Krabi is quite a busy affair these days, small budget hostels where a weary backpack traveller can rest and sleep untill the ferry to Kho Phi-Phi will depart, cozy restaurants serve sweet pancakes for breakfast while long-tail boat owners approach any Farang face looking for business.

The universal power of money even in mystical Thailand!!!

Despite the sheer number of Farang in Krabi, the place is still laid-back, no girly bars or rowdy nightlife, instead flatscreens showing the latest pirated DVD releashes in any of the many restaurants, young backpackers sitting behing computer monitors checking their e-mail.

A enormous German of indefinite age holding hands with a petite local female whose belly is even bigger as her sugar daddy`s fat gut betraying her avanced state of pregnancy. The Thai genome is enriched by literally thousends upon thousends of Leuk Kreug/half-caste babies.

Lone Farang males possessing a fat wallet and a terminal love starvation probably rule the genes of several Thai generations yet to come!!!

Souvenirs shops, ATMs and tourist travel agencies, small little dank Sois - alleys in Thai - with even more shops with their junk spilling out on the pavement, less room to stroll but more vistas for my eyes to feast on.

Krabi has definitely changed from a small laid-back fisherman`s village when I was here last in 1994 to a still laid-back but quite a bit busier small coastal Thai town.

I check in at a cockroach rich hostel where the lobby doubles as a garage for the scooters they rent out. The strong smell of benzine and machine oil heavy on the warm air.

I try to ignore the shrewd and assessing hazelnut eyes of the lady receotionist still vividly remembering the Chinese receptionist lady of the Nathon Residence on Kho Samui.

written by  heraclio on May 5, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: 600 km. to Berlin
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Travelling in Thailand as a Farang I have two options. I could enter one of the many travel agencies that dot the streets of any Farang rich tourist destination in this oriental Kingdom. In which case I`ll travel either in air-conditioned mini-bus or else by a big huge tourbus with comfortable reclining seats, a built-in smelly toilet and a monitor above the driver blaring away most of the trip surrounded by backpack travellers from all over the world swapping travel stories in a multitude of languages while the driver himself is knocking down small bottles of Red Bull energy drinks to stay awake after a night`s partying.

My other option is local buses with wooden seats of the non-reclining type and surrounded by locals on a visit to relatives and exchanging the gossip of the day, politics always a serious topic in Thai conversation. No airco here but open windows for the necessary ventilation, food hawkers at any stop entering the bus offering barbequed chicken legs and carpers, fried shrimp and a varity of fruit, bottles of mineral water or small cans of cold Heineken beer. A rooster tied up in a rattan wooven basket under a seat screaming his protestations while I try to eavesdrop on on-going conversations around me.

Two monks in front of me chanting softly in ancient Pali dressed in orange robes. Two young women, one heavily pregnant discussing the possible name for the soon to be born infant, another serious conversation topic in a medieval society where a name is supposed to be protection, a moordu against bad luck, against attacks from evil spirits and mean unpredictable ghoulds, where a name is supposed to have magical powers!!!

I once again realise my Farang mind is poisoned by Asian magic, preindustrial superstition that has over all these years become an illogical labyrinth inside my Western trained Phii and mind. Listening to these locals talk about the matters of their Asian world my Western Logic is like a distraction to my Farang thinking. My own Dutch world all of a sudden seems like a cultural defilement. I`m experiencing a spiritual and cultural attack on my Farang background, a Thai contamination of my very essence.

Apart from the fact that travelling by local transport instead of farang popular mini-bus or monitor blaring tourbus, is but a fraction of the price, it are those intence feeling that make me opt for these rusty old buses where the wind blows in dust and sand, where smells and sound remind me I`m far away from home, backpacking in a country that is unversally different from my own.

written by  heraclio on May 3, 2009 from Krabi, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Takraw aka Siamese Football and introduced to the Southeast Asian Games by Thailand, is played with a woven rattan ball of about 15 cm. in diameter, is played like volleyball though the hands are taboo in this game, just the feet, chest and head.
Amazing aerial pirouttes can be performed by more experienced players kicking the ball across the net with a certain style known only to the Thai.

A game is in full swing when I arrive at the local police station with young cops dressed in white shorts and sweaty T-shirts - police issued - and my polite request for joining a team is enthusiastically accepted.

I used to play this game nearly every night with Jamie and his mates when I still lived in Bangkok with Nong. Needless to say that Jamie`s mates where young strong bucks from the Thai capital`s seedier neighborhoods, hoodlums involved in shady deals and even shadier businesses that I never bothered inquiring about, young muscular oriental men whose bodies where covered in weird tattoos symbolysing their superstitious nature, a Noordu, protection against bad luck.

They happily accepted me in their midst, just as easily as these young Thai cops allow me to join their game of Takraw. Yet another part of the communal Thai mind I`ve come to admire so much, come to love!!!

My body soon goes into overdrive while I try hard to keep up with these well-trained locals who, I have no doubt, play this game every night, lots of laughter and loads of chemicals releasing themselves inside the gray mass that makes up my Farang braincells, the game gets more spike and the other participants pay me no sacrifice, no rest for the weary.

I make a near complete sommersault scoring a main point for my team and even stronger points for "FACE" with my athletic abilities. I catch the rattan ball with my chest and knee it to a team player while my mind is back on that play ground back in time, back in Bangkok, back to Jamie and his rough friends.

When it is all over I sit around with these young Thai cops and their older colleages drinking Heineken beer straight from the bottle, icy cold to the tough reminding me nothing in the whole wide world can beat the taste of ice-cold beer after a good work-out.

written by  heraclio on May 2, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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The main weapon of married Thai women on the notorious philandering outside the marrital bed of their cheating husbands is severing their partner`s male organ, often tying the now useless but in the past highly overused male equipment to a hot air balloon, let it fly across the Thai countryside, maybe get picked up by a malignant ghoul or else a benevolent entity from the spirit world.

Dumping this particularly male piece of pride on the family`s garbage heap is also a serious option. Let it rot with the household rejects and when it has become a stinking swollen yellowish shadow of itself, get eaten by the rats and cockroaches. No wonder rats and cockroaches are the only lifeforms that seem to be bigger here in the East than back home in ancient Europe.

As a Farang I`m not supposed to know these little shames of Thai society. Though Thai English written newspapers like the Bangkok Post and the Bangkok Nation are good and informative you won`t find stories relating to the P*nis Severance hobby of Thai wives that have little horns growning out of their heads, horns that seem to grow and grow. By the time the poor thing is old she can hardly keep her head up because of the sheer weight.

Move to the Thai written newspapers and these stories seem to be all over the second and thrid page often with accompanying gory and bloodily detailed photos of the male victim.

Prostition in the Land of the Thais is not one-gender victimised!!!

However allow me to be non-judgemental on prostition in this weird Asian nation. My male Farang spirit, my Phii as the Thais call it, has already long ago lost its capacity to deal with the world as a whole, let alone this crazy sh*t!!!

Back in Na Thon I take up residence in a small no-name guest house for a meagre 80 Baht, I presume I could return to the Nathon Residence but I would rather not get "brutalised" by the Chinese receptionist lady who had an obvious interest in the shorttime trade and could very well get furious when she finds out I might have certain romantic feelings for a Chinese lady from Beijing but no interest in a Chinese receptionist lady with aspirations as a full time h**ker!!!

My new accomodation might be a dump with a thin matrass that, I have no doubt, is full to overflow weith bedbugs waiting axciously for me to switch off the light switch so they can do their bloody work on my weary body that contains a mind by that time to drunk to notice.

At least this place is situated above an internet cafe so I can surf to www.gameknot.com to play some games of chess, challenge me if you dare.

written by  heraclio on May 1, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I awake to a familiar ghost gnawing at my inmortal Phi, my Western Farang soul being devoured at an alarming rate leaving me clammy and sweaty in my bed, grayish sheets wed to the touch with my perspiration.

In my mind`s eye still half inside the dream world I see that Benign Female Spirit I met on the Song-Thaew last week, somehow she seemed a whole lot less benign in my dream, wild-eyed and and her gray hair standing out in a crazy halo around her old woman`s head, stark naked with wrinkled old t*ts resembling empty crumbled Dutch tabacco bags, hanging down her percament like body , bony fingers with long split nails pointing at me accusingly, her voice shrill and full with hatred scraeming at me in Isaan accented Thai, all sorts of vulgarities I find hard to understand though the meaning is unmisstakeable. Didn`t she tell me she had never left the island, so where did this Northern Thai accent come from?

I don`t even bother with a shower getting dressed quickly, strapping my bulky backpack to my shoulders, leaving the key on the table of my bungalow`s balcony and hurry out to the main street.

The still early morning sky is crimson red with the rising sun out at the ocean, long shadows and motorbike taxi drivers in shabby jeans and T-shirts sitting cross-legged in the street having breakfast, fried chicken with sticky rice, three monks in their orange colored robes walking down the road asking bleary eyes bar girls for alms, they sit listlessly on bar stools while handing over a twenty baht note, they don`t need to worry about their Karma for the rest of the day.

A Song-thaew honking at me while passing by. I presume the driver expected the first business of the coming day seeing me with my backpack.

No way though will I go back to Na Thon by Song-Thaew after my Evil-Spirit-Nightmare. I`m still shivering, big drops of clammy sweat dropping down my big Farang nose, my shirt getting drenched by the perspiration coming off my large Farang frame, sh*t, I can feel it streaming down my legs in rivers, this is truely embarrasing!!!

I decide to travel to Na Thon by motorbike taxi trying to ignore the bottle of Sang Som Thai whiskey, the plastic cups they drink this heavy stuff from. I normally make it a point to never engage their services when they are intoxicated but right now I feel paranoid and desperate to get out of Hat Lamai, make it to Na Thon where I plan to take the ferry tomorrow and cointinue my trip, away from that d*rned Evil Female Spirit that scared the living daylights out of me.

written by  heraclio on April 28, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I'm watching the girly bars opposite the road from the 7/Eleven while working slowly but with determination on a small can of Leo beer, my favorite brew in this part of the world, how the Hot Mommas do their best to lure a hamburger fat 300 pounder, still a young bloke who probably feels like King Rat in this part of the world. He must be on burdensome mission, I mean the lust in his eyes is pure and obvious while he blows them kisses but quickly moves on down the road. Maybe he is the possession of an empty wallet or else has had his satisfaction already several times today.

From what I can see his Karma is not lashed yet by a life time of Western introduced Guild Complex, still a young man who has come to Asia his head full with all the Hot Momma stories, having been ignored by his female contemporaries back home, probably even ridiculed most of his short adult life while all the other boys knocked down big pints of cider in the local bar while boasting about their latest conquests, where the ladies sat at tables together in small groups, lipsticked and polished nails, producing excited giggles at the prospect of getting picked up tonight.

None of all this for him though, he was after all just the Fat Boy!!! Here in Thailand the roles have been reversed...Hot Momma bar girls all over him telling him how s*xy man he is, easy days on a sunny beach and evenings full with girly giggles in the bars, the man is obviously a HAPPY MAN here!!!

My German neighbor on this bench is quite the opposite, big and muscular and of my own age, all his front teeth gone, intoxicated to the max he has spent the better part of this still early evening creating an ever bigger expanding feeling of irritation inside my head verbally charging me with stories of "Diese verdammte Thaise H*re sind alle verdammte Scheisse!!!", for him it must be a Karma-laden night but I presume that even a thug like him has got culture, wherever he has hidden it inside that Mau/drunk German mind of his is beyond me though.

Still with all this gutteral screaming Thai bashing I can no longer meditate on the world around me while making quick notes in my scap book. I still hear his German worlds of anger against Thai female society when I leave him to his own frustrations.

Good decision too because I find myself back on another bench in front of another supermarket and with another conversation partner, Letitia from Beijing dressed in s*xy shorts and shapely long legs that somehow seem to go for ever, a sharp well-educated mind and speaking perfect English. I feel a strong mental kinship with her within minutes while we chat and share travel experiences, I could have met her ten years ago instead of ten minutes ago, we klick as the Dutch say, sh*t I could drown in her love if given the time. I feel selfconscious about the Burmese sigars I smoke...an unusual feeling for me!!!

I follow her around while she does her final shopping telling me she will fly back tomorrow, back to Beijing, back to her work. We return to "our" bench for a last drink and then she is gone...in and out of my life for just a few hours but leaving a lasting impression

I hurry back to my bungalow to make a quick painting of her on a piece of driftwood I found on the beach today, while the image of her Jiil face is still fresh in my mind.

Hey Letitia, I know you're reading this story, hope you like it...hehehe.

Hans from Amsterdam.

written by  heraclio on April 26, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Wether it be your first visit to His Highness King Bhumipol`s Kingdom or you`re a seasoned traveller in Southeast Asia having been to Thailand on numerous occasions, one can`t help but notice the big beaming smile adorning the light brown colored face of any given Thai be it male or female, be it a twenty year old bar lady entertaining fat and overweight grey-haired Farang s*x tourists or a male Muay Thay fighter getting his *ss kicked in the square ring, the Thai smile is unbeatably there.

This famous smile they even use to promote their country with nicknamed Land Of The Smile could well be a direct result of the Thai obsession with the concept of Sanuk, or its opposite Mai Sanuk. Sanuk rules the minds of the Thai people, perhaps even more thas their other fascinations like animal spirituality or superstition and basically means "FUN", have fun to the max!!!

Whatever you do in this life, whatever bad luck might assault you, good luck blown by the wind in your life direction....you really should have Sanuk!!! Be it backbraeking work in the North`s rice paddies twelve gruelling hours a day under a burning hot Thai sun you will still observe the locals having Sanuk, flirtations take place, women giggling while good naturedly exchanging the latest gossips.

I`m on my bicycle again on my second tour around the island, in a reversed direction though, we need to keep things interesting after all, have a bit of Sanuk here...hehehe.

I keep a wary eye open for a possible chance encounter with another Female Thai Spirit out to have a bit of private fun on my Farang behalf though I have a strong suspicion that it might very well be these d*arned Thai cops in Hat Bo Phut pulling my legs. Still when the Spirit World is concerned I`m unwilling to take any chances, especially so in Thailand where every house, hut or whatever manmade structure, public bus or private car has a Spirit House.

written by  heraclio on April 25, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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The amount of farang people on Kho Samui with medical bandages wrapped around elbows and knee caps is staggering. Victims of traffic accidents on Kho Samui`s curvy roads caused by a combination of factors...People going home on a rented scooter after a heavy drinking binge at one of the island`s many bars, slippers on white feet that make it difficult to shift gears and , of course, the state of the roads. The Kho Samui Hospital must be in constant full-time overdrive.

Feeling in the mood for a sweaty day of cycling under a scorchingly hot Thai sun I decide to hire a bicycle longingly rememebering my last time on this island, my last stay in Hat Lamai when I had a local ladyfriend who rented out scooters and two Harley Davidsons. When the Harleys wheren`t rented out by mid afternoon I could take one and go touring often with my lady on the back clasping her slender arms around me tightly while one of her friends would look after her little scooter business.
I seem to remember I felt quite the MAN then...hehehe.

I cycle up north in the direction of the airport planning to cycle all the way around the island following the coast which should take me the better part of the day. Cycling up low hills with white sand beaches full with bikini clad farangs, local boys trying to sell mangos, jet skis out at sea leaving a white trail of fibrating sea water behind them.

I stop frequently to drink ice-cold cans of coffee at 7/Eleven supermarkets sitting outside in the sun. If it wasn`t for the heavy traffic, scooters, Song-Thaews, busses and trucks, this would be a paradise island and a perfectly beautiful day.

I stop at Na Thon to watch the fishermen repair their nets and dry their laundry in the sun, have a bowl of Johk with big chunks of Kai floating in it - thick rice soup with chicken chunks - for the necessary energy.

I stop at Hat Bo Phut to inquire about the old French speaking lady I met yesterday on the Song-Thaew showing people the photo I made of her sitting at the side of the road. Blank stares and total incomprehension meet my questions in halting Thai. Eventually a cop tells me in English "she good spirit, sir, but sometime she like have fun with Farang", his face deadly serious while his colleague nods his head agreeing totally...knowingly.

Sh*t, I really wanted to know more about that Karma she warned me about!!!

My last stop is at Wat Khunaram to see the famous Mummified Monk but after the little Benign-Female-Spirit story having a bit of fun on my behalf, the monk`s mummified body wrapped in saffron robes and a pair of ridiculous sunglasses on his still grinninhg face, seems minor in comparison.

written by  heraclio on April 24, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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I find myself back in a local Song-Thaew from Na Thon to Hat Lamai where I wanna spend a few days of relaxation. Some days on the beach to work on my suntan and spend the evening visiting the many open-air bars that dot Hat Lamai like fleas on the fur of Thai street dogs.

It is still early morning with the Song-Thaew stopping every so ofen to pick up more passengers, a couple of young girls dressed in light blue blouses and dark blue skirts modestly falling just over their knees - school uniforms you know - small backpacks holding their schoolbooks and lunch.

An old local woman getting on, bend with arthritis and several baskets full to overflow with durians, no doubt she`s on her way to some village market to sell this typical Asian fruit which has never been a favorite of mine.

I get out to help her with her baskets together with the driver, the old woman waiing me politely. With her sitting opposite me and the baskets occupying the space between the two benches she gives me a curious look before asking me "parlez-vous Francaise, monsieur?"

She has lived here all her life being somewhere in her mid forties when the island first got visited by a couple of long haired farangs who came by local coconut boat from Bangkok. How life was hard for the people then living on a bare braedline excistence...how first the pot smoking alternatives arrived living in self made huts and small wooden bungalows they rented from samui`s local population, dressed in shabby clothes and having no morale whatsoever...how the building of the airport changed everything...planes leaving Germany coming straight to Kho Samui with only a short break at Don Muang Airport in Bangkok.

While I listen to her Samui life story wondering where a woman like her never having left this lush island, has learned such fluent french, her eyes and mind a window of clarity on what happened to this island, realising how strange life can be meeting this woman who somehow mastered an alien language as difficult as French is still at her avanged age selling durian fruit at a local village market, never ever been off the island.

When she gets off at Hat Bo Phut and I help her once again together with the driver to unload her durian filled wooden baskets, she gives me the strangest of smiles from a mounth that has long ago lost its last teeth, telling me in her accentless French "vous-avez Jai-Dee tres bon, monsieur main attention avec sous Karma"., and gone she is swallow up by Thai mysticism. the busy streets of a Thai early morning market, or maybe it only happened inside my Farang head.

written by  heraclio on April 23, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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Showered and in fresh clothes I walk down the stairs of the Nathon Residence, my eyes scanning the lobby for possible Lady Recepcionist related "problems". The old Chines man in his grizzly white underwear still reading his Chinese newspaper eyeing me knowingly from over the top, though his d*rned newspaper hides most of his wrinkled yellowish face I know for sure he is wearing a dirty grin on his mouth, having all sorts of s*xual images in his old man`s head about what happened upstairs when the lady receptionist showed me my room.

Bending over the reception to hand her my key I notice she has changed from her knee short skirt into a tight fitting jeans, her hair has gone from a pony tail to modestly hanging across her breasts. Her smile is at the same time modest and provocative, shrewd and assessing my Phii for a possible romantic opening, a combination I only know in oriental women, the sort of smile that will instantly steal my Farang heart.

I realise if I don`t leave this place quick I`ll crumble under Female Asian Witchcraft. With the stern eyes of His Majesty King Bhumipol in full regalia inmidiated above her head looking down on me I leave in a hurry confused and out of this world, going out in the street still hearing her excited girly giggles in my ears.

The Chinese festival is still in full swing, tourists making pictures of tiny Asian bodies in grand costumes, a bare chested Thai/Chinese with a white iron stick through his cheeks big pomgranates hanging from the ends forcing him to support the stick with one of his hands, old Chinese shop ladies in extacy when her table full to overflow with offerings for the spirits gets a visit from Mister Big Mask, cooking pots exhaling huge clouds of spicy smelling smoke, excited local kids....

I`m in a haze while walking out of the village leaving all the mayhem behind, following a beach strewn with rubbish, fishing boats unloading the day`s catch, women sorting out the fish while chatting gaily exchanging the usual gosip of the day while handling slippery scaly bodies, yellow baskets full with ice and fish.

Just outside Na Thon and under the shadows of coconuts trees, near the beach where the waves roll in peacefully as the have been doing for eternity I sit down to contemplate the sunset and let this Female Asian Witchcraft do its number on my Jai-Dee and my Phii.

written by  heraclio on April 22, 2009 from Ko Samui, Thailand
from the travel blog: Farang Chronicles.
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