Logan’s run

As Jenny bit down on another fried chicken’s foot, he explained to me the secret of having such perfectly shaped breasts.

‘You need good surgeon’ he smiled, white bone and marrow sticking to his top lip, ‘and good course hormone therapy. But all this cost money, the best cost money.’ I waited for the pitch, the inevitable come on, the real reason we’re talking.

‘You must be rich man to become beautiful woman. You must be rich man to enjoy beautiful woman. This body no come free. You think I beautiful woman?’ There it is, no escape, and it only took him 15 minutes.

I’m in Bangkok renewing my visa and my opinion of the country has changed, Thailand is grim. I came here 4 years ago and loved it, now its 3am, the two English boys I met earlier are seducing prostitutes in a nearby restaurant, and I’ve escaped to the street for noodles and solace.

After half a bowl in walks Jenny, 6ft plus with dyed hair and no grace, and the conversation turns quickly from countries to cun… anyway, now there’s more than MSG leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

So why am I uncomfortable here? What’s the problem? ‘How can you not love South East Asia Ed, its just like sooooo beautiful?’ Well, substance abuse, spiders, the Khmer Rouge and the conversation I’m having with Jenny for a start, but if you need more then I’ll give you the list:

1) Skype account users – Stop shouting, it’s only a camera and a phone. The entire fucking world does not need to hear you shriek uncontrollably at your equally as annoying family. Lower your voice, no one else is interested.

2) Chang Beer vests or t-shirts – Publicly admitting that you drink formaldehyde is not big and not clever. It’s like shouting with your mouth full. That’s all you’re doing lads, understand and move on.

3) Drunk Thai women on the Khao San Road – Imagine the bastard child of a pit bull and that hooker from Full Metal Jacket, waking up after a night with the heating left on. I have never seen so many teeth bared in anger, frightening.

4) Youngun’s – Fuck me but is everyone else here 18 years old or what? The novelty wore off after I realised that in 5 years time I’ll be literally twice their age. Grey chest hairs never made me feel so old.

5) Bar girls – Bored women in short skirts, sitting at the entrance of empty bars frowning into their mobiles. It’s supposed to entice me in but it makes me feel like a deer hunter.

6) Awkward first dates, the Thai ‘girlfriend experience’ – Take one girl from point 5 and one boy from point 2. Fix a price and then sit them in embarrassing silences at the table next to me every breakfast, lunch and dinner. A store bought relationship with very cheap wrapping, the sex must be ghastly.

7) Air Con addicts – The line I hear over and over in shared taxis and minivans, ‘quick, shut the doors and the windows. I want to put the air conditioning on.’ Idiots, each and every one.

There you go, one for every day of the week. But there’s a much darker side to The Land of Smiles, a protruding underbelly that rubs its indulgent flesh in a truly gross manner. Sex. And the tourism dollar it so openly invites.

Thailand sells its women. It sells its children too. In my short time here I have seen enough rough prostitution and public acts of ‘grooming’ to make me scratch my eyes out and be done with it. It’s everywhere, everyday. Slave traders and Joseph Fritzels welcomed with drinks promotions. And no one seems to care, apparently its just business as usual.

I could tell you stories; the two men at the Gas Station bar, the 10 year old girl by the waterfall, the Jack Russell in smeared make up offering ‘suck fucks’ for breakfast, but they’re all pretty stomach churning. So I’ll sum it all up with the over 50’s German man in a guesthouse north of Pai.

I was cycling to a renowned viewpoint, 6k straight up, and had stopped off near the top for a final refreshment hit. The German was huffing his fat load up from his table and over to the counter, to pay his bill of ‘two beers and one ice cream’. He was the only other customer in the restaurant, and as he led his Thai child companion back to his bungalow I looked over open mouthed at the owner. He just shrugged and turned his back. I left without finishing or paying.

But my Blog’s about India right, where sex is no stranger, and between the Karma Sutra and Shiv Sena no one knows what to do with Valentine’s Day. But whilst social reformers there still battle antiquated ideals, even in the cosmopolitan cities such as Calcutta, Mumbai and Bangalore, running through the country is an undercurrent of respect. Respect for one’s culture and respect for one’s kin. Something I didn’t feel in the Thailand I saw.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like disliking Thailand, and I’m trying not to compare, but my belly hurts from dry retching and I’m sick to go home. Back to India, back to England, back to the places I trust. Away from the cattle and the casualties, and the countrymen who make me ashamed to say ‘British’. Away from the Jennies, the pimps and the pushers, and all those money hungry faces that see more in the pound than I ever do.

Hang on, where is Jenny? Ah, there he is. Batting fake eyelashes to a much more receptive trick on the table behind us. Its seems Thailand is rejecting me back, and perhaps its for the best. So I’ll just sit here staying politely unnoticed, counting hours and rehearsing one very big sigh of relief. Mai pen rai.