One one things

The presentation went well, I was a bit nervous bc I didn’t have in depth knowledge of this subject and was relying on a few days reading. But luckily the questions were manageable and Fernie gave me a thumbs up and a grin from his seat when I had finished. We wound up around 5ish and Fernie wanted to explore Phat Pong. But first he wanted to visit the nearby fruit market to load up and take back home. The market was quite dirty and the recent rains had made it quite muddy too. Judging by the sky further rain was on the cards. There were loads of different types of fruits, and Fernie was having a ball bargaining down to the last Baht. We left with three bags full of stuff I’ve never heard of let alone seen before. I asked him how he plans to get these through customs, he smiled wryly and said that he won’t be checked bc he’s on a diplomatic passport. Classy. It started to rain so I suggested we take a tuktuk to Phat pong instead of a bus; it’s not like we hadn’t experienced the bus before, and with a bus there’s every chance we’d have to walk a lot and get soaked in the process. But Fernie was pretty keen on saving the 50 or so Baht by taking a bus. So we stood in the half covered bus stand waiting for the number 31 to find its way through the bumper-bumper traffic. We finally caught one and quickly asked a youngish chap where to hop off in order to get to PP. He scratched his head and said to get off at the first stop and then catch a different bus from the next bus stop. Not too bad if it hadn’t been raining, Fernie seemed pleased but I scowled at him when his back was turned as the salty water dripped down my eyes.

As soon as we jumped off the bus I knew something was wrong - we were still on the wrong side of the waterway. But the chap did say first bus stop. We ran to our left hoping the next bus stop was close enough. By now we were soaked and I was not happy, but consoled myself with the notion that it’s all part of the adventure. We finally reached the next bus stop and the bus we wanted didn’t seem to stop there. None of the others at the stand spoke any English so we had no chance. Fernie suggested we just get on the next bus and ask the conductor. With minimal expectations we got in and the conductor shook his head as we said “Phat pong, phat pong?” but he took our money anyway. Walking down the bus we looked for youngish ppl who are more likely to speak English; and one guy said that we were way off track. He suggested we get off near MBK mall and take a sky train. Looking at the map it seemed to make sense, finally a breakthrough. I had been to MBK before and I hate malls but Fernie had never been so we went in for a bit. Fernie wanted to buy some perfume for some bird so we were looking around in the perfume section and he went up to the counter and asked, “you have Boss? you know Boss?” The girl at the counter looked confused, so I said Hugo Boss, and she shook her head. There were loads of other brands; Kleine, Davidoff, Prada, but Fernie was insistent, “Can’t get some ohey thing no, must get something ppl recognize, otherwise will think I didn’t bother to spend no? If they don’t have Boss let’s go, useless fellows.” Works for me.

The skytrain station was very impressive; there are great views, no traffic and the station is clean and simple. We ran into a Brit who was trying to get to the Bangkok Thai Boxing Stadium. Fernie insisted I take a picture of him hugging the Brit, who looked quite confused by our antics. We got out at Sala Daeng and walked towards Phat Pong, this time we asked suddas for directions and we had much better luck. Maybe the Thais call it something else. We missed the road the first time, but we were obviously close given the tell-tale touristy shops. One place stood out though, a guy was making carvings of flowers out of soap - they were amazingly well detailed, and he did each one so fast. We were directed to Phat Pong road and as soon as we walked in we were greeted by numerous offers. “you want fucky fucky? just looking is free.” Fernie shot back; “if i want i will pay and do more than just looking!” This was greeted by a blank stare and we walked off. The road was flanked by strip bars on one side with girls pole dancing in their underwear and on the other side by stalls selling jewelery and other paraphernalia. I didn’t feel comfortable as the touts all but dragged you into their respective joints, all saying “fucky fucky? massage?”. We didn’t hang around for long and quickly left to find some food.

A Hong Kong sea food restaurant had some fabulous looking crab so we treated ourselves to a super meal washed down with a pot of Chinese tea. Fernie was contemplating a massage to “relax” and to help with his diabetes. I told him to go ahead while struggling to hold down a guffaw, but in the end he probably felt shy. We finished the night by walking passed the real red light street, where girls were lined up outside buildings, well dressed and looking relaxed, chatting to one another. They all had a number pinned to their dress and nearer to the road the madams stood with boards indicated pictures of the girls and their respective numbers. The clients choose a number and the girl is delivered. Most of the clients were sleazy old oriental men (probably Japs). While Phat pong road is more fun and games, this was somehow more cold, serious and businesslike. Both places disturbed me to an extent and I was glad when we left the general area. Even as we were trying to hail down a cab to get back to the hotel there were chaps walking on the pavement showing little boards with the words “DVD Sex” written on them. It was late when we got back to the hotel, I was tired and had to be up reasonably early the next morning to try our luck getting to Kanchanaburi.