Travel stories

Travelling in Southeast Asia was far and away the most adventurous thing I have done in my life. Different countries, outrageously different cultures, different haircuts. Some experiences were good, some weren’t, but they were all interesting and the “life” knowledge I accumulated in that short period was vast. Here’s a story from Thailand:

It was the night after my travelling companion from Hong Kong left. Hendrix was a pasty, red-headed kid from rural Indiana who, though he tried admirably to escape the image of the classic American tourist, nevertheless found himself walking around in a bright Hawaiian shirt with an oversized Pentax camera attached to his chest and a neon-red sunburn in the places where his cowboy hat failed its duty. We spent a few days in Bangkok before heading to the islands in the south. After spending a relaxing few days on the beach, Hendrix returned early to HK, and this was a major turning point in my trip. I was forced to meet people and mingle and all those social activities I usually avoid.

The first person I met was a friendly, blond-haired 29yr old Dutchman named Arjen, who had been travelling around Asia for 8 months. That night, after the usual dinner of “shrimp Thai noodles” (a.k.a. pad thai) and a couple large beers in the wooden hut overlooking the beach ($4 total), we decided to walk to a few bars on the island. Fast forward a few hours and a few drinks later, and both Arjen and I are dancing with a couple of gorgeous local Thai girls, who happen to be friends. My girl had soft Asian features, mocha skin, huge brown eyes, a mischievous, playful smile and a typically slender figure. Now, I will be the first to admit there are some nights where I’m not on my game, but this wasn’t one of them. I was simply on fire. I teased and charmed, and charmed and teased, and was very pleasantly surprised by her cheeky responses. Just as I began to congratulate myself on choosing the single private bungalow instead of the “dorm-style” hut (which was $1.50 cheaper per night), Arjen approached and said that he was about to take his girl back, and that his girl really wanted my girl to go home with me.

Being the cynical person that I am, I immediately became suspicious. I mean, why was this girl so keen for her friend to go home with me? In my neurotic Jewish mind, it couldn’t be the fact that she simply liked me. Something didn’t smell right, and it certainly wasn’t the puke that a drunken Brit had so unceremoniously splashed at my feet a few moments earlier. A thought entered my mind, and though I hoped it wasn’t true, I knew that it most likely was. Resignedly, I turned to Arjen, hoping that he would think me a fool for asking:

“They’re prostitutes, aren’t they?”

“Yes, I believe so. That’s not a problem is it?” he asked with a certain amount of incredulity.

At which point in time I paused. I looked at my girl, who was staring at me longingly, with those beautiful brown eyes. Damn, why her! Of all the girls I could’ve picked, I chose the one who would present me with a moral dilemma at the end of the night. I looked at her friend, who was not so subtly imploring me to bring her friend along, for moral support I suppose. My problem is I’ve always been the good kid. I’m the kid who said no to drugs. I’m the kid who always did his homework. I was the kid who if I didn’t have anything nice to say, didn’t say anything at all. And now, this identity of mine was being tested. The fact that Arjen was so bewildered at my response to his response made me think that perhaps it’s ok to have sex with prostitutes. I mean I’d obviously use protection, so what exactly would be wrong with it?

To be continued.