Monday morning

It's a forgettable wet morning in Bangkok. I cannot sleep. At home I would toss and turn until dreams eventually found me but here I decide to go for a stroll; because I can. Disfigured cats and dogs trawl the sticky ground tirelessly attempting to escape the rain, cowering in the many nooks and crannies of the ramshackle streets. I light a cigarette, my only companion at this strange hour, and a fine friend at that. Drunken tourists amble about aimlessly, vigourless by the most part. I tread down a narrow back alley. It resembles the behind-the-scenes of an elaborate Hollywood set; the set being the popular Kaosan road. Workers bustle with faces as grey as the morning sky, simulteaneously closing down production and preparing for another labourious day. They dont think much of the tourists or there activities I dont think, although some are genuinely friendly when they take a shine to you. We seemingly lack the age old discipline and self control of this ancient people, or atleast I do, running about like a ten year old with beer running down my chin. In fairness I'm pretty sensible this moring. I order an American breakfast and listen to the broken conversations of people who only met a few hours previous. My sleeping pattern is yet to recover from the long flight, not that its military at the best of times. Hopefully I'll grab a few hours some time soon, before I rejoin the cut and thrust of the city. I could always just sit here and keep watching though.

My first night in Bangkok

My first night in Bangkok was absurd. I woke up this morning unable to see straight with a mouth like an ash tray. Im quickly learning that the locals must be respected....not a good idea terrorising them with a Super soker 5000 I found in the guest house then. Oriental booze flows and the many travellers gravitate toward one another in search of japery and folly. I bump into a Manchester couple who are leaving for home tomorrow. She makes a pun about The Hilsborough Disaster...strange ice breaker I thought? but they were okay. In fact we had a very amusing couple of hours with the aforementioned water pistol. She kind of ruined it though when she suggested we should have a threesome, much to the surprise of her boyfriend. I was entirely game ofcourse, game as a badger in fact, so long as I didnt have to touch his balls or anything, but I knew there was no chance he would let me get my hands on his pretty little partner so I bought them a shot and made an awkward but swift exit.

I find myself in a bar on an all conquering winning streak at the pool table. I've assumed the role of pantomime villain, mocking losers and goading challengers. Ive won eight in a row; I[m feeling strong. Irish nice guys and Thai prostitues get the same treatment in this Andy Kauffman-esque display. My curated arrogance knows no discrimination but the whores really hate me.

After suffering a loss to what I think was a lady boy, or atleast thats what Im telling myself, save losing to a woman, I stagger to my drink at a nearby table. My fans have left and the local girls refuse to speak to me, theyre not buying into my explanation that it was all theatre. I dont think they got it but I was amused. I stumble out of the bar and there[s Aussie Paul from hours earlier...where did you go maite?...well I kinda backdoored you when you started talking about secret American bunkers in Mexico. He was a pretty sound guy to be fair but there was no drink left in me. It was time for bed. I live and learn in this far away land and I look forward to tomorrow.