…I may be a pervert, but Thailand is like my co-dependant sadistic lover who dishes up endless portions of irresistible goodies: fried pork, fresh sausage, pad thai and fried rice – bakes brownies for me daily by the tray full – offers me third helpings at every meal. It’s a psycho-pathology… Thailand is a ‘feeder’…
Counting down from 5 to 1.
The 5 Reasons I Hate Thailand.
OK, before you get all like, “Thailand is so nice” and shit, let me explain myself. I have good reasons. Bear with me.
At fifth position in this countdown of loathing:
tuk tuk drivers.
Thailand’s version of a taxi cab, is a tuk tuk. It has three wheels, a pair of handlebars, two bench seats, and a semi-concious human operator. These operators are known as tuk tuk drivers.
Tuk tuk drivers (see fig. A, above) are commonly found in small packs, usually loose family groups. They habitually seek shade on street corners in large metropolitan centres, such as Bangkok and Chiang Mai. When approached by farangs or tourists, they bark out greetings such as ‘hello’, ‘where you go?’ or ‘you-want-see-live-pussy-boom-boom-ping-pong-show-tonight-half-price-drinks-young-young-girls-you-like-pussy..?
If any farang should nod slightly, hessitate or get separated from the herd, they will swiftly find themselves flattered, propositioned, delivered to an incorrect destination, verbally abused, offered drugs and over charged.
All of the above, I can forgive. Shit, these guys are only human.
The thing that pisses me off is; tuk tuk drivers make me feel inadequate.
Here is a guy who, despite being a chain smoker, a chronic alcoholic, a womaniser with five children, and a narcoleptic, manages to operate a small business in Bangkok, one of the most competitive and gridlocked cities on the planet, while affecting the relaxed air of a city council worker on a two hour lunch break.
When you are a confused, sweaty backpacker, lost in an unfamiliar town, having to confront a bevy of tuk tuk drivers loitering on a corner can deal the death blow to your self esteem. They are managing their business, siring offspring, and trafficking class A drugs, with noncalant ease, unruffled and unburdened – whilst you, on the other hand, who have no more pressing duties than to drink beer and gawk at the scenery; you are the one coming apart from stress.
That kind of comparison is emasculating.
Thailand enables my vices.
My relationship with Thailand has a dark side.
Like so many other middle aged white men from affluent countries, I found my way to Thailand following the inevitable base urge that all men are slaves to: the quest for cholesterol. Tender, young, portions of meat. Richly brown, slippery flesh, soaked in the spicy balm of the orient.
I may be a pervert, but Thailand is like my co-dependant sadistic lover who dishes up endless portions of irresistible goodies: fried pork, fresh sausage, pad thai and fried rice – bakes brownies for me daily by the tray full – brings me home bags of iced donuts – offers me third helpings at every meal, and douses my diet with mayonnaise from a catering sized jar. It’s a psycho-pathology known to medicine, isn’t it? Thailand is a ‘feeder‘.
One day you will be sorry though. When I finally drop dead, face plastered with fish sauce, and the tail of a crispy fried shrimp trailing from the corner of my rictus – then you will regret all the ways you led me into temptation, shamelessly seducing me with your coconut curry and deep fried delicacies.
I can’t stay angry at you.
You hurt me, and I wanted to poke you right in the eye.
But, damn it, you are just so cute, and charming. How can I keep my angry going when you do that… that… prayer hands thing.
Thailand made the weather everywhere else shitty.
Actually, Spain is pretty nice…
Hmmm… Ice on the roof of my tent…
Actually, Spain sucks.
( Love, Spain. I’m just fuckin’ with you. :-)
In Thailand, sometimes it does get hot. When it’s hot, sometimes it can make you feel pretty tired. You don’t feel like doing much. For a while you get a bit frustrated and then you realise; ‘now I always have a good excuse to take it easy.’
Like Noël Coward said; ‘mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.’
Lethargy has now become a virtue. A mark of wisdom and cultural sensitivity. ‘When in Rome‘ and all that crap.
Now, hanging in the shade all day smoking, and playing music means you have respect for the local ways, and have achieved a small degree of integration.
Being cold sucks.
I now understand why there are so few Samoans living in Sweden.
Thank you, once again, warm, sunny, scented Thailand, for ruining the fucking weather for me.
OK. Here it is. This is the deal breaker. The thing I just cannot forgive. I don’t even want to talk about it. I think I should stop talking, I’ve said enough. Nothing you can say will ever help me get over this one.
So I’m just going to put it out there, and then I will shut up.
Thailand, you know what your problem is?
There are too many Farangs everywhere these days!