Bangkok

The lady of the night sauntered through the blistering day, her mammoth cleavage sparkling with golden glitter and glinting artfully and quite artificially in the harsh midday sun.  She bounced slowly past the beer sodden balcony, on which Paul and Andrew had just found some respite from that fireball overhead, her stilettoes singing sharply on the concrete as her denim shorts rode higher with each stride. 

Paul thought she looked marvellous.

She had poise. 

Class.

Had he been born female he had no doubt he would have gone for a similar look. 

The tart with no heart!  

Common yet uncommon.

In fact there had been occasions he’d worn such attire – but he chose not to think about them, for now he was in traveller mode.  Butch and adventurous.  There was no way he’d be slipping into a pair of high heels anytime soon, unless, of course, some high heel paid him an awful lot of money! Anyone could take six inches for the right price!

A small old woman with just a few teeth approached them.  She offered Paul a green  orange, obviously with some payment in mind.  Paul felt a pang of condescending sympathy as he looked at her threadbare, once pink blouse and worn knees and so offered up what change he had.  He then watched in amazed amusement as the peddlar peeled the fruit very slowly and then ate it piece by piece herself in front of him.  It was the first time he’d ever paid anyone to eat fruit. 

Well – there had been another occasion but he was saving that for the novel.

She then hobbled off sated and satisfied.

Paul certainly knew he and Andrew were back in Bangkok.  

There really was no city quite like it.  Brash, sophisticated, respectful, rude, reticent and pornographic. T’was an exotic soup into which one had to dive immediately or be put off by the whiff of something unknoweable.

Paul had warned Andrew that they would be flying into the annual monsoon before they hit Thailand’s capital, but his partner had assured him it was the place to go to find their feet. Paul knew he was probably right – he just hoped they were the type of feet he liked!  There had been some highly mysterious hoofs floating about in some parts of Thailand he’d visited – and not always in the food!

The Lola Boys had arrived in Bangkok to a temperature of 41C with a real feel of 48C!  Paul had no idea what ‘real feel’ meant.  As a betting man he thought Accuweather were hedging theirs. But they were right about one thing – it certainly really felt bloody hot! Andrew and Paul had never visited the city so late in the season – and were entirely unseasoned to it’s stultifying sultriness.

After the long- maul flight they took the train and the metro to their hotel.  The public transport had been paul’s big idea. He was thinking of the cost and the coolest way of doing it.  It seemed more adventuresome. As he and Andrew dragged their rucksacks along one of Bangkoks main drags as the heat dessicated them both Paul knew the coolest way would have been in a taxi.  

With air conditoning. 

Like Andrew had suggested! 

But he said nothing.

They hit the downtown hotel both aching, sweaty and swollen. But not before noticing a ‘Medicinal Cannabis Dispensary’ on the ground floor.  Paul made his way back down the twenty one floors in the lift and inquired if the charming lady who ran the establishment had anything effective for jet lag.  He left with a pre-rolled herbal cigarette which went by the name of ‘Ice Cream Cake’! By the time he and Andrew had made it down to the pool and partaken of a couple of slices they were as chilled as ice cream.  Although not entirely sure of where they were. They could guess the continent; the country, however, proved more elusive.

This was the first time Paul and Andrew had travelled to the far east and have legal weed available.  They’d obviously sampled the odd puff, usually shared by their hosts, out of sheer politeness of course, but now the grass was so much greener! The herb was available everywhere, and in every form. All done with great panache and intelligence.  Not one of the dispensers Paul had spoken to had been remotely green.  

They all knew their puff! 

And sometimes there were two hundred or more strains in the shop.  

One paid for the experience – but it was worth it.  Paul had made a hash of a dodgy deal a few too many times so walking into somewhere like Boots the chemist and getting something for one’s joints – perfectly rolled – was a luxury. A real reward.

On the third day, or so Paul thought, he and Andrew met up with Paul’s cousin Harry, who was just finishing an incredibly intrepid journey. Six months through India and Indochina, mostly by bicycle, finsihing in Thailand. The Boys shared a couple of nights with Harry and when they introduced him to ‘Soi cowboy’, the boy who thought he’d seen it all had a couple more surprises. Yeeah Hah! What a night.

Day something else and lovely Harry had left and Paul and Andrew had moved to a more classless part of town.  Sukhumvit had been ok but it had changed. It was now terribly corporate and one shared the lift with thirty or more of the four hundred Indian food distributors who were attending a conference on something or other.  Very charming.  But there are only so many conversations one can have about dall before it becomes dull!  Especially in such a small elevator!

The sleazier part of town, which most people are advised to avoid, seemed much better on arrival.  Noise one finds it difficult to sleep through. Decent street food.  And yet more dispensaries ….

Day – something or other – Paul had just tried ‘Girl Scouts Cookies’!  Not from from some conformist’s juvenile’s basket but from the dispensary.  This girl scout certainly had a talent – he’d never had cookies like it.  Which was why he’d decided to write a blog.  

He wasn’t sure if it were wise or not.  

And he’d not checked his spolling. 

He didn’t really care.  

He was sure the Girl Scout would take care of all that!

He sat glazed outside the dispensary as a blind karaoke singer approached him. He had none of Bocelli! His sound as inadequate as his sight. But he had charm. So Paul tipped him. Far too heavily.  Perhaps making up for the time in Laos when he’d handed over a fake twenty dollar bill to a blind masseur, quite accidentally of course.  That had all been Andrew’s fault after he had handed him a wad of dollar-styled confetti he’d picked up from the street! Paul was incredibly apologetic but it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Day whatever ….. Still in Bangkok waiting for the storm to abate…..

Day or night.

Note to self.  Must give up eating that ‘Ice Cream Cake’ with those ‘Girl Scouts’ ….

Or we’ll never move!