Pattaya and Pa………….

Not difficult to recall the beginning of the eight months that I lost contact with reality, now, at the end of this period, the difficulties arise, the gradual realization of having been left with nothing through the experience and the further realization that when one is down and alone, people revert to their basic instincts, even people I had considered friends, relatives included, these people will, unhesitatingly, go for whatever they consider is worth the taking, even your home ,with a certain air of disdain, willing to condescend to letting one live in a back room “Share kitchen and bathroom” fortunate to be given such favorable terms.. In my case I quickly started to recover at the thought, not having seen my son or his wife since that day.

My slide into obscurity began inauspiciously in Pattaya, in Thailand, by the pool in the Palm Villa Hotel, the first week of January. 1993.

I thinking of London, cold, bleak, the body moving business, the Turks, SuJack, only in the odd moments... when not preoccupied with the Sun, the practically idyllic surroundings, the young, very young, nubile girls, dressed in the briefest of swimwear, splashing aimlessly in the azure water, as if time did not exist, as if there were no reality, as if whatever had passed before in my life had been part of a prolonged, painful, dream.

Pa there, determinedly playing cards with some of the girls in the shade, sitting tightly cross-legged on a white, wide, high back chair, playing for big stakes, a fiercely determined expression on her face, never seen that before, she was always so soft, so unconcerned , so considerate. Maybe I had noticed a change in her a few days previously, but dismissed it as imagination. Having known her for a long time, she had never been anything but attentive towards me.

Never able to forget our first meeting during the April Water Festival.... had been on the motor bike cruising.. looking ..the usual thing.... There had been a big commotion outside the 'No Hands Bar' I stopped in the crowd , water and packets of flour being flung everywhere . Suddenly out of the melee she was running, laughing, being chased by two or three men. She simply jumped on the back of the bike, revved it and rushed away with her clinging quite unconcernedly to me , as if we had always known each other, head on my shoulder, arms clasped about my practically bare body.

Something had clicked shut inside my mind at that precise moment in time, as if I were suddenly complete, as if all my searching for whatever it was that had always eluded me, had finally been found. Such was her impact on my existence. A strange, unreal, sensation , all the wrongs of my life had suddenly been righted, that nothing, nothing else at all mattered, simply that this completely unknown young woman. was with me .

From that moment I had lived her, breathed her, never for a split second doubting that she also felt the same way regarding myself.

That meeting had occurred when it was “Come in Number Seven” my time up, almost immediately after that fateful day, quite devastated at the realization, trying to think of any way to stay on. Going through all the normal procedures, getting all the normal rejections at the Airline ticket office . Certainly I could stay on, only it would cost a arm and a leg. These people not being slow seizing on any such situation, the slightest opportunity to make the dollar. I simply could not match their terms. It meant going back to the real world. That last evening alone with her being one of the longest and most painful in my life.

We sat quietly in my white room at the V and M Terrace Hotel, the window looking onto the small garden, the Blue Cross on the hospital opposite, already flashing in the soft dusk of evening. Looked at her few pathetic things.. the sum total of her life spread out before her. the whole lot fitting into a small hold all. She would need money until I returned within the month, not only for herself but for her child and mother.. .also her fare up into the sticks in Laos. I tried to imagine what she described , in her broken, halting English . A tin roofed hut , bamboo walls, the lot standing on poles above the water complete with buffalo beneath. Everywhere infested, no doubt, with mosquitoes. Electricity at a price, a television she had managed to get for her small son. Water had to be carried. She told this story flat, without any emphasis, her voice soft, calm. I asked about the boy . A man , a man from Denmark had suggested a child, she had replied "Why Not?' never seeing him again. The usual story repeated over and over by every girl . A certain hope mixed with fatalism, a resignation to the inevitable.

It had taken two years and about ten trips before I started waking up to Pa .. the euphoria sliding slowly, silently, away , my visits not quite fitting in with her schedules I, becoming little more than part of her payroll ..someone to be tolerated with that aspect in mind ……………a feature of Thai existence

Dave, an accountant, quietly on the run for fiddling clients accounts, a very pleasant, talkative man, asked why I was putting up with 'The Treatment" " You should out her". Nodding towards Pa, who by now had been glaring at me almost with contempt after my trying to break up her card game. She was in for about 5000bhts. A months wages "straight" out there would be about 1000bhts. A twelve hour day for one pound Sterling

Started to feel as if small pieces of my brain were breaking away inside my head, becoming difficult to focus on anything , anything other the painful fact that Pa was giving me a very hard time, looking very attractive in her bikini, the glasses added something rather than detracted, reminding me of someone I used to know, rare to see a young, Thai woman with them, they kept slipping down her nose on the perspiration, she pushing them back with her so small, so beautifully manicured index finger.

The sun burnt down on the men somehow washed up on this tranquil shore, so far and so different from what was previously known to them, surrounded by sex, its inherent problems,. which could conveniently be dropped the moment they arose, by those astute enough….. a type of freedom now mostly unknown in Western Civilization . Evidently I was one of those who could not simply walk away, unable to look elsewhere, as if ordering a different meal at a restaurant.

Pa had a tight grip on my existence, knowing instinctively what was expected from a woman and knowing exactly how to give it..
Quite small, well built, all the right things in all the right places, her head reaching halfway up my chest. Long thick, completely straight, black hair reaching below her waist. I always insisted pleated in the traditional Thai way with three different colored ribbons. She moved distinctively, as a tigress.

Sat brooding, finding faults with her, real or imaginary, doing some arithmetic as to her running costs. The previous day simply having to buy her some glasses, her eyesight had become really bad when it came to reading, had noticed her squinting in the past but let it go. Glasses out there are not cheap, nothing is really cheap in Thailand, you pay one way or the other. Today part of her sulks was that I failed to come up with her stake money. Noticed she had not stopped hitting the Sinhga beer, probably the strongest in the world, made with Embalming fluid. She could down seven bottles a night, one would put most men out for the night

Finally the sun started to slope away from the vertical, moving into the trees throwing long patches of shade onto the hot concrete, Slightly cooler, the old men began lifting their bodies from the beds and deck chairs, the girls busy round them wiping their extended layers of fat with colored towels. Then drifting off in pairs hand in hand towards the bungalows . Pa and her three companions remained absorbed in the game which had now been going on all day, during that time she had acknowledged my existence enough to ask me for some money and to order a meal for her.


Looked at the pool, its exotic surroundings, every inch of it etched in my brain with a needle of steel, realizing that most of the few good things I had ever experienced in my existence had happened in, near, or by this particular spot.

The deterioration in my mental condition accelerated from that moment. Suddenly deciding to get up, walk into the hotel, get money from the safe, get on my motor bike and go round to the V&M Terrace Hotel and book in, a place where I was well known, having stayed there many times.

Felt agitated, guilty, nervous, attempting desperately to smile at all the cleaning girls who were finishing work for the day.. Gaily laughing at me, wanting to know where I had been , why I had not visited them, remarking the amount of weight I had lost since my previous trip. These ladies missed nothing, not the slightest detail, their lives absorbed in other people's. Amazingly they always seemed so cheerful, always smiling on their one pound sterling a day. A full twelve hours.

Pa had not bothered to look up from her cards at my departure. For some reason I did not want her to become aware of my movements, becoming obsessively secretive, imperative that I did not see her again, simply unable to face her not wanting me , hiding, my only solution, knowing that this was symptomatic of the illness eating into my head.

The receptionist at the V & M looked at me in a way that stuck in mind. Knew the woman quite well, yet she was looking into, rather than at me, as if she could see something I only becoming aware of . Gave me my old room on the ground floor with the small garden outside the window.

This, a mistake, Pa and I had spent long periods of time between the air conditioned, white, walls, the blue cross on the hospital opposite burning through night. A room intensely full of memories, but, too late, too late to move, little more strength left, it had been eaten away by the turmoil, stress, anguish, confusion in my brain.

Instinctively, knew that by now Pa would be starting to look. Waiting, back in the bungalow, its rickety, high one room. Its’ huge bed with the torn mattress, the fan gyrating slowly, endlessly, the lizards motionless, hanging on the beams, crickets and frogs starting their evening chorus.
She would be in the shower, water pouring, cascading. The long hair, down below her waist, clinging over her small firm breasts. Apparent, I would have to get back, collect my gear, face her, in spite of my misgivings, yet, I did not want to upset the situation, did not want any scene, she, just as fragile underneath all that professionalism, all that confidence.

Went down to the 'No Hands Bar' needed a drink something, anything, to throw off this deep depression that had gripped me so tightly. People looking at me, at my face, asking "Where ‘s Pa ?" we inseparable and "why don’t you get rid of her.. tell her to simply go away" Most of all they delighted in reminding me that she was “Queen of the Billionaires Bar", what this entailed, can only be left to the imagination.

I hardly cared what she was , or had been. She had always been everything I ever wanted, there were never any arguments, never spoke about the other side of her existence, or mine. When men who obviously knew her approached, she would ignore them. Only once, very late, at the Bamboo bar, did she suddenly get up and walk carefully amongst the crowd, finally sitting close to a man on a wicker sofa in the far corner of the darkened room… I had looked again …………and they were both gone.

Returned to the Palm Villa. Dark, the darkness had come suddenly, no long twilight , walked between the bungalows sitting in the thick tropical growth of trees and flowers, trying to get some control over myself and my feelings

Key in the door she lying naked, front down on the bed in the darkened room, pillow under her chest, head cupped in her hands, watching the box, the light flickering on her face, from the pornography . Turned her head towards me, a small question mark.. probably aware that my body was trembling, rolled to her side holding an arm out to me. …something I could no longer handle.. . more or less falling into the shower trying to control my brain which was badly fluctuating, realizing that it was now imperative for me to get back to the U.K. ... no longer capable of handling Pa or the whole situation . Many other men had also stumbled badly, disastrously in this situation ………the strange mystique of this dreamland ,so remote from reality.

The room in darkness other from reflected lights outside, she lay quite still on the bed.
Eight o’clock, knew, whatever happened, she would be wide awake and ready for the “off” at Midnight.

Swallowed a sleeping pill, gave one to her . Strangely she had never questioned what I gave her to take and there had been a few concoctions. She put the glass back on the sloping, broken, table next to the bed , my body uneasily next to hers.

"What's wrong Peter??” all her aggression gone.

I never answered. It was impossible express my feelings, how to explain myself

“Do you want sex?"

she persisted, rolling on to me, so incredibly soft in every respect in every conceivable way, the electricity passing from her made my every nerve end tingle.

Remained motionless, a cold perspiration running off my head into my eyes.

She waited, poised, her finger tips moving across my skin, my mouth became tight and dry, my body paralyzed with doubts, indecision’s and desire.

"Why don't you speak?"

Whispering, her breath cool and clear, her mouth rubbing my ear, so very gently, as if afraid the slightest discord would completely fracture the fragile situation, plunging us into a final nowhere
It seemed a very long time before she slid off my inertia, turning on her side away from me

Opened my eyes……the light on.

She, sitting at the small wooden dressing table .. watched the movement of her breasts in the mirror as the brush pulled down her long hair, the only make up she ever wore was a color round her eyes, tonight , a very pale green .

With one of my shirts on, a pair of shorts cut to her navel, pair of white, high heels, nothing else She, ready...captivating.. the business…..

Looked at my watch, one minute past midnight………. She precisely on time, moved, sitting on the edge of the bed, intent, intent on Peter.
"Your tired…go to sleep”
Her small hand over my eyes.
"I won't be long ......"
Her voice soft, tender, gentle, as if to sooth me back to oblivion.. At her best…the moment she set foot onto the pathway between the bungalows, I would be forgotten totally and completely , her only misgiving, that her charm may not work, that I may suddenly want to go with her. Her mind firmly fixed on the "Strip” and the "Marine Bar" in particular, to be free , hardly needed Peter there………..

Played my part, "Goodnight doll... don't drink too much and be careful"
Trying to sound as if about to drop off.

She poised hesitantly, so very beautiful, her face a perfect, small oval, a picture of complete innocence.

"Oh !” almost forgetting my the next move.
"Take some money off the side"

She brightened at this.

"and remember if I go out will leave the key under the plants beside the door"
Tried to make this sound casual.... whatever, not wanting her making a racket after staggering back at daylight, unable to get in, the place deserted. She did a half take, kissed me on the cheek, quickly picked up the necessary and was gone, silent, like a ghost.

We were never to see each other again.

Waited a long time in the absolute silence. All creatures great and small, had gone to sleep, even the lizards had finally locked themselves motionless on the high wooden beams, the dogs had ceased barking faintly in the distance, the hard, arrogant, incessant grunt of the German next door finally stopped, the moans of his so young companion died away. The only time he ever left her alone was during his sleep.
Almost one a.m. night poised, expectant, things starting to buzz on the “Strip”
By now Pa would have jumped on the knee of the first man she fancied in the huge, hot, reverberating, crowded room, regardless of whom he was with, arms round him, her warm firm body pressed tight, the voltage surging out from her. There could be no resistance.
Felt suddenly very sad, isolated, looked about the room I knew so well, the soft light from the bedside lamp throwing long shadows up the walls and onto the remains of what had been.

*******************************************************

There was more junk to pack than appeared possible, shoved it in the bags anyhow, a sense of urgency , no way did I want Pa to come strolling nonchalantly back having become bored with the scene down the road. She did have sane moments. I would have been mincemeat to her in such a conciliatory mood, spreading her strong self over me, smothering any resolution I may have left, astride, on top of my body, refusing to dismount until I was just a sweat soaked, wreck.

Finally, everything appeared to be together, all that remained was a last gesture towards Pa. The rickety dressing table, the two hair clips she had demanded In the "Day and Night" A brush, the full Bart wedding ring she had so ceremoniously bought me, I placed on top of photographs of us together.
Meticulously tidied the table up, could hear them saying "You didn’t leave her money!"

Put a few hundred dollars under the photographs, the watch, next to the ring, had liked that. Everyone had been in total disbelief of her buying a ring…for Peter…. such a large piece of gold for a Farang… almost without precedent, the rickety table, a shrine, if you like, to what had been.

There was a great deal of pressure. Underneath all this something was saying “You’re a miserable bastard" which is true "you know she doesn’t have a pot to piss in", which was also true.

These ladies, mostly have little to show for giving their best years to the Farang, almost everything going to their parents and their children. But I had run before, there had been other females, other faces, other places.

Simply survival… my survival. Most men quickly lose the initiative, the ability to run, too burdened with “what is” the hole they have all so unwittingly dug themselves so deeply into.

By the time I dragged myself out into soft, scented night, stars hanging on the rooftops, placed the key under the plants, struggled down to Soi.2, I, almost in a state of collapse.
The Taxi swirled to a stop in a cloud of dust beside me, threw my junk into the open back, fell in after it and was rushed unceremoniously away on my long journey back, back to deepest, darkest, Hackney and the gaunt hospital where they still possessed the records from my previous breakdown a decade ago.