A few TV members requested that I post again, so here's my memories of my arrival in Thailand all those years ago,

 

 

My arrival in the land of smiles was way back in 85, when this land was scarcely frequented by westerners, and after spending a decade backpacking Europe, I decided to invest in a one-way ticket to Bangkok and set off on a real adventure. Being thousands of miles from home without any money was not unusual for me, and even if I say so myself, I was in the premier league of backpackers, way before taking on Thailand.

 

It took me three years to establish regular work in Europe throughout most of the year, starting with Crete in January, where tomatoes were ready to pick, and after a 6-8 week stint of picking tomatoes, it was off to Israel, to work on a Moshav in the Negev Desert, which lasted until June. Then I would grab some R&R at Dahab, and idyllic bay on the Red Sea, with some of the best snorkelling the world has to offer. Then I’d head back to Europe via Pireus, to secure grape picking in France, with the chance of some labouring in the construction industry. I mention this, so you don’t think I’m some naïve kid who has come the Thailand on a whim, in fact, I guess you could say I was a streetwise guy who came to Thailand on a whim!

 

Leaving the aircraft, I was duly hit by this wall of red hot air, a taste of what was to come I guess, and after an uneventful customs experience, I found myself standing outside the airport. At 8am, it was 31C, and this guy walked past me wearing a thick jacket, gloves and a balaclava <deleted>!!! Bought a pack of local cigarettes for what amounted to the cost of a coke! Damn, that’s cheap! Then I saw a girl walk past eating ice cream in a bread roll!!! I shuddered at the thought!

 

I decided to head for the city and managed to get on the right bus, which was a tiny green thing that was obviously trying to break the Guinness Book of Records for cramming in the most people in one go! I hung onto the rail for dear life, my backpack wedged between my legs, as we weaved our way through the heavy traffic. Then this little hand forced its way through the mass of bodies and was waiting for me to deposit my fare, which I duly did, and my first thought was, “how the hell does the ticket collector know who has paid?”

 

Having no idea where to get off, I followed a dozen or so locals who disembarked on what seemed like a busy street, and after walking a few yards, I sat at this little table on the sidewalk and pointed to the cooler, where the beer was sitting.

 

Even for such an experienced traveler, this was certainly an adrenaline rush, not being able to speak the language, I surveyed my surroundings and sipped my cold beer, when a couple of locals passed and waied me! Of course, I waied them back, I mean it would be rude not to, and just when I was thinking these must be the most polite people on the planet, a family of four passed, and the adults stopped and waied me, then clipped their kids around the ear, forcing them to also wai me!!

 

I desperately tried to return all the wais that were coming my way, but it was endless, and while I knew that westerners were thin on the ground, nothing could have prepared me for this. The most polite race of people I had ever encountered, and about half an hour later I looked behind me and saw this huge Buddhist shrine that told me they were not actually waiing yours truly. I breathed a sigh of relief!

Money was limited, but hey, that was my style. The less money I had, the wilder things tended to happen, and my sole wealth was about $100, and being the extremist I am, I set about drinking it all away!

 

Only when I was truly penniless would my adventure begin, at least that was my theory in those days, and to give you some idea of just how far I was prepared to go with my insanity, I once got off a bus in the middle of the Sinai Desert, despite the driver telling me it was suicide. I survived that one by some kind of miracle, and being in Bangkok without money or friends was something I relished.

I then had the good fortune to bump into another westerner, who seemed to enjoy the beer as much as I, and when he suggested we go find some girls, I was most certainly up for that!

 

I should add at this point, that sex, drugs and rock and roll played a major part in my life, being single and one penny short of a full deck, so it seemed natural to search out some female company.

 

After a crazy tuk-tuk ride that even had me hanging on for dear life, we arrived at Soi Cowboy, a place I was destined to visit oh so many times over the coming years, and I was immediately in heaven. It was still daylight, yet we were both quickly surrounded by gorgeous Thai girls, and the beer began to flow. Then someone introduced Sang Thip, which was a Thai rum, and we began to drink that, which was the last thing I remember!

I woke in a small, dingy room with an ancient fan that was covered in ground in dirt and somehow managed to keep going, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my backpack propped up against a wall. It was night time and I looked out the window to be greeted with a sea of neon, and as my view was blocked by half a million power cables, I decided to head down and find out what had happened.

I opened the downstairs door and was standing behind a bar, which was being tended by a stunning girl, who immediately poured me a glass of Sang Thip and handed it to me,

“Drink now” she said.

 

It was at this time that I thought perhaps I’d died and was in heaven, and after a few minutes, I ventured out into the Soi. Neon was everywhere, which only added to the appeal of all the girls, and there were other foreigners sitting and chatting to the girls, when I tried to recall the previous few hours, I was suddenly confronted by this absolute vision,

 

“Hey you! Remember Me? I girl that helped you last night” she said.

 

I thanked her profusely, and she sat me down, told me to stay there and went off in search of food. I still had half of my money in my pockets, which was a mixture of relief and disappointment, after all, I always start with absolutely nothing. I figured I had just enough to stay here for another 24 hours, and my thoughts never went past that.

 

More drink, more girls, and I was quite happy to stay there for the rest of my life.

My kinda guy!

Great writing & story telling.

Thanx, a good read.

 

will post the second installment tomorrow.

Deserves more than an emoji !

Nice contribution, thank you ! Look forward to next episode ????

Well told.

 

Loved the story about being waied in particular. LOL

Part two, as promised ....

 

The following day I headed for Hua Lampong, the main train station, where I planned to buy a third class train ticket to Nakhon Si Thammarat, a city in the deep south of Thailand. That cost me a whopping 126 baht, and I spent an interesting time with some farmers (and their chickens) and as they seemed to think I was a pleasant enough chap, they decided to break out the Lao Kao.

 

The train was relatively slow, with a rhythmic movement that seemed right at the time, and we chugged on through the night, traversing some stunning jungle. I did venture off once while it had stopped to relieve myself, and I certainly wasn’t the only person doing that, one woman had her toddler in her arms and was waiting for the baby to defecate, when the train began to slowly move forward, which happened to coincide with the arrival of the toddler’s poo. She made it back on, although she was well and truly covered in runny poo.

 

I had noticed a few policeman on the train, notable for their handgun, which hung professionally from the hip, and they would come through the train, checking that all is well no doubt, when one actually sat down with us and consumed a few glasses on this high octane rice whisky, which I later found out could be used as fuel for a motorbike!

 

Not being able to communicate isn’t as bad as you might think, I mean, I already knew that the father was regularly chastised by wife for drinking so much, and judging by the laughter from others, he was a funny guy. The policeman could not help but notice my interest in his weapon, and he took it out, checking that the safety was on, and duly handed it to me.

 

He motioned me over to the window, which he slid open, then he motioned that I could fire a shot into the passing jungle. Of course, I did, and the noise was deafening! He soon had me sat down again, with his smoking handgun firmly back in its holster, and much to our surprise, half a dozen cops were in our compartment, looking around frantically. It seems the sergeant wasn’t far away when the shot went off, and he knew it was a firearm discharge. The cop was scolded a little and then things returned back to normal, and we settled down for the final few hours of darkness.

 

My arrival at Nakon Sri Thammarat station was an eye opener, the station as heaving with people, and there were boxes, sacks of rice, chickens and god knows what else being changed hands, and despite all the activity, they all took the time to look at the crazy farang with a backpack and a pair of headphones on, smiling at everyone.

 

Back in 1985, a large majority of southern Thais had never seen a westerner in the flesh, and this was becoming more and more apparent as I made my way out of the station. I noticed a street restaurant and with still 500 baht, I decided a cold beer was in order.

 

Not had I sat down for more than a few seconds, a cold Singha beer with a bucketful of ice was presented on my table, along with a cold face flannel and a nicely frosted glass. This was not ordered by me, I might add, but, of course, the cold beer was graciously accepted, and I sat there, on the edge of yet another adventure.

 

After a while, I noticed that everyone had their eyes on yours truly, and there was a small crowd gathering on the far side of the street, and whenever I made eye contact, I was greeted with a smile!

Now despite my global travelling experiences that covered most of Europe and parts of Africa, I had never been the centre of attraction like this. I now know how these Hollywood superstars feel whenever they venture out, and suddenly a kid appeared, ran to me, touched my leg and ran back to his waiting friends!

 

Being the centre of attraction, I decided to act as admirably as I could, all the while consuming more beer as it was put in front of me. The shop owner came over and said “Thailand” with his thumbs up, to which I wholeheartedly agreed, and up to this point, my adventure had far exceeded any expectations I might have had.

As I had just escaped the UK winter, I was whiter than white, which only added to the attraction for the Thais, and after a few more of those delicious beers, I decided to head off into the town.

 

I then saw a sign on a brand new motorbike that said “100 Baht”, which I thought was amazing and went to talk to the owner, only to discover that the 100 baht, was, in fact, the deposit. Oh well, never mind.

I was then approached by a monk, who said in perfect English,

 

“Good morning, what brings you to these parts?”

 

Delighted to be able to speak to someone, I offered we sit and drink some water, to which he agreed.

I told him the truth, that I was a global traveler who wishes to see and experience as much as I can, and he nodded, seeming to understand.

“Have you somewhere to stay?” He enquired.

 

I told him I had not made any plans, to which he replied that I was more than welcome to visit his temple and stay a while, and as I had not received any better offers, I graciously accepted his invitation and we were soon sitting in a baht bus, heading south.

Heading for a temple was not something I had planned, yet in all my travels, I always went with the flow, and that had never let me down.

 

After half an hour, the monk pressed the button and we got off, me with my backpack and him with his small cloth bag. Turns out he’d spent a few years at a monastery in the UK, which is where he acquired his language skills, and after some discussion, he said he would propose to the abbot that I be allowed to stay, and in return I would teach the monks English, and that was how the arrangement played out.

I was taken to my room, which was bare of furniture, but it had a roof and was perfect for me, and after unpacking a few things, I went out to meet the 40 or so monks, all looking at me like I had two heads. Ajarn Put (the English speaking monk) was obviously telling his colleagues a little about me, and they all responded with a smile.

 

I soon became a celebrity in the nearby village, and spent most of my mornings, sitting with the man of the house, drinking rice whisky on his porch, which wasn’t my idea at all, yet it seemed like inviting me for a drink was the thing to do. Every morning I would attempt to reach the nearby village, but could never pass a house without being invited in, which meant I was three sheets to the wind every time!

 

 

I was the main attraction for all ages, young kids actually cried when they saw me, while the older ones were definitely curious, and even the old people seemed glued to my every move.

The Funerals

People are always dying, and in Nakon Sri Thammarat, a death meant everyone attending a 3 or 4 day funeral, and I was regularly ‘paraded’ by the villagers when we ventured out to one of these gatherings.

One particular time, I was accompanied by 4 or 5 of the elderly men from our village, and we travelled a couple of hours to reach this place, which was absolutely teeming with people, and I immediately became the main attraction. Very aware of this by now, I was not surprised to be ushered to the elders’ platform, where 7 or 8 very old chaps were seated in a circle. The one who was obviously the most senior placed a small glass in front of me and poured some of the Lao Kao, gesturing that I drink. I knew that “let’s get the tourist drunk” was the game being played, yet these old timers hadn’t reckoned on a seasoned drinker who already had mastered this local tipple.

 

I duly drank the shot, licked my lips, then asked if I may have another, to which they all laughed and filled my glass again. I then filled the glass and passed it to the guy next to me, signalling that he drink it in one hit. I became quite persuasive and when the bottle was empty, I went a bought another, and to see their faces when I returned, bottle in hand, was indeed a sight.

 

Slightly disgusted at being made a spectacle of, I decided to force these guys to get drunk, while I would do my best to retain a sober demeanour, and over the next 2 hours, and a couple of bottles more, I left them all unconscious on their bamboo platform, while I staggered back to my group, happy that I had achieved my goal!

 

The Malaysian Invasion

While in deep slumber one night, I was abruptly woken by the sound of gunfire and shouting. It was coming from the village a kilometer away, and it sounded like all hell had broke loose. I woke one of the monks, who explained to me that the noise I was hearing was the locals trying to remove a cloud that was blocking the moon! I preferred to think this was a military takeover, as the Malaysian border was not far away, so I ventured off quietly to investigate.

 

People were banging pots and pans against coconut trees, while others shouted loudly, all looking at the moon, and the occasional burst of gunfire could be heard, all of which was rather a lot to comprehend. I was later informed that when there was a full moon, if a cloud covered the moon, it would bring bad luck, so the locals were out in force trying to shoo the cloud away.

 

Of course, it makes perfect sense now!

Great story....

23 hours ago, geronimo said:

will post the second installment tomorrow.

I look forward to reading it... 

 

ps - I was here as a round the world backpacker in 74... also in Crete for a month... but never totally broke... 

 

Thanks for a fun read... 

1985 was just yesterday, we were already well into building MabTaPut, all the gas pipelines etc., and putting millions of cars on new roads.

Part three tomorrow .....

Well written, keep it coming ! ????

For everybody who likes to read stories about Thailand I can recommend the following book:

 

"The Long Winding Road to Nakhon Nowhere: When Thailand Truly was the Land of Smiles"  by Roger Crutchley.

It contains lots of amazing stories from the past.

 

I know Roger personally. He is a nice guy and it's always amazing when he talks about Thailand from many decades ago.

Great Story.

Oddly enough mine may have been very similar had a David Bowie gig not intervened.

In 82 I worked in France on the grape harvest , followed by some labouring in Crete and a 6 month stint on a Kibbutz in Israel.

Ended up in Eilat working with an electrical contractor and sleeping on the beach , hopping across the border to Sinai and lounging about in Dohab and Nuweiba.

Got a letter from my best pal in England asking me to be the best man at his wedding , he promised me a Bowie concert ticket as a sweetener. 

Back home I started working in a printing company intending to stay just 6 months then head off to Thailand. Unfortunately there was this cute graphic artist and well the rest is history.

Took me 15 years to eventually reach Thailand and I had missed the boat . My mate from Israel had moved on to Samui in 86 and told me it was a different world back then.

Oddly enough I was in Nakhon Si Thammarat about 10 years and found the locals incredibly friendly also. The female owner of the hotel we stayed in insisted we be guests of honour at the end of year staff party. The following day she drove us around on a countryside tour and her sister gave us lunch on her farm and showed us her fruit orchards.

The memories...I left Israel in 1983 after 9 years hanging out on various kibbutzim and then working in the Eilat area for a year to earn enough money to leave. Breaks were always at Nueiba and Dahab. The nude beach at Nueiba -- 3rd dune -- were in their heyday and they had these outrageous, black magic mushrooms. Finally arriving in Thailand by way of India, Nepal, Hong Kong, the PRC, as it was known then, and Malaysia on one of those round-the-world tickets for 1,200 pounds, I was beat and needed a rest from my travels.

 

I had run a traveler's check scam on Thomas Cook in Nepal and was running low on money waiting for them to finally 'reimburse' me for my 'lost' traveler's checks in Bangkok. I had found a really good curry place near the main train station where I liked to go for breakfast. I had gotten my food and left, crossing the street as usual, when some uniformed person with a lot of gold braid and salad dressing all over it accosted me, rudely, in Thai. I understood nothing until he said '200 baht' in English, apparently for jaywalking. I said no and found myself facing the business end of his revolver, right there on the street, people walking by. I gave the aasshole his 200 baht. Welcome to Thailand.

 

Thomas Cook finally came through and I had some money, so I headed north to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. Must have been April, because Songkran was happening while I was there. I was in an ice cream shop in Chiang Mai, mainly for the air conditioner, when some Vietnamese guy came in and sat at the table I was sitting at and tried to sell me some cocaine. I almost died laughing. Cocaine in Thailand in 1983? Struck me as a bit incongruous and also felt like one hell of a setup. I told him to leave or I'd call the police. He left.

 

Somehow I made my way to Koh Samui and found a bamboo hut/bungalow on the beach near Nathon. It was 15 baht/night. Each hut/bungalow had a book/ledger at the kitchen. You just ordered what you wanted to eat and wrote it in the book. You paid when you finally left. My first night one of the girls who worked there followed me back to my hut after the evening meal. I didn't have the heart to turn her away. I'm like that. The next morning I noticed her name in my book and 15 baht next to it.

 

It was 30 baht to the US dollar in 1983. It's not like that anymore...

12 hours ago, GalaxyMan said:

The memories...I left Israel in 1983 after 9 years hanging out on various kibbutzim and then working in the Eilat area for a year to earn enough money to leave. Breaks were always at Nueiba and Dahab. The nude beach at Nueiba -- 3rd dune -- were in their heyday and they had these outrageous, black magic mushrooms. Finally arriving in Thailand by way of India, Nepal, Hong Kong, the PRC, as it was known then, and Malaysia on one of those round-the-world tickets for 1,200 pounds, I was beat and needed a rest from my travels.

 

I had run a traveler's check scam on Thomas Cook in Nepal and was running low on money waiting for them to finally 'reimburse' me for my 'lost' traveler's checks in Bangkok. I had found a really good curry place near the main train station where I liked to go for breakfast. I had gotten my food and left, crossing the street as usual, when some uniformed person with a lot of gold braid and salad dressing all over it accosted me, rudely, in Thai. I understood nothing until he said '200 baht' in English, apparently for jaywalking. I said no and found myself facing the business end of his revolver, right there on the street, people walking by. I gave the aasshole his 200 baht. Welcome to Thailand.

 

Thomas Cook finally came through and I had some money, so I headed north to Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai. Must have been April, because Songkran was happening while I was there. I was in an ice cream shop in Chiang Mai, mainly for the air conditioner, when some Vietnamese guy came in and sat at the table I was sitting at and tried to sell me some cocaine. I almost died laughing. Cocaine in Thailand in 1983? Struck me as a bit incongruous and also felt like one hell of a setup. I told him to leave or I'd call the police. He left.

 

Somehow I made my way to Koh Samui and found a bamboo hut/bungalow on the beach near Nathon. It was 15 baht/night. Each hut/bungalow had a book/ledger at the kitchen. You just ordered what you wanted to eat and wrote it in the book. You paid when you finally left. My first night one of the girls who worked there followed me back to my hut after the evening meal. I didn't have the heart to turn her away. I'm like that. The next morning I noticed her name in my book and 15 baht next to it.

 

It was 30 baht to the US dollar in 1983. It's not like that anymore...

Aaah yes, Thomas Cook also funded my travelling on occasions, nice story!

A couple of remembrances of meeting Thai people...

 

I was in Ayutthaya to see the ruins. I had developed this 'habit' of ordering a small bottle of Mekong whiskey, a bucket of ice, water, and a bowl of chilis to munch on. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I was minding my own business, sitting at a table, when some Thais saw me. They couldn't believe that a farang was 'eating like a Thai', as they told me. They invited me to join them and I had a wonderful afternoon.

 

I was stuck in Bangkok for 3 days. That's what I call being in Bangkok, stuck. Terrible place. I hate big cities for the most part, but back then Bangkok just stunk of tuk-tuks and exhaust fumes, not to mention the incredible noise. Anyway, I used to escape from the city by riding the Chao Praya River bus up and down the river all day. It was only 5 baht, and if I got hungry, I could just get off at the next stop that had a restaurant, which I did around lunchtime one day, ordering my usual Mekong & chilis for an appetizer. As I was sitting there, a group of a dozen or so military-looking guys came in to eat; lots of gold braid and salad dressing on their uniforms. After they had been sitting for some time, they noticed me; sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, long hair and a beard. One of them came over to me and addressed me in English, expressing surprise that I would eat chilis and drink Mekong. They ended up inviting me to join their party and I had an incredible afternoon eating and getting drunk.

 

I was so in love with Thailand and still am, despite the obvious negatives. I still eat chilis and drink Thai whiskey, though not nearly as much or as often. Sucks getting old, but it sure beats the alternative. ????

1 minute ago, GalaxyMan said:

A couple of remembrances of meeting Thai people...

 

I was in Ayutthaya to see the ruins. I had developed this 'habit' of ordering a small bottle of Mekong whiskey, a bucket of ice, water, and a bowl of chilis to munch on. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I was minding my own business, sitting at a table, when some Thais saw me. They couldn't believe that a farang was 'eating like a Thai', as they told me. They invited me to join them and I had a wonderful afternoon.

 

I was stuck in Bangkok for 3 days. That's what I call being in Bangkok, stuck. Terrible place. I hate big cities for the most part, but back then Bangkok just stunk of tuk-tuks and exhaust fumes, not to mention the incredible noise. Anyway, I used to escape from the city by riding the Chao Praya River bus up and down the river all day. It was only 5 baht, and if I got hungry, I could just get off at the next stop that had a restaurant, which I did around lunchtime one day, ordering my usual Mekong & chilis for an appetizer. As I was sitting there, a group of a dozen or so military-looking guys came in to eat; lots of gold braid and salad dressing on their uniforms. After they had been sitting for some time, they noticed me; sleeveless t-shirt and shorts, long hair and a beard. One of them came over to me and addressed me in English, expressing surprise that I would eat chilis and drink Mekong. They ended up inviting me to join their party and I had an incredible afternoon eating and getting drunk.

 

I was so in love with Thailand and still am, despite the obvious negatives. I still eat chilis and drink Thai whiskey, though not nearly as much or as often. Sucks getting old, but it sure beats the alternative. ????

Great stuff, further proof that the best experiences come when you go local!

Episode 3 will be delayed ......

On ‎5‎/‎25‎/‎2019 at 11:28 PM, geronimo said:

will post the second installment tomorrow.

Thank you. Great story but it did leave me hanging. I will be watching for part two (you teaser).

Just now, neeray said:

Thank you. Great story but it did leave me hanging. I will be watching for part two (you teaser).

Part two is already posted, part three coming soon

I blog for a living, so most of my time is taken up with roofers in Perth or used cars in London, yet I will find the time to pen the rest. Meantime, it would be great for other expats to share their experiences.

 

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has had some unique experiences, and I enjoy reading the replies.

 

As for how long this series will last, the first episode was in 1985 and I'm still here!

 

Perhaps another 4 or 5 and that will be it guys!

 

Enjoy Life

Part Three .....

 

The Poo Yai Bahn

This is the guy who informs the people about community events, and there were speakers in all corners of the village, and he would mumble away softly in the early mornings for an hour or so. I enquired as to what he was saying and was told he mainly spoke about local government, what time the meeting would be for the rice farmers, weather reports, and other community stuff. Our Poo Yai Bahn was a portly fellow, as black and the blackest of blacks, with a weathered face, and he was the guy to talk to if you had a problem, and one night, quite late, I hear the screeching of microphone feedback, and he began to speak loudly to the entire village.

 

This would be around 11pm and there seemed quite an urgency in his voice, I asked one of the monks what he was saying,

 

The monk explained that the Poo Yai Bahn was in fact, as drunk as a skunk, and went on to relay that the Poo Yai Bahn was most upset because his wife spilled water on the bed, and as he was complaining about his wife’s family to the entire village, the sound was abruptly cut off!

 

The monk smiled, the wife had crept under the table and pulled out the mic cord from the amplifier, and Poo Yai Bahn was still complaining, only no one could hear him and we all went back to sleep.

 

Village Life

The people were always up and about before sunrise, indeed, they cleaned their houses and tidied up the yard during the very early hours, while it was still cool. Kids cleaned the yard and went about feeding the chickens, ducks and dogs, and around an hour after dawn, the buffaloes would start their trek out to the paddy fields for grazing. Each had a long string running behind it, with the last animal being tapped by a 10 year old boy’s stick, and the dogs were inconspicuous in their absence, as the 40 or so buffaloes ambled through the village.

 

Neighbour Washing Clothes

This, I have to admit, was my big tease, imagine if you will, a tanned girl of about 17 years sitting a few yards away, washing clothes, and in such a climate, the women wore nothing but a sarong, and this particular girl’s sarong had a huge knot in the front, and as she scrubbed the clothes, the knot would very slowly begin to unravel. My eyes would be fixed on this knot like a jaguar about to make a kill, and she continued to scrub, the knot continued to slowly unravel, and just when it reached the point of becoming free, her hands came up at the speed of light, fixed the knot, and carried on scrubbing!

 

I spent countless hours watching her wash clothes, and she always caught the knot at exactly the right time!

 

Daily Chores

When the monks were meditating, I would be sweeping the leaves, cleaning the toilets, filling the water urns

Every house had a well, and that used to be my job at 5am, using a bucket, I had to fill a huge clay urn and that was the shower water for the day. We are talking a big urn here, the height of a man, and that was my physical exercise for the day, which I enjoyed immensely.

By midday, there was little movement, people mostly stayed in the shade, and nothing much happened until 5pm, when the older boys would get out the takraw, a small rattan ball, and start kicking it around. A footballer in my schooling days, I soon joined in, and they had never considered using the head, so I kind of introduced them to a new technique. They played barefoot, which I found to be extremely painful, but with my trainers on, I was an OK player, and while my technique was strange to them, it worked.

 

Poo Yai Bahn’s Dog

I only had one encounter with the Poo Yai Bahn, an unfortunate incident involving his dog, which I have to admit was solely my doing.

 

I had a survival book on my pack, and one day, I decided to make one of the animal traps that were illustrated. I was, after all, in the jungle, and perhaps I could bag a boar or something that the villagers could consume!

 

So I set about setting up this trap in the jungle, and it seemed pretty simple, a loop of rope that, when pulled, would release the bent branch and catch the animal in question. I decided to put a juicy bit of pork in the middle of the loop, as an extra motivation for whatever passed by.

 

I totally forgot about this, until one of the monks told me that the Poo Yai Bahn’s dog got caught up in some rope. Oh dear! I knew instantly that this was the result of my trap, and before I could compose myself and visit the headman to apologise, he sent someone to tell me that there are no wild animals here, the locals have eaten them all, and would I please refrain from laying traps!

 

Talking to Oneself

If you have never experienced living in a foreign culture where no one speaks your language. You might think it’s no big deal, but I can tell you, after 6 months, there was I, talking to myself, and to make matters worse, the English speaking monk had left for England, leaving me without a translator. It had been 6 months already, and I had zero contact with the outside world, and in those days, smartphones were a long way off, and the Internet was nonexistent.

 

I spent my time exploring the area and go to know people from a nearby village, where I was most warmly received. One morning, a group of farmers took me out into the fields, where they had a little bamboo hut, and we took a few bottles of Lao Kao and a chicken and off we went.

 

I left at around 5pm, well the worse for wear, and duly returned to the temple to sleep it off.

The next morning, I was woken by a commotion outside, it seemed a group of women were upset about something, and after 5 minutes of verbal exchanges with the monks, they left.

 

I enquired about this and was told that the women were from the next village and had lost their husbands, only to find them laying in the paddy fields in a drunken stupor. Somehow the women found out about the crazy farang and had come to make sure that I don’t visit again.

On ‎5‎/‎26‎/‎2019 at 2:43 PM, geronimo said:

Soi Cowboy, a place I was destined to visit oh so many times over the coming years, and I was immediately in heaven. It was still daylight, yet we were both quickly surrounded by gorgeous Thai girls,

and they really were gorgeous back then. Unlike the fatties that never smile now.

Good story.

On ‎5‎/‎26‎/‎2019 at 2:43 PM, geronimo said:

I looked behind me and saw this huge Buddhist shrine

Shades of The Beach, the <deleted> movie ruined by DE Caprio. Movie starts with him in front of a huge reclining Buddha. It was made from polystyrene, and remained in situ for many years after. It's gone now.

On 5/28/2019 at 6:34 AM, geronimo said:

It was 30 baht to the US dollar in 1983. It's not like that anymore...

It actually was coming up from 20 to a dollar, to be pegged at 25,  from 1984 till the 97 collapse.

 

Minor point. Please continue.

 

My story:

 

Working as a service engineer for a uk/us company I was asked to visit Thailand in 1991, and was excited at the thought !!, I had already traveled extensively but Thailand was top of the league !

Arrived at the airport ( Don Muang I guess) armed with only an address of the factory and a contact name ( Kevin ).

Kevin didn’t show so I had to get a taxi, not a problem you would think ? but after looking at my scribbled address the hordes of waiting taxi drivers all declined. Except for one guy “ okay, okay “ he said confidently and motioned me to wait as he went to get the car, I should have seen the signs [emoji849]. “600 baht “, okay I said, after all it wasn’t my money !.

Anyway we set off in the direction of Bangkadi and it was apparent he didn’t know the way but after asking directions after more than an hour or so we arrived.

The factory was quiet but luckily the security guard was on site as was the plant manager Charles. Charles ushered me inside and asked me how much was the taxi , “600” I replied, he looked aghast “600 !, no way give him 200 “.

I had agreed with the driver for 600 so felt kinda embarrassed offering him 200, the taxi driver got down on his knees begging for the 600.

I was in the process of getting more money out when Charles exclaimed “ wait, that’s not even a taxi !! “ and shouted something to the security guard.

The guard reached inside the gatehouse and produced an ancient rifle, which was obviously very old and looked quite comical, pointed it at the taxi driver who got back in his “ taxi “ and drove away.

I was feeling quite guilty, after all the guy had got me here when others had declined, and regretted not intervening and giving him 3 or 4 hundred. Charles explains that recently some Japanese visitors took the same route and were robbed, beaten and left for dead in their shorts out in the rice fields so tensions were running high against dodgy taxis.

 

My 10 days in Thailand consisted of me leaving the hotel in Bangkok early to beat the traffic, working all day in a hot sweaty environment ( Kevin looking down from his air conned office [emoji35]).

Leaving the plant to a local bar for food and drinks till the traffic died down, driving to my hotel for a quick shower and then Kevin’s driver taking me on to meet up with Kevin , and others, usually in Soi Cowboy, staying till around 2 when the bargain basement girls were offered ( I declined ) then back to collapse in a heap on my hotel bed for what seemed like 5 minutes !!

 

A pretty common visit experience for anyone, only exception being:

 

Around 6 weeks later ( mid may) I was at a driving range with my buddy and I was feeling a bit off so after a couple in the pub I retired early.

Woke up in the middle of the night burning up, into the bathroom to cool down, cold flannel on my head and laid in the empty bath. Ex wife accused me of being drunk !! and left me there.!!

Went back to bed and slept, next morning woke up, bright yellow, even the whites of my eyes were yellow ! .

Yup, hepatitis A , my souvenir from LOS !!

 

Would be 24 years before I went back, to a new factory, the one in Bangkadi ended up under 6 metres of water for 2 months during the flooding !!

 

 

2 hours ago, Andrew Dwyer said:

Anyway we set off in the direction of Bangkadi and it was apparent he didn’t know the way but after asking directions after more than an hour or so we arrived.

In 74 on a tour from Singapore I caught a tuk tuk to the hotel, but the driver took me somewhere else. He didn't have a clue where the hotel was. After asking someone else we arrived and he asked for more money because it was further. The security guard came and after the story, the driver got the original amount, though not happy.

 

First time I went to Chiang Mai I caught a tuk tuk to hotel recommended in Lonely Planet, and driver told me "closed". I knew the old con where they tell you that, and take you to another hotel for the commission, so I insisted. When we arrived it was indeed closed! Luckily even back then Chiang Mai had an guest house every 15 meters, so found another lau lau.

 

Everything I know about Thailand was learned the hard way, by making mistakes and sorting them, eventually. 

Loads of stories that I could tell, but some too embarrassing.

 

 

Part 4

 

Thai Bullfighting

This was a popular sport in the south, indeed the owners of the prized bulls took better care of them than they did their wives, with mosquito netting when they slept, and daily massages. The trainer would be out for an early morning run, with his prime bull strutting along like a thoroughbred racehorse, as they went through their paces. My friend’s father owned the champion, and it grazed in the field behind their house.

 

I had witnessed a bullfight in Spain many years ago and was appalled by the goings on, and I’m happy to report that Thai bullfighting is a little different. There’s no human involvement, merely beast versus beast, and in the large circular ring, there is an exit for the losing animal, which decides the contest.

By this time I could understand most of what the locals said, and this champion bull was about to take on another local champ from a 100km away, and the build-up was quite intense. Every evening, the bull owners would gather together and discuss their animals in great detail, while drinking rice whisky, and on occasions I would join them.

 

One particular evening, they all seemed to be quite keen about the up and coming big event, and I was told that their bull couldn’t lose. Of course, it is perfectly normal for the trainer to be eternally optimistic about his charge, yet they revealed to me that they had a secret weapon, a bottle of tiger piss.

Apparently, once they sprinkled some of this feline urine on their bull, this would totally freak out the challenger, who, according to these guys, would make for the exit within a few minutes of the contest starting.

 

I decided to go and watch the fight and when we arrived, there were already a few hundred men gathered, and money was changing hands as they bet on the chicken fighting, which was the undercard of the meeting, prior to the main event.

 

Both animals arrived and each occupied an opposite end of the big dirt arena, while the teams frantically washed and groomed their fighters, whispering words of encouragement as they prepared for battle.

There were no rounds as such, rather both animals were led into the circle and the battle commenced, only to end when one made an exit.

 

Both animals were being sprayed with water, only our beast’s water contained that special ingredient, and we all waited with baited breath to see the outcome.

 

The trainers led their charges to the edge of the ring and then left, leaving the bulls about 25 metres apart, ours began to dig his front hoof into the ground, the way that bulls do when they’re upset. They sized each other up for a few minutes before gradually getting closer and closer, then, all of a sudden they clashed. The ground shook as these two muscular beasts pushed against each other, and sure enough, for reasons known only to the bull, the challenger took off for the exit, with our charge in hot pursuit.

 

The team were overjoyed of course, and the bulls were quickly rounded up and taken off to graze while the men exchanged money and the rice whisky flowed. I won 500 baht on the outcome of that one, and we all listened intently while the challenger’s owner confessed that he had never seen his bull back down like that.

 

 

 

After 18 months at the temple, I decided to venture back to Bangkok and look for a teaching job, which I figured wouldn’t be too hard for a westerner to find. I am now on the train to Bangkok and met a few young backpackers and for the first time on over a year I spoke my native language!

When asked where I’m going, the words just came out,

 

“I go Bangkok, work as English teacher” in my worst pigeon English

They soon disappeared and I realized that my English left a lot to be desired.

 

By the time we had reached Hua Lampong Station in Bangkok, I had already discovered that the Thai language I had become so proficient at, would be absolutely no use to me in Bangkok. I had mastered the southern dialect, so as far as language was concerned, I had to start again from scratch.

How weird, lost my mother tongue and learned a language that was to prove useless!

 

My Good Freind Raj

 

I was lucky enough to be recommended a really quaint and out of the way guest house that was tucked away in a tiny alley off Radjamnuen Avenue. A teak Thai house with cushions everywhere and the sweet smell of incense filled the air, there was a feeling of tranquility about the place, and I settled in, quite happy to have found such a serene place! The manager was a likeable fellow by the name of Raj, a Nepalese guy who was fluent in English and happened to have a terrific sense of humour.

 

We had many laughs at the other guests’ expense, some of which I can recall.

The door to the guest house has a small slot that was opened whenever the bell rang, and one sunny morning, Raj and I are chatting at the reception desk, when the doorbell chimed,

“Pretend you can’t speak English Raj”

He opened the slot and a couple of English backpacking girls asked,

“Do you have any vacancies?”

“Room, yes, have room” Raj replied in his worst English.

“Come, come” he added, opening the door and beckoned them to the reception counter.

He then proceeded to open the guest ledger book and pointed to a spot,

“Signaytor” he said, handing them a pen.

“Nights, how many you want”? He added.

They wanted to stay one week, so Raj put them in the one double room on the top floor,

“Come, come, show room, show room” he beckoned in just about the worst English pronounciation I’d ever heard.

Upon his return, I filled him in on the plan.

About an hour later, we hear their footsteps coming down the stairs and I quickly pulled out this English grammar book,

“OK Raj, say after me,

Good morning, how are you today?”

Before he could reply, the girls were there and as they handed Raj the key, one of them glanced at the book we were reading,

“Ahh, you’re teaching him some English” she commented.

“Er yes, we started yesterday and already he has made amazing progress”

Raj looked at the girl,

“Going, where, you?”

She giggled a little, as silly uni girls do when they’re on their gap year, and they were gone.

I filled Raj in with the next step of my plan, and at around 8pm that night, the girls arrived.

Raj launched into speech in an instant, and in his best Oxford English,

“Now that is indeed a very good question, so good, in fact, that I would need a considerable amount of time to come up with an answer, but with some study, I do believe I can discover the meaning of life.”

One of the girl’s jaw dropped,

“Oh my God! He could hardly say a word this morning!”

I explained that in all my years as an English teacher, I had never encountered such a fast and talented learner.

She look over at Raj, who was reading the English grammar book,

“So, when I was asked for my definition of ecstasy, I gave the right answer” he nodded.

“May I know your definition of ecstasy?” she enquired.

“Well”, he paused for a few seconds,

“Ecstasy is a feeling you feel when you feel you are about to feel a feeling that you feel you’ve never felt before”

“Astounding” one of the girls remarked, shaking her head.

Next morning, Raj was plucking at his guitar, making off key sounds, much like a beginner would, when the girls arrived.

“Wow! You play the guitar too”

Raj smiled,

“Actually, after hearing a beautiful piece by a professional musician, I decided I wanted to be able to do that.”

“That’s amazing! When did u start to learn playing the guitar?”

“About 30 minutes ago” Raj replied, looking at his watch.

What they didn’t know was that Raj was a real master of the 12-string, and late that evening, the girls showed up.

Raj picked up his 12-string and began to play Romeo and Juliet (Dire Straits), which stopped them in their tracks. I, too, acted as though a miracle had occurred, as Raj strummed away, never bothering to look at the fret.

“That was quite easy, even if I do say so myself” Raj commented, while carefully placing his guitar.

‘But this in incredible! I mean you learn at such a rate, that you can’t be human!” The smaller of the two girls proclaimed.

Raj shrugged his shoulders, “things just come to me”.

 

Military Mike

One of the guests was a muscular guy who sat silently reading in a corner, and even though he looked a little menacing, Raj assured me he was harmless. In fact, Raj took the time to fill me in with a little background on Mike.

 

A few years prior to this, Mike was in the South of France and met a couple of guys who invited him to a private party, which turned out to be a really wild affair. Drink, drugs and wild women were all on the menu and Mike being the kind of guy he was, got stuck in like it was his last few days on this earth (which wasn’t far wrong) and he awoke inside a barracks and was informed that his ass now belonged to the French Foreign Legion for the next 3 years!

 

The next morning at around 5am, a burly looking sergeant woke Mike by screaming in his ear, and once out of bed, he was ordered to put on his helmet, and make sure it is well attached to his head. The sergeant then took Mike round the neck and proceeded to ram his head against a steel locker door again and again, until the locker door was unrecogniseable! Raj went on to say that ever since that day, Mike has woken up at 4:50 am every morning without fail, and he had only finished his 3-year stint a few months prior to my arrival.

 

Mike came down the stairs, Raj said “watch this”

 

“MIKE, GO DOWN THE STREET AND BUY ME A NEWSPAPER” Raj bellowed, much like a sergeant would, and Mike stood to attention,

 

“Yes Sir” He replied, while saluting, and strode manfully to the main entrance.

Raj mentioned that the only way to get Mike to do anything was to order him in a loud voice!

It seems that 3 years with the FFL had left its mark on this poor chap. I wondered how much damage the head bashing had actually done, and Raj said that as neither of us knew him before that incident, we will never know.

Great story! The Raj language/music tale had me LMAO. ????

3 hours ago, geronimo said:

“I go Bangkok, work as English teacher” in my worst pigeon English

Love it.

I think any average guy that turned up in LOS 30 or so years ago would have a large number of stories to tell of life in paradise.

Sadly, as LOS has lost the smile, and succumbed to greed, the stories have become less exotic and more mediocre.

I read stories years ago by a well known farang author ( age has removed his name from my memory banks ) who lived on the beach near Hat Yai, and frequented a local bar populated by real characters. Eventually I went to Hat Yai and took a local bus to said beach looking for said bar. Nowhere to be found. Sometime later I found the author at a book sale and asked him what happened to the bar- a resort had been built on the site, and the bar was gone forever. 

Does life get better as human knowledge advances, or are we just destroying everything in the search for a bigger bank balance?

IMO, LOS has lost that which made it special, and it is descending rapidly into the mediocrity that characterises the west now. Greed and PC take no prisoners.

5 minutes ago, thaibeachlovers said:

Love it.

I think any average guy that turned up in LOS 30 or so years ago would have a large number of stories to tell of life in paradise.

Sadly, as LOS has lost the smile, and succumbed to greed, the stories have become less exotic and more mediocre.

I read stories years ago by a well known farang author ( age has removed his name from my memory banks ) who lived on the beach near Hat Yai, and frequented a local bar populated by real characters. Eventually I went to Hat Yai and took a local bus to said beach looking for said bar. Nowhere to be found. Sometime later I found the author at a book sale and asked him what happened to the bar- a resort had been built on the site, and the bar was gone forever. 

Does life get better as human knowledge advances, or are we just destroying everything in the search for a bigger bank balance?

IMO, LOS has lost that which made it special, and it is descending rapidly into the mediocrity that characterises the west now. Greed and PC take no prisoners.

Yes, I agree with you that Thailand has changed so much, and I was lucky enough to experience it before the westerners arrived in force.