Pattaya - Don't Believe the Hype

Don't believe it because even that doesn't prepare you for the assault.

My first taste of what awaited me over the New Years celebrations was as I tramped down Beach Road trying to locate a minibus to Koh Chang. Two weeks later I found myself sat in a bar on a Soi in Pattaya, being simultaneously fascinated, appalled, thrilled and concerned at the sheer mass of bars dripping with Thai ‘good time’ girls and their client base.

Like most other sizeable Thai towns, Pattaya seems to operate on a basis of beautiful chaos; a constant drone of scooters, cars, people and commerce with scant regard for aesthetic values. You can sit and watch people pass for hours; you can shop in air-conditioned monolith-malls with all your brand names; you can churn the sea on rented jet-skis; you can eat steak and chips around the clock; you can go ten-pin bowling 8 floors up. But make no mistake about Pattaya’s main purpose – it was founded by American GIs as the R&R destination of choice during the Vietnam war – put bluntly, it’s here for sex.

Flocks of girls perch on barstools, trying to tempt men in. They shout, the beseech, they attack. Anything to get your cash and your libido in to their bar and milk them both dry. I have been to Amsterdam on football trips; Prague for stags; I’ve staggered through Soho with mates in the early morning. But never have I seen a sex industry so brazen, so overt and so available on such a scale. I can’t imagine that even in the most vivid, wild dreams of a sexpest, a place where carnal pleasures are so easily traded. Streets are devoted to go-go bars – Soi 6 is the most crazed one. A 500 metre strip of double-sided neon signs bathing the 100s of girls in electric light. Or, if you’re so inclined, you can head to Boyz Town where the same scene is repeted for the other gender.

Bars such as ‘The Classroom’ (girls dressed as schoolgirls) and ‘Boots’ (girls in thigh-high patent leather boots) suggest that most fantasies can be catered for. The constant shuffle and stumble of single, divorced, and probably married middle-aged men leering from the street at the waif-like girls is quite depressing.

The stereotypical tourist I had imagined before coming to Pattaya was true. Fat or old (or both) farang men (and by ‘farang’ I don’t mean just white western men, I mean men from all corners of the globe) groping, being groped and drinking beer. The girls looking for a big payday, maybe clinging to the that brought them here – find a farang man and get married and live happily ever after. There isn’t a bar in the town that doesn’t have girls of questionable morals and desperate men.

Then, amongst all this sleaze, this vice, are families on holiday. Familes. Kids, husbands and wives. Who in their right mind would choose to spend a family holiday here?! Christ on a bike! I imagine there are some tensions through the course of a fortnight in Pattaya… “Err…just popping to the seven-eleven for some water dear”, “Not without me you’re not”… “Daddy, why did that women jumping on your back and make a grab for your willy?”. I’ve previously described Pattaya as comparable to Torremelinos. I wish to revise that to ‘Torremelinos on amphetamines and Viagra’.

And here was me, thrown in to this bizarre maelstrom, meeting up with my good mate Graeme, with Adam along for the ride too. We sat, watching the town go about its daily grind; pointing out characters in other bars, giving them back stories and trying to guess their nationalities; watching the clawing girls and noticing those sat at the bar with a distant look in their eyes; being approached by begging kids; dodging fireworks being thrown down the streets. Graeme has been coming here for a few years now. Those that know him will not be surprised that he revels in the booze-fuelled misadventures that Pattaya allows. He gave us a guided tour of the town. We dipped in to a couple of (relatively) normal bars. Graeme saying hello to people he knew. We dropped in to one bar because the manager shares the same birthday as Graeme; we went to another because he knew the lass running it; another that had a photo of him on the wall; and then he whisked us off to Betty Boud’s, a go-go bar (and a poor spelling attempt at ‘Betty Boop’ even by Thai standards). Ahead of entering Graeme filled us in on how it all worked. In short, you pay for drinks for a girl and she writhe and wriggle all over you at your seat all night. Further ‘services’ incur greater cost. We entered and were immediately set upon. My grasp of Thai being above average for the usual punters I repelled repeated attempts to empty my wallet (“my ow khap” – literally “not want”). I sat back and watched Pattaya go about its most profitable business. Disinterested gog-go dancers shuffled about on a stage, checking themselves in the mirrored walls. Punters sat in dark corners with girls clambering all over them.

Graeme leant over and said “watch this”. He got up and walked over to the stage, and popped a few 20 baht notes (50p each) in to one dancer’s suspenders – it was like throwing a cow to a shoal of piranha. Within seconds he had 5 girls around him, draping themselves over him. He extricated himself, and we extricated ourselves from Betty’s. We jumped on a ‘baht bus’ and headed off to meet Graeme’s girlfriend Anny – a great Thai girl that Graeme met on the internet (and no, she isn’t a working girl). She lived in Pattaya until recently, but having had enough she’s moved away to another city and opened a hair salon. A couple more beers were sunk and then I was sunk. Knackered after the third consecutive night out I wandered home through still throbbing streets, hoping to recuperate ahead of New Years Eve.

The hotel Graeme had found us did the job – the room had a bed, a telly, a wardrobe and wonderful, beautiful ice-cold aircon. The shower was out of use, or rather the floor was. They’d not got the levels right in the tiling and water refused to drain away. It wasn’t too onerous though to walk along and use one of the two communal showers on the floor. Graeme had got me and Adam two rooms next to each other which also had near-exclusive use of a massive balcony, giving us unprecedented views of two huge hotels that loomed over us, and a building site. He had come up trumps in all honesty; I had failed to find a hotel with any rooms before setting off for Pattaya. It was only in the minibus that Graeme rang to say we had a hotel. He knew the owner – an Italian – who had changed it from a knocking-shop to an Italian restaurant and pizzeria. He let the rooms out above to a variety of people, including some of the girls who used to work in the place in its previous life.

On New Years Eve I awoke a little groggy. Graeme rang and asked if I fancied some lunch with him and Anny. We met up and I followed Graeme’s lead in going for some hair of the dog – Magners over ice. To be fair it was the right side of noon so I didn’t feel too much like a drunken sop. It didn’t go down too well though; I should’ve perhaps heeded this warning for later. After some scran we decided to go bowling and chill out. I was still feeling a touch under the weather despite a good plate of chips & chilli. It was good to catch up with Graeme, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d seen him. He goes out to Afghanistan in March for a 6 month tour (for those that don’t know him he’s a Royal Marine and I’m glad we have him on our side); he’s been doing an armoury course of late, meaning that he’ll no longer be on, and beyond, the front line. Instead he’ll sit slightly off it fixing and servicing the big machine guns if they go wrong. Without wanting to get overly gay, I do try to make the most of seeing him when I can because in his line of work you’re never sure you’ll see him again. We had a good laugh at bowling, including pissing ourselves at a fella in a lane further down who was essentially throwing the ball halfway down the lane and getting increasingly annoyed when he didn’t score well – which was all the time.

We packed up bowling (I won all three games – have to get that in I’m afraid) and went our separate ways , agreeing to meet up later. I retired to my room and tried to get some shut-eye.

New Year’s Eve meant that Pattaya was even more thronging than the previous night. We visited a bar that was run by a friend of Anny’s. They were having a free hog roast. We sat there drinking and not really getting drunk. I had a Red Bull to try and perk me up but I think my body was telling me to stop but needless to say I ignored it and kept throwing beer in to it. At about 11pm we took a wander to the beach to catch the build up. One of the shopping malls had a concert on which provided to soundtrack to a couple more beers on the beach.

There wasn’t really a countdown but at about 11.55pm all hell broke loose as the fireworks began. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many fireworks in the sky before. It was phenomenal. Graeme was taking the mickey out of himself talking about flashbacks and we just watched the revellers with a slightly disconnected feeling. The fireworks kept coming, various hotels letting them off on their roofs for about 15 minutes, then a huge display went up over the bay. It must’ve been the municipal show as it was centred around a big ‘Pattaya City’ sign not unlike the Hollywood sign. It was very spectacular. At about 12.15 it all started to die down a little so we wandered off to find a ‘quiet’ bar. We didn’t find one, and that’s how at 1am we rocked up in McDonalds wishing a bacon double cheeseburger a Happy New Year. The night had proven to be a bit of a damp squib compared to the night before, but there’s no-one to blame but ourselves. I was tucked up in bed by 1am.

The following day was largely spent working out how me and Adam would get back to Tha Bom. Adam had brought his bike with him, but had left it in Bangkok airport’s left luggage; this ruled out the direct bus from Pattaya to Muang Loei. Instead we needed to go from Pattaya to Bangkok Airport, Bangkok Airport to the Skytrain, get the Skytrain to Mo Chit, then try to find Mo Chit bus station, which on the map looked very close to Mo Chit Skytrain station, then get a bus from Mo Chit bus station to Muang Loei, then somehow from MUang Loei to Tha Bom (we had a lift if we could get there by 5am on the 3rd January. Easy. Long, but easy.

Having worked all that out I took the opportunity to have a wander through some shops looking for some new trainers and stock up on more reading. I failed on the trainer front but got two more books. Since coming out here I have been asked many times about why we use certain ways of saying things in English, rather than what would appear to be the obvious (to a non-native speaker) way. Invariably my answer is “I don’t know, we just do”. This has made me interested in English and how it has developed, and is still developing. To this end I picked up Melvyn Bragg’s ‘The Adventure of English’ and immediately felt very clever. Having now read some I feel less clever and more dumb – he cites all these poets and writers I haven’t heard of, alongside all the obvious fellas like old Shakey and Chaucer (and so far it is all fellas near enough). But it is proving a good read, and he does keep dropping Cumbria in to the story too. The other book was a collection of Ian Rankin short stories.

In the evening we met up with Graeme again, in a bar that his mate owns (ex-Marine). It was a good laugh really and a great way to spend the last night; probably really the night we should’ve had the previous night. We ate pizza and then said our farewells – Graeme & Anny had to be up at 4.30am for their taxi to the airport. Anticipating a long day with little opportunity for sleep I went to bed and slept like a baby (no I didn’t shit myself).

The Incredible Journey was upon us; sorry if I go in to a little bit too much boring detail here but it’s worth noting how many different sections to this there was, and the myriad of transport we used, and ultimately, just how quickly it was done. First up was a ‘baht bus’ to Pattaya bus station – these are little more than pick-ups with two benches in the back and a roof. We were booked on the bus to the Airport at 11am, which we made with ease. At 11am we left Pattaya and its slums of filth and sleaze. At 12.20pm we got to Bangkok airport. By 12.45pm Adam was in possession of his bike (dismantled and boxed but still cumbersome) and we were in possession of tickets for the airport express bus to Victory Monument Skytrain station (the Skytrain is an elevated light rail system). At 1.05pm we were on the express bus and deposited at Victory Monument (I’m not sure which victory it’s monumentising) Skytrain station at about 1.40pm. I then remembered that it was the weekend so JJ Market would be in full flow. JJ Market is probably the world’s massivest market ever (bigger even than Castle Markets in Sheff). Mo Chit Skytrain station is located bang next to it. Adam’s Cumbersome Bike + hordes of tourists + Skytrain = many apologies. We squeezed on to a carriage; Adam at all times apologising and sweating like a person lugging a very heavy object around in 30 degree heat.

The Skytrain coughed us out at Mo Chit, where we let the platform completely empty before going any further. Now, in the Lonely Planet Mo Chit Skytrain station and Mo Chit bus terminal are located on the same map and separated only by what looks like a pleasant stroll through a park. How I sneered at the motorcycle taxi men when they asked if we wanted a ride. However, there were no clear signs telling us which direction to go for the bus station. We set up camp and took it in turns to scout. I went in to an underground station and tried to ask one of the security people there. I succeeded only in causing a minor security concern with my backpack; they didn’t understand that I wasn’t going to travel on the underground (MRT in Bangkok) and they didn’t understand that I wanted the bus station. I got pointed to Exit 1 of the MRT station, which spewed me out about 300m away from where I had left Adam. It was then Adam’s turn whilst I sat and guarded the bike, two backpacks, a pannier, a drybag and a rucksack. Just as I was getting a little concerned Adam rounded the corner and said he’d had a word with a German chap who had said you couldn’t walk to Mo Chit from Mo Chit (?!) and taxi was the best option.

OK. With the help of two other taxi drivers who were on their break we flagged a cab down. The bike was put on the back seat and the door was closed. Only it wouldn’t close as the box was too big. Cue the taxi driver effectively taking running jumps at the boxed-bike to squeeze it in. Adam’s face was a picture as it appeared he was thinking what I was thinking – the bike will be in pieces by the end of this journey. Finally the bulk of the box was in, and by rolling down one of the back windows the door could shut. Realising then there wasn’t room for the bike, Adam and me, I waved Adam off hoping that I would see him at the bus station. I sauntered back to the motorcycle taxis with my tail between my legs. For a quid a fella whisked me off to the bus station – it was a good 10 minute motorbike ride; walking was never an option (for the record motorbike taxis are the best fun ever).

By now the time was about 3.15pm. Having looked up bus times from Bangkok to Muang Loei I was anticipating a long wait. The bus I had found was due out at 10pm. A porter had helped Adam with his stuff out of the taxi, and once I told where we were going she scooted off and we followed. We rocked up at the ticket booth and asked for two tickets to Muang Loei. “Is that for the bus now, or in 15 minutes?” came the reply. Me and Adam looked at each other like we couldn’t quite believe our luck. We took the one in 15 minutes. After paying a little extra to get Adam’s bike on the bus we departed at bang on 3.30pm. This was all going far too easily so far. One thing I had forgotten to do was ask what time we were due in to Muang Loei, so I could try to arrange a lift to Tha Bom. Unfortunately my Thai and the hostess’ English were incompatible (some may say non-existent). For much of the journey we were trying to work out where we were and how long it may take. I’d guessed we’d get to Muang Loei about midnight or half past. In the end we decided that we’d just loiter in the bus station til the lift at 5am showed up.

Sure enough we arrived in Muang Loei shortly after midnight. Just as we were settling down on the plastic seating designed to be uncomfortable after 10 minutes and enjoying the tunes from the nearby karaoke bars, a fella sidled up to Adam and asked if he wanted a taxi. We established that we wanted to go to Tha Bom and a price was agreed – 700 baht (14 quid). It was pricey but I’d happily pay my half for a bed for the night. The fella rang someone and 5 minutes later a pick up came trundling along; we slung our stuff in the back and set off to Tha Bom. The driver tried to speak to us – my minimal Thai helped a little. His English extended to “I go sing-song” as he leapt out to have a wazz. Forty minutes later we were back in Tha Bom. Altogether the journey from Pattaya had taken 14½ hours. To put it in perspective, the direct bus from Muang Loei to Pattaya on the way down took 11 hours.

As we quietly crashed through the doors of Father’s house a lad appeared and introduced himself. He was the one who would’ve been picking us up at 5am; so he was glad that he could have a little bit of a lie in now. His English was near-perfect – he is a seminary in the Church and has been studying in Australia for the last two years. After a brief chat I’d had enough of being awake. I made my excuses, went up to bed and drifted off.