thailand Blog and Journals

Singapore, 19th December 2009

It had been ages since we returned to Backstage. New funky star shaped lights had been embedded into the wooden floor.  My heels still got stuck between the wooden floor boards. Though our old haunt still looked the same, it felt a little empty without our good sisters Terrence & Zeus. It was nice to catchup with our dear friends Azmi and Sabri after many months.

Our dearest Adaline pulled a suprise birthday celebration on our beautiful sister Geraldine. It's nice to be 24 years of age again even if it's through the eyes of our young sister.

We discussed detials of our Bangkok trip next year. The itinerary is very exciting with loads of shopping and partying. If you're interested to take part in the planning discussion, please visit our SGGURLS forum.

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Asia's growing transgender network:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sggurls

http://www.sgbutterfly.org

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bangkoktrans

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mygurlz

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/chinagurls

14th December 2009.

Pattaya, Thailand.

I finally met the bubbly and irrepressible leader of Bangkoktrans, Kate. I was pleasantly surprised to meet her enfemme. She femmed out for fear that I may not recognise her. The drive from Bangkok International Airport to Pattaya was extremely educational. In the two hours' drive, I learned about the amazing story of Bangkoktrans and its founder Leslie. It was a tragic love story that still made Kate's voice waver.

 

Kate and Jules decided to crash with me at Pattaya for the night. We dropped off all out stuff and we were off. Kate took us to the top of Pattaya to view the city lights. The view was breathtaking. I could feel the vibrancy of the city life below...or was it the growl of the hound of Baskerville making mince meat out of a street dog?

We visited Pattaya's famous Walking Street. It was everything that I had read and more. Soi 15 seems to have been taken over by middle-easterners. The streets were lined with hookahs and of course the hookers were further down the road. Besides the maddening nightlife filled with buckets of sleaze to make Amsterdam look like a second rate triple X city, the shopping prospects made this gurl salivate. I saw very pretty dresses going for 199THB each (9 sgd / 45 RMB). Gosh, I didn't care if they were fakes or if would last a week, the merchandise just look too good.

Kate brought Jules and me to a "Thai Girl" farm the next day. LOL, I am afraid I can’t reveal this exotic location. Let's just say that it's filled sexy cats. The place is sizzling hot. So be certain to wear 6" heels and glam up for a fabulously hot time. Oh get ready to have your photo taken with lots and lots of admirers. We decided to cool down back at Walking Street where we dined like Kings...er… queens.

Kate left us the next day but Jules accompanied me for more shopping mania. Before Kate left she set me up for an interview with the world famous Alcazar cabaret. I was excited and nervous all at the same time. I slept nary a wink. Not because of the impending interview but because of the wonderful SHOPPING that lay ahead. We broke the bank buying makeups, hand bags, heels, t-shirts, gifts, dresses and lingerie. I found a brand of lingerie called Elfe which I have not seen anywhere else in Asia.

Evening rolled around quickly. We were lucky since my SM mission went bust. The additional time made sure that I could prepare for my appointment with my knock-dead gorgeous potential boss at Alcazar. We attended the 8pm show as requested by the alluring Ms. Apple (manager of Alcazar); gosh it's so wrong to think of one's potential boss in such a manner & please kick my butt Buddha. Thank you. During the hour plus show, I was to pick out parts that I could fit in. I guess I know I should wear my analysis lens but I was too mesmerised by the exquisite ladyboys. My oh my, they were enticing. When the show ended, I met Ms. Apple. She explained the drills of participating in the cabaret. I forgot most of what she said. It was so difficult to focus.

 

Asia's growing transgender network:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sggurls

http://www.sgbutterfly.org

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bangkoktrans

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mygurlz

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/chinagurls

11th October 2009

Singapore

I think we may have found the second chick central in Singapore. I went there to meet my gurl and girl friends for a usual Saturday powwow. Lo and behold, when I stepped into Ootique there was a sexy dance class in progress. Alex & Shirley from SDAM (www.sdam.sg) joined our Sat night drinking session. I finally got to meet Alex whom I have had only perved on his facebook. He's an awesome person in real life and looks so much better than the pics. Warren & partner joined in a little later. A quick kiss to my favorite in-house Sexologist, Dr. Martha Lee (www.eroscoaching.com), who saw to our creature comfort. Michelle, Ootique's owner (www.ootique.com) sported a new sexy blond look. Gosh, I wish I could just take these two back home with me. Once we were all settled down, we didn't get to talk too much as our heads were permanently tilted towards the the pole dancing class and the ensuing hen party. Gosh, I am so addicted to women! The bevy of women were driving me nuts. There were a couple of women in there that looked like magazine models.

In the little discussion that we had, we did firm up a few things on Halloween night. Shirley said that she will get back to me on the bulk discounts for SDAM's Halloween night. She told me that SDAM faces a big challenge on their 16th October ALTERNATION event in DXO (http://www.dxo.com.sg/index/index.aspx). Shirley said that she was confident that they will see about 80 pax but DXO, which is owned by NTUC, expects a minimum of 100 pax in order to continue making the space available to SDAM. So if anyone of you loves goth fetish art & indie music, write to Shirley (http://www.facebook.com/people/Shirley-Zhong), alex (youknowjustwho@hotmail.com) or Saito (slave@sdam.sg) or just go to their website to findout more about ALTERNATION (http://www.sdam.sg/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=441).

As for our joint SM & trans halloween night, please do check our networks.

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For more on Asia's alternative lifestyle:

Goths & more: http://www.sdam.sg , www.sdam.asia

Transgender network: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sggurls, http://groups.yahoo.com/bangkoktrans, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mygurlz, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/chinagurls

BDSM network: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bdsmASIAnetwork, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/sgdomsubs, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bdsmCHINAnetwork

Eros coaching (the only one of its kind in Singpaore): www.eroscoaching.com

Ootique: www.oohtique.com

 

saw this shirt at a mall in Bangkok, Thailand haha and i just had to take a photo of it! it was taken last January. lmao found it when i was browsing thru my Bangkok folder lmao

It's embarrassing.
Ok, apart from the obvious pale skin, blonde hair, big chest making me stand out from the crowd my family make it worse.
My stepdad likes to think he's cultured and in with the locals, so he'll take us to these little restaurants where they don't speak any english and everyone there is thai (and gawping at us), making us stand out like sore thumbs. He also likes to go on walks, guidebook in hand, down rainforest paths that go through little villages (where the locals all stop and stare at us when we walk past). Those paths usually lead to a dead end, meaning we have to walk back past the locals. Then there's the posing infront of random things, taking photos at the dinner table... All the typical touristy stuff.
The locals like to stare at me. Especially when I'm on the beach, in my bikini.
Sometimes I just wish we could come when it's a little busier, & stick to the more touristy places where we blend in a bit more.

Having saying that though, Thailand's awesome.
I love it.

Up until today it's been tropical rainforest downpours.
Today the sun came out, & corrr it's hot! I managed to get sunburnt by sitting in the shade all day, I don't see how that's possible but it happened.

There's my little update.
I'm in an internet cafe, & it's slowww, so you'll have to wait until I'm back home for photos :)

Oh &, HAPPY HALLOWEEN.
The most halloweeny thing I've seen all day is a little thai man sitting in his usual bar with flashing devil horns on. I laughed.

& OH I LOVE TUBBY ASIANS.
They're adorable.

Peace Out, in the Buddha sense.

:D

Culture shock or what?!

As I'm away my 365 day project's on hold...
I'm in an internet cafe.
So no photos.
Until I get home...

Then there'll be tons.

Excited...?
You should be.

Thursday October 4th, Laos. "Mai pen rai" …. ("Stay cool")

Colonel Khang of Lao immigration was rummaging about under his desk. I wondered if he was about to pick up the AK-47 that as I was being escorted in I’d seen leaning precariously against the wastepaper bin; but he resurfaced holding nothing more lethal than a pack of Marlboro.


Lao Customs, Nam Khong, Golden Triangle

The Thais have a saying… mai pen rai - roughly equivalent to "stay cool", "never mind", "what you can't change don't fret over"- that they come out with in all manner of circumstances, from breaking a fingernail, to emerging with a broken limb or two from a major car smash. In my current predicament, I had a few somewhat more 'Anglo-Saxon' expressions in mind...

We'd been sat there for the best part of four hours so far, for most of which time we'd been left to stew on our own. Dusk was approaching, with the last boat back to Chiang Khong in Thailand due to leave at 5pm. Vicious-looking mosquitoes were buzzing around the Colonel's office in the small office in Nam Khong, on the banks of the Mekong in the Golden Triangle. I reckoned the repellent applied liberally back in Thailand might last at best another hour before I would be eaten alive. Their sorties near my tasty white skin were getting ever more daring. An ancient fan was fighting a losing battle against the combined heat being produced by three bodies, at least two of which perspiring freely, not least because it was beginning to dawn on us that this guy meant trouble. Serious trouble. Ok, the thumbscrews hadn't been produced yet, but this was a country that hasn't exactly got the best of human rights records. Europeans have been known to disappear…

Somewhat incongruously Roma was playing Inter with an English commentary, on a TV mounted on the wall just above his head - Ibrahimovic was about to take a penalty. The Colonel was interrogating my Thai tourist guide in the Northern Lao dialect, of which she had a limited grasp. I was beginning to have considerable forebodings about the effectiveness of my negotiating tactics so far…

Before leaving for Lao, a shot taken from the ferry (Thai Customs white building on right)

Allegedly we had infringed immigration regulations, despite going through all the formalities on the Thai side of the border before getting the ferry. We had been given to understand by Thai Customs that the five minute boat trip across the Mekong did not entail a Lao entry visa as long as I stayed within the customs area on the Lao side of the river. However regardless of whether I needed to pay for the Lao visa, the Colonel was now claiming that we had already been spotted in an unauthorised area of Lao territory before making my way to Customs. This was rather difficult to accept, as we had climbed off the ‘ferry' onto a mud beach, and walked straight to ‘immigration'. True we had walked in via the exit door instead of the entrance, but that must have been a pretty common mistake by foreigners who didn't happen to read Lao. Only about ten feet separated them. Anyway - as I result I was told that I not only had to cough up 35 USD for the visa, but I would be subject to a fine, the size of which seemed to be increasing exponentially, in line with the worsening of his temper, as the hours passed. £200 so far; at least two months salary for the good Colonel, I reckoned.

Imbrahimovic stuck the penalty away nicely, and Roma were one down.

"Face" is important in Lao as in many Asian nations, and I had been attempting to strike a delicate balance between asserting myself too strongly, and paying the multi-medalled Colonel the respect appropriate to his rank and authority. Apparently I was not being overly successful. This may of course have had something to do with my having just told him that I wasn't paying him a bean, no matter how long he detained me. He switched his attention to my rather nervous guide, clearly a more vulnerable target. The third degree intensified, with the Colonel beginning his interrogation of young Cha Nok - his head angled towards me, but looking at her out of the corner of his eyes - by suddenly yelling at the terrified Thai. She nearly fell off her chair.

Eventually she calmed down enough to translate the gist of his argument. Cha Nok herself, according to the Colonel, was now in the country illegally (untrue, Thais do not need a visa to enter Laos). She would also be detained and fined 6,000 baht (roughly £100, a fortune to many Thais). Not only this, but she could be held responsible for anything that might happen to me. Did the stupid Englishman not realise that he could keep me there as long as he wished? Another European had been bitten by a cobra in his cell just the week before, and died before morning. Perhaps I needed heart medication, did she know? Perhaps I might lose my pills, and would die in my cell that night? Cha Nok anxiously asked me if this was the case, and I hastened to reassure her.

Into the second half now, and Roma equalised against the run of play. The surreal scenario seemed set to play on into the night, and images from Hollywood third-world horror flicks flashed through my mind. I was resigning myself to sharing a cell with some of the impressively-sized local insects, rodents, a snake or two, and a bucket. Bucket? Luxury!... (the Monty Python sketch bizarrely joined with scenes from "The Killing Fields"…..)

Laos is one of the few remaining communist states in Asia, and their human rights record is hardly spotless. Not that long in fact since a couple of French journalists were arrested and sentenced to 15 years in prison, I recalled, having been discovered compiling a report on rebel groups belonging to the Hmong ethnic minority in the Xieng Khuang province. European journalists are not too popular then. (why, oh why, had I shown the Colonel my press card?...).

4.35 pm. I finally lost what was left of my cool, demanded to be allowed to call my Embassy, and then stupidly found myself in mid-tirade in French, explaining what an excellent article this would make about his little empire in a lost corner of Lao, ripping off unfortunate foreigners to supplement his income. I  was lucky - to the younger Lao generation the era of French colonialism is long gone, and few bother to learn the language. He tersely explained as much, via my guide, and then stomped out of the office. Armed guards came and stood at the door (in case I had any designs on the AK-47, perhaps).

With a calm that I certainly didn't feel, I was trying to reassure young Nok when five minutes later the Colonel stormed back in, threw my passport at me, and ordered us to go get the boat back across the river. However, he said with a leer - he would not be issuing a Lao exit visa, so we wouldn't be allowed into Thailand, and would soon be back in his office charged with even more serious transgressions subject to bigger fines. I didn't give a monkey's. The sooner I got back to relative civilisation, the better. I would take my chances in Thailand.

Back at Thai immigration, Chang Khong

The sense of relief at finding ourselves back on Thai soil didn't last long. Walking up to immigration, a customs officer was watching our approach. I handed over my passport, at which he barely glanced. "You go back now Lao. No visa. Go back now, last boat". Clearly his pal on the other side of the water had made a call. I won't speculate as to the nature of any arrangement involved.

I refused. I'd had enough. Face be damned, this was a farce, and I didn't care who knew about it. I told him that there was no way on this earth that I was getting back on that boat and voluntarily returning to Lao and the good Colonel, short of his handcuffing me and manhandling me on board. The scene was attracting a small crowd of curious Thais and tourists. At last he was beginning to look a little worried, and went to consult his boss.

I usually never prepare anything in advance regardless of the potential consequences, but as luck would have it, I had actually pre-registered the British Bangkok Embassy's phone number in my Thai mobile's address book. I rang them immediately as soon as the official had disappeared from sight. The Thai lady operator put me through to the duty officer and I had had just enough time to explain my predicament before the junior Customs officer returned. "Who you talk to?" "British Embassy", I replied. He was not amused. "Why call Embassy? No problem Embassy! No call!" Too late, "sorry" I said, "already done". He left again, distinctly angry. Had I just made the problem worse, I wondered?

Fifteen minutes passed. A higher rank official appeared, complete with sympathetic smile. I wasn't reassured. Smiles can mean anything in Thailand, from "I'm really sorry for all this" to "you are a major pain in the @rse and you're about to find out what we do with obstreperous falangs who still think they run the world". But our luck seemed to have changed; it was - superficially at least - the former. We were directed into his office out of the steaming heat, invited to sit in a couple of comfortable chairs, and given the choice of ice-cold beer or water. The Thai major explained that we had no doubt made a simple mistake over in Laos, and that it was all a misunderstanding. To save face all round, I quickly agreed, and apologised profusely for our foolishness. He explained that there was a simple solution; they would cancel the original Thai exit visa on my passport. I would then be able to stay in Thailand. I of course thanked him for his help.

Guy's interpreter at the Bangkok Embassy had apparently phoned the Thai major immediately after my panicked call. Just as we were leaving the Major's office, with much wai-ing and smiling, the Embassy official called me again to check that all was sorted. She explained that she needed to speak to the Major once more, to thank him for his kind cooperation - this was the Thai way of doing things. I wasn't complaining. We were free, and the Colonel on the Lao side of the Mekong would soon be fuming that he had let us - and the equivalent of a few months' salary - slip through his fingers.

I won't be returning to Nam Khong in a hurry!

The sense of relief on Cha Nok's face, back in Thailand (the red roof of the Lao Customs house across the Mekong, just behind her...

Rooms for the night in the Riverside, somewhat more luxurious than the alternative accommodation on offer in the distance across the river Mekong ...

Mosquitos in Europe can be nasty little critters, but with one saving grace; at least when you’re awake, you can generally hear them zinging about the room. Plus even if you don’t have 20/20 vision, you can usually spot them in hover mode, waiting to pounce. In this part of the world however, they seem to have at least one mutant variety, henceforth baptised the ‘stealth mosquito’.

Thai mozzies apparently come equipped with special stealth technology. Simple really – they just don’t make any noise. These stealth mozzies also seem to come in various sizes, from XXL down to microscopic (ie invisible to the naked eye). Irrespective of size, they also seem to have developed a further weapon for their arsenal – the itch delay mechanism. This can be set for anything from a couple of minutes to several hours, thereby ensuring the mozzie with a healthy appetite can feast on its unsuspecting victim at its leisure. The entomologically-inclined may beg to differ, but I’d bet those that do haven’t met the Thai mosquito.

It also seems to be intellectually superior to its Western equivalent. They avoid hiding on white walls, make themselves completely scarce when fully gorged, and seem to know to lie in wait for unsuspecting tourists in shorts in areas where food supply is plentiful (ie in the roadside gutters beside pavement bars and restaurants). Defensive methods in your home are limited to scorched air tactics – firmly closing all windows while you spray the entire building with Thai mosquito killer, something that smells like neat DDT and is capable of asphyxiating the unwary if you re-enter a room within several hours of treatment. The smell can persist for days. 

… This is one good reason to learn not only basic spoken, but also written Thai, in fact. Yes - virtually everything is very cheap here, in comparison with the West. But often instructions and explanations will be in Thai only, or at best translated by a non-English speaker into our native tongue, with mixed results ranging from simple incomprehensibility to a complete travesty of the original meaning. (On a related topic, if you happen to find yourself in a bathroom in a Thai person’s home, and grab a flower-decorated gel-shaped bottle of ‘Essence’ – the only word in English on the container not written in miniature font size – don’t. It is NOT shower gel. It is in fact a laundry detergent, whose cleansing properties cause red blotches and painful swollen spots on any parts of the body with which it comes in contact. These only emerge some minutes after a scrub-down, leaving you ample time to cover your entire body with the offending product. On the positive side, the pain dies down within 24 hours, the spotty rash taking two or three days more to subside, but eventually disappearing altogether…)

Back on the subject of the neat DDT mosquito deterrents… if you think the resultant risk of dying from cancer is considerably greater than contracting dengue fever or malaria, you can opt for the less effective but far more satisfying hand-held zapper – a tennis racket-shaped, rechargeable contraption that not only gives off a resounding electric ‘crack’ when coming into contact with a zigzagging bogey, but then proceeds to barbecue the nasty critter, giving off a plume of smoke, until it is literally fried to a crisp. (Maybe I’ve some little way to go before achieving a meaningful level of metta meditation practice… ;)

You can buy various types of repellent for the times you venture out into the open air, but once again you should make sure that you are not dousing yourself with a product containing considerably more carcinogenic substances that would be permitted back home. Not an easy task, given the language difficulties, as well as the lax levels of quality control that appears to extend through so many areas of Thai life. Alternatively you can always wear jeans and socks... despite the 38 degrees and 95% humidity. Not an easy choice …

The quality of alternative treatments Thai-style can vary considerably; but there's hardly cause to complain, given the prices! These start as low as 120 baht, or not much more than two euros, for one hour's Thai massage, a little more for oil. Take your pick, but for those accustomed to strict Western quality control standards, be prepared for a surprise. Thailand has a very flexible approach to such matters!…

Sunday July 6, late afternoon. Immediate misgivings when a burly masseuse erupted into the room. I have been to the Lanna massage centre several times, for no particular reason other than it is the closest to my home in Chiang Mai (capital of Northern Thailand). Choosing one establishment over another is a mix of convenience, experience, mood and personal preference… but despite spending most of the past nine months in this country, including 3 or 4 massages weekly, there can still be an element of luck involved .

I'd already opted for a 90 minute oil massage, and with one look at a massive pair of biceps, decided to make my needs very clear from the outset. I detailed my preferences; less pressure on the calf muscles, reasonably strong elsewhere. Whereupon ‘Nok’ proceeded to sink two extremely powerful thumbs into a sensitive area just above the Achilles tendon. “Jep!” I uttered between gritted teeth; “JEP!!” (literally ‘pain’, but in this context, ‘OUCH!’). Yet this only seemed to produce considerable amusement at the expense of my accent, as she determinedly journeyed further north up my leg with a barely discernable drop in pressure. Pinned to the floor by a thick forearm across the glutei maximi, a large knee began to add injury to insult, landing solidly mid-calf…

Despite her five foot nothing I reckon Nok outweighed me by at least an extra 20 kilos of muscle, topped by swathes of fatty, but firm flesh. The pain was just about within tolerance levels, so I opted to grimace and bear it. Lying face-down, I began to derive something of a masochistic pleasure from the relentless kneadings, and drifted off into semi-consciousness. Images of the robotic pincer arms from the Renault Picasso ad wandered through my mind; but the analogy didn’t quite pass muster, I mused, as Nok’s hands seemed to lack such finesse. Maybe one of the monster machines from a Caterpillar assembly line was more appropriate…

I was brusquely jolted out of my reverie as the attentions of the masseuse shifted to the thighs with redoubled enthusiasm. I realised, too late, that Nok had indeed been making a considerable effort over my calves; now she was back in her element, empowered by my previously given permission to perform a ‘firm’ massage elsewhere. Her earlier efforts were akin to being stroked by a feather duster in comparison. With a good 70 minutes remaining, not without difficulty, I began to drift off again, picturing myself turning up at A & E, complete with carefully prepared cover story; assault and battery by person or persons unknown…

“Kop kun kaaa” - (‘thank you’) – in a sexy, feminine voice that belied her appearance, announced the end of the torture session. I hadn’t cracked, and masculine pride only slightly dented, hoped I could leave with dignity just about intact. Nok, I suspected, knew better. Still, I was surprisingly reluctant to escape; despite feeling as if I had been repeatedly run over by one of Caterpillar’s larger models of earth-moving equipment. I tested various muscles, gingerly, but none seemed to be giving off major alarm signals. “Is ok?” asked Mama-san, the boss (a term not necessarily associated with sex-oriented establishments, I hasten to add). “Very good”, I lied, backing up my professed pleasure with a big smile and a 50 baht note tip for Nok. Reassured, Mama-san looked forward to seeing me tomorrow. I will definitely be in need of a massage to recover from today’s exertions, but I think a trip to a different establishment is on the cards…

I hobbled the 200 metres back home.

Fear not! Future first-time visitors to Thailand intent in indulging in the pleasures of the art of massage, Thai-style, can relax in the knowledge that overall, this is the place to be. Once you begin to understand how things work here (for those having spent a lifetime in the West, not an easy task…) then the (considerable) advantages can outweigh the (considerable) disadvantages. It’s a question of mindset. Resign yourself to initially rare insights into a mysterious Oriental logic, accept their down-to-earth fatalism at face value, learn to translate the different nuances of the smile as representative of everything from joy to extreme displeasure, don’t display your emotions (especially anger) in public, leave any notions of Western/Christian/Empire ‘superiority’ well behind you, respect their customs, beliefs and (occasionally incomprehensible) behaviour, and generally speaking, they will respond with a willingness to please that dwarfs anything you will have encountered back home. But back to massage…

Years ago I trained as a masseur in London, taking courses over the course of a year at the Churchill Centre off the Edgware Road (does it still exist?) Never something I took seriously as a commercial enterprise, but it certainly gave me an insight into the discipline; in particular what separates the good from the indifferent. Therapeutic massage, or massage for relaxation, depends on two things. Technique (obviously)… but less obviously, sensitivity. Sensitivity towards the mood, as well as the physical needs, of the subject. Without this sensitivity, technical skills are mostly wasted. Nok seemed to have been considerably lacking in intuitive awareness, but luckily she is in a small minority. Most Thais, although superficially prudish in public, have an earthy, unembarrassed physicality that allows those who enter the massage trade to quickly connect with the subject, establishing a rapport that makes your ninety minutes or two hours a blissful experience (tip: unless you are just having a foot/leg massage, don’t settle for a one hour full body massage – it’s just not enough time for the therapist to carry out the treatment properly, without hurrying. Ninety minutes is the minimum).

If you are not a very healthy contortionist (and let’s face it, most Westerners are seriously lacking in fitness and flexibility), then it is perhaps advisable to avoid starting with a Thai (as opposed to an oil) massage. Unless you have been recommended to a particular masseur or establishment, it can turn out to be a painful experience – especially if you don’t make it clear to the masseuse the instant you begin to fear for the integrity of your skeletal structure. Thais don’t understand stoicism in this context – they expect and understand that as you are paying for a service, you will tell them straight away if something is wrong, or if you have special requirements. They will not (unlike therapists trained in the West) ask you in advance if you have any previous injuries, health problems, contact lenses etc. that would affect how the massage is carried out. It’s one of those grey areas where such enquiries would be seen as an unwarranted intrusion of a personal nature (whereas asking you how much you earn, or how many children you have, is not).

So what of the less salubrious side to the massage business? Considerably less real than Thailand’s reputation in this respect would suggest, or sex tourists might hope to find, fortunately - particularly away from the main tourist areas, such as Pattaya. The great majority of establishments are bona fide treatment centres, Thai-style, employing masseuses who will quietly and efficiently demonstrate their skills with the utmost respect for your person. Relatively poor many may well be, but most do not seek to augment their income by alternative means. Still, it can and does happen; so for those who don’t want to chance this taking place, the best option is to ask for recommendations, or simply to pick one of the more upmarket establishments. These are outnumbered ten to one by the more ‘basic’ locales, complete with hole-in-the-ground loos, but are not hugely more expensive.

Hundreds if not thousands of massage parlours are dotted around the bustling city of Chiang Mai and its sprawling suburbs, and I have probably visited fifty or so since last September, some on a regular basis. Despite the above, the Lanna (in Sri Dornchai Road) is quite good usually... but bear in mind masseuses come and go on a regular basis. Watch this space for regular reports on other establishments!

I gotta bounty of tattoo news for y'all from presidential candidate tattoos to convention reviews to updates in tattoo law. More headlines than you can shake a tebori stick at, so let's get to it.

Read More: http://needled.com/blog/entries/tattoo-news-review-46/