshly, sitting down - handed a
drink. “I like the music” I said.
“Mozart’s fifth”
Then Tis placed the painting in front of me. I stared at it,
noticing the detail. There were trees and rocks, some native

people, Buddha - golden and a boat. It was “abstract”, looked
more like a map than a painting.
"This was your Mother's work? It is beautiful"
"My Mother was a very talented lady" he reclined.
"And she was involved with the United Nations?"
"Yes, she came to this country to aid negotiations with the
Junta. The militia"
"They had some problems in this country..."
Its all in the past now. I declined telling him the part i had
played in their downfall.
"She retired to Burma, fulfilling her passion," he leaned in
and slid the abstract seascape closer to my view, "Painting"
"I have to say its... Abstract. The shoreline;" I ran my finger
along the canvas "it resembles a map!"
"It does doesn't it; but its actually an artistic technique. Look
closely, is there anything you recognize?"
"This bit." I pointed to splotches of grey drawn like a face.
"They look like the rocks on Freaky Island"
"Freaky Island" Tis became animated, "Where is that?"
"West by north west of here."
"Are you sure?"
"Pretty sure. You see those three rocks. The one in the
foreground predominates, then the two behind, like two eye's"
"They're on this island!"
"Yip" I confirmed
"You saw them yourself?"
"Well i didn't see the face as it is depicted here but, there
were three rocks exactly like this" I answered comparing the
artist's impression with my parallax view. "Your dear Mother
was probably situated on the highest point when she did this.”
"You betcha!"
Our meeting was interrupted by a telephone call.
"You'll have to excuse me" he ushered me to the door. "I'll
meet you tomorrow"

He replaced the mural in its pine frame and mounted it above
the mantle-piece. He then bowed his head and did the sign of
the crucifix as if saying a prayer.
I left the resort through the rear exit through scant jungle.
“Sailing, I can rent Mr.Jui's boat for only 4500 rupels."
"40 bucks! Kd, I can get a speed boat for that price"
"I can try to knock him down but you know these locals. They
won't budge when it comes to money"
"Okay, see what you can do"
My watch read 9'oclock. I was late for the rendezvous with
King. I flagged a songtail and checked the dope was safe and
sound inside my pocket , the picture of the painting still fixed in
my mind. It had seemed old, maybe forty years or more. I didn't
believe that it was the work of Tis's Mother. I got the
impression he was hiding something. My mind was still in
thought, as the taxi pulled up across the street from King's. I
checked again my pocket then crossed over and knocked on the
door. Peg-Leg answered and lead me in , hobbling. King was
sat on a chair, two more people lay on the floor, playing video
games. The room was bare, only the chair and T.V. Empty cans
and cartons were strewn around the place. Ashtrays were filled
with butts. The atmosphere was foisty.
"Come in sit down," said King. He wore his hair tied at the back
and a goatee beard. I took the 7 gram bag out of my pocket and
placed it on the table.
Peg-leg eased himself onto the sofa, leaving room for his
straight leg then helped himself to a sample of the joi as is
customary in a drug deal of this size.
“Jai dee!” he said approvingly. King nodded and stood up.

"5,000" like we agreed. Isat backandgot baked. As i sat there
toasted, the dog picked up the CD in his mouth and fetched it to
the player, placing it clumsily in the ejected frame he drops it.
Patiently lifts an edge with his paw,clamps his lips around it
again and this timesucceeds in putting it, he pushes it in with his
nose and paws play on the remote control… A movie begins,
Planet of the Apes.
Amazing ability for an animal lacking prehensiles.
I awoke thinking that it had all been a dream. The morning was
calm and air subdued in contrast to that chaotic night before. It
took me a moment, waking to realize that the events of last
night, as absurd as they were, did indeed occur. This fact
inevitably only made my subsequent reactions(follow up) all the
more significant. I had to be smart! It was imperative that i
proceed carefully. After the incident involving illicit drugs i was
vehemently determined to continue but not at the cost of my
own safety and further amicableness. And the curious meeting
with the affluent Scandinavian was what i should now
concentrate my efforts on.
I booked the boat with my fishing colleagues, negotiating a
casual reservation as and when i needed it. They were most
interested in Mr. Tis which they humorously pronounced "Tes"
rather than the correct pronunciation of “Teece” and were eager
to let the boat to him for a fee--and offered to sail the boat on
Mr.Tes’ behalf--which in effect summed extra money for them.
Yet when they found out our destination they changed their tune
and refused to sail with us…
At 10am I met up with him, downstairs in the lobby of his hotel.
The chandeleers hanging above us. He was distracted,
intimidated looking over his.
“There is no Freaky island!” Tis growled.
“No, wait” I fumbled for the right answer, realizing he’d

misunderstood me.
But it was of no significance, he was eager to leave imminently.
I stalled him, for a few hours at least. I wanted to see Lee, like i
promised. But really i wanted to snub the Fin. He, like so many
others was undermining me. I had a plan, i had to have.
In the bar was a youngish Azian, Thai looking. I couldn't be
sure as it ws dark but it looked the double of Lek! He was
gaping at me and his eye's widened as he saw me. He then
turned to the person next to him and i left. I figured it couldn't
be him and i sure didn't want to go back and find out. I guess its
just my imagination playing tricks on me.
(I figured there was no longer any need for me to remain on the
island. There are a whole load of similar haunts on this
Andaman Sea coastline, i have no ties and can go wherever i
want. I will miss this place, but as the saying goes, the rolling
stones were the greatest rock band ever.).( I was flabegasted! I
wanted to leave with Tis but had envisaged spending a few days
tieing up loose ends, packing, saying goodbye's... Leaving in a
few hours meant i'd return the boat)
I got some parcel paper from the DIY store and some crayons. I
then drew a scribble resembling Tis’ Mother’s painting. It
didn’t look a patch on the original but did bear resemblance.
Tonight, on the boat I make the switch. And if caught my alibi
shall be, that it was just a joke.
I got down to the harbour at 9.14pm. Tis was waiting, irrate and
agitated.
"What took you so long?"
"I’m sorry i had something important to do"
"I've been waiting here since eight, we did agree eight
o’clock, did we not?" His ironic rhetoric did not amuse me.
"I couldn't get out of it. I've had one hell of a couple of days"
"Jesus kid, i thought you weren't gonna show! but your here

now, so lets get this ship in the water!"
“Its hardly a ship”, I thought. Tis was strong for his age. We
loaded our small cargo and pushed the boat out into the sea.
Seeking not to draw any attention by using a loud motor engine,
we used ores to row away from Jonton Beach.
Once away from land, due North of Fraggle Rock Tis starts
the motor. I had my backpack packed with all essentials. My
book almost full, i put it with the other books i do not want to
call my memoirs; hidden in the hiding place under my shack,
wrapped in plastic for the rain.
"I need to check the landmarks match what is on that map?"
"Its not a map!" Tis spoke louder, adjusting the anchored line.
I figured the map was locked away in his briefacse. I had the
homemade duplicate tucked away under my life preserver.
"Maybe there is treasure on Freaky Isl...I mean Parker Island."
Tis stuttered "Tell you what, i'll make a deal; you help me find
it and i'll split it with you" He p[ened it and took out a boyyle of
wine and two glasses,
"To treasure," Tis proclaimed and raised an expensive glass -
probably made in Singapore - clanking his onto mine,
I repeated, "To treasure," Tis smiled and put his arm on my
shoulder then he started to stroke the hairs on the back of my
neck. "You're a very handsome boy," he complimented.
Water was black-blue like treacle. Murkey, dark and menacing.
An entity conscious, as if the serpent Naga would rise up at
anytime, Godzilla; displacing the myth once and for all…
Reducing myself to an humble mortal afraid of fear itself.
Unwillingly exposed to the harsh realities of the undead.
And as we sailed along we sang a sea shanty...
Bang away Lulu bang it good and strong,

Where are you going to do your banging when
Lulu’s gone?
It felt good, singing together like sailors on Ocean of droplets.
And then we sang,
We are sailing, we are sailing,
Stormy waters, across the sea,
We were drunk and slurred our speech when we sang,
To be free
We we are sailing, we are sailing
to be near you who can sing
We all know that song by Rod Stewart.
"Apparantely there's a storm coming"
"How long should it take to get to the island?" Tis asked.
"Two hours, but with the sea as rough as this(bad winds and
tides) uy could take longer," i estimated giving my best guide,
"How much longer," he stressed again, "Kid, we need to be
precise!"
"If you want to bail out now, we could dock on Wang Island for
the night." i advised.
"Where's the hell is Wang island?"
"Five kilos west of here."
"Lets see if we can make it, Kid." he said, “you and me” and
then we pressed on into the strengthening wind.
I was at the Helm. Tis, the navigator "There's a storm close
coming. Can you feel it?"
An hour and a half later we were still adrift, the sea now so
tempestuous, spelled danger.
i turned the boat 45degrees to give a little leeway
"You're an experienced boatsman, aren't you!" Tis said
admirably
"My Uncle was Admiral in the British Navy, Sir!"
the boat felt a sudden surge forward, buffeted by strong waves.

“Get the line, GET THE LI!!!”
“Teeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeese” I shouted as, thrown off balance he fell
overboard.
“Man overboard!” I shouted but there was no one to hear.
I had lost my navigator; Tis had the compass when he fell. A
vast feeling of isolation came over me. I was lost under a
clouded, starless sky on an almost endless abyss of oceanic. I
humbled once more before the almighty. Suddenly he
reemerged, his bawling eye’s opened wide like, trying to yell
but spluttering only merky sea water came out his mouth. He
was chocking, drowning, his expression desperatly pained.
“Hel…” he managed a cry for help! I stood there feeling
hopeless. Then, after a spot of quick thinking I reached for the
rope that held the anchor; an improvised lifesaver. I wound it
round like a lazoo aiming directly for his head allowing for my
aim to be a little off as he had now drifted away, three meters or
more. I lunged my arm, released the rope and flung Tis a life
line…
Unexpectedly my aim was spot on and the propelled anchor
caught him plush on the top of the head. I saw his forehead split
open just before disappeared underwater. He did not resurface.
I sailed ahull until the storm subsided, the water was calm
and the sun rose bright and brilliant over the horizon once
again, marking eastward/erly. I changed course swaying the
boat 10 minutes of arc on northern latitude. Then i took out the
book to read the final Chapter sincerely hoping that the end
would not disappoint me.
Nearing the end i ventured on through flotsam, an eerie signal
another vessel had been shipwrecked by the storm.
I was able to ply open Tis’s briefcase with the saw attachment
of my pen knife. Inside was his Mother’s painting, some letters,
a handkerchief, tobacco and a pipe, a tin of mints, carnation

milk and the sealed urn holding the remnants of his beloved
Mother, deceased. I hoped i knew the appropriate thing to do
with each of them.
In the inner compartment was the map, wrapped in protective
paper; folded neatly over and over again. I read comics when
I’m bored – a habit I acquired from childhood and this reminded
me of the superhero’s I idolized.
I opened the tin of mints and was dissapointed to discover
that instead of containing mints the tin was in fact full of ginger
toffee; twenty three toffees to be exact. One every two hours
would keep me going for a couple of days until i get the boat
docked on an island. Till then i’m just meandering around on
ocean. I swigged salty sea water to rehydrate, the sun was now
burning hot. I was freezing and soaking last night, now i am at
the other extreme. In the sky seabirds flew, swarming like
vultures overhead. Close to the boat porpoise swam and sprang
out the silvery, cerulean sea; flipped and dived back under.
They looked amazingly agile but what i really wanted to do was
eat them, i felt so hungry.
On each day, the midday sun would not only be
excruciatingly hot, also was difficult to navigate. Having lost
my compass along with Tis it ineverably meant i'd have to wait
until the sun was declining and then point the boat towards the
setting sun. The islands were west but the wind was pushing me
eastbound.
I rolled a smoke and contemplated what had finally come,
finishing the last few drops of wine - cheap, Malaysian plastic
cork crap. I declared a toast; the time had finally come to face
facts and account for m life. So here’s to you Mrs. Woddington,
“Should old acquaintance be forgot, for Pete’s sake,”
At the end of the journey when all is considered i did what i set
out to do and with the help of the cooperative J, left my mark in
history.

I found a tin of fish in the lazarette but I couldn’t get the
fucking thing open. All i managed to make was a small hole and
through it i sipped the brine; my knife, already blunted from
opening Tis’s briefcase was left redundant.
Eventually after days adrift, the tense tedium as painful as
the dehydrated starvation… i saw land on the edge of the south
western horizon.
This promised to be my ultimate sanctuary... but was it
indeed a hallucination; another mirage?
Epilogue
My optimism was quashed as the land seen on the horizon was
indeed a trick of the strong light from the then setting equatorial
sun. I drifted for another 3 days until - spotted by a cruise ship
heading from Calcutta to Port Blair – was rescued. They radioed
to coastguard a distress call at my coordinates. I was picked up
and shipped to Madras on the eastern side of India. According
to them i’d drifted north of the Emerald Isles for fourteen days.
It was a miracle of enormous proportions.
I took a connecting flight to England, figured i'd face
whatever was coming. Nothing did. I touched down safe and
sound at Heathrow airport on the first Sunday in May. My
blood was thinned and the air was cold.
I took a bus to Slough then walked a couple of mies to the
urban, rural Taplow. Muic played out a car window as i
descended the country lane leading to my sister's place. I sat

outside and waited until 3pm when visiting was permitted. One
of the nurses came out and started to hassle me,
“You’re not allowed on the grass!” she badgered. I told her
where to go and how to get there. She was evidently new and
unaware my sister had been resident here for twenty years. I’d
played football on that grass as a little boy.
“You can see her now” the nurse said more softly.
“Hi Alice,” “I brought you something” It seemed she hadn’t
missed me. Then she turned, her expression changed as she
recognized my changed complexion; her eye’s warmed,
“Dave”
“Yeah, it’s me” I moved closer and embraced her. We
hugged for a while.
Another visitor hovered in the lobby. little girl approaching
up the street all smiles.
"Are you using the phone?” I asked.
“No, you can use”
I left the home and walked to my Auntie’s house.
Who the fuck are you? The old house aroma hit me with de ja
vu. I remberedThe phones been disconnected.
“Your auntie died didn’t she David?”
“yes that’s correct; two years ago”
“Why didn’t you call the Police?”
“Why didn’t i? I didn’t want a trip to the hospital. It wasn’t
very nice, i was…”
“You don’”
“…Upset” I completed. I didn’t like this woman. I wanted
my old neighbours back. Why was she throwing questions at
me?
that i Pinned to the fridge (on Alice’s wall) with a strawberry
fridge magnet was the postcard i sent from Krakow,

Just left Berlin, found uncle alive and well. My eyes welled as
the memory came back. Then she handed me a bunch of letters.
Bills, junk, bills, court summons, some more junk and a letter
from Thailand.
It read,
G'day Mate! I knew instantly it was from Steve.
Where the hell did you get to? I tried sending emails to th
web address. The damn things offline. Anyway, its not
important, I just hope your sfae and sound. I’m sorry
about all that trouble so I wanted to write. I hope you
receive this one way or another.
Attached was a cut out from the Pattaya Times. The headline
read, Lady Boy Found Dead and underneath was a photo of
Anchalee. It said suicide. At first, i thought it could be one of
Steve's jokes but there's no way he could have forged it. The
article concerned the events surrounding her untimely death.
The story was true. I read it over and over again to comprehend
the meaning behind the words.I was so happy i could have
cried. After a rollercoaster of emotion somehow i was content
with this sad conclusion.
I walked back down the stairs to use the phone in the hallway to
call Annette. Picking up the handset to dial i realized the
obvious fact we’d been disconnected. Where was the nearest
phonebox? By the shops… I filled my pocket with spare change
and made out again on foot. I had the same scrap of paper she
first wrote it on. I dialed the number and after a couple of rings
Annette answered cheerily.
"Its Dave", i said but she made out like she didn't know who
i was. I told her i'd just returned from Burma and suggested we
meet for a drink. She mumbled something about being too busy,
working. I pressed her, “for old time's sake” and then some guy
came on the phone. He said, "Annie doesn't want to go
anywhere with you." He sounded foreign, German perhaps. I

asked with whom i was speaking and he replied, "I’m her
husband" Consequentally, my response i don't recall before the
money ran out. I bashed the phone with the handset and
slumped against it.
So, i guess she's not Annette Delpy anymore, i cerebrated. Or
maybe she is still; perhaps that Afghani guy's only her
boyfriend - her fiancé - one step ahead of himself. A girl passed
the phone box, happily skipping down the street. I mulled it
over as i clambered back up the stairs, my legs still aching but
in a really good way. After years of traveling i can finally put
my feet up and unwind for 6 months.
Rose is watching T.V. Squidgy and Pidgy and playing with
plastercine. I browse a woman's magazine with plastercine on it.
I feel like a fag but i promised i wouldn't smoke anymore. Polly
shouts through from the kitchen,
"Is anyone hungry? I’m cooking toad in the hole!" my
stomach churns. I remember her toad tastes great but i couldn't
eat anything.
“Are you hungry, buttercup?" I asked Rosie. She shook her
head sweetly.
"How about some tea?" came from the kitchen.
"Syou alrighture" I replied as my taste buds salivated. I could
digest that. I hadn't had brown tea in ages, "but without milk."
Two weeks later, i was lucky enough to be in London for a
night, visiting Hsoolicitor.
“I couldn’t believe it when i heard what happened to you!”
“I know”
“You’re ok now i take it.”
“I’m just fine Mr. Partridge”
“are you settled now in england David or not, I suppose you’ve
still the wanderlust. Anymore adventures planned?”
“I just might actually, Mr.” I said confidently casting back,

“In fact i’ve something to pick up, something personal and
precious, that’s hidden in a special place,”