Thailand is experiencing the most prolonged heat wave in the past sixty five years…..lucky us….yay. Temperatures in the mid forties trick your body and mind into wanting to lay down and die. My national phone carrier ‘True’ sends heat advisories every day, as if we need reminding how freaking hot it is out there.

“Trust me…it’s not the heat…it’s the humidity”…some old hand will say.

“No”, I reply…”It’s both”. I don’t need to be reminded that these temperatures are dangerous.

True adds insult to injury by adding what they call a ‘Humidex warning’….a ‘feels like’ calculation to adjust both temperature and humidity into a warning against spending any unnecessary time outside. Today’s number is one hundred and seventeen degrees. Thanks for telling me True. I’m likely to spend my day cowering inside my air conditioned condo not that I know I could die if I go outside. At this point I mentally run through a checklist of what’s left in the house to eat. The choices I have are… frisk a run to the 7-11 across the street for Lime Smoothie….or die of starvation.

The better acclimated Thai’s are suffering…not at all silently…but barely dignified. People outside wear a well practiced grimace. They grit their teeth , as if bearing down for an unavoidable fight against an implacable enemy. They’re stalwart, waiting it out, like a contest between life and death, the battle played out between the passing of light into darkness. It’s a fool errand to wait for a cool evening respite, it’s as hot at three in the morning as it is at three in the afternoon.

There is a brief half hour pause when the barometer drops as the sun goes down and the pressure forces near gale force winds down the narrow soi’s. It’s then when children and mothers with babies will come out into the street to be blown dry while pushed down the asphalt like earthbound kites in a tornado.

My landlord will hate me this month, I’m running the air-conditioning fourteen hours a day….and electricity is expensive here. We need to keep the windows closed for a variety of reasons. Bangkok air is predatory and seeks silent entry through any sliver of open space. With the air comes a fine blanket of exhaust residue and dust. breath too much and your lungs could look like a coal miner at his wake. Seek ‘a breath of fresh air’ and the condo will become an oven.

Monsoon time is also ‘mosquito season’….and there’s Dengue Fever, Malaria and a deadly brain killing strain of Japanese Encephalitis carried up from the vengeful south this year. Thousands of cases this year alone.  There’s no choice except this self imposed isolation.

Look down any street and see tourist trapped behind sheets of glass like the denizens of a zoo. The heat has caught them flat footed. They weren’t expecting to feel debilitated by the fiery temperatures that have attacked them since arriving. They look bewildered and frightened. Many have been bed ridden with dizzy vomiting from heat prostration having mistaken consuming alcohol as a panacea to ‘beat the heat’….which is the worst thing you can do.

A rain came today, thunder and lightning bombarding a distant suburb….good news as we drift towards monsoon season. Only the Gods know when this will end.

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Why has Thailand become a dumping ground for the worlds perverts and socially challenged? We’ve discussed at length on he subject of the ‘who what and why’ of the tourist trade sex pat swarms of retiring viagra-sexulaized immoral losers, but there’s another element also in abundance….the great number of dispossessed psychologically compromised who have also come to Bangkok after falling out with their own societies.

There has been a huge uptick in the number of seriously maladjusted personalities who have come to Thailand for some kind of bolt-hole from the reality of ‘home’. Looking for solace in a hellhole like Bangkok is like a drunk looking for sobriety in a liquor store. How so many tragically insane and maladjusted persons could have found Bangkok on their own is a mystery.

There are many here who are obviously medically insane and you have to wonder when they went insane…before or after they arrived? Otherwise…it begs the question…how did these people get here? Is it ‘Tropo’ as Jung described…the debilitating effects of Eastern culture on the western mind…..like Conrad described through his character ‘Kertz’ in ‘The Heart of Darkness’?

Because getting here must have taken a semblance of coordination…ie: a modicum of clarity…to get the cash together to purchase an air ticket, to secure a passport, travel and then to arrive with a probable story on why you were arriving in the country while stable enough to be passed judgement upon by the immigration officer. We have legions of absolutely and incoherently insane people from all corners of the western empire.

There are vegetative beggars lining the gutters of Khao San Road speaking either Russian, Swedish , German or Slavic and Hungarian in an incoherent word salad. There have been many cases where Euro-origin women have been picked off various tourist boulevards completely naked and screaming like ravens. There internet examples aplenty of European ladies in zoophilia movies that are obviously shot in a tropical setting resembling a weeping anal fistula also known as Pattaya.

Where are these people coming from, how do they get here, why have they chosen Thailand as a fixation for their fantasy…and worse…..who the hell sent them here? The former are the worst examples..there are plenty of garden variety dissociated kooks of all stripes wandering around…some look fairly normal until you notice the thousand yard stare in their eyes as you pass them in the hall or elevator.

As I said there are thousands upon thousands of really sick and weird people who have suddenly popped into our Land of Smiles. We know that the Russian mob has been importing east European prostitutes by the thousands, but even they couldn’t handle this volume. This invasion is like the event horizon of a black hole dumping it’s cosmic refuse outside a time space singularity.

Many of these socially dysfunctional persons wander around in various states, unable to speak, or make eye contact. I think many of these persons may have fantasized about ‘getting away from it all’ when they chose Thailand, as if it were still a hidden place where the influences that were too great for them to handle at home would be managed by anonymity in a foreign land…only to find that there are thousands of freaks just like them and plenty more westerners to heap scorn upon them for their weaknesses.

This topic has come up in two different forums recently…so it is not one noted only by myself, but by the many other experienced foreigners living here. The first question was raised in a popular Bangkok Ex Pat Blog and trade forum. An ex pat asked an open question about what he had noticed how many farang had lost the etiquette of common decency among travelers…the ability to recognize one another with a simple ‘Hello’…as travelers in foreign lands have always done. The second was when an ex military expat now traveling in a Christian ministry asked me why the foreigners in Bangkok were so especially distant, rude and surly.

Now…this guy had been around during a career in the Army…he knew how things worked. He stated that he had never seen another country with such a huge concentration of foreigners. Naturally I told him my theories of the sex pat retiree demographic and the crazy persons easy access to cheap and easy visa’s that allowed so many nut-bars into the country to reside for long periods of time.

So, dear reader , weigh in if you can. Why has Thailand in particular become a dumping ground for the western worlds worst garbage?

a simple country boy at heart

a simple country boy at heart

Thailand tourism and it’s Asian allure rides on the coattails of a reputation that burned out a long time ago. What once a fascinating kaleidoscope of pristine beaches and welcoming people is now a ghetto of polluted overcrowding by a deluge of alcoholic barbarian euro trash and a local population with a nasty drive to rip off tourists without hesitation.

I drew the line with the on-set of road rage becoming common place, that was never so obvious as it is today, then there’s the homeless Hungarian beggars who litter Khao San Road and the legions of drunk western perverts who arrived like a tsunami on a demographic wave of simultaneous retirement. Don’t get me started on the subject of foreign thugs who’ve settled in tourist ghetto’s like Phuket, Pattaya, Hua Hin, Chiang Mai and pretty much everywhere else.

The Land of Smiles has degenerated into a rude festering fistula with few redeeming qualities. Like so many countries which were once considered beautiful and have now ‘gone toilet’, it’s time to reconsider Thailand as a destination. Personally I think the degeneration is bad karma coming around from allowing the sex trade to flourish as it has and inviting the worlds worst to revel.

Selling your daughters into blow job parlours to service drunken foreigners, instead of providing funding for technical colleges was never an idea that would end well….it hasn’t. The ‘bad vibes’ have infected the entirety of Thailand and continue to drag the country into an abyss.

aliens have not been a good influence on this place

aliens have not been a good influence on this place

Among the poor there is no standard of degradation or crime they will not breach to feed themselves and their family. Women being offered money to live with and have sex with foreigners in Thailand has become a normal avenue of escape from starvation. In many cases the women are being fed and housed without compensation for their sexual barter, they’re being kept like animals in rented condo’s and fed scraps by the monied slave master who’s come from the west with a retirement pension and an ATM card.

The women are back on the street as soon as the degenerates visa runs out. She has six months, or less, before she’s cast off and left to fend for herself. In the west we have the SPCA for wayward animals, in countries like Thailand there is no such safety net. The suicide of many women, many times from jumping to their deaths from the balconies of rented condo’s after their ‘boyfriend’ has used them up and is leaving, is horrific.

It makes the news in the western media when a westerner is dead after jumping from a balcony, but the local women here are the anonymous dead, no one cares. People say “Oh she was just a whore”. There are a great many suicides, too many to count, and the numbers are increasing. I can understand what goes through the mind of a woman who is about to thrown into the street to starve.

There’s an ongoing myth that ‘the worlds oldest profession’ is glamorous and acceptable. Only one side of the arrangement benefits at all from sexual slavery, that is the slave master. Does anyone really think that given a choice between a decent life and an education with a future verses the slithering moves of some drunk German, Canadian or British jackal, that a ‘whore’ would stay in her ‘profession’? Only an idiot would think the latter. The fact is that most whores are alcoholics and drug addicted. Many have succumbed to the numbing reality that the STD’s they carry have set them apart from a normal life forever. There’s no coming back from incurable diseases.

The vast majority of impoverished women are left behind by the sex trade when they become old and useless as cash machines for the bars and pimps who control them. Often they can’t get work even in the seediest places, where the lights have to be kept very low because the women are wrinkled and old. Instead of a dignified retirement they are forced to do the worst and most imaginable acts repeatedly, for the drunk foreigners who stumble through the door, and the women have no choice to say no. They have a choice, yes…they could leave and starve.

Right now, today, there is a tsunami of perverted western men who are retiring simultaneously into the third world seeking sex with women too poor to say no. The pervs are finding that the young sex trade workers won’t give them what they want without paying a premium price.

The desperate older women who can no longer ply the sex trade are by default forcing themselves to meet with the aging perverts and become ‘domestic sex objects’, in exchange for food and shelter. This arrangement I see as the result of the perverts failed existence to achieve any semblance of domestic life in his own country and culture.

I recognize this act as a desperate attempt to ‘play act’ a notion of normalcy, in what is the mind of a very sick individual. The sex business in Thailand has reached a new low….or has it? There is no apparent bottom to the bottomless pit of peoples depravity and western perverts immoral capacity to exploit the poor.

face it

face it

It’s not always about the destination, but how the story unfolds along the way. A year ago Trish and I left Thailand, exclaiming we’d never return. We’d had it with the complications of this unfathomable place. When asked why we were leaving this inscrutable country and I’d say…”It’s challenging”. There wasn’t one answer, there were hundreds. Thailand wasn’t the quaint little backwater we’d originally fallen in love with. The country seems to have lost it’s civility, people more grasping than ever before. Thai’s complain about each other having lost their sense of community. “Nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there….again”, I’d concluded. We wrote the place off.

Life in Thailand had pissed me off. Everything, under the simplest of conditions, was having to be wary of who and what we were dealing with far more often than I was comfortable with. I was tired of having some jerk off force me to negotiate for saop, ask me to pay more for toilet paper, a candy bar or a bus ticket…annoying.

A last negotiation with a property manager who’d taken over the building we’d called home for twenty years was enough to sour us . It wasn’t just these bitches trying to rip us off for our ‘security deposit’…complaints were piling up among ex pats that ripping off ‘farang’ was epidemic. Leo de Caprio floated an idea about an ideal place. ‘The ‘Beach’ movie  attracted so many farang flakes, freaky fuck ups and burned out losers that the ‘coolness’ of Thailand evaporated and became dangerously soaked with a flammable criminal element….and everyone was running around drunk with burning matches.

So we left..”Fuck ’em”, we said on the way out. “We’ve got better ways to spend our money”. It wasn’t a blood sport, by any stretch of the imagination, as in a lot of other third world shitholes, just annoying. At 62 and  43 years of third world shitholes under my belt I felt I’d had enough third world bullshit.

Hell…we’re Canadian, our dollars never worth shit, so as a people we’re forced into third world shitholes if we want to travel at all. Canadians simply can’t afford ‘nice’. We have to work harder, accept a lower standard of living and travel, lower our expectations and dig deeper for the deals. You’ll only find Canadians in shitholes and toilets, it’s all we can afford.

There I was sitting next to a warm fire in our tidy home in Canada, a place I’d bought my wife to underwrite her retirement…dreaming about our time in Texas, thinking we’d spent enough time ‘on the road’. It occurred to me that in the past dozen years we hadn’t spent more than a few weeks in our ‘home’. We’d come back from business trips and intermittent stops in Asia to check how the place was, who our kid had turned out to be, and file our taxes. We started thinking ‘renovation’.

We’d spent our lives traveling the world, on business and pleasure… and speaking for myself, I was getting old. The guy in my head and the image reflected back from glass windows weren’t in sync. I didn’t feel old…but I was looking my age…..pot belly , grey hair and all.  In the past dozen years we’d been to more countries than an average person would need to visit in a lifetime to call themselves ‘well traveled’. I was ready to retire. My wife wasn’t. She won.

Originally our lives had been designed around ‘Plan A’….a balance to work enough to save for the ‘fuck you’…more travel and to bugger off in a six month rotation. It was the perfect plan when we were younger, but younger minds designed the plan. Young people are blessed with never having to plan ahead…thirty years and more,  down the road for people who’ll be alive when you’re dead.

Nine months passed, and here we are, back again, a few kilometers from where we left, putting up with the same bullshit, camped out in an Air B&B Bangkok high rise, living day to day, with no intention of ever going back, it just isn’t in the cards. This lifestyle has it’s ‘challenges’, but I wouldn’t trade it for a set of golf clubs and a rocking chair. This ain’t tourism friends, this is ’till death do us part’.

don't tell me I can't travel till I die

don’t tell me I can’t travel till I die

I know why I left home early to travel the world, it was to escape my pain and find freedom among strangers. What I realized was that no one I’d left behind was interested in my pain, they envied me for my escape. They thought I was ‘getting one over on them’ and enjoying life more than I deserved. My closest relations envied me for where I’d been and hated me for the stories and scars I’d bring back. The squalid objects in my rucksack were items that disappeared if I let my guard down. I found it hard to believe at first that anyone would covet the talismans of my poverty.

In the earliest days of my traveling ways the people I knew all thought I was taking more than my share from life, because we’d come from the gutter, and as a child I was the lowest of all things, among a hierarchy of creatures, myself being less deserving than all, when in fact most days I was laying my head down tattered, torn and hungry. To many I’d become a  revenant, showing up unannounced and unwelcome at a crowded table… and then a despicable stranger when years of absence had gone by without contact, proof of life, or regard. The truth about travel is that it’s a life…lived day to day, on a budget, on a shoestring, often precarious and dangerously, not a lifestyle…something you share with no one as you’re always alone.

A young person I know on Face Book recently posted ” If travel was free you’d never see me again”. I laughed, knowing that travel has always been free if you let it control your life, give yourself freely, unabashedly, and leave everything and everyone you know behind to pursue the path. It’s the possessions and people you leave behind and conversely come home to that control the amount of time you spend ‘on the road’….not money or desire. You’re either a traveler or a tourist…you can’t be both. Being a ‘traveler’ isn’t a euphemism for ‘travel’…or for having fun while others work…being a true traveler is a calling, a thing, it’s who you are because you’re not ‘one of them’…a different person than the rest, a light in your heart that no one will ever see. Travel is a lonesome profession  you’ll rarely be paid for.

If you’re one of the lucky few who organizes their personal lives to become a traveler, and equips themselves with the will, the wherewithal and skills to ‘never come back’, and the instinctive knowledge of how to deal with abject loneliness by making friends with bar fly’s and street walkers, then you’re a rare bird indeed, and the people who knew you will hate you for it. They will respond to you with veiled contempt and palatable envy.

The distance grows day by day, the vibrations in the air between you and where you came from will have changed, the correspondence between you ‘and them’ is less frequent and shorter until it’s cut off into bit’s of necessity. The money you make while working away will find itself fueling another leg of your journey, never a return ticket. There’s never enough time to go home. I’ll tell you what it’s like to forget the street names of your home town and why it’s suddenly so strange to call a distant capital ‘home’. There’s someone living in your room.

Because of the social status and symbolism we decadent westerners put on the ability to travel to rare destinations , to work in foreign countries, change the world you once knew when others can’t….you will become the focus of peoples envy and contempt. You will become the despicable stranger. Ex-friends who’ve had a downturn of fortune and can no longer ‘keep up’ will avoid returning your emails.

What was once home will become alien ground, salted and lifeless. The tribe will have circled inward and abandoned the notion of kinship with an outsider. “If travel was free I’d never go back”, that’s both funny and sad. Always be careful what you wish for. Because once you’ve gone down that rabbit hole my friends there’s no going back. By the time you decide it might be possible to return you might find the world you left behind has changed so irrevocably that there’s nothing to go back to. To travel is to be taken by the wind.

Because traveling is not somewhere you’ve planned to go or somewhere you’ve been. It’s a state of mind, an act of being true to your inner voice. It’s a statement that describes a poem written in the flesh of your soul. It’s the essence of who you are. The traveler is by nature and practice a loner….like driftwood. Travelers are willing to addict themselves to the journey without looking back at the havoc and consequence. It’s not about how much it costs or much you have left in the bank. The clock is never ticking down for the traveler because time is irrelevant.

You seek to refine yourself. Your peers are people who own nothing and carry nothing other than the bare essentials. Travel is not about coming or going. It’s about where you’d like to be next. The journey begins to explain why you don’t fit in anywhere anymore…because you’re fragments of all the places you’ve been and not the mirror image of a place where people seek to emulate each other for security. Travel is that fragile state between life and longing to be somewhere else.

Petroglyphs of modern saloon culture

Petroglyphs of modern saloon culture

Maybe you thought that internet dating sites are for lonely farmers hoping to meet someone of similar interests and lifestyle or religious expectations or main street persons looking to hook up? There are garden variety hook up and dating sites like Lava Life or E Harmony. There are gender and sex preference specific sites like ‘Grinder’ for sex among the LGBT community or race/religion baiting sites like ‘Black People Meet’ and ‘Halal Muslim Dating’. These pale by comparison to the hundreds of dating sites that introduce older western males to poverty stricken women in the third world.

The internet has opened a cornucopia of opportunity for western perverts seeking sex with minors and desperate women in countries where laws are written to be ignored. Open any net page on the subject of ‘Meet Thai Girls for Love and Marriage’ and you soon see the dark side. A great many of the ‘girls’ look underage. Solicitations are from hardened pimps and prostitutes selling sex to sex tourists. That’s not to say that 100% of the ‘Asian Girl’ dating sites are geared towards perversion, they’re not. But the proliferation of sex ads for available underage children has exploded in recent years. These days the internet has created opportunities for ‘sex by appointment’.

I’m cynical I know, and perhaps a bit jaded…I admit to have stayed in Asia a little too long for my own good. But, I’m reminded of a lunatics parade when I see the men involved as passing images for my simple amusement, young to elderly, being directed through the streets, bars, supermarkets and jewellery shops by whores obviously as adept at hustling fools as a pickpocket working a crowd of drunks.

These western loons have all spent months and even years trolling the internet sites offering titillating come-on’s from Asian Women advertisements. The ‘girl’ they’ve picked have arranged to meet them at their hotel upon arrival and within minutes the fantasy begins. A guy who’s so socially incompetent that he’s never held a girls hand at home, is suddenly pelvis deep and taking pictures of a whore who’s had practice by the thousand.

As far back as the 1960’s knowing journalists like Bernard Trink, columnist for the Bangkok Post, was warning farang rubes not to fall for the skilled professional guile of  bar girls, but these fools never learn. Within 24 hours he’s in love, convinced ‘she’s the one’, ready to take her to the passport office for a visa visit home and calling his mother to tell her of his ‘luck’….while she’s emptying his bank account.

Those of us in the know sit back laughing, from the air conditioned confines of a sidewalk coffee bar and watch the ridiculous parade of sun burned yokels, fat, sloppy drunk, little white legs sticking out, newly in love. Down the sidewalk they go, hand in hand, he’s glowing, cock walking and suddenly handsome, hand in hand with a glowering jungle honey squeezed into a new pair of ‘Daisy Dukes’ ready to fight anyone who comes between her and his wallet. If you’ve looked into a hunting whores eyes …you’ll know what I mean. These girls have a stare that would frighten a stalking tiger.

What’s hilarious is the profane ignorance of the ‘love drunk punk’. He pretends not to see the whore roll her eyes when a local shouts and points out his pasty bloated belly, bald head and bandy legs sticking out of ‘board shorts’ the whore insisted made him look young. She’s counting the days until this buffoon is gone and she’s able to take his money back to her village to do the necessary repairs on the family shack before the coming monsoon.

Many have school fee’s due for their children and a new scooter to buy for their husband. In many cases the whore will leave enough with a brother to keep her father pleasantly drunk until she returns…ever the doting daughter. Next time I’ll write about the lives of many of the retired men from the west, who’ve come to Thailand to marry whores and ‘settle down’.

el viejo

el viejo