A Day in Pattaya - Part One
The best parts of Sawatdee Gay Thailand are the stories and sharing of experiences in LOS, in my humble opinion. When I see one posted I stop and take time to really enjoy it, as opposed to skimming (which, let's face it, is all some of the frequent bitching is worth, if that).
Here's a contribution that I hope will give some members who have not visited Pattaya a taste of the place, and for those who don't get there nearly as often as they'd like to (my hand's up on that one) my observations of a day there.
You'll see a lot of the places and people from the story in my photo album here in the forum (for the newbies, click above on "User Photo Index" and scroll down). Per IwanUK's suggestion I've added a few to this after the original posting, but not necessarily from the same day. I just put a few in for reference. Thanks for the idea, IwanUK.
My Pattaya experiences are outside the gogo clubs and more before nightfall, but for what it's worth -- here's the first installment, with others to follow as time permits.
A DAY IN PATTAYA
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It was already warm by 8 oтАЩclock, and from the hotelтАЩs rooftop garden high above the northern end of Pattaya beach you could see crescents of white in the sea just offshore; the graceful, curved wakes of day trip boats making their morning in-bound trip to the beach, where theyтАЩll anchor to pick up knots of pasty-white tourists already gathering along the sand, тАЬunтАЭ-dressed to the nines in holiday swimsuits and oversize hats.
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Cameras and coolers in hand theyтАЩll clamber onto the boats, eager to get out to a beach they can pretend is exclusively theirs for a day. When the boats return a handful of hours later theyтАЩll come spilling off the sterns, their skin now just a slightly brighter tint of red than the barbecued shrimp they over-stuffed themselves with at lunch. Some are oddly two-toned: their lobster-red torsos crowned by a pale, ghostly face that droops from the nausea theyтАЩve fallen victim to as theyтАЩve skipped to shore in the small speed boats; learning itтАЩs not always wise to mix rich food with high-octane beer and umbrella drinks in the tropics. Even with the helping hands of the boat staff theyтАЩll sometimes stumble ass over tit into the gentle surf, rising from the warm water to weave weakly up over the beach to their waiting rides.
I lean on the balcony railing and watch the graceful arcs left in the wake of the boats, their roaring outboard motors just a gentle drone from my high perch. I count dozens of them swooping into shore, their wakes criss-crossing as they jockey for position.
Birds cheep and chirp somewhere nearby, dipping and diving as they sail overhead; the occasional bee stops to explore the brightly colorful flowers in pots that dot the large tiles of the balcony around me. ItтАЩs slightly humid after the warm night rain that has left everything below wet and shiny in the early-morning sun. As they speed along Beach Road below me the tires of the song taews spray occasional fans of water up from the pavement, sending unfortunates on the roadside jumping to try and stay dry. A small pickup truck moves slowly along, itsтАЩ loudspeaker blaring out a distorted and over-amplified message I can hear but canтАЩt understand.
Sated from a full breakfast buffet and impatient to get down to beach level I call to my friend; verbally goosing him along so we can get out for a walk and back before itтАЩs too warm to be pleasant. He finishes gathering his things and we take the glass elevator down the front of the hotel, out through the lobby and stroll the hundred yards or so to Beach Road. The pavement that was wet with rain just a half hour ago is now nearly dry, another indicator of the hot day ahead.
I paused to lean against a pole at the corner, watching the stream of тАЬmotocyтАЭ drivers, sawg taews and scooters moving past us along Beach Road. The area is active as we stand there: our day really just beginning, many of the locals already well into theirs. We gather our nerve and shuffle quickly across the street, through a gap in the morning traffic.
Along the tree line on the beach side of the wide walkway there are further signs of life: vendors beginning to set up the familiar canvas sling-type beach chairs-for-rent that will line the sandy shore until evening time. Carried one by one and two by two from the stacks where theyтАЩve rested flat for the night theyтАЩre now lined up facing the ocean beneath the large, colorful umbrellas. Deeply tanned workers in tank tops and shorts move through the sand with a rhythm that comes only from countless similar days, their flip-flops sending up small samplings of the golden sand with each gentle slap of sandal to heel. They smile broadly and return my wave as they notice me watching their morning rituals, some just pausing from their rounds to take a breath and be friendly, some bowing slightly while waving their arm toward the chairs already set up, side tables at the ready, in a gentle invitation for me to select my spot for the day.
тАЬGoing for a walk,тАЭ I say in my clumsy phonetic Thai, and hold my hand out, fingers down and scissoring as I point down the shore in an attempt to draw his attention away from how IтАЩve again mangled the native tongue. My friendтАЩs used to it and laughs good-naturedly along with the vendor whoтАЩs made his offer and is now again heading for the stack of folded-down chairs. тАЬMay I take your picture?тАЭ I ask, trying another phrase. The man stops again to pose, smiling another genuine broad grin and then waves and turns to continue his work.
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As we climb the steps from sand to sidewalk I catch a whiff of a wonderful, familiar smell, wafting over on a trindle of smoke from a small barbecue grill. The grillтАЩs handmade from the end of a metal drum, topped by a crude wire grate and covered with enormous whole shrimp, sizzling softly over the charcoal beneath them. They look delicious. Even with the long, sharply-pointed heads removed these jumbo tails would be five inches long, some of the largest prawns IтАЩd seen this trip. Their cooked shells were the color of a sunset youтАЩd be likely to see from this very beach in another ten hours or so: deep oranges shifting to reds that are so rich they can take your breath away. I was still full from breakfast, but made a mental note to look for them on our return walk after noontime. My friend, who had been more restrained than I at this morningтАЩs buffet eyed them longer than I did, but when I offered to stop and buy some for him he acted as though they were less than important; as though he had them frequently, something I know not to be true.
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We walked another block or so on the beachside walkway, but soon tired of the zig-zag path we were having to take to avoid deep puddles, mud, heaps of sand and piles of round stones larger than your fist that were all still waiting to be put into place as part of a major overhauling of this primary public walkway, so we went down the next available set of stairs back to the sand itself, passing a couple of short, very dark-skinned young men, splayed on their backs, arms over eyes and sound asleep. тАЬBurmese,тАЭ my friend said. тАЬTheyтАЩre allowed to come here to do the difficult labor because nobody here wants to do it.тАЭ тАЬOh?тАЭ I replied, тАЬBack home itтАЩs the Mexicans who do so much of the menial labor.тАЭ тАЬNot mean,тАЭ my friend said, not understanding the word and looking concerned. тАЬItтАЩs hard work, but they want to do it.тАЭ I just nodded and smiled at his comment without getting into any further conversation about labor relations.
тАЬHey, mister!тАЭ came the call from a man by standing in the water by the tail of a small boat. тАЬHey, mister, you go island?тАЭ тАЬNo, I go walking,тАЭ I replied, in English this time, again making a walking motion with my fingers and gesturing down the beach. тАЬYou go island!тАЭ he said again, waving me aboard his boat. тАЬNo, thank you,тАЭ I said, тАЬnot today.тАЭ
тАЬMister, you go island!тАЭ he said a third time, with the same enthusiasm heтАЩd used the first time. тАЬOK, тАЬ my friend said, laughing and throwing his hands up, turning to walk back to the sidewalk as though I was going to lose the battle, тАЬMaybe you GO island!тАЭ He turned back, laughing, coming over to me as I waved goodbye to the boat man and wished him luck today. He continued to call to me another time as we walked further along the beach.
It was a gorgeous morning, and the day was still young.
The view from the Markland hotel
You're correct, John - good spotting! That was taken outside the Markland hotel buffet/restaurant on top of the hotel. There's a patio/walkway all around the top "deck" with a nice 360 view of the city.
The breakfast buffet wasn't superb in variety, but well-prepared and man, was it quiet up there - I don't think we saw more than 15 others dining on any of the three mornings we had breakfast there.
The room was comfortable, clean and well-appointed, there was a small, discreet hanging rack on the balcony to dry small items, and - best of all - using AsiaRooms it was $30US per night for two people. Not a member of the "Joiners" crowd I can't say if they allow that or not, but my feeling about the place is that it wouldn't be a problem There wasn't anything posted at Registration to indicate otherwise.
Ilz - No, the two young men weren't overnight guests. They were laborers, waiting for the day's work to begin.
