Wanna know how things go wrong here in Pattaya?



Well, it's about Pattaya and sketches just 2 of the sorts of things that can go wrong & level the old "farang" in next to no time!



Here are two “for instances”.


Rosta arrives with enough money to sink a hundred plates of phat thai kung (fried noodles with shrimps) and thereafter another hundred of  khaao phat kai (chicken fried rice) and hooks up with a hotel employee by the name of Gif. Only problem is Rosta doesn’t like spending baht or any other currency for that matter but wants his lady. He spends but it gets on his nerves and so he finds himself in conflict with himself. He goes downhill and starts shouting at Gif.



Thailand doesn’t like a poor farang (gringo).What’s needed is 800,000 baht in your samut banchee (bank account book). When you go below that, you get compromised. I am worried I will go below and I am also worried that my Thai lady will absent herself for long weeks and work up north with her younger half-brother who runs a successful business aided by a rich Aussie. Why? Because I have put my foot down on her and her monthly maintenance after she wasted 200,000 baht and also while I am giving her a present of a Honda Jazz over 5 years. SO, I get back home and her teenage daughter who has a baby girl coming round to one whole year of baby-age is running the aircon of the biggest room leaving her bedroom door open with baby sleeping on top of a bed she has fallen off twice. I tell my partner’s daughter to use the big room, close her bedroom door. It’s better for her baby to sleep on covers on the floor in the living room and it’s better for the aircon and for my samut banchee. She says no and I tell her she has no choice. I ask her if she knows why she has no choice. She doesn’t like my question and so I answer it myself telling her her mum was crying this morning, she doesn’t contribute anything to the house, yes, she does look after her own fatherless baby, that’s true, but doesn’t lift a finger to help mum. She makes a phone call. “I’m off to eat noodles.” “OK, but I just can’t get my head round you riding a motorbike with your baby…” (& of course no helmets!). A half hour later a car as expensive as the house I live in sidles to a stop not quite outside the house I live in, and Oy, my partner’s daughter, and baby go off. Na, my partner, comes in and she informs me they are probably the people who wanted to buy Alice, the baby, from Oy, the mother, in Banglamung Hospital. A kind nurse probably told them there might be a bargain. So they are rich and persistent and an offended teenager is seven hours later still with them and their aircon, or –cons, I believe! I haven’t yet told my partner about my conversation with Oy. When that happens, I will start to paddle the murky waters of Pattaya Shit Creek which I’ll be up with a powerful current against me and pushing my canoe towards Shite Choppy Bay. Why? Well, first a mother’s love is irrational and secondly I behaved meanly and thirdly I do not have the right under Thai Domestic Law to open my bloody big mouth. That’s why!

 And that’s why things can go wrong in Pattaya, my favourite city of manifest social ills and shit creeks.  

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