Topsy Turvy

This past weekend things got interesting.

I began my weekend by seeing a doctor about the most recent development in my string of health issues. Past incidents seemed either inappropriate or irrelevant to mention on my blog, but I think worth bringing up as a critical part of living in a new country. Moving to a new place always involves a shift in diet, and this transition often results in some degree of digestive problems (this doesn’t only apply to the weak or irresponsible). I was fine for the first few months, but my body has apparently had enough of the unrecognizable foods and bacteria and god knows what else I’ve been ingesting. I think I’ll be fine, but I’ve always been a healthy person, so being sick all the time has been pretty frustrating.

To add another element of unfamiliarity to an evening in which I didn’t feel quite myself, I spent Friday night in a self-described “hippie commune” called the Overstay. The building used to be a whorehouse, but was converted into a gallery/bar/hostel by a bunch of artsy ex-pats. It’s a little cheesy, but I think the reclamation of a space for exploitation into a shelter for creativity is a nice thought. When I first entered, the man volunteering at the bar offered to give me a tour of the building. In the kitchen (vegetarian food only) we came across four Germans with dread locks and gauges in their ears who offered me free pasta marinara. The next floor was a studio space with a salt and pepper checkered floor and mannequins strewn around the room. The third floor the “dormitory” where backpackers slept on mats (or the floor), the fourth was a series of rooms (including Kiki Amore, our beloved room filled with DVDs, an Apple Powerbook and what we suspected was drug paraphernalia from the last tenant), and the roof housed several tents and hammocks people could sleep in for free.



The overstayers were a ragtag crew of travelers and ex-pats who had been in Thailand anywhere from three days to three years. Some people volunteered their time at the Overstay in exchange for shelter, some were simply passing through for a distinctive experience. I can safely say I’ve never been in a place like it, and it once again expanded my view of what Bangkok has to offer. After a long walk through Chinatown last weekend, I decided that I’d never see everything there is to see Bangkok. It’s just one of those cavernous and densely packed cities that will always reveal new pockets of activity.


On Saturday I returned to Pattaya, the aforementioned sin city of Thailand where I completed my scuba certification. I didn’t feel the need to return, but my friends had never been and wanted to see this hotbed of transgressions with their own eyes. We attended Tiffany’s, the most famous ladyboy show in the world, which turned out to be a sparkling whirlwind of unbelievable set changes and even more technical costume changes. Some of the headpieces worn by the ladyboys were over three feet high, and their colorful gowns displayed surgically altered bodies more feminine than my own. If no one had told me they were ladyboys, I never would have known. See the queen on the left? She was one of the Tiffany's performers. Would you be able to tell?

After the show, the ladyboys were pretty fussy about posing for pictures. They gave a few seconds to take a photo, then demanded a tip and were quickly off to pose dramatically with the next tourist. It’s not just the old white men; everyone in Pattaya is part this massive scramble for cash or sex. I didn’t take many pictures in Pattaya, let alone with the ladyboys, but my friend captured one of me making quite a face in the background. I didn’t really feel the need to capture my time in Pattaya through photos because I didn’t come across anything or anyone particularly inspiring. But cities like this sure do make you think.