December 11, 2005
The Worst Night Yet (Day 74)
Tonight was the worst night of my trip so far. The absolute lowest low, and to be honest I really can't explain why.
Antonia arrived in Bangkok around 8:30pm and the three of us quickly got dressed and set out for a night on the town. Both Julia and Antonia had mentioned an interest in going to the red light district, also known as Pat Pong. This is where things started down hill. I don't like red light districts. I don't like strip clubs, I don't like porn; not even to laugh at. So, my hope was that we would simply walk around for a bit and then head out for a real night on the town.
Pat Pong is lined with clubs and prostitutes. As you walk, touts step off the curb and present you with laminated cards listing the different "acts" as well as drinks available in their club. The street is a parade of western men, with a sprinkling of curious western women, all being lured into clubs with drink bargains and "opportunities".
After about 30 minutes, Antonia and Julia decided they wanted to stop for a drink. Luckily the club they chose was a "normal" club in the sense that it wasn't a sex club, but it might as well have been given the number of working girls, pretty boys and western men sipping colorful cocktails and Chang beer while eyeing each other under the cover of a throbbing techno beat. I was not enthusiastic to hangout, to say the least. In fact I'd been pretty close to silent from the moment we'd gotten in the cab*.
Sitting outside the club, the girls began people watching and seemed to find it amusing, yet I found it disgusting and difficult to bear. Anyone who knows me knows I don't like these environments, and being forced to observe them in action is not my ideal Saturday night. Thai prostitutes waiting for western men with haughty smirks to pick them up. I find it all quite depressing.
I'm not sure what exactly led to the breakdown, but it happened nevertheless.
After sitting there for about 15 minutes I arrived at a moment where I found myself with tears streaming down my face. Whether it was a result of the disgust and sadness I was feeling or simply because my hopes of having a great night out had been shattered, I'll probably never know. Tears don't always need clear logical reasons to flow.
So, now I sit here writing in the dimly lit hallway of our guesthouse with a spliting headache, puffy eyes and the heavy hearted feeling that things will never change.
Welcome to Bangkok.
*honestly people, do you really expect me, Jasmine Summerset, to pretend to be happy in a situation like this? If my moodiness has any value, it is in this sort of situation. And don't try to tell me I need to be pleasant, because in this situation, that's bull.
Antonia arrived in Bangkok around 8:30pm and the three of us quickly got dressed and set out for a night on the town. Both Julia and Antonia had mentioned an interest in going to the red light district, also known as Pat Pong. This is where things started down hill. I don't like red light districts. I don't like strip clubs, I don't like porn; not even to laugh at. So, my hope was that we would simply walk around for a bit and then head out for a real night on the town.
Pat Pong is lined with clubs and prostitutes. As you walk, touts step off the curb and present you with laminated cards listing the different "acts" as well as drinks available in their club. The street is a parade of western men, with a sprinkling of curious western women, all being lured into clubs with drink bargains and "opportunities".
After about 30 minutes, Antonia and Julia decided they wanted to stop for a drink. Luckily the club they chose was a "normal" club in the sense that it wasn't a sex club, but it might as well have been given the number of working girls, pretty boys and western men sipping colorful cocktails and Chang beer while eyeing each other under the cover of a throbbing techno beat. I was not enthusiastic to hangout, to say the least. In fact I'd been pretty close to silent from the moment we'd gotten in the cab*.
Sitting outside the club, the girls began people watching and seemed to find it amusing, yet I found it disgusting and difficult to bear. Anyone who knows me knows I don't like these environments, and being forced to observe them in action is not my ideal Saturday night. Thai prostitutes waiting for western men with haughty smirks to pick them up. I find it all quite depressing.
I'm not sure what exactly led to the breakdown, but it happened nevertheless.
After sitting there for about 15 minutes I arrived at a moment where I found myself with tears streaming down my face. Whether it was a result of the disgust and sadness I was feeling or simply because my hopes of having a great night out had been shattered, I'll probably never know. Tears don't always need clear logical reasons to flow.
So, now I sit here writing in the dimly lit hallway of our guesthouse with a spliting headache, puffy eyes and the heavy hearted feeling that things will never change.
Welcome to Bangkok.
*honestly people, do you really expect me, Jasmine Summerset, to pretend to be happy in a situation like this? If my moodiness has any value, it is in this sort of situation. And don't try to tell me I need to be pleasant, because in this situation, that's bull.
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word. i hate the prescription to participate in lightly voyeuristic observance of the base and banal. and then on top of it to be accused of being prudish or closed-minded, as opposed to sensitive, humane and politically obliged.
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# posted by 
: 11:37 AM
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