Chiang Mai Confidential

This is the kind of blog entry I question posting. It involves me and the people around me doing bad things. But I'd be remiss if I didn't document things fully.

Let me give you an idea what things are like. I was in a restaurant yesterday eating lunch. Nothing out of the ordinary (except the bizarrely sour soup), until I went to pay my bill. I walked up to the counter to a woman - though most likely a man given the mustache stubble - in a gaudy sequin dress. As I gave her the money, she winked at me. Simultaneously, a waitress leaned over and whispered something salacious in my ear, while another came up from behind and slapped me int he ass. I quickly walked on. Apparently this is typical in Thailand.

So despite my better judgment, I decided to investigate what Chiang Mai (the second biggest city in Thailand) has to offer in terms of a gay scene.

My first warning should've been the fact that it was so isolated, a one-block block in a boring suburb north of the city. A Tuk-Tuk (a motorcycle rickshaw taxi) would only take me there for 60 baht, 20b more than normal. Upon arrival to the first bar, I found a dead scene. Four surly patrons who couldn't or wouldn't speak English, one man reading a book off on his own, and a table in the far corner where three old white guys were propositioning a young-looking Thai man/boy. I decided to walk on.

The other bars were even more abandoned. Lotus Hotel, Spirit House, Metro Bar all empty, Garden Bar had one man nursing a lonely beer. The only place with any music was the muted thumping coming from the Adam Night Club, but I resisted going in just yet, instead returning to my first bar to at least enjoy a beer for the trek.

The surly patrons were actually lovely people, and shared their street market buffalo from a plastic bag with me. The bartender explained that the scene, normally quite boring in Chiang Mai, was even worse than usual since people were spent after the festival. The only place that actually had any people was the Adam Night Club, but it apparently wasn't worth it since beers were 180 baht (60b normally) and only go up from there. I was told it was because "the police don't like us", but I wasn't told anything further.

Venturing across the street and up the stairs, I quickly discovered why. The first thing I saw was ass. Big firm asian ass right in my face. Two go-go dancers were flaunting their stuff on stage, completely naked, waving their cocks at the leering customers. True, the bar was popular; there was a table of white guys in the middle, and a whole lot of young asians dotted around them. Judging from their predatory gaze at me as I walked through the door, my first guess was prostitutes or thieves. A waiter thrust a drink menu into my hand, and I got the sensation I'd have to part with 200b now if I wanted to stay. I chose to go.

As I left Adam Nightclub, a Greek man called across to me from the other bar, "Hey, I have a Thai boyfriend now!". I quickly hurried away from it all and back onto the main street.

Perhaps Tuk-Tuks are the domain of tourists, since no tuk-tuks were to be found in this dead suburb. I walked down the street for 5 minutes, seeing plenty of mopeds and trucks but no taxis. Finally, one pulled up to me. A young man in a leather coat and sunglasses (at night), saddled up in his seat with his slutpaint-makeup girlfriend offered to give me a ride back for 100b. I told them that was twice the amount I paid, and they were ridiculous. They said "80, and that's the lowest". I told them not a chance, and they took off... only to stop 30 seconds up the road. I walked up to them, keeping an eye behind me to see if anyone else was coming. No one was. Reluctantly, I sat in the back and said, "80 baht. Just get me the fuck out of here."

The arrogent tuk-tuk driver dropped me off outside of a McDonalds near old city gate, either as a matter of convenience or a pointed statement. I don't care. I crossed the street (away from the prostitute licking her lips at me) and started to walk across the plaza when a clearly drunk man stopped me. "Would you like fish?" he asked. Quizzically, I looked behind me, and realized the man had set up his own impromptu charcoal grill in the plaza, right along the city moat where he'd been fishing for mutants with string and pieces of 7-11 hot dog. I hesitated for a moment, and the friendly alcoholic asked me where I was from. New York, I told him. The man broke out into a grin and pulled off his shirt. On his shoulder was a large bald eagle tattoo. On his other shoulder, his ex-girlfriend, the one that turned him into a boozer on the street. I tried his fish (not bad, actually), and in return he wanted me to buy him some bottom-shelf piss beer.

Mind you, I didn't understand any of that from his broken shitty English. The man was being translated by a young blonde white teen, clearly out of place here with his light skin, clean clothing, and full compliment of teeth. The square was otherwise populated by a mix of boozers, prostitutes, ladyboys, foreigners looking for ladyboys, and one short fat Thai boy, with maybe 50% of his teeth, no older than 15, spending the night on the street with the creeps.

The boy ran up to me and grabbed my hand excitedly, pulling me across the quad. I took a few steps, then stopped, suspecting a scam. He made a mysterious hand gesture at me, and continued trying to pull me? "What is it?!" I yelled at him, but he didn't respond. So I pulled away and walked back. The blonde boy smiled and asked "Had fun?" Apparently, as he explained, the youth had been trying to pull me behind a building so he could give me a blowjob. Offered everyone else already, but no idea if anyone took him up on the offer. Only 500 baht, a great deal when you consider that's only $16 US. I shuddered slightly, and turned my back on the boy as he went to proposition someone else. Meanwhile, another ladyboy winked at me and beckoned a come-hither with her large bony finger.

I sat and chatted with the blonde boy for awhile (while the prostitute child lay on his side on the bench and thrust his hips at me sexually, apparently displaying his sexual prowess). The blonde's name was Joel, and he's from Canada. 18 years old, unemployed, and touring Southeast Asia with his stoner friend Matt, looking for all the greatest skateboarding places in the continent. He and his friend had just bought a second-hand scooter, and were going to go to Laos next week. He offered to take me to a bar with his friend. Having nothing better to do, I agreed, and we hopped on the innocent-seeming scooter.

That fucker can go over 80kph. Hanging on to a narrow metal rail under my seat, fingers locked in a deathgrip, feet inches above burning asphalt, careering through unpredictable traffic and around tight curves while the driver regularly took his hands off the bar and his eyes off the road to check his mobile phone, all without helmets, I started to regret my decision.

We met his friend outside THC Bar, a fluro rasta club with a sweet open rooftop bar. Apparently they don't actually sell weed, but the man sitting at a table next to the entrance claimed he did. "You want marijuana, right here!" Before I had the chance to respond, Joel's friend came out of the bar and scoffed. "Dude, you have shit skunkweed. I know where we can get real shit. Wanna come Joel?" he asked. Joel said "Of course!... wanna come?" I shrugged, and followed in tow.

Turns out, Matt didn't actually know where to buy weed, just the name of the bar and some obscure directions given by a drunk local. So we wandered the side alleys for 20 minutes, twisting around at random, until we popped out at a place we recognized - the plaza in which I first met Joel. Confused, we decided to go find the man who gave us directions, and plodded for another 15 minutes before giving up. At this point, I didn't even really want the bud; I just craved the sense of accomplishment from this scavenger hunt. Whether it was drugs, sex, or a chocolate egg, it was fun anyway to me.

But after awhile, it just got annoying. I asked Matt for the directions. He said "Ok, we need to go from the plaza to Same Same hostel, past Julia's Place, and down the street at the fork." That's right. It was down the street from my hostel. Now leading the drug party, I walked back to my place, down the side-alley where Julia's is, and asked an Irishman where Freedom Bar was. Naturally, the Irish know all the local pubs, and he was able to point us the right way (unlike everyone else we asked - tuk drivers wanted to take us to bars where they get commission, women wanted to take us to the bars they worked, and locals just wanted to fuck with us).

Freedom, the rasta-painted bar that apparently actually had drugs was closed for the night. I shrugged, scavenger hunt complete. I shouldn't even really be doing drugs anyway, especially while abroad. Instead, we made our way back to the clean THC bar, and shared beers and lurid stories under the mostly-full moon. Perhaps now, with their youthful but far-more-experienced guidance, I'll be able to survive Thailand's underbelly again.