It is that road that is my first real impression of the land of smiles. Abundant merchandise on
They are selling fake ID-cards, I distinguish driver's licenses, German student cards,
The hawkers refuse me taking a picture
"Are you ashamed of your merchandise?" I ask
-"Go away!" one of the men shouts, "no photo"
"This is a public place as far as I know, and I take a photo if I like." I say, mounting my camera again. The men seem furious and I am afraid they might fall upon me to deprive me of my precious digital imagery device. A man shows me the finger. So I scurry off towards Yeon, who is waiting for me twenty meters down the road Welcome to Thailand.
We are looking for a guesthouse in this area, and on our quest walk into a small backstreet lodging that we expect to be sober and smartly priced. In the darkened lobby I see two older caucasian men browsing date-a-young-asian-woman websites, on our way to see a room a greepy looking middle-aged Westerner comes down the stairs and I signal Yeon "let's go". On our way out I catch the grey stare of yet another creep. It can be my impression, but the scenario fits to what everybody knows about Bangkok, its vivid prostitution. I want to beat child molesters up with a spikey baseball bat, I want to frame them and turn them over to the police, I want to cook them on a slow fire.
All that has to wait because we still have to find our guesthouse. We end up in a modest place, in a tiny room, and go down to the tourist tumble again to enjoy the internet.
close our eyes soon after checking in.
No comments:
Post a Comment