Down on Pattaya

Sir,
There are two types of articles appearing in the Pattaya Mail with regularity: those where business and political leaders decry the decline in tourism and propose ways to improve the situation; and a steadily increasing number of reports of tourists being insulted, assaulted, drugged, robbed and extorted. All the good intentions and empty proposals by community leaders are not going to change the behavior of the people at street level, and it is they who are driving away the life blood of the city.
Promoting fresh sea breezes does not change the fact that during the high season trash, brush, and entire fields are set afire on a daily basis by every idiot with a pack of matches in their pocket. Promising pristine beaches does not change the fact that the narrow, seven meter wide ribbon of sand is dirty, fronted by polluted water, and monopolized by chair vendors who gallantly leave the outlets of the street drains for those who do not wish to rent a chair. No directive that jeep and motorcycle renters are to be restricted to a limited number of vehicles prevents them from taking all available parking along Beach Road. No proposal to make Beach Road a pedestrian only zone after six p.m. prevents parking on both sides of the narrow artery or louts on motorcycles from speeding down what little space is left.
It doesn’t matter if the streets are cleared of garbage, no one is going to walk down them if doing so leaves them open to being insulted and assaulted. Having a beach promenade doesn’t matter if strolling along it means taking the risk of being knocked down and robbed. No one is going to participate in the vibrant night-life if there is a good chance that they will wake up three days later in the hospital with all their possessions gone, or in some cases, not wake up at all. No one is going to seek an exotic experience if it means they might be set up by girls with both a legal age and under age ID, and then extorted for immense sums by the police.
Pattaya is being inundated with rude obnoxious thugs who do not care about the city or its visitors. They do not listen to the community leaders, and the police do not have the budget or manpower to control them. They are driving away the tourists and the income and jobs that they bring. Inevitably, this rabble will win as they reduce everyone to their level of poverty.
Meanwhile, tourism to Cambodia is increasing by 50% every six months...
Lawrence Neal

Follow up needed

Sir,
I feel the Pattaya Tourist Police deserve the utmost praise for the fine work they did to catch the low life criminals who were drugging the Falangs. Maybe this will explain some of those unfortunate deaths blamed on too much drinks.
Now my question is; what will be the punishment for these crimes, a slap on the wrist or will they be made to work in an “Inactive area”?
A follow up is in order on your part.
Thank you,
Manee Pinthong

Inspired by the Mail

Dear Sir,
When I read the Pattaya Mail, some articles are like a lubricant and the wheels in my noodle start to turn, producing material which I send on to you.
Re. Dolf Riks’ “A gaggle of geese”, it reminds me of the time during the war when we lived in Sathorn and having a brood of 6 children, we of course acquired a menagerie. Our geese were not only great ululating birds, they were nacissisms and would stand for hours admiring themselves in the reflecting surface of the chrome-hub-caps of our car, honking their approval of each other. An angora rabbit which was house trained and never went outdoors, but used the toilet when necessary. An arrogant aristocratic Siamese cat, which would only partake of fish that had been de-boned. A fighting-cock, which was lord-of-all and could deftly kick off the head of a cobra. These were the “Stars” in our circus, with other minor inmates, such as chickens, dogs, fish, etc. which made up our happy-family.
I suppose I could write an article on “The good old days of yore” or “Ye bygone days”, but I think not many are interested....too slow. Better keep to my doggerels.
Yours faithfully,
Mai-ben-arai
Editor’s reply:
Please do write about the “good old days”. We would love to read about it.

Pen Names

In “Mailbag” 27th December,
“Enforced helmet laws” to remember.
Quite true, ‘A’ could substitute ‘O’,
But last sentence to me a great blow!
Pseudonyms, I sure like to use ...
Many suitable from which to choose.
Verse on Banana by “Banana-split”.
Shopping & Services by “Classified” wit.
“Mai-ben-arai” for Etiquette;
If you make mistakes, host should forget.
An “Antiquated Driver” Driving Exuberantly
“Golden-wedded Anony-mous”, Yours truly!
In different roles like Thespian
A “Grandam” am I so can use any other name!
“An elderly Twit”
P.S. “Everyone to his taste, as the old woman said when she kissed her cow!”

Unresolved doping case

Dear Sir,
I am very surprised over the way the Pattaya Police handle a doping case.
After a few visits to some bars, I met some girls who talked to me in the street for about a half hour. It was in the general area near Mike Department Store on Beach Road. I took one of the girls home with me, where she in some way put something in my drinking water. After a while I fell into a deep sleep. Then she stole 2 of my gold rings, my watch and about 3000 baht. One of my gold rings was special made here in Pattaya. All this happened on the night of the 12th of November, 1996.
The same day I contacted the Tourist Police, but they were not interested. because they said my evidence was not good enough to handle the case. I had a motorcycle driver with me who had seen the girl leave the hotel in the morning. But they didn’t want to listen to him. After that I nearly dropped the case. But I was told by a Thai that I should try the police station on Beach Road, where they had a lot of stolen items. But they told me to contact Banglamung Police Station. I had a sample of what the girl had put in my water (enclosed). They were not interested in what I was.
I send now the sample to you. Maybe you know what it is?
I hope you will have a look into this case.
Sincerely,
G. J. Denmark

A taxi drivers tale

by Noel (Tippler) Thomas
Having worked as a Taxi driver for over ten years in Thailand I have experienced countless ridiculous situations, many of them causing me much inconvenience and hardship, particularly when the Police find it necessary to interrupt my work. I can categorically assure you that I am the epitome of an upstanding, hard working and, although it hardly need be said, honest and trustworthy Thai citizen with an extremely strong work ethic. It just seems unbelievable to me that people can come out with such ridiculous accusations. I am by no stretch of the imagination a racist, but it does seem to be the arrogant fat farangs, piano-toothed chocolates and dirty stinking Arabs that tend to cause the problems with predictable regularity.
In that respect, the farangs are not too bad, although I still do not understand as to why the French are forbidden to use soap. My mate reckons it’s because of some religious belief, but I am convinced that it’s down to some national genetic disorder that has left the entire population with no sense of smell. It was probably caused by some nerve gas used in WWII: we will probably never know the truth. On the other hand, it could be a conspiracy within the European Union designed to give non-French delegates credence when they vent their wrath in response to yet another blockade or sheep burning ritual by the French ‘workers’.
One sniff of an armpit by the officer assigned to investigate accusations of verbal abuse of a personal hygiene nature would doubtlessly induce him to throw out the complaint at the drop of a gas mask. I could expand on this theme at length but, as I alluded to above, I have not an ounce of racism in me.
One little experience I would like to share with you was a most miserable fare that I had from Laem Chabang to Bangkok. The chap was an arm waving Eyetie. When he got into the cab it was clear that he was not a happy man. We stopped off at a bar in Chonburi en route and it was over a couple of beers in my case, a bottle of Mekong Whisky in his, that he poured his heart out to me. Apparently, he had held a senior engineering position for some multi-national concern but he kept insisting that he had been driven out by jealous colleagues who were more than eager to step into his shoes sooner rather than later. He told me all about the varied engineering skills that he possessed and also of the praise and bonuses that had been showered on him by top management during his assignment.
He told me of the marvelous bridges that he had built and then asked: ‘Do you think they call me Vittorio the Master Bridge Builder?-No!’ He explained about the complexity of the road systems that he had built over the most difficult of terrain and then asked: ‘Do you think they call me Vittorio the Supremo of Road Construction?-No!’
By this time he had got himself into quite a state and covered his face with his hands as he sobbed uncontrollably.
It took a little while for him to compose himself and then he uttered the words: ‘Just because I shag one stupid goat………’
The rest of the journey to Bangkok was made in silence and when we arrived at his hotel he very humbly asked me to take whatever the fare was directly from his wallet. Being a helpful individual by nature, I could hardly refuse and was considerate enough to leave him enough of the folding stuff to give a decent tip to the bell-boy. Where would these farangs be without the likes of me? They would probably get robbed blind.
Just to show you that this practice of taking such a caring attitude is not simply restricted to Thai people, let me recount an episode that featured a German first time visitor to the Kingdom. I will never forget the kindness shown to me by one Herr Wolfgang Spahn back in March 1992 or, to be more precise, the thirteenth day of that month - a Friday as I recall.
What an absolute gentleman he turned out to be. My first sight of him was when I had just made a drop at the International Departures terminal at Don Muang airport. I looked with interest as I saw this overweight farang waddling up and down the pavement, clearly in a state of some confusion. He was attempting to carry all his luggage in his arms which was evidently a task that would have been more adeptly performed by a three year old child. He was making life quite a bit more difficult for himself by the fact that his passport was wedged between his teeth and he was having quite a problem inhaling sufficient air to keep himself from passing out on the spot. It seemed a little strange that he was roaming around outside Departures when it was evident that he had not long since arrived in Thailand from Germany.
In a selfless effort to strengthen diplomatic relations between our countries, I parked up my vehicle and approached the distressed visitor. In my best pidgin English I asked him if he needed a taxi and his reaction immediately confirmed what I already knew. I dutifully relieved him of his bags, making sure to put his camcorder safely out of harm’s way under my seat. I loaded up the boot and decided that it would be prudent for his Duty Free’s to accompany the camcorder. You see how thoughtful I am?
As we headed off Pattaya bound, he eventually agreed to stop for refreshments or at least he didn’t complain too loudly at my repeated suggestion. A few kilometres before we reached my uncle’s bar I had kept telling him that he was obviously very hot and a cold beer would do him the world of good. In response to my concerned verbal offerings, all he could do was insist that name was not ‘Ron’ but Wolfgang. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was taking the piss out my Thai pronunciation but, being as I am, I let it go.
Uncle and the family clearly took to the German visitor immediately and called over half the village to join in this impromptu celebration as a sign of respect for the distinguished guest. Herr Spahn seemed a tad troubled by this influx of the masses but seemed more at ease when I explained that the people just wanted to welcome him to Thailand and honour his presence in their humble village.
Within moments extra tables had appeared and were rapidly being filled with what had to be the entire stock of Uncle’s beer and spirits. The kitchen staff were no slouches either. Less than ten minutes later there must have been at least forty dishes of freshly cooked food on the tables.
The ‘celebration’ had gone on for over an hour when I decided that six bottles of Singha Beer were sufficient to last me for the rest of the journey. I signaled to my uncle who responded with three loud claps of his hands. The bemused German gentleman was unsure how to respond when the Thai music struck up and ten little girls lined up in front of him and began to perform a traditional Thai dance.
When the dance was over, the visitor was almost reduced to tears by the spectacle and readily accepted the bill sweetly presented by the smallest of the children which had co-incidentally been given to her by her mother, the cashier. A not inconsiderable amount of German Marks later, we continued on our way, Pattaya bound.
Wolfgang’s continuous snoring kept me alert for the next two hours and we finally arrived in Pattaya. Rather than avoid all the pot-holes as I usually do, I slammed straight into a couple and Wolfgang rejoined the land of the living as planned. Wolfgang could not remember the name of his hotel and so I suggested taking him to a relaxing lounge in North Pattaya so that he could compose himself and surely then he would could recall the name of his hotel.
Wolfgang readily agreed.
Far from merely regaining his composure, he regained a lot more. After only two drinks he had whisked three of the ‘hostesses’ away to a private room above the lounge. Some thirty minutes later the shrieking of the girls as they lept down the stairs shattered the soothing ambiance of the lowly lit lounge.
After a few slaps the girls calmed down and communication finally became possible, although not without some difficulty. The girls were babbling on about bin liners, oranges, a rope and other seemingly meaningless items. I had no choice but to go upstairs and investigate for myself. The sight that met me as I entered the room was by any stretch of the imagination bizarre.
Wolfgang was trussed up like a turkey courtesy of the cord that thirty minutes previous had operated the venetian blinds. To finish the vision off he had a black bin liner over his head and closer inspection revealed that he had an orange rammed into his mouth and a banana up his back passage. His face was purple and his eyes bulged alarmingly. Having decided to leave the banana in situ, I managed to remove the orange which allowed Wolfgang to utter the following brief but all important message to me: ‘Please…get me out of here…..no-one must know I was here whatever happens. Do what you think is best……’ He then gurgled a couple of times and headed off to another life, this one being well and truly over.
Realizing that I had just been made his sole beneficiary, I had to think quickly before I found myself the wrong side of the bars in the ’Monkey House’. Having stripped him of his genuine gold Rolex watch, two gold bracelets, three gold rings and gold chain with medallion, not to mention his wallet, I went to see the Mamasan and we agreed that it was in everybody’s best interest for me to relocate the corpse to somewhere less sensitive. With a great deal of effort we managed to get Wolfgang into the back of the cab. I drove off and headed for the road building works just before Soi 17. The well-type hole into which I dropped our departed Herr Spahn was tailor made for the purpose. All that I had to do was kick in some earth to cover the body and I was on my way.
Yes indeed I do understand the wisdom of being such a thoughtful and caring person: the Baht 2,000,000 that I realized from Wolfgang’s Thai estate bears irrefutable testimony to what I say.
If only all Thai citizens would take a leaf out of my book, what a better place the world would be.

Down on Pattaya

Follow up needed

Inspired by the Mail

Pen Names

Unresolved doping case

A taxi drivers tale