Pussy ping pong

Almost every Westerner we saw at Pat-pong road last night seemed to me lumpy, large and badly-dressed. I guess Sandy and I look the same to the graceful Thai people; although at least the two of us are a bit thinner than the average tourist. Worst of all were the middle-aged, pot-bellied men steering beautiful and young Thai girls through the markets, heading for hotel rooms or whatever rooms in which their business was to be done.

All the hawkers on the street have the same - it looked like to me - card advertising the shows in the bars. Top of the list was "pussy ping pong"; this apparently is what we whiteys want to see when we go to Pat-pong. There was also "pussy blows balloon", "pussy chopsticks"(!?) and "pussy candle". We declined these delights but did sit for a couple of hours and observe a tiny slice of life and commerce on the night-time streets. Across the alleyway a group of gorgeous young girls applied makeup and gossiped; getting ready for their night of work ahead. We guessed that probably two out of the 8 were boys. But our waiter Kim told us they were all in fact "ladyboys"; he gestured towards my wrists and feet - this along with the adam's apple is how you can tell, he said. After that we tried to guess the true sex of every pretty girl who walked past. I think the way to tell is actually the hips and legs; the ladyboys have narrow hips and legs more stunning, long and lean than any woman except possibly Kate Moss.

Kim has worked in the same bar for seven years, and had apparently seen it all. he lived nearby, and when I asked if he was married he said yes, but his family lived far away in the country while he worked in town to support them. "I sleep alone", he said.

We did our bit to contribute to the commercial goings-on. Over the course of the time we sat, Sandy bargained with a nearby stallholder for a bag I wanted. (Officially, I am opposed to all fake merchandise. But this bright orange leather tote, a replica of a Tod's, was too good to ignore. I figure I was contributing to the economy of Pat-pong and the noodle fund of the stallholder). The price gradually decreased from an initial high of 5,500 baht to the sale price of around 2,000 (about $80NZ). It was highly entertaining watching the two of them; Sandy would wave across the street and gesture how much he wanted to pay, the stallholder would come over with her calculator and her latest version of the price. I think it was when he got out some US dollars he had in his wallet that she finally gave in; the deal was sealed with a currency combo. I also bought a turquoise skirt printed with flowers which I think will not look out of place on the Riviera, especially when accessorised with some gorgeous shoes I am yet to acquire (London might supply those I think.

We took a tuk tuk home and I felt rather exotic tooling through the balmy night streets of Bangkok. Home feels far, far away.