...a rhetoric (continued from previous post)

South Thailand has been raped. Where once the idyllic, serene beauty of unspoiled beaches lay; hotel spas and resorts have infected the whole area, like pimples on an adolescent’s face. It’s cruel, cynical development aimed purely at those sunbathing, so-called “thrill seeking” morons, wanting to pick up a Thai girl and strut on a beach. The charm has gone, and is replaced instead by commercial franchises for single-figured IQ sub-proletariat, solely wishing to tan themselves wrinkly. “Look at my tan”, they can profess when landing back home and arriving in the office Monday morning.

Taking a long tail boat to Railay made this all too apparent. The beach and views are stunning, but the visitors are more interested in absorbing enough UV to guarantee cancer, than looking at the natural beauty. There’s also coffee shops, for after.

Whilst Ao Nang was a disappointment, nothing could prepare me for Phuket.

Phuck Phuket.

From 14 Jan 2010

I was strongly advised not to visit, by a friend’s brother. I believe his expletive was “SHITHOLE!”, underlined twice for good measure. With grit and determination, I couldn’t stomach the area for longer than it took to find some street food and head off. I don’t want to be British here – anything but that. However, worse still are the Italians, who stroll around thinking they’re part of the starring cast of The Sopranos, and the beaches are the sets. I’ve heard skinhead, tattoo-ridden chavs attempt some basic Thai, but never once an Italian. And there seem to be far more of the latter here.

From 14 Jan 2010

Patong beach is a seething cesspool of the lowest common denominators. The entire stretch is densly packed with white plastic deckchairs, fading in the sun. There’s barely an inch to spare for trips to the masseuses and booze trikes, for the next round. Catering for people who genuinely think Thailand is all like this is easy, the ingredients are as follows:

• Using the beach strip as your pizza base, top with a bland puree of Starbucks, McDonalds, Burger King and Hagen-Dazs shops.
• Sprinkle a good cheese covering of various Irish pubs on top.
• Bake for two hours each side until brown, red, or peeling (to taste).
• Garnish with brightly coloured hotels.
• Serve with a side of ladyboys and whores.

Lovely, though not my kind of dish. I’d much rather eat fermented monkey flinging, whilst enduring Japanese water torture. But unfortunately this is what the South has become. Gone are the days of 50 pence a night chicken huts and backpackers that are in search of culture. We are being surreptitiously replaced.

From 14 Jan 2010

And they come in the form of hedonistic detritus. The kinds that flood like a swarm to holes such as Ibiza, Magaluf and Benidorm. The world becoming smaller is a double-edged sword; even tattooed, topless cretins can now afford Asia.
Thailand responds by clearing natural beauty to facilitate their tourism. It yields high returns, especially considering the non-negotiable Western prices of some of these places. And for that I congratulate them – please do continue to strip these farang of every penny you can. For they deserve nothing less.

Moving swiftly on it seems poignant to elaborate on the work ethic here, which makes me quite ashamed of my gender. Men seem quite capable here, certainly putting Westerners to shame, but it’s the women that run the show. Driving around I see female workers outnumbering men as they lay new road. The car hire company is owned and run by women – who are firm but fair. Stalls have parades of men hanging around, but only to facilitate business. The women cook the food, serve it and take payment. Men are an enigma here – they serve little purpose, save planting the euphemistic seed. Were it not for this menial task, I’m sure the women would happily have us extinct.

Back at the hotel, I spot a young girl strolling in to the reception lobby, followed by an overbearing, sweaty, grey-haired behemoth of a man. His gut appears wider than he is tall and like an impenetrable wall of tyre-rubber, built sturdily by the decades of self-neglect. He’s bought her, as have two of his companions similarly purchased other girls. They will earn around 1000 baht for each hour they endure their company. With an average salary of 4500 baht per month, it’s easy to see why these girls take the option. If anything these Dutch parasites should be grateful for their prizes, but instead they lord about acting as if it’s perfectly acceptable, while the Hotel staff try their best not to look on in disgust.

I hear Chiang Mai still retains some of the elusive Thai culture I’m only finding selectively elsewhere. I look forward to the train journey this evening.