PASSAGE FROM MANDALAY
By Teresa Orr
Published by Teresa Orr at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Teresa Orr
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A Novel
by Teresa Orr
Book design by Sabaijai Designs
ISBN 978-1-4580-3006-1
For Sam
Author’s Note
Chiang Mai, also sometimes written as ‘Chiengmai’ or Chiangmai, is the largest and most culturally important city in northern Thailand, and is the Capital of Chiang Mai Province. It is located some 700 km (435 miles) north of Bangkok, among some of the highest mountains in the country. The city stands on the Ping River, a major tributary of the Chao Phraya River.
Teresa Orr
1
Richard sat in the empty corridor and listened to the sound of distant voices. Several people passed in front of him and smiled as they went about their business. The old wooden chair he sat on began to get uncomfortable and he constantly fidgeted. A door along the corridor opened and the bespectacled secretary stepped out, looked along at Richard, smiled then went back inside her office. She was wearing a miniskirt with a shawl around her shoulders and had looked unsteady on her thin legs, probably from the height of her shoes.
He checked his watch; it was nine thirty, only fifteen more minutes to wait. Two minutes later the same door opened and the girl came towards him as she tottered on high heels. In her hand she carried a small tray and as she came closer he heard the cup and saucer rattle as she walked. Some of the contents had already spilled onto the saucer. This was caused by her trying to balance on extremely high heels and the cup being too full.
“Would you like coffee?” she asked as she peered over her glasses that were suspended on the end of her nose.
“That would be nice,” Richard replied.
She handed Richard the cup and slipped two sugar sachets into his other hand.
“I am sorry your appointment is late,” she added.
“No problem,” Richard replied.
He watched her retreat to her office walking unsteadily and clicking loudly on the highly polished tiled floors.
As he sipped his coffee his mind wandered back to the time he received the letter asking him to attend the interview. When he opened it he secretly thought it was going to be a rejection. The paper felt crisp and expensive as he unfolded the one page. The first thing he spotted was the elegant logo of the Chiappol University in Chiang Mai.
Dear Mr Richard the letter began.
His eyes wandered down the page taking in the words slowly. It was a request to attend an interview in two weeks. The University would arrange flight tickets and hotel accommodation for three nights in Chiang Mai plus any extra expenses such as taxis and meals. If he wanted to stay in Bangkok on his return to England then he should advise them but the accommodation would be down to him. His heart beat faster with excitement as he absorbed the facts. He thought it was promising at the time; after all they must be keen to fly him all the way from England.
Closing the letter he had brought with him, he put it back into his file.
The greyness of the day outside matched the atmosphere in the corridor. Grey light diffused by the slightly opaque windows. At the end of the corridor he saw a cleaning lady approach him. In her hand she carried a mop and a small duster. Her gait seemed unsteady and several times she held on to the wall. Suddenly she collapsed and dropped the mop which made a clattering sound as it bounced off the floor. Richard got onto his feet quickly, dropping the file and headed to where the woman lay. By the time he reached her she was in the throes of a fit. He was certain she was epileptic and was in the middle of an episode. As he pulled her away from the wall, the door opened and the young woman who had brought him the coffee stood shocked and unable to move.
“Epileptic,” Richard called out.
The secretary ran back inside and quickly picked up a telephone as Richard gently held on to the fitting woman ensuring she didn’t hurt herself on any of the chairs and tables. He knew from his nursing days that it was better to let the fit run its natural course. He simply held her head to allow a clear airway.
The secretary returned to her position at her door unable to bring herself to cross the threshold. As she stood on sentry duty Richard heard running footsteps behind him and he turned to look. He saw a Thai nurse in a crisp white uniform and white shoes followed by a man wearing green cotton pants and T-shirt. Richard quickly explained in Thai what had happened as the fitting woman started to calm down as the fit subsided.
“Do you have a blanket?” Richard called to the shaking secretary.
She nodded, then ran back inside her office and returned moments later with a pale blue cotton sheet. Richard rolled it up and gently placed it under the woman’s head as she opened her eyes then immediately fell asleep. The woman was sleeping calmly, utterly exhausted.
“She Tai Yai,” the secretary said.
Richard knew what Tai Yai meant; she was from a shared border between Shan State in Burma and Chiang Mai and made the Northern Province one of the most accessible areas for Tai Yai people to seek work outside Burma. The Shan had a strong presence in Chiang Rai, Lampang, Mae Sariang and in Chiang Mai City where in some areas they made up the majority of the population. The Shan were members of the Tai family, known in Thai as Tai Yai or ‘Great Tai’ and represent the western branch of the Tai family of peoples, having migrated from China with the Lao and Khon Muang. Most of them did not have ID cards and were in Thailand illegally. Finding work was difficult, especially when you did not have papers. They lived in constant fear of being found out by the authorities and returned to Burma.
The man in green disappeared and returned with a wheelchair. Richard guessed he was from the on campus clinic.
After a few minutes the cleaner woman started to stir and stretched out from her foetal position. They all helped her into the wheelchair and Richard covered her drained body in the sheet.
“Thank you,” the Nurse said as she wai’d to Richard. The Thai greeting consisted of a slight bow, with the palms pressed together in a prayer-like fashion. The higher the hands were held in relation to the face and the lower the bow, the more respect or reverence the giver of the wai was showing. The wai was also common as a way to thank someone or apologise. Richard returned the wai then lifted up the mop and rested it against the wall and returned to his seat. She turned around and followed the green man as he wheeled the woman away down the corridor.
He sipped the coffee only to find it was cold so he drank it down in two gulps. He picked up his file and looked out of the slightly opaque windows. He watched the silhouette shapes of the palms that swayed in the gentle breeze. From an open window he saw a Jackfruit Tree. The evergreen tree had grown to around 15 meters tall. It was full of extremely large and heavy fruit with a rough, ‘pebbled’ skin. The yellow flesh segments within were aromatic and very popular for eating. On the other hand, the young fruit's skin could be peeled and cooked as a curry with northern style taste. People also used the timber to build musical instruments and furniture. Small Oriental White-eye birds hopped from branch to branch.
“Mr Richard, the Dean will see you now.”
Richard jumped slightly when he heard the secretary’s voice. He hadn’t seen or heard her approach. He stood up, straightened his tie and followed the clicking heels. He looked down and noticed that the shoes were patent leather, ankle straps and with diamante bows on the back. Totally unsuitable for office work he thought. The noise got louder as they climbed the stairs to the next floor.
Outside the large window he saw students sitting on the freshly cut grass under shady trees. Some were reading, others on their mobiles and several eating. He was led into an office then through an open door.
Behind a large wooden desk sat the Dean. He was a spritely Chinese-Thai, black hair slicked back with gel, probably late fifties and wearing a dark blue suit with a spotted tie. He shuffled numerous piles of papers around his desk. By placing one heap on top of another, it made it look neater, even if the workload remained the same.
Next to him sat a lady dressed in black with immaculately coiffed hair that was heavily backcombed and lacquered. Richard assumed she was dressed as she was every day and night in a shimmery lilac silk suit, stiff blouse and a flowing scarf coloured various shades of grey
“My name is Miss Thawanya, I am the Head of Human Resources and this is the Dean of the University, Mr Banyat.” she said.
Richard shook hands with both of them.
“Please have a seat.” she added.
He backed onto an upright chair that had been placed in front of the desk.
“Welcome to Chiang Mai and to Thailand.” She said.
“Thank you,” Richard replied.
“Is the hotel to your satisfaction Mr Richard?” she asked.
It’s very comfortable,” he answered.
As they studied the paperwork laid out on the desk, Richard’s eyes scanned the items on the top. There were silver framed photographs of family members, several files and a selection of pens, six keys on a fancy key ring, a cup of green tea and a walking stick. Richard thought it a strange item to have on a desk. He looked closely to see it was made from black mahogany with a metal tip. The head of the stick was fashioned into the shape of a lotus flower. He thought it was beautiful and had never seen anything like it.
The interview began properly and Richard handed over the originals of his degree, his teaching diploma and three references. The Dean and Miss Thawanya looked at them intently and talked quickly in hushed tones.
“Do you speak Thai Mr Richard?” asked the Dean.
“Yes, I speak quite a bit but I can’t read it,” Richard replied.
“What are your views on the politics of Thailand?” asked Miss Thawanya.
“I know there was some unrest in 2009 and 2010 when political protests took place in Bangkok between the red and the yellow shirt movement spilling over into violence. However, since then peace has been restored. I don’t fully understand the differences between the two parties but I never get involved in politics.” he answered.
“What about the economy of Thailand? The Dean asked.
“Like most Asian countries, driven by export-led growth and large foreign investments, Thailand is enjoying a period of sustained growth that has seen incomes and standards of living levels shoot up. Thailand’s economy is one of the healthiest and has grown 9.1% over the last year.
When I talk with my Thai friends it is clear that the reality of daily life in Thailand has not been affected, even in the short term, by the political protests. The fast expanding country’s growing number of universities feed business-trained graduates into the economy and investor confidence is high.” Richard answered.
“Do you think Thailand’s banking sector could have the same problems as these in the United Kingdom,” Miss Thawanya.
“The fundamental strength of the banking sector is a key contributor towards Thailand having been able to resist the global financial storm. The controls, the measures and the infrastructure that the Bank of Thailand has put around the banks are strong and solid and they have strict regulations.” Richard replied.
“Thank you, you seem to know a lot about Thailand.” The Dean said.
“I have visited Thailand many times and I have got to know the people really well when I lived in Pattaya for two years.”
“What are your views on Education in Thailand?” asked the Dean.
“The qualifications that employees can bring to companies in Thailand involve 15% of the country’s graduates. Teaching methods are up to the international standards and the numbers of foreign multinationals are growing every year. Thailand has to prepare graduates to work with new technologies and it must ensure that the capabilities are adequate to work in this new scenario.”
“How is Thailand seen from the outside?” Miss Thawanya asked.
“This is one of the country’s biggest challenges as its image suffered by the negative news reporting of 2010. Europeans think Thailand is far away but the media doesn’t do enough to tell the whole story of the country’s achievements. It is best if they come to Thailand, to see for themselves and to talk to the people.” Richard ended.
There was a palpable change of mood in the interview room. Richard could sense the sudden, intangible buzz of excitement. The interview itself drew to a close and Richard shook hands with both of them. As he reached the door he stopped when he heard the Dean speak.
“Thank you for what you did for Miss Jan,” he said.
“Miss Jan?” Richard asked.
“The cleaner woman you helped.” The Dean replied.
“Never mind, I was glad to help,” replied Richard.
The secretary was waiting outside the office to escort Richard to the main gate. Whilst walking he wondered in his mind if he had answered correctly, was it what they wanted to hear? As he handed over his temporary pass at the gate, she wai’d, smiled and said, “I hope to see you again.”
“I hope so too,”
His watch said twenty minutes to four and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast so he walked into a trendy coffee shop opposite the main entrance of the campus. Sitting near the window he looked out at the various students arriving and leaving the University. He would love to be part of it but guessed he would have to wait for that day’s outcome. Maybe he wouldn’t hear until he got back to England.
The waitress arrived to take his order of crab fishcakes and a spicy Tom Yam soup.
He opened the map of the University he had been given
earlier and studied it while he waited for his meal to arrive. When he got back to the hotel he lay on top of the bed watching BBC news when his phone rang.
“Hello.” he said. “Mr Richard?” the voice asked.
“Yes, Mr Richard speaking.”
“This is Miss Thawanya from the University, we met today.”
“Of course, how are you?”
“I am very well, thank you; we would like to offer you the position at the University teaching English and Psychology.”
Richard paused to answer as he took in the words. “Really, I would be delighted to accept.”
“Good, I will email you all the details and a contract. When can you start?”
Richard was giddy with excitement and without thinking said, “Two weeks?”
“That will be fine, if there is anything you are not sure of then email me. You can confirm your travel date when you get back to England.”
“Yes, I will, thank you,” Richard said as he replaced the receiver. He lay back on the bed and ran the conversation through his head once more. “Yes,” he shouted out aloud almost spilling the drink he was holding, “I’ve done it.” His whole body shook with excitement. He was getting to be where he wanted to be, back in Thailand.
His contract meant he worked four days a week. He would have the weekends off, which meant he could go to Bangkok or visit places near Chiang Mai. The money was excellent and he’d have plenty to live on without touching any of his savings in England. His mind became a mass of thoughts with lists being drawn up, questions to ask, where he would live, in an apartment or a house, should he buy a car. The contract was for three years and could be extended if both parties agreed. He was tired of the long, damp English winters. He missed the hot and humid tropical weather of the Far East.
What should he do now? He wanted to celebrate. He sent a text to Maureen to tell her the good news. Maureen lived in Chiang Mai and worked for organisations that helped Burmese refugees. She was on holiday in Singapore seeing her son so he couldn’t meet up with her. She was larger than life, dyed blonde hair, slightly overweight with a large bosom, possibly over fifty, Richard never knew her exact age but she had a heart of gold. He really wanted to talk to her but that could wait. Never mind, he would get changed and go and see a show.
2
He summoned a tuk-tuk from outside the hotel and thankfully the driver knew where he wanted to go to as he squeezed his tall body into the back. The Gay Bar Richard planned to visit was called ‘New My Way’. It was located on Hatsadisawee Road in the Chang Phuak area of the city and known simply as ‘My Way’.
It was a typical dull looking unattractive shop house, three storeys high, in a dark and dingy narrow soi. There was a shop area underneath, which was the bar and accommodation above. Unless you knew it was there you would easily pass it as it was off the primary road, despite the innumerable motorbikes parked outside.
It was surrounded by clandestine one storey houses complete with bamboo and prickly pear ramparts along with barking dogs. Towering over these houses, and on both sides of the street, were several mundane dark weather-stained concrete clad one-roomed apartment blocks that were occupied by anonymous inhabitants.
To the right of the entrance was a large grandiose spirit house. It was a shrine to animist spirits. Most houses and businesses had a spirit house placed in an auspicious spot, most often in a corner of the property. The location was often chosen after consultation with a Brahmin priest. This spirit house was in the form of a miniature temple and was mounted on a dais. The house was intended to provide a shelter for spirits which could cause problems for the owner of the property if they were not appeased.
Offerings were left at the house to propitiate the spirits. Burning joss sticks with their overpowering fragrance smoked in the damp air and colourful twinkling fairy lights illuminated the dark corner.
Inside, rows of low disagreeable armless two seater sofas were covered in a bright and distinctive orange and black moquette material.
Insignificant black metal tables, with a floating piece of black glass making them impossible to see, were placed in front of the seats.
At the rear and near the entrance, the DJ sat with his music and lights console. Most of the time, this was covered in a towel with an ice bucket on top to catch the ever dripping water that came from the ceiling above. Several times during the evening he would have to empty the rapidly filling bucket.
There were two captains, who tried to keep things running smoothly and a manager. Both the captains had severe drink problems. They would probably be classed as alcoholic as were most of the staff.
Num drank all day and all night, usually the local Thai whisky. If a customer opened a large bottle of whisky, Num was there. He did have an American customer who regularly sent him money. He also had various women customers who deposited money every month into his bank account. Most evenings after work Num would hold an impromptu drinks party. Many of the boys would go there after the bar closed and drink until six or seven in the morning. There would be a selection of women
attending too.
Bee had a Japanese customer who unknowingly helped to support his girlfriend and their child. Apart from the drink problems the boys also took various recreational drugs, gambled on anything that moved or didn‘t move, usually playing poker until their money ran out.
To the right was a large bar area. The cashier and sometimes one or two assistants worked there. The cashier, not a handsome man by anyone’s imagination, was usually drunk by 10 o’clock. Not too drunk to be able to fiddle the books. The drunker he got, the more outrageous he became, constantly flirting with the boys. His hair had lost its lustre and his face had grown florid and was lined with broken veins, as though years of heavy drinking had taken its toll.
Above the bar was a walkway from which the boys entered when the show started. They descended a narrow winding staircase which ended up on the bar top. They then had to climb down precarious looking wooden steps to reach the floor, before making their way to the stage at the front. Only if you happened to be sitting in the last two rows of seats could you see this performance.
To the right of the bar there was a podium in the corner. This was where the shower show took place. Tinkling water music played while a naked boy would sit on a stool behind the podium and slowly pour water down his body, using a sponge and a bucket of cold water.
At the rear of the stage was a cramped area for the boys and kathoeys or ladyboys as they were often known, to change into their costumes. The toilet was small. When the door opened to the bar it was possible to see people standing at the urinals. The room was long and narrow but it was made to appear bigger using full length mirrors. Without the use of these mirrored walls, you would miss most of the action. The lighting was always kept low to disguise the state of the decoration, the chandeliers had many bulbs out, and the paint work was peeling from the walls. The whole place desperately needed modernising.
The owner Gong always stood outside, welcoming guests as well as the boys. He was a thin underweight individual, lacking in character, looks and poise. He did, however, speak very good English and the last time Richard had visited they talked for quite a while.
A show was held every night at ten o’clock according to the advertising. It never started on time, usually around a quarter past ten. It was entertaining, fast moving, with elaborate costumes worn by the lady boys. These consisted of an abundance of feathers and tight fitting frocks, revealing lots of legs and bosoms. They mimed to songs from various countries providing a certain amount of professionalism to a somewhat seedy environment.
The boys working there were dressed in everyday casual clothes, usually jeans with rips in them and a formal shirt. They also wore a thin tie casually tied around the neck. Some of the boys had great difficulty in fixing their ties, often ending in knots.
This was a change to the bars in Bangkok where the boys simply wore shorts or their underwear. The boys usually participated in the show, appearing naked with erections. Using various props they danced around the stage titillating the audience using anything from umbrellas to a swinging hammock.
Each boy had his own number, proudly worn pinned to their waist. Of the forty or so boys working there, only seven were from Thailand. The rest were Thai Yai or Shan.
More than half of Chiang Mai's male sex workers were of Thai Yai origin.
The captains often needed to negotiate on behalf of Shan, Burmese, Isaan and hill tribe sex workers who weren't proficient in the languages of their clients.
Richard squeezed himself from the tuk-tuk when it screeched to a halt outside the building.
“Welcome back,” Gong said as he wai’d Richard.
“Hello, you’ve made some changes,” Richard said as he noticed the front of the building. New decking had been laid and a large trough installed with several fish swimming around. Lighting had been upgraded and a new sign put up.
“Do you like?” Gong asked.
“It looks great,” Richard answered.
The main door opened and Nom came out. He smiled broadly when he saw Richard and came running down the steps to greet him.
“When did you come back?” he asked.
“Yesterday,” Richard replied.
“How long you stay?” Nom enquired.
“I leave on Thursday, but I will be back soon. I have a new job at the University.”
“You will stay in Chiang Mai a long time?”
“I hope so.”
“Come, have a drink,” Nom said as he grabbed Richard’s arm and pulled him towards the door.
Inside nothing had changed at all. It was still the dark dingy interior.
“Sit here, Vodka Sprite?” Nom pointed to an empty sofa.
“You remembered,”
It was almost ten o’clock and the show would be starting soon. He looked around at the various boys standing near the bar and recognised some of the faces but saw that there were several new ones.
The music suddenly got louder as the show was about to start and all the boys disappeared. Nom came and sat next to Richard as there were few customers in that night.
“Have a beer?” Richard asked.
“Thank you,” Nom replied then went off to the bar to get the drink.
“Chok dee,” Nom said when he returned with a bottle of Heineken. The bottle and Richard’s glass made a loud clank.
“We have some new boys,” Nom said.
“I saw them.”
The show started with two ladyboys dancing and miming to a number by Madonna. This was followed by the shower show. He immediately recognised the boy but he struggled to remember his name and his mind wandered back to the previous year when he met him. . . . . . . . . .
He had sat in the same seat and observed one particular boy. Number thirty eight. The boy was short in stature and had a winning smile. Often laughing and joking, socially acceptable to the other boys. Richard was intrigued. After the boy did his particular sketch, the shower show, Richard felt a surge of excitement as he asked Nom to invite the boy over for a drink. Beaming, the boy approached his table, gave the correct wai and sat down. Richard tried to think of something light and humorous to say but failed.
“Excellent show,” Richard said. The boy smiled showing perfect white teeth. “Do you want a drink?”
“Gin and Tonic,” the boy announced and bounded off to the bar.
“Cheers,” he smiled. Glasses clinked. He snuggled up to Richard and held his hand. The boy wore no rings. His hands were surprisingly large and some of his nails were chipped, as though he was a grafter who didn’t care too much about his appearance and Richard found this captivating.
They were, perhaps, six inches apart and fully dressed but the subtlety and strength of their erotic interchange was greater than much Richard knew in the hurried, fiercer world of naked hand-to-hand. Each twitch of muscle, each flicker at the corner of his mouth, each shift of his fingers in his hand had a particular, tender, and as it seemed at the time, unambiguous significance.
The boy looked young, innocent and yet mature. His hair was straight and cobalt black; his eyes in contrast to his general colouring were deep brown, bright under straight thick brows, his nose large and flat, typically Northern Thai, his mouth perfect and sensuous. He never fidgeted, seldom moved away, except for when he lifted his glass to drink. He was so lovable, manly and somewhat shy, Richard couldn’t see why he wasn’t adored more often. His checked shirt suited him and his jeans were freshly laundered. The wide black leather belt hung loosely on his hips.
“Where do you come from?”
“How long are you in Chiang Mai for?”
“What work do you do?”
They were the boy’s opening questions in English. Richard’s answers were almost perfunctory with an economy of words, as though he was prepared for them. He told him only the basics.
The boy wasn’t shy or intimidated at meeting a foreigner. He had done this many times. He was assessing Richard’s vulnerability no doubt. His voice was soft and gentle. Through Richard’s limited Thai and the boy’s more limited knowledge of English, trying to assert his knowledge of Richard’s language, Richard watched his eyes carefully and asked him in Thai, “What’s your name?”
A look of surprise entered the boy’s face. “You can speak Thai?”
“I speak a little Thai,” Richard answered in Thai.
“My name is Alak.”
“And your name is?”
“Richard.”
“Welcome,” said Alak as he stretched out his hand to shake Richard’s.
“How old are you?” Richard asked.
Alak reflected for a moment. “Twenty-four years.”
“You come from?”
“Chiang Rai, have you been to Chiang Rai?”
“I have been many times.”
“How long have you worked here?”
“Five years.”
“Wow, a long time.”
That meant Alak started at the age of nineteen. He had left home at the age of eighteen, not to go to university or college but just to leave home. His story had the merit of simplicity and consistency.
Alak glanced at Richard several times sideways, summing him up, smiling while watching the performances on stage. Occasionally he would whisper words into Richard’s ear, his hand over his mouth protecting him from the smell of chillies, informing Richard who of the lady boys had a penis and those who did not. His skin was soft and smooth, his hands large and stocky. Richard smelt his aftershave; it was subtle, a faint muskiness about it and he liked it.
“Richard, I have to go and do a show.” Richard was disappointed.
“Okay, I will still be here.”
It was the first time he had said Richard’s name. Alak walked off to do another sketch which was more sexually charged than the first one, seated on a swivel-chair and wearing only a silk transparent scarf, he seductively stretched and spun round revealing his erection at the end. There was a paradoxical strength on display with him being naked he seemed to have a social advantage over the clothed audience, almost becoming reckless. When he returned to his seat he was wreathed in smiles and Richard asked him if he wanted to come back to his hotel.
“Yes,” he smiled.”
“You are cold?”
“No,” he said.”
“But you are shivering.”
“It is the air-conditioning.”
Richard put his arm around him and he snuggled up closer.
The bar fine Richard had to pay for his choice of boy to leave the bar early was 250 bahts. At this stage Richard was unsure whether he was short or long time. Typically a short time was at the most a few hours and long time involved staying overnight.
When Richard asked for his bill he noticed this charge at the bottom. He thought Alak would get a small percentage of this. He would also get a small part of the cost of his drink, Richard thought about 20 bahts. He gave Alak a calculated nod, they finished their drinks, it was only when they stood up together that Richard saw he was six inches shorter than him and when they got outside he pointed to a large old motorbike.
“I’m not going to get on that,” as Richard pointed to Alak’s bike.
“You go with tuk-tuk,” Alak suggested as he sniggered.
They agreed to meet at the hotel instead. Richard took a less dangerous method of transport, a tuk-tuk which was a three wheeled dirty and noisy contraption. He had to sit uncomfortably in the back, bending over as the ceiling was very low. The driver would dangerously snake in and out of the traffic, never following any particular lane markings. Alak parked his bike in the hotel car park and they met at the elevator. Inside the room Alak looked around. Finding the fridge bar, he asked if he could have a coke.
“No problem,” Richard smiled.
Richard ran his hand over his chest. Alak’s heart was racing. Richard let his hand linger at Alak’s waist and admired his hard firm stomach, slipping his fingers between his shirt buttons and running his hand over his smooth stomach. He had a beautiful, muscular chest with small sensitive nipples, he groaned as Richard pinched them slightly, quite hairless.
He stood patiently while Richard unbuttoned his jeans and slid them down over his light brown thighs. Richard slipped his hands inside his underwear. Alak grinned as his white briefs came down easily.
After a few minutes Alak asked if he could take a shower and headed off to the bathroom. He reappeared shortly afterwards wearing only a towel and lay prone on the large bed after plumping up the pillows and gave a seductive smile. Richard switched on the television and found an appropriate Thai channel. He quickly showered and joined him on the bed.
As Richard expected he was accomplished, experienced and energetic, strong and virile in his love making, bringing them both to a noisy climax.
When they had finished making love, Alak rolled away from him and rested for a few minutes, he then jumped out of bed and headed for the shower. Returning to the room he announced with puppy dog eyes and a soft voice
that almost asked for approval, he was going now.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Sure,” Richard replied.
Slightly disappointed he was not going to stay longer. Richard paid the going rate and he left.
Richard then left Chiang Mai and forgot all about Alak . . . .
After the shower show, Richard popped out for a cigarette. He had a word with Gong and found he wanted to sell the bar. He had owned it for eight years and he wanted out. He even asked Richard if he wanted to buy it.
When he came back and sat down in his seat he sensed someone sneak up behind him and a hand gently shake his shoulder then whispered, “Richard.” It was Alak.
He turned, startled to hear his name.
“Your name is Richard?” he asked proudly, knowing he was correct. It had been over a year since Alak had seen Richard yet he knew who he was and he even remembered his name.
“It is and you remembered.”
The joy at having his name uttered in such a charming manner was expanded when Alak gave him a broad grin. His face was even lovelier than he remembered and he tried to picture it as it was a year ago but, oddly, could not collect an entire image in his mind. Richard invited him to have a drink with him. He sat close to him holding his hand gently as they continued to watch the rest of the show.
Again Alak went back to Richard’s hotel. He was the same as before, caring and gentle. They said their goodbyes and that when Richard returned to Chiang Mai
he would come and see him.
Richard knew that there would be little point in seeing Alak again when he came back. Alak was a bar boy and with all the baggage that came with it.
Even if Richard took him out of the bar he knew Alak was too deeply scarred by working in a bar for so long. He liked Alak a lot, but there was always the danger he would fall in love with him. Not a good idea! Alak would drain him, taking as much as he could get and give little in return. He thought he was gay but knew that Alak would never admit it. No, it was best if he just used them for what they were; sex workers, people who slept with you only for the money, nothing else. He had been there before in Pattaya years ago and he was not going to go there again. He had been hurt and had suffered humiliation; it was a lesson to be remembered.
The next day he visited Doi Suthep which was a Buddhist temple high up a mountain in Chiang Mai. The temple was known as Doi Suthep but it was actually the name of the mountain it was built on. Located 15 kilometres from the city it was a sacred site for Thai people. It commanded impressive views of Chiang Mai city below.
Richard believed Temples were centres of energy, both good and bad; they reflected energy like mirrors. These temples were mysterious places, where the forces of nature, earth and man came together.
Physical auras which imprinted themselves on the memory of plants and stones.
3
His Emirates flight from Gatwick via Dubai landed on time at Bangkok’s International Suvarnabhumi Airport. The huge Airbus 380 aircraft which had been revolutionising air transport since it came into service in 2007 as it glided onto the runway. The double-deck A380 was the world’s largest commercial aircraft flying with capacity to carry 525 passengers in a comfortable three-class configuration.
His transfer involved collecting his many bags then up lifts to the Domestic Terminal. The Air Asia check-in staff were swift and professional as they processed Richard onto the last leg of his journey. Landing at Chiang Mai Airport was always thrilling for Richard. As the Air Asia aircraft turned over the Doi Suthep Mountain then swooped onto the bumpy runway, Richard knew he was right to accept the job.
The air was cooler in the North and Richard felt it as soon as he walked up the airbridge. The single carousel in the arrivals hall discharged the bags from the aircraft at lightening speed and in no time he had loaded his trolley and headed through the sliding doors.
He tried to remember where the Avis Car Rental desk was situated. Was it right or was it left? He headed right and almost immediately realised it was the wrong way.
At the desk, manned by four people, he was greeted warmly. At least they were expecting him. He followed the glamorous clerk to the car park at the end of the building. There he was handed over to another clerk who went through the mechanics of the car and the final part of the paperwork. The car was a Nissan, manual gear box, a reason why he had chosen it as he had never driven an automatic before. Having explained everything, the clerk helped to load Richard’s luggage into the boot. The keys were handed over and he drove out of the airport towards his hotel. It was to be his base for the next week. He assumed it was enough time to find somewhere to live. He also needed to buy a car or pick-up and to open a bank account.
Driving the roads of Chiang Mai was fairly easy; the Thais drove on the same side of the road as England but what they didn’t have in the UK was the vast number of bikes, motorbikes and scooters or the noisy tuk-tuks. He did a sharp right that led to a lane in front of the hotel. At the entrance he unloaded his bags as two bellboys rushed out to greet him. Their uniforms gripped their lithe bodies leaving very little to the imagination. All his baggage was loaded onto a large trolley which was pushed up a steep ramp. He was given a receipt for his bags and directed to the car park at the back of the hotel.
He was saluted by a uniformed security guard and handed over a parking ticket. The ground floor was full of motorbikes so he headed up to the next floor. That was full so he carried on to the next level. It wasn’t until he reached the fourth floor that he found a suitable parking place. As he stepped out he noticed a sign indicating the direction of the reception area. Down a short flight of stairs, past a travel agent and a shop selling expensive Indian carpets and he found the large reception desk.
“Mr Richard, welcome back,” the tiny receptionist said as he pulled out his booking confirmation.
“I have some bags,” he said.
“They will be delivered to your room; do you have your receipt?”
After handing over the card he was given his room key.
“Room 702, have a good stay,” she said.
“Thank you.”
He summoned the lift and found his room when he turned left. It was similar to the room he had before but this one gave commanding views of the Mountain. A couple of minutes later and his doorbell sounded, making him jump. He opened it wide to allow the bellboy access to his room with the bags.
Cute, thought Richard, when the boy had left. He switched on the kettle and set about unpacking one of his cases. He hadn’t brought many clothes as he wanted to buy some new ones. The prices in Thailand were very good and all the latest designs and fashions.
Once he had got everything sorted he popped out to the local 7-11 store and bought some supplies, mostly soft drinks, water, juice and a bottle of vodka.
He needed to eat and fancied the Night Market. It provided freshly cooked meals from numerous stalls that included everything from Indian to Chinese. As he crossed the busy street he saw that the Night Market was starting to fill up. Although the number of tourists to Thailand was on a sharp decline due to the recent political unrest, everyone who came to Chiang Mai visited the famous Night Market.
“Rolex watch, cheap price,” he heard as weaved his way through the stalls.
When he arrived at the Food Court there was a show being performed on the central stage. A typical Thai dance routine backed by a small orchestra playing on traditional Thai instruments and making typically Thai music. The girls were overly made up in shimmering costumes and used their hands that seemed double jointed to perform their dances. He handed over 200 bahts and received two books of coupons. He walked up and down the many stalls trying to decide what to eat.
“Spring rolls, please,” he said as he tore off 40 bahts from one of his books.
Supplied with a tray and the spring rolls he searched for another stall and ordered chicken noodle soup. At the last stall he bought a freshly squeezed mango juice. He chose a table near to the stage so he could watch the entertainment.
“Cutlery,” he said out loud.
At various points around the place were stacks of cutlery and chopsticks. He dipped the spoon and fork into the simmering pan of hot water, picked up some napkins then returned to his table.
As he ate the magical music and the dancing became hypnotic as he was seduced into the Thai culture.
When his tray was removed he glanced at his watch. It was only nine o’clock but he was feeling the effects of jetlag and knew he had to sleep. He was going to have an early night.
Back in his room he switched on the television but his eyes had already started to glaze over so he turned it off and immediately fell asleep without turning off the lights. The stall holders below him continued in their bartering to the bewildered tourists.
At six thirty he woke up feeling refreshed and well rested.
He jumped out of bed and switched on the kettle for that all important caffeine fix. As he waited for it to boil he picked up the remote and the television came to life. The local news reported on a Red Shirt demonstration in Bangkok that had happened the day before. The bath began to fill up to which he added a copious amount of bath gel as he sipped his hot coffee. He had plenty of time to have breakfast before he met Maureen at ten o’clock.
After a breakfast of cornflakes, low-fat yogurt, pineapple juice and coffee, he scanned the Bangkok Post and checked the Arts section. In reception Richard sat continuing to read the newspaper. Then suddenly, he could see her clearly, see the familiar blonde tresses of her hair, the calm smile, the summer dress he had always liked her in so much.
He had known her when they lived in Brighton, England. She had been a social worker for Brighton Council, working in the Children Department.
They had met one night at the theatre. They had sat next
to each other and when the interval arrived they started talking.
He found out she was in the proceeds of divorcing John,
her husband of twenty eight years. They lived in an avant-garde Victorian house in Brighton. Whether it was the poor heating and Spartan furnishings of bare wooden floors and rugs from Biba on the walls, or the student lodgers whom they needed to help with the mortgage and who always emptied the fridge, or her father’s continued practising of his ‘free love’ philosophy, Richard was not sure, but John finally had enough and ran off with a pleasant secretary who had a comfy modern house in Eastbourne. When they separated, they sold the house. They had two sons, one lived abroad in Singapore, working in the banking sector and the other was at university in Newcastle.
They had dinner together several times and called in at each other’s houses for coffee. Once he remembered finding a motorbike outside the front door. He assumed it belonged to her son, perhaps he was visiting from university, he thought. No, he was wrong. The bike belonged to Maureen. She liked bikes and used to have them in her teens, when she first went to university and was dating John, but hadn’t ridden one since. She had bought it on a whim she said. It was a cool black Harley with red wheels and she had bought it from a social worker at work. She was never good with cars, always banging and bashing into things. Parking was a nightmare too. She had never quite got the hang of it. The battered Nissan she planned to give to her son in Newcastle.
Maureen later moved into an apartment. The previous owner had been heavily into brown and bold patterned wallpaper. Over the next four months and with Richard’s help they changed everything. They had stripped the walls, relined and painted them. All the woodwork and mouldings were restored to brilliant white; the living room walls were painted a deep terra-cotta and her bedroom a light peach. The soft geometric curtains came from Laura Ashley and the comfortable sofas from a Habitat sale.
When she got a very important position working in Thailand, he promised he would visit. She let the apartment out, packed up her belongings and left. They constantly kept in touch by email even when they were apart. When he said he was applying for a position at the university in Chiang Mai, she was thrilled. When he told her he had got the job she was delighted, excited beyond belief. Richard knew that she fancied him rotten, but she had accepted the fact that he was gay, after a long time though.
“Good morning darling, welcome back to Chiang Mai,” she shouted across the tiled area. Several people turned round to look.
She was dressed in her usual style. A bright and colourful sun dress that clung to her ample bosom, a string of purple and gold beads round her neck and her hair piled high and held up with a diamante grip. She threw her bulging bag to the floor and opened her arms wide. Richard stood up and was mauled as she planted kisses on both his cheeks.
“Good morning,” Richard replied, “How’s your work going?”
“The organisations I help, both Thai and international, working on trafficking-related problems, vary widely in their programs and objectives. Their work includes tracing networks to assist families in finding their daughters; monitoring the extent of trafficking, conditions in the brothels and other abuses; negotiating for the release of women wrongfully arrested and providing temporary shelter and training when possible; advocacy and legal counselling; public awareness initiatives; and a forum for policy discussions and recommendations. To put it all in a nutshell.”
“Gosh.”
“Given the fact that Thailand has one of the strongest non-governmental organisation movements in Asia, with several hundred organizations playing an active and critical role in addressing social issues, there are surprisingly few working on women's and children's rights. There are approximately thirty NGOs which focus on a wide spectrum of women and children's concerns. Of these, less than ten have addressed in any way Burmese girls. Most are based in Bangkok, with others located in Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and along the Thai-Burmese border. Sometimes the Thai government calls upon the expertise of some organisations, including the Burmese groups, for interpreting, investigation, so called ‘rescues’ and arranging the return of the Burmese to their country.”
“Before I forget, here are the magazines you asked for,” Richard said.
He handed over a copy of Good Housekeeping along with
several bike journals. Inside a small bag was a bottle of Chanel 5, the perfume she always liked to wear.
“You remembered,” she squealed as she planted another kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright red smudge.
“Aren’t you looking at the trafficking of girls specifically?” Richard asked.
“I am, but that is only part of it. All organisations working on women's and children's rights in Thailand are quickly overwhelmed by the magnitude and complexity of the trafficking problem, the extent of the abuses and needs, the sensitivity with which they must be addressed and their own limited resources. To work on trafficking is to be drawn into a wide array of concerns including the trafficking of rural or hilltribe women and children within Thailand; the trafficking of Thai women and children internationally to places such as Japan; the importing of ‘illegals’ from abroad to work in Thailand or transit through Thailand to other international markets; the growth of sex tourism in Thailand and inherent abuses; health concerns and the impact of the sweeping AIDS virus; and the involvement of government officials and criminals at all levels.”
“Shall we have coffee before we go?” Maureen asked.
He called over one of the passing waiters and ordered two coffees.
“What time is the estate agent due?” she asked.
“Any time now.”
She was about to say something when a self-assured man wearing a navy blue polo shirt and khaki shorts, with blonde hair and open sandals, stopped in front of them.
“Richard?”
“Yes it is and this is Maureen.”
“Kurt,” he said as he reached to shake her hand.
He was German, married to a Thai woman and ran an estate agency in the city. Richard had communicated with him by email the week before, so he knew exactly what he was looking for. As soon as they saw the house on the Laguna Estate they knew it was perfect. It was expensive at 18,000 bahts a month, but worth it. The Thai lady owner had a drinking bar in town and was married to a Belgian man who spent most of his time out of Thailand. She spoke excellent English and explained everything. As they stood in the garden the wheeling birds flew up and sang. The house had everything, foreign kitchen, meaning not a Thai one which usually came with two gas rings for wok cooking and was usually outside, ensuite bathroom to the main bedroom as well as two other bathrooms, automatic washing machine outside underneath the car port and even a dishwasher, something quite rare in Thai houses. Pong, the owner, said she would have the house deep cleaned and Richard could move in a few days. Perfect.
He loved the garden which was very well established with three large Traveller’s Palms, so called because of their large, finger like branches that collected water at their base, offering a welcome drink to travellers in tropical climates. Plenty of Foxtail and Fan Palms provided a welcome shade. Orange and red lobster claw Heliconias plants with their multi-coloured bracts, which helped them stand out amongst the tropical shrubs. There were yellow Birds of Paradise or Crane flowers, thin and paper like bougainvillea in pink and yellow, mango and tamarind trees. The back garden overlooked a large lake at the bottom of the garden, which was teeming with fish.
Pong said, “I have a boy, Lo is his name, he comes every day, when no rain comes, to water the garden every night. He has no father and a mother who only speaks a little Thai as she comes from one of the Hill Tribes. You can pay him 700 bahts a month.”
Richard agreed it was a good idea. He would go back with the estate agent to his office and pay over the deposit and one month’s rent. As they left she gave Maureen and Richard a business card for her bar. It was called ‘Sizzle Sisters’ and was on the same street as Richard’s hotel,
right in the centre of the Night Market.
“Ex-bar girl,” Maureen said as they climbed back into the pick-up.
“Shhh, she might hear you,” Richard said, “I like her.”
4
“Will you come with me tomorrow?” Richard asked.
“Where, go where?” Maureen replied.
“Buy a pick-up truck.”
“If you want me to go with you.”
“I’m hopeless buying cars.”
“Okay, I’ll come over to your place around ten.”
“Great, see you tomorrow, thanks.”
Richard’s hire car only had a few days to go before the contract ran out. If he didn’t buy a pick-up soon he would have to negotiate another rental agreement.
He may as well get a new pick-up rather than take a risk buying a second hand one, he thought. When he bought his Nissan car in Pattaya he found the process quite easy.
The next morning Richard was up early. The weather was perfect, sunny and not too hot, but he knew the car had been sitting under the car port collecting heat. He’d had breakfast, cleaned the house and fed the fish by the time he heard Maureen arrive on her bike. Richard watched as she drove under the car port narrowly missing Lo as he watered the garden.
“Good morning,” she said as she stood on the threshold, “The garden boy’s cute,” she added.
“Too young.”
“Pity.”
Richard greeted her warmly in the kitchen.
“I don’t know why you don’t just get a motorbike.”
“I’m no good with bikes, can’t do that gears thing,”
Richard replied.
“Then get a scooter, no gears,” Maureen suggested.
“It rains too much here or it’s too hot and besides they drive like maniacs, you included. No, I want to be protected when I drive; besides, the roads in Chiang Mai are too dangerous. Too much ducking and diving, they are constantly changing lanes and the uninsured drivers. How many accidents a day happen on the roads around here? I saw two yesterday.”
“I’m thinking of getting a tuk-tuk,” Maureen announced.
“You’re mad!”
“I know,” Maureen said as she laughed.
“Come on, let’s go,” Richard said as he picked up a file from the table.
As they stepped outside Lo walked in front of them and Maureen blew him a kiss.
“Stop it, you’re impossible,” Richard said sternly.
As they drove they talked about which pick-up Richard fancied.
“A Chevrolet,” he said.
“Are they American?” Maureen asked.
“I think so, but they are made here in Thailand.”
The first showroom they got to was near the Airport Plaza and it was a Chevrolet one.
“Not black,” Maureen said as they got out of the car.
“No, definitely not black.”
A salesman approached them as they stopped to look at the line of models in the showroom. He wai’d to both of them, Richard first and then said,” Good morning.” His skin had that tight tawniness that was occasionally seen on fair-haired men and it seemed almost without texture.
“I need a pick-up quickly,” Richard said.
“What kind of pick-up?” the salesman asked.
“Not black,” both Maureen and Richard said at the same time.
“Do you have any I can have delivered in a few days?” Richard asked.
“No, they have to come from Bangkok and they take one month.”
“Too long, I need one now,” Richard pleaded.
“Wait here, I speak with my manager,” the salesman said as he walked off and stepped inside an office.
He returned moments later with a set of keys and an automatic fob.
“I have something outside that you might like,” he announced.
They were led outside, down the steps and around to the back of the showroom. Parked under an awning was a taupe coloured pick-up, four doors and four passenger seats and looked new.
“It is only 4 months old,” the salesman told them.
When Richard opened the door he could still smell the newness from the leather seats. The salesman opened the remaining doors as well as the bonnet. Maureen walked round to look underneath.
“Do you know what you are looking at?” Richard asked laughing.
“Haven’t a clue,” she replied then laughed too.
“It’s immaculate, not a scratch on it, anywhere,” he
said.
The salesman explained that the owner had to move to Singapore for work. He had brought it in an hour ago. They were going to send it back to Bangkok so it can be sold. The customer had been a good one and they were doing him a favour.
“How much is it?”
“Four hundred and sixteen thousand bahts.”
Richard did some arithmetic’s in his head and said to Maureen,” It’s about eight thousand pounds.”