Sex on the Beach

I swear that title sounds more exciting than this entry actually is, though, to my credit, I probably just increased the traffic to this blog tenfold since now it might show up accidentally in Google searches for porn. Anyway, once again, I’m behind in my chronicle. I spend most of this week still recovering from my body’s angry reaction to the anti-Malaria drugs I was on. It wasn’t the drug themselves so much as the fact that the doctor at Rochester decided to omit the fact that one needs to take them with food, draink a whole glass of water, and not take them right before bed, blah, blah, blah. Turns out I was pretty much doing the exact opposite of everything you’re supposed to do when you take these drugs, and I paid the price for my ignorance. My system seems to have recovered completely though, since I was able to consume green curry again without any pain (at least, without more pain than is usually incurred by the consumption of green curry).

But this entry isn’t about green curry. No, it’s about Pattaya, our port of call after our stop at the Sriracha tiger zoo. We didn’t really have any concrete plans for things to do in Pattaya, and we didn’t really need them. This was some of the greatest people watching on the planet, since Pattaya is home to one of Thialand’s most infamous red-light districts, right on the shores of the Indian Ocean. Wandering up and down the beach in the afternoon, one encounters in abundance members of a distinct demographic, not found in the west. I am, of course, referring to the “Sexpat”. This is a white guy who is probably old enough to qualify for a free hash brown at IHOP on senior discount Saturdays with his hairy, wrinkled, tattooed, sunburn of an arm wrapped around a Thai girl less than half his age wearing more makeup than “Clown-Face Barbie”. These guys are hilarious, since they’re probably among the most obviously sleazy guys on the planet, at it’s pretty clear that they know it. We kept trying to snap photos, but it was hard to do so without looking equally shady.

After dinner, we bought tickets to a show. No, not that kind of show. Come on, my Mom reads this blog…This was your standard wholesome Vegas style cabaret, complete with lavish sets, plush red upholstered seats, and absurdly dressed showgirls. “Alcazar” had one unique difference: the showgirls in Vegas didn’t used to have weeners. Thailand is famous for it’s “Ladyboys” and rightfully so, since if I didn’t know better there would have been absolutely no way to distinguish these women from your average tall Asian supermodel. The show itself was great, but by far the best number was when a guy started “singing” (the whole thing was lip synced, for reasons that became clear after the show) with the curtain covering half his body. Soon, he disappeared and a woman popped out doing the same thing. Fairly soon, it became apparent that the man and the women were, in fact, the same person, with clothes and makeup similar to Two-Face from Batman. It’s times like this that I wish Blogger would still let me post pictures, because this was really a remarkable act.

Following the show, come of the performers milled around the parking lot for photo-ops. Joey and I quickly obliged, and we walked up to the first showgirl we could find and handed over our 40 baht. She was dressed in a white gown, and looked a lot like the ninja girl from Crouching Tiger. However, when she thanked us , I couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her voice, oh, and that of, say, Walter Cronkite. Immediately, I understood why the lip syncing was necessary.

Post-photoshoot we decided to venture into the belly of the beast, and take a walk down the Pattaya strip. This reminded me a lot of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but with more cheerleader/schoolgirl/nurse outfits, and substantially less sanity. Being clearly American, we became targets for pretty much everyone, and I made a lot instant “friends” who wanted to sell me stuff/take me places/rob me. I do have to say, that walking around in Pattaya does make you feel very popular, since, when even the scrawny white guy walks past the bar, he is showered with shouts of, “Hey sexy man, come over here!”.

For me, though, the highlight of this adventure was the snack food. Lesson #1: let your scorpions cool before you try and eat them. I made this mistake and had a nasty tongue burn. I’m not sure what possessed me to do this, but, come on, when am I gonna be able buy this stuff again? Maybe I’ll see if the giant Pittsford Wegmans has any in back. Lesson #2: If you are going to eat a scorpion, bring dental floss. I also made this mistake, and, when I brushed my teeth later that night, I was still finding legs in the sink (not making this up). All in all, I don’t know if I’d recommend them to everyone, but I’d probaly eat them again. They taste like a really thick soggy barbecue potato chip. They taste…exoskeletony.

In the end, I had a great time in Pattaya. Maybe now I’ll finally be able to talk about events that happened THIS week. Next up, Ayuttaya: fewer prostitutes, more monks, just as interesting. Stay tuned.