Running The Red Lights

It’s 2 A.M., the bar is empty, and I sing “Your Song” at the top of my lungs. I’m at a Karaoke Bar in the heart of Patpong, and it’s closing time. A stranger leaps onstage, grabs another microphone to sing backup. Another man hands me a flower. I tuck it in my shirt pocket. In the crowd is Cousin Randy, a Bangkok resident for twelve years. He cheers me on. My throat is hoarse. My head spins. I reek of Heineken. I have never felt more alive…

Patpong, located in central Bangkok, is one of many Red Light Districts around the world. When you think of Red Light, you think sex tourism, rampant drug use, and a genuine fear for your safety. However, with the right precautions, traveling through these seedy areas can be an entertaining, unpredictable and eye-opening experience.


*The one picture I can show*

Here are three reasons to run the Red Light:

For the Thrill - Patpong is an assault on the senses. With every step, peddlers harass you, trying to lure you to check out a “Ping-Pong Show.” You pass booths selling cheap trinkets to take home. You pass by the plethora of Girlie Bars, each one bearing tacky neon lighting, with the pulsing techno beat streaming out the entrance. You’re tempted to come inside for a drink. The air is sticky. There’s a constant cloud of cigarette smoke trailing you. The streets are packed with horrified tourists. And all the while you ask yourself, “What exactly IS a Ping-Pong Show?”

Anyone can charter a bus to a famous landmark, take a picture and leave. You can’t do that in the Red light district. It requires immersion, forcing you to see, smell and hear everything.

For Facing Reality - You can read about the sex trade in a newspaper or online. But when you see it live, there is no substitute. When you're in Amsterdam and see the women in glassed off rooms, what do you feel? Are you appalled? Are you tempted? No matter what you feel, you’re there, right in the middle of it.

For the Folks Back Home - When you share your latest travels, do your friends look at you with glazed eyes? Are they bored? Disinterested? Here’s what you do. Go to the Red Light! Just tell them about the time you went to the Ping-Pong show. And when you share (I can’t do that here), they’ll laugh. They’ll cry. They’ll pass out. But they won’t be bored. And you might scare them away from table tennis for good.

The Red Lights in Bangkok, Amsterdam or Hong Kong are exhilarating, but the dangers that surround them are real. Travel in groups, protect your valuables and be aware of your surroundings. Above all, don’t fear. There’s an eye-opening experience just waiting for you.

Just mind the ping pong balls.

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This is the last essay from my Thailand. I know I promised a 4th, but too much time has passed. To make up for it, I've included a video:






It's a little dark and grainy. But I did really sing!

On to the next trip! Booking soon. Details to follow...

Extreme Makeover: Bangkok Edition

"We're meeting my friend at State Tower tonight. You need new clothes." Pinky tells me. I open my mouth to disagree, but a look at my Mountainwear Wicked Tee, khaki shorts and sport sandals, and I decline to speak up.

We look at jeans outside MDK, one of Bangkok's megamalls. Pinky picks out a pair of button-fly designer jeans. I throw a fit. The jeans fit snugly. I hate snugly. After trying on three more pairs, I find a button-fly that works. "You have money?" Pinky asks. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I hear this question.

We hit Siam Paragon, one of the trendier malls in the city, for dress shirts and shoes. Pinky hands me 5 shirts from Zara. All linen, all way too small. Turns out a large size in Thailand is not the same as it is in the States. Pinky finds me an XXL shirt, and it's a perfect fit.

Pinky shows me a pair of Timberlands that turn out to be ridiculously comfortable. "How much is all this gonna cost me?" I blurt out. "Don't worry about it. Think of it as an investment." I get the feeling that she's had experience in helping clueless guys out with their dress sense.

"All my guy friends, they have no clue." She had told me over lunch. "They're too nice. Here in Bangkok, all the guys say I love you after meeting you."

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"No! It's true. And the women here...they're crazy." Uh-oh. I'm not liking where this is going. "They worship farangs."

Farangs is the term used to describe a white man in Thailand, but I start to think there's more to that term that Pinky isn't telling me. "They're so disgusting!"

"What, the women or the Farangs?"

"Hello?! The Farangs." Pinky's not one for sarcasm.

We walk through Siam Paragon, and on cue, they materialize. Farangs, some skinny, some obese, all old and European, walking alongside petite Thai women. The Farangs are dressed in tank tops and flip-flops. I suggest to Pinky that maybe I should try dressing like them if I want to get a date. She shoots me the look of death.



After a return to Pinky's apartment and two hours of figuring out how to put on button-fly jeans, we meet up with her friend Tuang at The Dome at State Tower. It's a rooftop bar by the Chao Phraya river, and it has the best view of the Bangkok skyline. The scene is sophisticated. Live jazz plays from the dome as men and women, dressed to the nines, hold actual conversations. The three of us find a vacated couch on the balcony. We talk about life in Bangkok, what to do in Chiang Mai and Phuket, what it's like living in the States. Across from us, two tall Farangs chat it up with their dates. As the music plays on, they burst into laughter, and I wonder if they can understand each other.



I hadn't planned on spending an evening at The Dome. I only thought of seeing the sights, walking the streets, eating the local cuisine. I didn't expect a makeover. A look from the rooftop of State Tower, half a world away from everything I know, proved me wrong. There is more to Bangkok than I thought. I'm a better person for it.

But I still haven't figured out those button-fly jeans.

More pics from State Tower and Bangkok can be found here.

Good Morning, Bangkok

Cousin Pinky wakes me at 6:30 am. "Come on, we're getting breakfast."

"What, now?"

"YES! We have a long day today."

Pinky lives off Sathorn Road in the heart of Bangkok. She never has to cook. Her kitchen is a minute's walk from her apartment, to the local food market.



The streets are lined with food stalls and fruit stands. Everthing is fresh, cheap and calling your name. Barbeque pork? No problem! Rambutans? Over here! Durian? None for me, thank you, but they're there if you want them!



They even have frogs! I turn to Pinky and ask how they taste like, but she's run off for some fried rice. Meanwhile, I do a fantastic job of standing still and getting in everyone's way. I can't help it. I love local markets. There's so much color, noise and aroma. It's a blissful assault on the senses. And to think that this happens every morning, and once again in the evening for dinner. It's enough to make me think about relocating. Or at least start a dragonfruit stand back in L.A.



I think I can pull it off.

The Road to Southeast Asia: Prologue - The Big Boy Trip

Things happen for a reason.

I was supposed to leave for the Philippines in April, followed by a week in Thailand. I was all set to book my flights, when our trip fell through. I was crushed.

A month passed, and I was feeling it the itch. I sat at my desk at work, dreaming of Thai massages, when I thought, "Screw it, I'm just gonna go."

I was obsessed. I went on Kayak for a week straight, looking up flights till 2 AM. I mapped out my itinerary, scrapped it, made a new one, scrapped THAT, went back to my original plan, then went with Plan C.

Click. One flight booked. Click. There's another. Click. Wait, I need to book hotels! Click. Click. Click!!

And here I am, about to embark on a two-week solo trip to Southeast Asia.

This is my Big Boy Trip. No companions to lean on to do the dirty work. I have to ask for directions. I have to interact with the locals. I have to find my way across the mountains of Chiang Mai. I have to seek out the secluded beaches of Phuket on my own. I have to navigate the streets of KL. It's on me. This is the trip where I gut it out, suck it up, and go.

I will have friends and family in Bangkok to guide me. Apart from that, I am on my own. Two years ago, this was unthinkable. Today, it's all I think about. I want to approach this trip with open eyes. With boldness.

Enough writing.

Let's do this.



I'll be back in two weeks, with pictures, stories, and maybe even videos(!) to share. If I'm able, I will update.

Cheers.

Destination Next

Bangkok -> Chiang Mai -> Phuket -> KL

June 29 - July 13, 2008

It's on.

Coming Together

I've put in my request for time off at work. I've begun scraping my funds together. I've emailed my aunt my itinerary.

In a little over two months, I'll be on a plane to the Philippines, heading "home". Not my home, but the home of mom and dad, my aunts and uncles. A place where the last time I went, I was a chubby and very self-aware nine-year-old. When I was there, I caught the chicken pox and had to stay in a local hospital for two days. I'm hoping this time, I'll be relatively disease-free.

But in addition to going home, I'll be visiting Thailand for one week, and most likely with mom and brother in tow. I also have relatives in the area. I hear the food is great and the massages are cheap. Just the way I like it...

The months preceding a major trip can be maddening. Some days go by ever so slowly, and yet, time passes so quickly that when it's time to depart, you're in a mad rush to pack.

For now, I'll be scouring the web for tips and tricks on what to do when I'm in the PI and Thailand. But I'm pretty sure when I arrive, I'll just ride the Travel Wave wherever it takes me.