Back in Medan, this dusty typical third world muslim town full with stinking open gutters, heavy traffic of the rusty type and people evrywhere going to and fro on a mad quest for Allah only knows what.

For the sake of convenience - and still having lots of local tatty notes of Rp. still in my pocket that need to get out of there - I decided on an airco minibus to Medan - 25.000 Rp. for a local bus and 70.000 Rp. for a airco minivan with the added advantage they drop you off in front of the hotel of your choice which in my case was Hotel Residence near the Meshid Raya, the main mosque an the location of the tourist district in Medam.

The Meshid Raya is also the only real place of interest in an otherwise very boring Medan unless you fancy walking around traffic congested dusty streets full with people, risking the health of your lungs breathing in all these exhaust fumes that cloud the air.

So it was goodbey and muchos saludos pero el tiempo de regresa a Bankok ya viene muy pront yesterday to all these willing to marry a ferringy male Batak ladies yesterday with the cleaning ladies from the Carolina Hotel waving me off and a SMS tekst message from Mamma Cesca on my phone while I was already well on the way to Medan.

Provided I wake up in time I`ll be on that ferry to Penang tomorrow. Another five boring hours surrounded by dozing locals dressed in thick coats because they can`t stand the ferry`s airco.

Two days in Penang, twnety hours by train to Bangkok/Krung Thep and on to that Male Kingdom that keeps coming back - one way or another - in my tormented dreams when I sleep in my own bed, in my own house, in Amsterdam. it is waving at me, gesturing me with obscene vistas to come back, to return each year. False promises of REAL LOVE with wintered prostitutes.

And after Pattaya is over, back to my beloved Amsterdam where I will slug it out another summer with the drunks, the hopeless and the lost souls in Westerpark!!!

]]> Tue, 09 Jun 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=70259 0 3.5833333 98.6666667 I leave my dingy liitle room early morning at first light, bulky backpack strapped to my back and dressed in my last clean clothes, I`ve a border crossing to do today so it`s best to be dressed in clean clothes or else I might get refused entry on the grounds of looking like a worn-out pennyless tramp.

The lobby of my hotel is a complete mess, empty cans of Chang beer and equally empty big bottles of Kloster lying around at random, an Isaan lady of the night asleep on the old sofa with the cracked leather upholstery where I was most of last night "admiring" both the going-ons in my hotel as well as the mad spectacle outside in the dimly lit street. The receptionist lady is fast asleep snoring loudly with her head resting on the reception. I leave the key in front of her deftly sidestepping the big pool of stinking greenish vomit right in front of the reception.

The scêne outside is equally depressing, empty beer bottles and cans littered around the sidewalks, a few Hot Mommas asleep on wooden vegetable crates put together and covered with some old blankets, the air already sweltering under the hot Thai sun of an early tropical morning - somehow the temperatures in Southern Thailand are always a few degrees hotter than up north - , a motorbike taxi driver is resting peacefully streched out on a wooden camping chair but happy enough, when I wake him up, to bring me to the border for a meagre 50 Baht. Early morning business, 50 Baht... more than enough for two cans of Chang or a few shots of moonshine whiskey with the day still having to start.

At this early hour the border crossing is nearly deserted, just a couple of bleary eyed hang-over Malay men queueing up, passport in hand a reddish colored 100 Baht note sticking out of it...a bit of baksheesh for the border officials in a country where corrupotion is as rife as the population of rats and cockroaches - maybe all this vermin is reliving their first life`s Karma as Thai officials involved in ripping off whatever they could get their greedy hands on, not enough offerings made at the local Wad to pacify the Buddha for the sins of greediness, too busy going to the girly bars spending that "well-deserved" corruption tainted dough!!!

I`m in Malaysia now, a completely new and totally different world, no more Buddhism here but Islam is the name of the game, no more Thai Baht but Malaysian Ringit, no more Thai but Malay is spoken here which is closely related to the Indonesian Bahasa, much easier to pronounce!!! Muezzins calling the faithfull to prayer at one of the many mosques five times a day. Put your immortal soul in the hnads of the Almighty, the holy entity called Allah and Mohammad is his profet, and you`ll leave behind the notorious Thai superstition. No more Thai spirit houses or ghouls that rule the minds and fears of the local population...the Malay people even look different...the only thing I had to do was crossing the border and nada mas!!! ]]> Tue, 19 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=64586 0 5.6333333 115.95 Lord Buddha is supposed to frown on prostitution while rumour has it that Allah Himself forbits the public s*x trade nor is any of these two holy dieties especially keen on the consumption of King Alcohol.

Maybe Songai Kolok might excist in a state of limbo, has been turned a blind eye to by either Lord Buddha or Allah or morer likely by both. At least both these holy entities can agree on one thing!!!

It is close to midnight and I have placed by white Farang behind on an old sofa in the lobby of my hotel, sketchbook and acrylic colors close at hand, watching both the going-ons in my hotel as well as the spectacle outside where once pious young malay men have by now become semi-professional drunks being approached by sluttily dressed women whose age I guess from early twenties to mid thirties, all of them from Thailand`s poorer Northern provinces, no Thai muslim ladies here to satisfy these hordes of s*x starved malay men.

The cavernous Karaoke bar just across the street is spilling out male brown colored bodies in various states of intoxication blatantly looking around for female companionship, ready for action after boozing and male drunk boasting all evening, building up courage for an act against Malay law and religion induced fear.

Huddles of Hot Mommas willing to be of service, a handfull of Ringit changing hands, a short walk to one of the many shorttime hotels where the rooms go by the hour and apart from a towel and soap, condoms are issued for free.

My quick pen sketches of the world around me attract the attention of Hot Mommas going or coming from one of the many dingy rooms of my guesthouse, despite the Light My Fire from The Doors blaring out of and ancient juke-box behind the reception there is no mistaking the obvious grunts coming from these rooms!!!

I pay several ladies a can of Chang while sketching them in my scrap book.

I don`t consider coming to Songai Kolok a mistake, I mean I knew what to expect, I had heard the stories, the rumours circulating on the boulevard in Pattaya, Sodom and Gomorra all in one and right smack in the middle of the Muslim South of Thailand and apperently also the headquarters of the Muslim uprising in this Asian Kingdom...

Good joke, these Isaan ladies of the night would most probably kick out Mohammad himself if He had the bloody nerve to show up here!!! ]]> Mon, 18 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=64264 0 7.0166667 100.4666667 Muezzins call the faithfull to prayer, attend the many mosques in this ach-typical border town while I disembark from my last Song-thaew, shouldering my bulky backpack feeling worn out, sweaty and semi-frustrated after a whole day of travelling on local chicken buses, road blocks with severe looking police men and soldiers getting on sometimes taking people out for frisking purposses outside the Song-Thaew with the driver patiently waiting for the - to him no doubt - daily procedure, unfriendly and at times even outright hostile stares from my other passengers.

Leaving the bus terminal my eyes are under a strange and constant attack of contradicting impressions, sights so unusual for me in this part of the world. women pass me in the street dressed head to toe in mostly black islamic gear trying hard to avoid my eyes, looking down at the dusty street modestly never daring to meet my blue Farang eyes, men with the inevitable skullcap and in pale djallebas share the same sidewalk with slutty dressed young women whose Thai accent betray their place of origin, memberes of the Isan clan of females, literally thousands of them populate the streets, standing in front of small seedy looking hotels, outside Hallal restaurants, their dark oriental eyes assessing me openly and bluntly. Their profession is easily guessed, no mistakes here, no room for error.

If I wanna have a good restfull sleep tonight I might very well give up on my determination of staying at rock bottom dirt cheap hostels but habit as well old time`s sake make me decide to give it one more time.

Steep steps bring me to a small guesthouse based over what must be the one and only real Thai food restaurant in Songai Kolok, darkly lit corridors with thin doors giving access to dingy rooms, girls are everywhere following me to my room, asking me repeatedly "you like have girlfriend, mister"?.

Outside I see buses with Malay number plates unloading hunderts of Malay males, typical Southeast Asian Muslim garb covering their excited bodies, skullcaps trembling in anticipation, I see them arrive on scooter and motorbike, in jeeps and pick-up trucks but whatever their mode of transport their excitement is inevitably easy to recognise. I am starting to get a very strong idea what the economy of this border town is based on.

S*x!!! With prostitution forbidden and no s*x before marriage in Muslim Malaysia because of Islamic rules...so they come to get it here, conveniently close just across the border. This small chaotic city a hotbed for Islamic fanatics???, maybe in the bedroom of sleazy ans seedy hotel rooms, yeah!!!

Talking about the hypocrisy of the faithfull. ]]> Sat, 16 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=64006 0 7.0166667 100.4666667 Songai Kolok is supposed to be the heart of muslim territory in Thailand, within walking distance to the Malay border and - as rumour has it - the place of origin of the masterminds behind the Islam uprising in Southern Thailand. Basically this small and claustrophobic town houses a hotbed of islamic fanatics that are bend on total independence, create an Islam state in Buddhist Thailand, no matter what the cost!!! Blow up a police station, roadside killings or maybe a mortar attack on a public school...all that in the name of Allah, never mind the innocent, unschooled local farmers whose main concern is trying to feed their families.

I spend most of the day changing Song-Thaews, looking from the glassless windows at an endless array of rice paddies, women working the rice paddies covered in long black dresses and muslim headscarves, constant police road blocks with camouflage clad soldiers entering the Song-Thaew, their black heavy military issued boots banging heavily on the metal floor, their big guns slung around their shoulders looking menacingly, checking papers of passengers.

The always festive air that rules King Bhumipol`s Kingdom and for so many Farang the main reason for falling in love with this mystic Asian kingdom, GONE!!! Instead I sense a strange mixture of hate and fear at the same time.

We pass small dusty village where I can hear the call of the muezzins coming from hidden mosques, quick stops for food hawkers trying to sell vegetables and bottles of mineral water, other passengers getting on, getting off, men with skullcaps and thin grayish beards covering their chins look at me in a non-commital way, gone are the friendly Thai smiles beaming from friendly and open faces, gone is the gay and colorfull Thai dress code. I feel like I have been parachuted into a hostile and non-Farang friendly dictator ruled state of fear!!!

I try to concentrate on what goes on outside the closed confinement of this sweltering hot local bus where the oppression of angst has providence over the ever importance of the concept of Sanuk in the Thai Buddhist mind, a lone dark black buffalo with strangely shaped horns relaxing in a mud pool and looking at me with what seem warning eyes... a warning from Lord Buddha himself??? Near naked kids dressed only in their underwear playing in a river, pointing brownish little fingers at me excitedly...more warnings involved here???

A serious young Thai male reading an Arabic Koran a few seat ahead of me, skullcap in place, long pale pastel blue colored Djalleba covering his slender frame, long single black hairs prodruding from a thin chin betraying a serious effort of growing the necessary muslim beard in a race where bodily hair is sparse, his dark brown eyes looking up from his Holy Muslim book whenever the fancy strikes him, trying to lock them with mine...menacing...threatening.... ]]> Thu, 14 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=63786 0 7.0166667 100.4666667 Waking up on my hard cot with the thin old matrass in my windowless hovel, I`m instantly remembered of the two small cans of Singha beer I consumed last night before allowing my Farang mind to drift off the the dream world.

No hang-over can beat the weird feeling inside your skull after drinking Singha beer or Mekhong whiskey the next morning, a hang-over caused by a certain conservative forbiddewn in the West but a main component in Singha and Mekhong here in Thailand.
Drink Heineken or Kloster during your trips to this Asian Kingdom dear reader, take it from me!!!

Though it was a mistake these two cans of Singha did their job and knocked me out for a couple of hours, no Thai Hot Momma induced nightmare that have plaqued my Western trained mind since my very first trip to Southeast Asia. A punishment from Lord Buddha Himself for falling in love time and again with these Thai Ladies of the Night, or else an unconscious self afflicted torture over a Western cultivated Guilt Conflict that has no right of excistence.

I waste no time or effort taking a shower or even brush my teeth some how treasuring the layer of clammy sweat covering my shivering body, the stale and superdry taste lying inside my mouth cavity, going down the stairs and crossing the garage that is the lobby of my dumphouse guesthouse, ignoring the strong smell of gasoline and the heavy snoring originating from Mister Dumphouse Patriach lying on a old bench against a wall, his potbelly heaving, no doubt having a hard time trying to digest all the Mekhong he consumed last night.

I seem to remember he was drunk - Mau as the Thai call it and quite a usual word often used - out of his head last night when I returned home, sitting on his cot with a green colored sari wrapped around his hips, raving loudly and throwing empty dusty beer bottles around the place, one of them narrowly missing my head, Miss Receptionist-Parttime-H**ker guiding me up the stairs fast and furious while Sonny-Love was hiding behind one of his treasured scooters...Lord Buddha, please tell me what am I doing staying in a madhouse like this, for a meagre 50 Thai Baht more I can stay across the road in a quiet and friendly Farang owned hostel!!!

Outside in the street the Asian sun has just emerged from the horizon turning the sky into a spectacle of orange colors, a scêne I would normally enjoy but right now the soft pastel colors hurt my poor head even more while walking over to the waterfront looking for the boat people fully aware what they will be doing at this early hour.

And yes...I`m right seeing them sitting in a small group around a bottle of Black Cat Whiskey drinking the stuff straight without ice from white plastic cups. I wai them politely asking them in my halting and badly pronounced Thai for a cup of this sharp heavy stuff, the perfect medicine for my hang-over. they laugh softly at the 50 Baht note in my poffered hand and thereby actually saving me face though you need the know the Thai ways to realise that!!!
]]> Wed, 13 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=63591 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 Like any other town in Thailand, be it small, average or big, Krabi has got a nightly food market, these places are apart from excelent Thai food also great for meeting locals as well as fellow travellers from the Asian backpack scêne.

Krabi`s night food market can be found at the Khong Kha pier or you could consider following your nose, chances are that particular part of your bodily equipment will get you there!!

I arrive just after darkness has settled on the Thai Kingdom, smelling the strong odour of strong spices, huge gray clouds emerging from the many food stalls, rowdy Scottish voices mixing with raucous laughter coming from German throats, shy female giggles interfering with a raspy swedish tonque.

Nothing in the world as far as food goes can beat the Thai Kitchen and as always I have a hard time to make up my mind what to eat tonight...Tom Yam Kung, a Prawn dish served in a mushroom soup with lemon-grass added or maybe a plain noodle soup with beef, pork or chicken, spicy, sweet, salty or sour, take you pick.

Iron tables and plastic chairs, kersonese lamps or electric lighbulbs loosely hanging from the food stalls, black electric cables dangling like jungle veins from stall to stall providing the necessary energy. Scrawy dogs lazily wandering among the tables looking for scraps of left-over beef, a discarded chicken leg or maybe a bit of pork.

Five young Thai girls busily working on their fried rice and noodle soups while blatantly discussing the benevits of having a Farang boyfriend against their Thai contemporaries. Even the Farang male equipment is under heavy scrutiny producing more gay giggles. These ladies have no idea of my shamefull eavesdropping and I have a hard time keeping my face straight.

Five young Scots in kilts alraedy three quarters on the way to total intoxication due to big pints of Tiger beer, on a stag party and rowdily talking about the merits of Thai prostitutes.

A Thai family of five sit a t a table full with satay dishes, a big condensed bottle of Chang beer for Mum, bottles of Coca-Cola for the kids and a bottle of Mekhong for Dad who is gnawing away at a big chunk of chicken leg, big sticky drops of satay dripping down on the table.

For 50 Baht I have noodle soup, a cup of coffee and a sweet milky Thai dessert, the entertainment provided by my fellow diners comes for free. I just find it dificult to understand why so many backpackers take their meals in the Farang restaurants where Arnold Schwarzenegger hops across the screen, the bang-bang sounds of his many guns making conversation with other travellers near impossible!!!

Meanwhile my female Thai neighbors have shifted their conversation topic from Farang Boyfriends to whether or not my Scottish "friends" wear underwear under their kilts.....hehehe, these guys could be in for a nice surprise tonight. ]]> Mon, 11 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=63349 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 I wake up in my 120 Baht room, a windowless box with with green colored tarpaulin on the floor sticky to me feet because of the dirt, the only furniture a metal frame supposed to be a bed with a thin dirty matrass on it. The sheets gray with age I had to put on the matrass myself - the petite receptionist lady who doubles as a cleaning girl was porbably pissed off I ignored her obvious advances when I checked in.

She gave it another unsuccessfull try last night when I returned slightly intoxicated from next door`s reggae bar.

Having a hard time to overcome my hang-over while making it to the communal bahtroom for a cold shower, no shower head here just a metal pipe sticking out of the wall from which a steady but not so strong stream of water approaches provided the tap is turned all the way on.

Dark brown cockroaches comfortably walking up and down the not so clean tiles of the shower walls, yeah, these monster probably live on what quite literally lives on these walls!!!

Not sure if the grunting noices originating from my neighbors last night were the result of love making or a physical premarital dispute. Good thing I was intoxicated enough to fall right into the hands of Lord Morpheus instead of having to listen to all that sh*t!!!

Walking through the lobby on my way out trying to ignore both the smells of machine oil as well as the flashes coming out of Miss Receptionist I wonder why I always insist in staying at these dirt cheap dumps where the word dirt in dirt cheap has got an obviuous double meaning!!!

I wanna experience the real Souteast Asia where people have not as yet been corrupted by Western greed, where the locals have not yet been poisoned by the power of money, where Farang logic has not yet invaded the Asian way of thinking.

Well think again mate! The partiach of the family managing the dumphouse hotel is smashing drunk on moonshine whiskey down in the lobby most of the time, his pot belly getting bigger each day with fermented rice liquor while sonny love in the scooter business during the day, is busy spending the dough at the local pool hall - remember the double function of a pool hall in Thailand? - during the night.

Mum never comes downstairs, way too doped up smoking Yaa-Baa up in her cockroach rife room, on her flea ridden matrass while the daughter of the family is in charge of the reception pocketing the dough quick and fast before dad can get his greedy hands on it for more riced whiskey, not much interested in cleaning rooms but always in the mood for a 300 Baht shorttimew with any of the guests.

Welcome to the Third World, mate!!!
]]> Sun, 10 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=62806 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 Krabi, 09-02-2009.

Small little mozzies look for a safe spot on my sunburned legs to roost, suck away on my sweet blood. They better be carefull though! I got my eyes on them and will most definitely squash them the moment they will settle down on my reddish flesh.

I might be an animal lover and female friendly, totally aware that in the mozzy world it are the females that NEED my blood due to their reproductive purposes....

Still if I detect them anywhere on my sore and hot skin they can be reasonably sure of a one-way ticket to Mosquito Kingdom Come free of charge!!!

I am once again on my rented bicycle though today I wanna cycle to Bokkharani National Park nearly 40 km. north of Krabi, 40 km. of cycling through a slightly hilly terrain, both sides of the road flanked by dramatically shaped karst Stone formations covered in lush rain forest jungle.

A whole day of cycling under the harsh and hot Thai sun means I`ll get drenched in perpiration so I`ve given up on my long blue jeans - I must be one of the very few Farangs in Thailand not constantly dressed in colorfull shorts 24/7 - and instead put on my own shorts and a old T-shirt.

The weirdly shaped karst rocks are interspersed with big plantations of rubber trees and coconut groves.

I stop at karst Stone rocks to check out the caves inside being guided around whether I like it or not, by ragged looking village children hoping for a few coins in return. I stop at roadside shops for not so cold bottles of Coca Cola "sorry sir not have electricity for fridge", I pass small groups of local boy scouts dressed in light brown calling Sabai Dee, Sabai Dee sir while disappearing behind me. I get overtaken myself by farangs on rented scooters, their local girlfriends on the back glamoring me on.]]> Sat, 09 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=62541 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 Wat Tham Seua aka Tiger Cave Temple is not like most Wats in Thailand. A temple might be a place of worship but still a dusty place with scrawny dogs lazily scratching their flea ridden behinds, temple cats desperately and in vain trying to keep the temple grounds free of small mice, bold house sparrows eating from the small bowls of rice offerings like dignitaries from Lord Buddha himself sampling the sincerity of the faithfull. Sleepy monks still dozing in the shade after early morning's alm round.

Wat Tham Seua on the other hand has slowly turned into a serious tourist attraction with new hotels being build all around the Karst stone rock formation which is the centre of the Wat and visible from Krabi centre about four km. away.

Long lines of VIP tour buses parked at the entrance greet me when I arrive by hired bicycle watching the construction workers at the side of the road sitting on bamboo mats eating fried chicken, white plastic cups go from hand to hand. I don't need the sour smell of fermented rice boiling in a food kettle over a small fire to know they Burmese day labourers are having themselves a ball not caring much about the five star hotel they are supposed to work on.

Sabai, Sabia and Sanuk, Sanuk are all I need to know the motorbike taxi guys will let nobody near my unlocked bicycle while I tour the Temple ground. My sketchbook and pen, my water colours and a small mineral bottle in my bag ready for action I buy myself a ticket joining the many tour groups that wander from one building to the next listening to local guides explaining everything in a variety of different languages, camaras snap while umbrellas are closed upon entering a temple, opened again outside as a protection for vulnerable white skin against a harsh Thai sun.

More than 1200 very steep stone steps will bring me cherished peace at the top of the weirdly shaped karst peak, no more rowdy tour groups of mostly elderly Europeans hung with expensive camara equipment and sweaty T-shirts - not that my T-shirt is still dry after these 1200 steep steps up - just a few local and Farang die-hards who must have felt as fit as me at the beginning and look just as exhausted and perpiration drenched as me now that we have made it to the top.

Our rewards are more than just worth it though, apart from peace and tranquility that rule up here, vistas all the way to the Andaman Sea, a huge Buddha statue and a gilded stupa, friendly young monks hand out much needed bottles of mineral free of charge.
]]> Wed, 06 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=61511 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 Travelling in Thailand as a Farang I have two options. I could enter one of the many travel agencies that dot the streets of any Farang rich tourist destination in this oriental Kingdom. In which case I`ll travel either in air-conditioned mini-bus or else by a big huge tourbus with comfortable reclining seats, a built-in smelly toilet and a monitor above the driver blaring away most of the trip surrounded by backpack travellers from all over the world swapping travel stories in a multitude of languages while the driver himself is knocking down small bottles of Red Bull energy drinks to stay awake after a night`s partying.

My other option is local buses with wooden seats of the non-reclining type and surrounded by locals on a visit to relatives and exchanging the gossip of the day, politics always a serious topic in Thai conversation. No airco here but open windows for the necessary ventilation, food hawkers at any stop entering the bus offering barbequed chicken legs and carpers, fried shrimp and a varity of fruit, bottles of mineral water or small cans of cold Heineken beer. A rooster tied up in a rattan wooven basket under a seat screaming his protestations while I try to eavesdrop on on-going conversations around me.

Two monks in front of me chanting softly in ancient Pali dressed in orange robes. Two young women, one heavily pregnant discussing the possible name for the soon to be born infant, another serious conversation topic in a medieval society where a name is supposed to be protection, a moordu against bad luck, against attacks from evil spirits and mean unpredictable ghoulds, where a name is supposed to have magical powers!!!

I once again realise my Farang mind is poisoned by Asian magic, preindustrial superstition that has over all these years become an illogical labyrinth inside my Western trained Phii and mind. Listening to these locals talk about the matters of their Asian world my Western Logic is like a distraction to my Farang thinking. My own Dutch world all of a sudden seems like a cultural defilement. I`m experiencing a spiritual and cultural attack on my Farang background, a Thai contamination of my very essence.

Apart from the fact that travelling by local transport instead of farang popular mini-bus or monitor blaring tourbus, is but a fraction of the price, it are those intence feeling that make me opt for these rusty old buses where the wind blows in dust and sand, where smells and sound remind me I`m far away from home, backpacking in a country that is unversally different from my own.
]]> Sun, 03 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=60990 0 8.0666667 98.9166667 06-02-2009, nighttime.

Takraw aka Siamese Football and introduced to the Southeast Asian Games by Thailand, is played with a woven rattan ball of about 15 cm. in diameter, is played like volleyball though the hands are taboo in this game, just the feet, chest and head.
Amazing aerial pirouttes can be performed by more experienced players kicking the ball across the net with a certain style known only to the Thai.

A game is in full swing when I arrive at the local police station with young cops dressed in white shorts and sweaty T-shirts - police issued - and my polite request for joining a team is enthusiastically accepted.

I used to play this game nearly every night with Jamie and his mates when I still lived in Bangkok with Nong. Needless to say that Jamie`s mates where young strong bucks from the Thai capital`s seedier neighborhoods, hoodlums involved in shady deals and even shadier businesses that I never bothered inquiring about, young muscular oriental men whose bodies where covered in weird tattoos symbolysing their superstitious nature, a Noordu, protection against bad luck.

They happily accepted me in their midst, just as easily as these young Thai cops allow me to join their game of Takraw. Yet another part of the communal Thai mind I`ve come to admire so much, come to love!!!

My body soon goes into overdrive while I try hard to keep up with these well-trained locals who, I have no doubt, play this game every night, lots of laughter and loads of chemicals releasing themselves inside the gray mass that makes up my Farang braincells, the game gets more spike and the other participants pay me no sacrifice, no rest for the weary.

I make a near complete sommersault scoring a main point for my team and even stronger points for "FACE" with my athletic abilities. I catch the rattan ball with my chest and knee it to a team player while my mind is back on that play ground back in time, back in Bangkok, back to Jamie and his rough friends.

When it is all over I sit around with these young Thai cops and their older colleages drinking Heineken beer straight from the bottle, icy cold to the tough reminding me nothing in the whole wide world can beat the taste of ice-cold beer after a good work-out. ]]> Sat, 02 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=60679 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 06-02-2009, evening.

The main weapon of married Thai women on the notorious philandering outside the marrital bed of their cheating husbands is severing their partner`s male organ, often tying the now useless but in the past highly overused male equipment to a hot air balloon, let it fly across the Thai countryside, maybe get picked up by a malignant ghoul or else a benevolent entity from the spirit world.

Dumping this particularly male piece of pride on the family`s garbage heap is also a serious option. Let it rot with the household rejects and when it has become a stinking swollen yellowish shadow of itself, get eaten by the rats and cockroaches. No wonder rats and cockroaches are the only lifeforms that seem to be bigger here in the East than back home in ancient Europe.

As a Farang I`m not supposed to know these little shames of Thai society. Though Thai English written newspapers like the Bangkok Post and the Bangkok Nation are good and informative you won`t find stories relating to the P*nis Severance hobby of Thai wives that have little horns growning out of their heads, horns that seem to grow and grow. By the time the poor thing is old she can hardly keep her head up because of the sheer weight.

Move to the Thai written newspapers and these stories seem to be all over the second and thrid page often with accompanying gory and bloodily detailed photos of the male victim.

Prostition in the Land of the Thais is not one-gender victimised!!!

However allow me to be non-judgemental on prostition in this weird Asian nation. My male Farang spirit, my Phii as the Thais call it, has already long ago lost its capacity to deal with the world as a whole, let alone this crazy sh*t!!!

Back in Na Thon I take up residence in a small no-name guest house for a meagre 80 Baht, I presume I could return to the Nathon Residence but I would rather not get "brutalised" by the Chinese receptionist lady who had an obvious interest in the shorttime trade and could very well get furious when she finds out I might have certain romantic feelings for a Chinese lady from Beijing but no interest in a Chinese receptionist lady with aspirations as a full time h**ker!!!

My new accomodation might be a dump with a thin matrass that, I have no doubt, is full to overflow weith bedbugs waiting axciously for me to switch off the light switch so they can do their bloody work on my weary body that contains a mind by that time to drunk to notice.

At least this place is situated above an internet cafe so I can surf to www.gameknot.com to play some games of chess, challenge me if you dare.
]]> Fri, 01 May 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=60565 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 06-02-2009.

I awake to a familiar ghost gnawing at my inmortal Phi, my Western Farang soul being devoured at an alarming rate leaving me clammy and sweaty in my bed, grayish sheets wed to the touch with my perspiration.

In my mind`s eye still half inside the dream world I see that Benign Female Spirit I met on the Song-Thaew last week, somehow she seemed a whole lot less benign in my dream, wild-eyed and and her gray hair standing out in a crazy halo around her old woman`s head, stark naked with wrinkled old t*ts resembling empty crumbled Dutch tabacco bags, hanging down her percament like body , bony fingers with long split nails pointing at me accusingly, her voice shrill and full with hatred scraeming at me in Isaan accented Thai, all sorts of vulgarities I find hard to understand though the meaning is unmisstakeable. Didn`t she tell me she had never left the island, so where did this Northern Thai accent come from?

I don`t even bother with a shower getting dressed quickly, strapping my bulky backpack to my shoulders, leaving the key on the table of my bungalow`s balcony and hurry out to the main street.

The still early morning sky is crimson red with the rising sun out at the ocean, long shadows and motorbike taxi drivers in shabby jeans and T-shirts sitting cross-legged in the street having breakfast, fried chicken with sticky rice, three monks in their orange colored robes walking down the road asking bleary eyes bar girls for alms, they sit listlessly on bar stools while handing over a twenty baht note, they don`t need to worry about their Karma for the rest of the day.

A Song-thaew honking at me while passing by. I presume the driver expected the first business of the coming day seeing me with my backpack.

No way though will I go back to Na Thon by Song-Thaew after my Evil-Spirit-Nightmare. I`m still shivering, big drops of clammy sweat dropping down my big Farang nose, my shirt getting drenched by the perspiration coming off my large Farang frame, sh*t, I can feel it streaming down my legs in rivers, this is truely embarrasing!!!

I decide to travel to Na Thon by motorbike taxi trying to ignore the bottle of Sang Som Thai whiskey, the plastic cups they drink this heavy stuff from. I normally make it a point to never engage their services when they are intoxicated but right now I feel paranoid and desperate to get out of Hat Lamai, make it to Na Thon where I plan to take the ferry tomorrow and cointinue my trip, away from that d*rned Evil Female Spirit that scared the living daylights out of me. ]]> Tue, 28 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59770 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 05-02-2009.

I'm watching the girly bars opposite the road from the 7/Eleven while working slowly but with determination on a small can of Leo beer, my favorite brew in this part of the world, how the Hot Mommas do their best to lure a hamburger fat 300 pounder, still a young bloke who probably feels like King Rat in this part of the world. He must be on burdensome mission, I mean the lust in his eyes is pure and obvious while he blows them kisses but quickly moves on down the road. Maybe he is the possession of an empty wallet or else has had his satisfaction already several times today.

From what I can see his Karma is not lashed yet by a life time of Western introduced Guild Complex, still a young man who has come to Asia his head full with all the Hot Momma stories, having been ignored by his female contemporaries back home, probably even ridiculed most of his short adult life while all the other boys knocked down big pints of cider in the local bar while boasting about their latest conquests, where the ladies sat at tables together in small groups, lipsticked and polished nails, producing excited giggles at the prospect of getting picked up tonight.

None of all this for him though, he was after all just the Fat Boy!!! Here in Thailand the roles have been reversed...Hot Momma bar girls all over him telling him how s*xy man he is, easy days on a sunny beach and evenings full with girly giggles in the bars, the man is obviously a HAPPY MAN here!!!

My German neighbor on this bench is quite the opposite, big and muscular and of my own age, all his front teeth gone, intoxicated to the max he has spent the better part of this still early evening creating an ever bigger expanding feeling of irritation inside my head verbally charging me with stories of "Diese verdammte Thaise H*re sind alle verdammte Scheisse!!!", for him it must be a Karma-laden night but I presume that even a thug like him has got culture, wherever he has hidden it inside that Mau/drunk German mind of his is beyond me though.

Still with all this gutteral screaming Thai bashing I can no longer meditate on the world around me while making quick notes in my scap book. I still hear his German worlds of anger against Thai female society when I leave him to his own frustrations.

Good decision too because I find myself back on another bench in front of another supermarket and with another conversation partner, Letitia from Beijing dressed in s*xy shorts and shapely long legs that somehow seem to go for ever, a sharp well-educated mind and speaking perfect English. I feel a strong mental kinship with her within minutes while we chat and share travel experiences, I could have met her ten years ago instead of ten minutes ago, we klick as the Dutch say, sh*t I could drown in her love if given the time. I feel selfconscious about the Burmese sigars I smoke...an unusual feeling for me!!!

I follow her around while she does her final shopping telling me she will fly back tomorrow, back to Beijing, back to her work. We return to "our" bench for a last drink and then she is gone...in and out of my life for just a few hours but leaving a lasting impression

I hurry back to my bungalow to make a quick painting of her on a piece of driftwood I found on the beach today, while the image of her Jiil face is still fresh in my mind.

Hey Letitia, I know you're reading this story, hope you like it...hehehe.

Hans from Amsterdam.

]]> Sun, 26 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59415 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 0402-2009.

Wether it be your first visit to His Highness King Bhumipol`s Kingdom or you`re a seasoned traveller in Southeast Asia having been to Thailand on numerous occasions, one can`t help but notice the big beaming smile adorning the light brown colored face of any given Thai be it male or female, be it a twenty year old bar lady entertaining fat and overweight grey-haired Farang s*x tourists or a male Muay Thay fighter getting his *ss kicked in the square ring, the Thai smile is unbeatably there.

This famous smile they even use to promote their country with nicknamed Land Of The Smile could well be a direct result of the Thai obsession with the concept of Sanuk, or its opposite Mai Sanuk. Sanuk rules the minds of the Thai people, perhaps even more thas their other fascinations like animal spirituality or superstition and basically means "FUN", have fun to the max!!!

Whatever you do in this life, whatever bad luck might assault you, good luck blown by the wind in your life direction....you really should have Sanuk!!! Be it backbraeking work in the North`s rice paddies twelve gruelling hours a day under a burning hot Thai sun you will still observe the locals having Sanuk, flirtations take place, women giggling while good naturedly exchanging the latest gossips.

I`m on my bicycle again on my second tour around the island, in a reversed direction though, we need to keep things interesting after all, have a bit of Sanuk here...hehehe.

I keep a wary eye open for a possible chance encounter with another Female Thai Spirit out to have a bit of private fun on my Farang behalf though I have a strong suspicion that it might very well be these d*arned Thai cops in Hat Bo Phut pulling my legs. Still when the Spirit World is concerned I`m unwilling to take any chances, especially so in Thailand where every house, hut or whatever manmade structure, public bus or private car has a Spirit House.
]]> Sat, 25 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59290 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 03-02-2009.

The amount of farang people on Kho Samui with medical bandages wrapped around elbows and knee caps is staggering. Victims of traffic accidents on Kho Samui`s curvy roads caused by a combination of factors...People going home on a rented scooter after a heavy drinking binge at one of the island`s many bars, slippers on white feet that make it difficult to shift gears and , of course, the state of the roads. The Kho Samui Hospital must be in constant full-time overdrive.

Feeling in the mood for a sweaty day of cycling under a scorchingly hot Thai sun I decide to hire a bicycle longingly rememebering my last time on this island, my last stay in Hat Lamai when I had a local ladyfriend who rented out scooters and two Harley Davidsons. When the Harleys wheren`t rented out by mid afternoon I could take one and go touring often with my lady on the back clasping her slender arms around me tightly while one of her friends would look after her little scooter business.
I seem to remember I felt quite the MAN then...hehehe.

I cycle up north in the direction of the airport planning to cycle all the way around the island following the coast which should take me the better part of the day. Cycling up low hills with white sand beaches full with bikini clad farangs, local boys trying to sell mangos, jet skis out at sea leaving a white trail of fibrating sea water behind them.

I stop frequently to drink ice-cold cans of coffee at 7/Eleven supermarkets sitting outside in the sun. If it wasn`t for the heavy traffic, scooters, Song-Thaews, busses and trucks, this would be a paradise island and a perfectly beautiful day.

I stop at Na Thon to watch the fishermen repair their nets and dry their laundry in the sun, have a bowl of Johk with big chunks of Kai floating in it - thick rice soup with chicken chunks - for the necessary energy.

I stop at Hat Bo Phut to inquire about the old French speaking lady I met yesterday on the Song-Thaew showing people the photo I made of her sitting at the side of the road. Blank stares and total incomprehension meet my questions in halting Thai. Eventually a cop tells me in English "she good spirit, sir, but sometime she like have fun with Farang", his face deadly serious while his colleague nods his head agreeing totally...knowingly.

Sh*t, I really wanted to know more about that Karma she warned me about!!!

My last stop is at Wat Khunaram to see the famous Mummified Monk but after the little Benign-Female-Spirit story having a bit of fun on my behalf, the monk`s mummified body wrapped in saffron robes and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses on his still grinninhg face, seems minor in comparison.

]]> Fri, 24 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59125 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 02-02-2009.

I find myself back in a local Song-Thaew from Na Thon to Hat Lamai where I wanna spend a few days of relaxation. Some days on the beach to work on my suntan and spend the evening visiting the many open-air bars that dot Hat Lamai like fleas on the fur of Thai street dogs.

It is still early morning with the Song-Thaew stopping every so ofen to pick up more passengers, a couple of young girls dressed in light blue blouses and dark blue skirts modestly falling just over their knees - school uniforms you know - small backpacks holding their schoolbooks and lunch.

An old local woman getting on, bend with arthritis and several baskets full to overflow with durians, no doubt she`s on her way to some village market to sell this typical Asian fruit which has never been a favorite of mine.

I get out to help her with her baskets together with the driver, the old woman waiing me politely. With her sitting opposite me and the baskets occupying the space between the two benches she gives me a curious look before asking me "parlez-vous Francaise, monsieur?"

She has lived here all her life being somewhere in her mid forties when the island first got visited by a couple of long haired farangs who came by local coconut boat from Bangkok. How life was hard for the people then living on a bare braedline excistence...how first the pot smoking alternatives arrived living in self made huts and small wooden bungalows they rented from samui`s local population, dressed in shabby clothes and having no morale whatsoever...how the building of the airport changed everything...planes leaving Germany coming straight to Kho Samui with only a short break at Don Muang Airport in Bangkok.

While I listen to her Samui life story wondering where a woman like her never having left this lush island, has learned such fluent french, her eyes and mind a window of clarity on what happened to this island, realising how strange life can be meeting this woman who somehow mastered an alien language as difficult as French is still at her avanged age selling durian fruit at a local village market, never ever been off the island.

When she gets off at Hat Bo Phut and I help her once again together with the driver to unload her durian filled wooden baskets, she gives me the strangest of smiles from a mounth that has long ago lost its last teeth, telling me in her accentless French "vous-avez Jai-Dee tres bon, monsieur main attention avec sous Karma"., and gone she is swallow up by Thai mysticism. the busy streets of a Thai early morning market, or maybe it only happened inside my Farang head.

]]> Thu, 23 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=59016 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 01-02-2009, early evening.

Showered and in fresh clothes I walk down the stairs of the Nathon Residence, my eyes scanning the lobby for possible Lady Recepcionist related "problems". The old Chines man in his grizzly white underwear still reading his Chinese newspaper eyeing me knowingly from over the top, though his d*rned newspaper hides most of his wrinkled yellowish face I know for sure he is wearing a dirty grin on his mouth, having all sorts of s*xual images in his old man`s head about what happened upstairs when the lady receptionist showed me my room.

Bending over the reception to hand her my key I notice she has changed from her knee short skirt into a tight fitting jeans, her hair has gone from a pony tail to modestly hanging across her breasts. Her smile is at the same time modest and provocative, shrewd and assessing my Phii for a possible romantic opening, a combination I only know in oriental women, the sort of smile that will instantly steal my Farang heart.

I realise if I don`t leave this place quick I`ll crumble under Female Asian Witchcraft. With the stern eyes of His Majesty King Bhumipol in full regalia inmidiated above her head looking down on me I leave in a hurry confused and out of this world, going out in the street still hearing her excited girly giggles in my ears.

The Chinese festival is still in full swing, tourists making pictures of tiny Asian bodies in grand costumes, a bare chested Thai/Chinese with a white iron stick through his cheeks big pomgranates hanging from the ends forcing him to support the stick with one of his hands, old Chinese shop ladies in extacy when her table full to overflow with offerings for the spirits gets a visit from Mister Big Mask, cooking pots exhaling huge clouds of spicy smelling smoke, excited local kids....

I`m in a haze while walking out of the village leaving all the mayhem behind, following a beach strewn with rubbish, fishing boats unloading the day`s catch, women sorting out the fish while chatting gaily exchanging the usual gosip of the day while handling slippery scaly bodies, yellow baskets full with ice and fish.

Just outside Na Thon and under the shadows of coconuts trees, near the beach where the waves roll in peacefully as the have been doing for eternity I sit down to contemplate the sunset and let this Female Asian Witchcraft do its number on my Jai-Dee and my Phii.

]]> Wed, 22 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=58742 0 9.5333333 99.9333333 01-02-2009, early afternoon.

I leave the ferry with my English Ting-Tong travel buddy in hot pursuit telling me repeatedly that we need to find a cheap guesthouse. Now I have no intentions to share a guesthouse, let well a room with this little young and hyper-active s*x tourist from Jolly Old England so I head to the Nathon Residence, big and spacious rooms all with satelite TV and a balcony for 300 Baht.

The female Chinese receptionist Wais me the moment I walk in, heavy backpack strapped to my shoulder, sweaty T-shirt and greasy old jeans notwithstanding I seem to deserve the Thai Wai - what is that makes the Thai feel so apologetic to us The Farangs? Her clasped hands in front of her jiil face - Chinese in Thai - go up even higher when her ink black eyes discern the buddha pendant dangling on my chest reminding me that the Chinese minority in Thailand are even more ferociously superstitious as the Thai.

I Wai her back politely carefully keeping my own clasped hands a bit lower down my face as hers and thereby acknowledging her show of respect.

The old Chinese man sitting in the lobby, small frame dressed in a drab white singlet, wobbly leathery legs sticking out of a pair of grizzly white shorts watching the free show from over his newspaper, chinese characters screaming at me from the newspaper`s front, approving looks from beady eyes than he returns to his main source of entertainment...his newspaper.

I wonder how come Chinese hotels anywhere in Asia always seem to have old Chinese men sitting around in their underwear reading Chinese newspapers???

Walking up the stairs in front of me bringing me to my room of me chatting gaily in a weird mix of Thai and English I see the small but elaborate Tattoo of the Chinese Ryu on the back of her calf.

She sits on the massive bed in my room watching me unpack, wanting to know "you have lady"? Out in the street a Chinese festival is in full swing, Chinese dragon dancing, fire crackers going off, people in weird Chinese costumes and masks going from Chinese shop to the next Chinese house...tables outside with offerings...a pick-up truck carrying Burmese day workers back to their hovels dirty towels wrapped around their heads...I wanna get out and watch the festivities but instead I find myself captured by the shapely legs of a Chinese receptioniust lady who seems in no hurry to return to her reception.

My English Ting-Tong friend would have loved this hotel!!!

]]> Tue, 21 Apr 2009 00:00:00 GMT http://www.blogabond.com/TripView.aspx?tripID=6238 http://www.blogabond.com/CommentView.aspx?commentID=58522 0 9.5333333 99.9333333