Beavering Away In Pattaya

[PattayaOneTeam]

The Bellwether End

Lost in Translation - by Mike Bell

When I first started scribbling, I showed some of my early work to a fellow writer; a professional who wrote regularly for some local publications. He gave me a couple of pieces of advice which I've never forgotten - try as I might.

“Look, no one is interested in your witty memoirs no matter how well they are written. The bulk of your readership will be grumpy old men whose three main concerns in life are: the baht exchange rate; the state of their prostate; and semi-related, that funny itch at the end of their willy. Confine your stories to Pattaya or at the very least Thailand.”

His second piece of advice was even more daunting: “No editor is going to take a chance on a new regular columnist without a year's worth of material.” He went on to explain the other dreaded disease round here: writers block. This must not be confused with writers cramp which you can get with overworking your wrist. Stop sniggering you at the back - who overworks their own wrist in Pattaya?

This has meant, if you'll pardon the expression, beavering away trying to come up with Pattaya-based ideas, spending hours researching in Soi 6, canvassing family members (if you'll pardon yet another deliberate double entendre), neighbours, local working girls which was a real chore, all in the pursuit of scholarship, fame and money.

Many writers get their ideas in the toilet or driving a car. Many of mine occur to me when I am in bed. I'd explained my troubles to Lek and I could tell she was cogitating by the rhythmic movement of her fingers. I'd struck a common chord when I mentioned the pursuit of money. Apparently she had been just the same when she was young. Her words illuminated the dark. “Easy. Say farang story but make Thai name.”

In a flash I had it. Endless supplies of material: starting with Nursery Rhymes, on to Disney films, finally culminating in Steven Spielberg. I was so excited by Lek's cogitations that I wanted to begin there and then. She fixed me, however with a steely eye, “First we talk commission.”

So, an Australian tourist visited Thailand for the first time. He had delayed the trip for years because he had the second-most shameful secret an Aussie can have: he was still unknown to woman. (The first is being known to man.) All his mates told him of this wonderful place called Pattaya which was carpeted with wall-to-wall beauties, eager to relieve him of his shame, amongst other things.

He found himself at the top of Soi 6 on his first night, wracked with nerves and tension. Amongst his anxieties were premature ejaculation and the opposite, impotence. A mate had helped him with the latter by recommending some chemical assistance. He'd taken two, to be on the safe side. The same mate had told him he was to speak to Lek in Saigon Girls and to be brutally honest about his problem.

She was not easy to find: some of the girls told him it was Lek's night off. Others claimed to be Lek but they did not have the required butterfly tattoo to prove it. She eventually appeared in the company of a red-faced and fat guy who left abruptly. Over a beer the Aussie explained his situation. She was skeptical at first. “Farang go hok. Never know farang who not boom-boom lady Thai or you have shameful secret?”

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-- Pattaya One 2011-01-28