Posts Tagged ‘inspiration’

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

If my life was a ship, and my ship had a flag, I would hang it upside down from the yardarm to signal a state of distress and consequently lower it to half mast further indicating a great loss has occurred. Recent inquiries to main stream media outlets about publishing stories relating to the sex exploitation of young and poor in desperate countries have all come back rejected. “We think it’s too controversial” said one editor, as if the morals of the editors at the heart of the industry have shriveled and died.

Hollywood producers, ‘Hangover’ and ‘Hangover 2’ have won the hearts and minds of media pundits everywhere. The word according to the media is that Asia is a place to run wild, fuck everything that walks…or crawls…and go home, hopefully without an incurable drug resistant STD. “What happens in Bangkok…Stays in Bangkok”. Who gives a damn what kind of mess you leave behind? As long as you’ve had a good time…and take lot’s of drunken selfies…right?

A particularily inane reporter from Barrie Ontario asked me to only contact him if I had the name and address of someone from his immediate area who was caught in a child rape or similar heinous holiday crime . None of the other things I ‘d mentioned regarding widespread sexual exploitation of desperate uneducated minors, ( like the horrible oppression my organized Russian gangs, starving children left behind in alleys with the pimps while Moms are blowing tourists or pulling razor blades out of her vagina in the bar) fodder for a massive wave of simultaneously retiring western baby boomers, held any interest to him.

This purposeful ignorance on the issue of sex exploitation by the global media is appalling. When the very famous journalist Bernard Trink was fired his long held position as columnist of twenty years to the Bangkok Post in the 1980’s for warning off people coming to Thailand for sex tourism, it was then a shocking move by the media in Thailand. Who would have ever thought a secretive cabal would want to silence a voice advocating for the betterment of women and how sex tourism is an embarrassment to the nation…not a pillar on which to build an economy. Ah well…what do I know? TIT Bernard always said, …This is Thailand.

its all around us

its all around us

Pensionado perverto, describes a gray wave of western pensioners breaking on the shores of third world communities like Conquistadors. The perverted generation is a generation driven by an unrequited lust as powerfully destructive as the Viking and Spanish. They bring a new destructive technology to the battlefield. The civil service pension and the ATM is no less lethal than the Damascus steel swords the Vikings brought to Britain or the ravaging brass cannon and blunderbuss of the Spanish Invaders to ‘The New World’. These perverted pensioners are harbingers of doom.

This can’t end well. A one sided war is being waged with impossible odds stacked against the victims. The paid monthly western taxpayer subsidized union guaranteed pension cheques and the ATM are the siege engines of the modern era. Genghis Khan might have thrown severed heads saturated with plague over the walls of besieged cities using trebuchet to cow populations into submission, but throwing buckets of money at desperately poor people has the same effect, an eventual capitulation to the invader and the death of any cultural or moral leadership that may have existed within the countries that are being overwhelmed.

The Pensionado Perverto is a demographic phenomenon, a sub-species of the Baby Boomer Generation. They are the lusty and repressed civil servants and aging professionals, aged 50 to 70 years old, fortunate enough to have been placed in employment positions allowing them to suckle off the teat of society, and through little effort of their own, and become entrenched in the global government pension schemes of bureaucratic heavy countries as far flung as the USA, Canada, Australia, Germany, Finland, Norway and the United Kingdom. Good fortune has come so easily to this generation, they have come to think of themselves as ‘The Entitled Generation’.

A large segment of this population considers itself ‘unfulfilled’. They seek to relive the youth and opportunity they perceive to have missed while amassing fortunes from the public purse jobs they held down. Entire multi-industry wide advertising campaigns exhort these people to invest in a future of glossy hedonism. The television spots show happy couples at the helm of sleek yachts or walking hand in hand down some sandy beach in paradise.

In my eye it’s pathetic to watch a bald and bandy legged sixty eight year old man cock strutting through whore bars crowing, as if he’s found his groove in the hands of a new crop of jungle whores who’ve been enticed out of starvation into the sex industry, and the lady pimps who keep their children and spare clothing for ransom. He’s thinking he’s finally popular…and attractive…. excuse me while I puke.

The reality is that a large proportion of these persons have lost their opportunity to couple normally because they were too busy working to have a relationship or family, they were too focused on themselves to share a life with anyone, but many are psychologically unfit to enter into a ‘normal’ relationship with a member of the opposite sex, even for pay, in the context of a western life. Normally, this would be nature’s way, through evolution, of weeding the bad genes out of the breeding pool. This is where it gets ugly.

Millions of men and women in western countries are retiring almost simultaneously. Millions will retire within a decade of one another. A large percentage of them are comfortably paired off, with grown children launching out of the basement suite, after a decade in university, expecting grandchildren, happy to redecorate a new home, enjoy weekend golfing, lease a new Cadillac every two years and retire with dignity.

A significant percentage of this demographic have no attachments to western norms such as described. These ‘outcasts’ seek the far-flung pleasures of the flesh, because they feel they’ve been slighted because of career commitments…. and the way ‘western women are not nice to them’. They’ll tell you they ‘deserve’ sex.

change your mind, change your life

change your mind, change your life

Two thumbs up from us to the folks at #Air B&B for inventing a service that has freed us from restrictive, expensive hotels and greedy landlords. Another thing I like is where many of the properties are located….away from the sterile tourist frenzy environment of downtown cores. In the past there was no choice, there was hotels or nothing. Traditional hostels aren’t much better, always located near some transportation hub where tourists congregate like flies.

The experience of travel has improved with break out technologies like Air B&B. I don’t want to stay where T-shirts all seem to carry the same message…”Hi, I’m boring”. I like the fact that Air B&B properties are primarily located in average neighborhoods where travelers can rub shoulders with ordinary people. With Air B&B you are dealing with average people. The process is much more flexible. In my experience the owner of the suite you’ll occupy is more of a host.

As opposed to short term rentals where a landlord or property manager won’t supply anything except a bare bones flat…and you’ll be responsible to hook up your own electricity, internet and TV…plus buy all the sheets, pillows, dishes etc that you’ll need for your stay…the Air B&B comes with everything included…nice…very convenient.

Unlike hotels, the Air B&B flats are competitively priced and always come with full kitchens. Unlike property managed condo’s there is no restrictive “last month, first month and two month security deposit” to pay before you move in. BTW….good luck getting those security deposits back from a landlord or property manager. I know dozens of people who have fought without success to get their money back. Some have lost thousands of dollars. I’ve had a property manager try to rip me off in the same way…I fought to get the money back….very unpleasant experience…which I don’t want to ever repeat. With Air B&B there’s none of that.

In addition…it’s all paid on Visa….it’s guaranteed…you get travel points or cash back…depending on your card. We always take the travel points option….they add up fast this way. I know I’m paying a bit of an upfront premium by going Air B&B when long term rental would be 20% cheaper. But…I sign no contracts, no leases, no deposits, pay only for the time I’m using the flat, have every thing supplied….so….it’s up to you. I like the ‘no stress option’ of having nothing hanging over my head and no monthly bills to pay, sign up for…or be responsible for.

We ‘LIKE’ Air B&B for the freedom and no stress aspects of the service.

feeling free with Air B&B

feeling free with Air B&B

What would happen if your city was invaded by an army of viagra crazed sexpat zombies. If as many gray haired pot bellied perverts arrived on your shores in comparable numbers to the current wave of refugee’s washing up on the beaches of Europe, wouldn’t it be cause for alarm? Because that is exactly what is happening in Thailand right now.

In recent years the numbers of sex tourists to Thailand has exploded exponentially. The arrivals curve has gone parabolic. You’d think this would be an issue of concern for the government, but so far there has been no reaction. I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad. I can’t state categorically that I am any kind of expert, or even have an opinion, on what is good or bad for the Thai government or it’s people. I’m sure if this was happening in my country it would considered a national catastrophe.

In the past, the pattern for sex tourists coming to Thailand was predictable and simple…the pervs would arrive, hidden among the hordes of average beach and culture seeking tourists, then slither to the flesh pots of Bangkok, Pattaya and Phuket to wallow in their disgrace….and then leave with as many STD’s as they could for the wives girlfriends and prostitutes to contract at home to spread among the local populations. I’m sorry to say that things have changed for the worse. Tourists are still coming in droves, but they’re leaving the perverts behind when they leave.

A demographic tidal wave of epic tsunami proportions has lifted a stinking tide of simultaneously retiring gray haired potbellied ‘Baby Boomer’ civil servants, and others of that generation; the jet fueled wave is breaking on the shores of Thailand, leaving behind hundreds of thousands of 55 to 65 year old flotsam and jetsam ‘men’ of the western world, high and dry, to rot on the humid streets of Thai cities. They have tax payer subsidized pensions to draw on. They want to stay and fuck and drink away their last deluded years, out of the moral trench they’ve dug for themselves.

These born again hedonists likely failed at everything in their personal lives, aside from union card status and the ability to wake up at the same time to make it to work every morning for forty years. Some have obviously thrown off the yoke of normalcy, which I assume may have included a similarly aged wife who no longer satisfies their fantasy. I doubt any children left behind are proud of Dad’s decision to throw Mom to the curb and take up with a twenty something village girl who speaks a total of fifteen words of Pigeon English. Yes, there are female sex tourists, but the numbers are minuscule by comparison.

These aging western sex tourists…who once left after two weeks of filthy frolic in the dark alleys of Bangkok’s skin pits, are choosing Thailand to retire. They’re not leaving any more. Instead they’re staying on in greater numbers than ever before. There has been an explosion of high rise condo towers purpose built to house this wave of perverts and the new love they’ve found in the arms of the mosquito bitten jungle honey who knows the location of every ATM along the neon streets of Sin City.

BTW, I’ve got a good view on all of all this. The area of East Bangkok I live in, is on the front lines of the new battle against aging with dignity, once far flung and bucolic has been invaded by elderly sex pat tourists zombies and their steely eyed gals. The sexpat disease is spreading through the western retiree population like AIDS and gays . Where once it was confined to two small streets in downtown Bangkok, and a few beach shacks along the coast, he pervs have put down roots.

My neighborhood was never that classy, but with the pervasive moving in and slithering of the ‘Perv Tribe’, the place has lost it’s poverty chic cache. This isn’t gentrification…it’s weird and twisted. I hate this invasion of losers, burn outs, rejects, flakes, wacko’s and perverts. I might have to move.

End of Part Five

I can't watch what I don't want to see

I can’t watch what I don’t want to see