Green IslandBangkok Pulp Fiction Part Three
February 22nd 2010 04:13
Rory had the time of his life. For two incredibly perfect hours his sense of beauty connected with his sense of reality. Here and now he was touching the finest skin, indulging his eyes in the most scared of delights. The smell of soap mingled with Melee’s cheap perfume and her female musk. The noise of the clattering air-con unit accompanied her purring sensual rhythms. Rory wanted to be frozen in time as Melee straddled his pale hairy torso and gently urged him to oblivion.
Rory tried to hide his devastation when Melee finally withdrew back to the bathroom and had another shower. She soon re-appeared all hot pants and cooing goodbyes. The whiskey and the carnal joys were putting him in the mind to demand more. He started to urge Melee to stay but she peremptorily insisted that “her husband” would be returning from his nocturnal adventures and she must be back before then. The “H” word killed Rory’s joy and brought him round to the grim perspective of possible consequences. For a moment he imagined his jealousy if he was Sunneill and he suspected some white arsed young pretender was stealing his connubial privileges. He would be violently mad with his cuckolder. Was Sunneill the violent type? He was certainly the deceitful type who had conned Rory into buying a comedy green suit and who had arranged for Rory to make him considerably richer through the agencies of a dodgy copper and a timeworn scam. Considering this turpitude it seemed more than likely that Sunneill would be capable of jealous rage, of nasty reprisals. This worried Rory and also empowered him when he considered that at least he had had his revenge for the awful baggy-tight suit and the policeman-drugs scam.
This complicated mental stuff took Rory out of the spell that Melee had cast upon him in bed and skinship, and made him soon give up his lover’s entreaties that she should stay the night. Melee asked Rory for some cab money. He looked in his wallet. It was empty. He looked in his jeans and found a crumpled 50 baht note. With the smallest of frowns she took the cash, kissed Rory and strode out the door.
Rory would have been wracked with conflicting emotions of lust, self-preservation and mistrust if he hadn’t been seduced by one final triumphant cigarette and swig of whiskey. He re-played the fast vanishing moments of his Bangkok conquest in his head, stubbed out the fag in an empty coke bottle and passed out.
In his dream he was in a forest. Not a tropical forest but one of brown fusty leaves on the floor and tall silver birch trees towering above. He was on an elephant and filled with elation as he and the huge blue beast sped through the trees. He felt in control of the mighty pachyderm. He urged the elephant on and the beast responded with a blast of noise from its trunk and then put its head down and picked up speed. The trees flashed by. All of a sudden Rory remembered something. He squeezed his legs against the elephant’s side and shouted but the animal wouldn’t slow down. Rory started to panic. He had come to his senses and remembered the warnings of the elephant master and tour guide telling him not to stray from the circle of the tour group. The forest was dangerous and Rory was alone. He wanted to be back with the other camera obsessed tourists eagerly hoping to get a picture of a monkey. As he went further and further into the never-ending forest he heard distant shouting and then banging.
Rory woke up reluctantly and felt awful: hung over from whiskey and too much narrative. He grabbed his boxers and did a one leg hop to the door as he covered his genitals and answered the knock at the door.
Somehow it didn’t seem surprising that Melee was standing in the door. This time she was more modestly attired in jeans and loose white T-shirt. She had a wheelie suitcase by her side and a big purple bruise around her left eye. Rory looked at his cheap watch. It said 10am.
“What happened, Melee? Come in. You poor thing. Did Sunneill hit you?”
“Rory, you bad man. I help you and you get me in big trouble. You bring out message. You fucking..” She started to sob. Rory wanted to concentrate on the bewitching Melee and her obvious distress but more than that he needed a piss and a drink of water.
Melee sat on the edge of the unmade bed and cried as Rory went to the toilet and hit his head on the shower as he had a long and relieving urination.
On returning to the bedroom Melee launched herself from the bed and started showering him with rabbit punches.
“You bad man, Rory. You make me in bad situation. Last night Sunneill is waiting for me in shop. He is very angry. He call me many bad names and he hit me. He have paper in his hand. He show me paper. It is letter I write you before. How he get this Rory? How? Now he know I help you. He is very angry. I run away. I fear Sunneill kill me. Rajiva he help me and get suitcase for me. Rory I help you and you, you fuck me. You fuck me.”
Rory tried to put his arm around Melee’s fragile shoulders to comfort her, but she shrugged him away petulantly and went back to sobbing on the bed. Rory got dressed, found his credit card and gently asked Melee if she wanted some breakfast. She didn’t say yes but she got up and reduced her volume from cries to snuffles. She went into the bathroom and soon stood by the door ready to go.
They found a restaurant and made their orders. Afterwards Rory left and went in search of an ATM machine. He weaved his way down the busy street. The Thais who made their living selling food, watches, porno DVDs, clothes and souvenirs on the street sat down in tiny spaces between stalls and watched the thousands of Thais who politely passed. Rory still couldn’t get the hang of squeezing by, ducking into the road, watching out for taxis and tuk tuks. He felt like a salmon going up stream; it required all his energy to make his way. Eventually he stopped and asked a camp looking chap selling massive Zippo lighters where he could find a bank. The man didn’t understand until Rory used the magic letters “A-T-M”. The effeminate Thai laughed and pointed behind Rory. Indeed, there was a machine just behind him. He thanked the man and quickly took out 2000 Thai baht and tried to place himself in the pedestrian flow heading back to Melee and the café.
Rory walked too far and had to double back before he recognized the restaurant with no front door. It was a long room with a counter in the front and seating in the shadows at the back. Melee was engrossed in sending a text on a mobile phone. A bowl of soupy noodles was placed in front of her. He couldn’t remember Melee having a mobile phone. She looked up briefly when Rory arrived at the table. She pressed a few more buttons on the phone and snapped it shut and put it in her small pink handbag. Rory sat down opposite her and looked at his omelet. It didn’t look appealing. He opened his bottle of water and drank two glasses.
Melee looked up from her noodles. “Rory, what I do now? I don’t want to go back to Sunneill. He is bad man. You are good man. I want to stay with you.”
“I’m leaving Thailand in a few days. This is the end of my holiday. I have to go back to Ireland. I’ve already got a plane ticket. And besides I’m overdrawn on my account.” Rory couldn’t be certain how much Melee understood of what he had just said.
“I leave Sunneill. He is pig. He see many Thai lady. He butterfly. And he not my real husband. I his mia noi.”
“What is ‘mia noi’?”
“It same like wife but different. We don’t have official marriage license. He is from Nepal, he won’t marry Thai girl. He wants to make lots of money and marry Nepal girl back in Nepal. He pay baksheesh to get Thai visa. His cousin help him get Thai visa – no problem. So he no married and I no married.”
Rory was getting a cultural education. He took a bite of the omelet. It was greasy and cold and the weather was greasy and hot. While Rory sweated and picked at his food, Melee wolfed down her noodles with lick smacking relish. She occasionally looked up at Rory. The impish look had returned to her beautiful but damaged face. Rory was torn between trying to break away from a situation that was getting out of hand and wanting to get deeper into a situation that promised delights like he had never known. Being 21 it was hard to err on the side of caution. He had been travelling for over three months in South East Asia and had enjoyed himself but never really felt like that time had produced anything more memorable than a few hilarious nights on the piss, an awe-filled moment as he watched the sun rising over Angkor Wat and a thrill of illicit delight in an opium den in Vang Vien in Laos. Now he was really beyond the clichés of the Lonely Planet, really experiencing Asian culture, interacting with the locals, garnering a story worthy of the telling. Half of him wanted to be back in Ireland telling the tale of the green suit and the stunning Thai girl and half of him wanted to pursue this story, not to see it end prematurely.
After Rory paid for breakfast they went back to the hotel which had a sign in Thai and Chinese but not English. He wandered for a moment how he would give directions to a taxi driver if he was in need of transport back to his room. He explained this to Melee and she asked and got a business card at reception with the hotels address on it. She looked at him with an awry glance as he stuffed it into his back pocket. This reminded him about the note. Of course the policeman had taken it off him and must have passed it on to Sunneill. That was what blew their secrecy and that was what had earned Melee a black eye. His heart softened for her. He opened the door to his room and soon they fell to kissing.
The sex for Rory was even better sober. As they lay in bed afterwards Melee broached the subject of what was going to happen.
“Rory, I love you. I want to stay with you. You are kind man. I be good girl for you.”
This was more than Rory was expecting. He plunged forward.
“I love you too, Melee. I don’t want you to go back to Sunneill. I will help you. Unfortunately, this is not easy.” Rory paused and looked into the adoring black limpid opals of Melee’s eyes. “I will stay in Thailand longer to help you. I have a plan.”
She sat up in joy and her black nipples slipped free of the bed sheet. Rory went on - how could he stop now?
“I will ask my parents to put some more money in my account. Then I will do a visa run. I guess Cambodia. I will give you some money and you can wait for me in Bangkok.”
Melee interrupted him. “No not Bangkok. I not feel safe in Bangkok. Sunneill in Bangkok. He have many friends and policeman friends. Maybe he find me. Maybe Rajiva know where I am. Please Rory take me away Bangkok.”
“I have to leave Thailand. My visa soon finish.” Rory was surprised how naturally his English was contracting into simplistic solecisms for the sake of comprehension. “Maybe you leave Bangkok and I come later to meet you.”
Melee didn’t have to think long. “I go to Pattaya. I have good friend there. She good girl friend. I can stay in her room and wait for you. Sunneill not find me there. Then you come and we together. Don’t leave me Rory. Now you my mia noi.”
Rory was flattered with the status promotion. In his wildest dreams he had imagined having such a stunning girlfriend, but like all those not gifted with eye-catching looks he knew that any girl who was willing and witty would keep his affections. That compromise didn’t seem relevant anymore. He had struck lucky. Melee was his girlfriend now and such a one as this was worth risking a bit of cash and definitely worth changing his travel plans. It might not last forever, but Rory knew it could last a bit longer.
The deal having been sealed they fucked again and drifted off to sleep.
When Rory awoke Melee was not in bed. He found her in the toilet having a whispered conversation on her mobile phone. When she saw Rory she ended her conversation.
“Darling, I call my friend in Pattaya. She say yes. Ok me stay with her. When you go Cambodia?”
“That was what I was going to arrange now. I’m going to Khao San Road to phone my parents, change my plane ticket and get a ticket to Cambodia. Do you want to come? We can have lunch or is it dinner time?” Rory looked at his watch. It was 5pm. Oh well. Bangkok never really slept so it didn’t matter if he did.
By 9pm everything was arranged. He had got through to his mum. She was worried for her son, but when he re-assured her that he was fine and he just needed a bit more time and money before he came home, she agreed to lend him a thousand Euros. He said he probably wouldn’t need that much but best to be on the safe side. Rory didn’t mention Melee or the suit or the dog or the policeman to his mother. He hung up and inspected his leg. He would need to change his plaster- something else to do.
Changing the plane ticket and buying a seat on a visa run was simplicity itself. The first travel agent that he approached sorted it all out for him in thirty minutes and gave him a receipt to show the minibus driver that was going to pick him up at his hotel in the morning. Rory staying in China town surprised the woman at the travel agency. She said something to Melee in Thai. Whatever they said to each other, the problem was soon solved with a small surcharge. So it was arranged. Money would be put in Rory’s account the following morning and at 5am the minibus would arrive at his hotel and take him to Cambodia. Rory changed the last of his traveller’s cheques and gave 3000 baht to Melee. She was to catch a bus to Pattaya. He would get back from Cambodia and make his way straight to Pattaya and give Melee a phone when he got into town. They would only be parted for two days at the most.
Melee wanted to celebrate. Rory was thinking more along the lines of dinner and early to bed. He had to be up at 4.30am the next day. Melee grabbed Rory’s arm and started dragging him down Khao San Road. At the end of the road was a black man with a microphone going off on a religious rant about the wages of sin being death. He summoned quite a bit of rhetorical and vocal power as he started to catalogue the sins to be found in Khao San Road. Rory was intrigued. Everything was mai pen rai, no problem in Thailand and now here was a man who found a lot to be a problem. The Catholic in Rory wanted to hear more. The preacher was wearing a clean white shirt and suit pants that fit much better than those made for Rory by Sunneill. As Rory listened he realized that this possibly religious loony did have a point. Khao San did have a Babylon quality to it. Prostitution, lady boys, all night drinking, gambling, Thais taking yaba to stay up for days: everything for sale, everything for a price. Neither law nor morality could stench the flow of human sacrifice to suck the dollars out the tourists. Melee moved impatiently from foot to foot like she needed the toilet as Rory stood outside the 7-11 to listen to the eloquent condemnation of unfettered licentiousness. Rory looked around the beautiful backpackers full of tattoos and piercings, the stall holders, the beer bar girls in racing queen uniforms, the whole international mass of cool seemed to be ignoring the man. If Rory could hear him then others must be able to. And then the black man stopped with as little fanfare as he had started. He looked for no response. Instead he walked over to a Thai standing in the shadows next to an Italian pizza place. He gave the Thai the microphone and walked off down a side street. The young Thai man also wearing a clean white shirt and smart slacks stood on the exact spot where the black man had stood and began to declaim in Thai. The rhythms of Thai and English have little in common but Rory was sure that the young Thai man was delivering the same message as the black man.
Melee couldn’t constrain herself any longer. There was anger in her voice as she said: “Rory we GO NOW.” As Rory moved her tone softened. “I know good place with real Thai food. Not farang-Thai rubbish. And cheap too. You like.”
Rory lightened up. Cheap was good. It seemed he had been hemorrhaging money ever since he met Melee. She led him past tattoo parlors and out of Khao San Road. They passed some type of concrete fort next to a park. The crowds thinned out. Rory felt less claustrophobic, less apocalyptic than he did squeezing down the filthy brash neon Khao San Road.
Dinner was amazing. Not necessarily amazing good from Rory’s point of view but amazing. He ate a fish curry that made him sweat and cry. A papaya salad that looked innocuous but made him cry some more. He tried something sweet and crunchy that he later found out was a grasshopper. He nibbled on a plate of leaves none of which beared any resemblance to salad or lettuce or rocket. And he filled up on sticky rice. Throughout the meal they drank Thai whiskey. Melee was really vivacious and great company - full of giggles and sly humour. The two other foreigners in the place looked on jealously as Melee and Rory flirted shamelessly as they ate and drank.
That night back at the Chinese hotel they made love. Rory could feel the difference. He was hooked. Melee was incredible. Thailand was incredible.
The alarm went off on Melee’s mobile phone at 4.30am. She ignored it, but Rory got up and stretched. He was very happy. He quickly got dressed, got his packs in order and woke Melee up. He left her some money to pay for the room, kissed her goodbye and left. He had her number. He knew where she was staying. He knew he was going to see her again.
Rory slept for most of the journey to the Cambodian border at Poipet. He was herded through several lines with the other foreigners on the bus. It wasn’t until he was standing in the final line to re-enter Thailand that he got talking to another traveler. The Thai authorities had recently changed the visa rules (again). Now you only got 15 days when you entered Thailand by a land border. What the fuck! Rory thought it was 30 days. That was his plan. He asked someone else and they confirmed what the first traveler had told him. Shit. The traveler had big dreads and a far away perpetually doped up look of wisdom about him. He explained to Rory that he could catch a bus to Phnom Phen and from there he could apply for a tourist visa for 30 days. Apparently he was very lucky because the rules were going to change again next month, and under the new rules he would have to apply for a new visa back home in Ireland. Rory’s head was spinning as the hippy stared calmly and compassionately at him. The hippy offered him a cigarette and pointed out where to catch the bus.
And so it was that Rory’s ebullient mood buoyed up to the clouds with love was severely deflated. He cussed the paranoid Thai government that was forever changing the rules. He sat in the bus gathering up bile and self-pity. Why? He wanted to be back with Melee. During his travels he had heard many a traveler talk about the visa laws in Thailand. It all seemed easy to understand until phrases like “Non-im ‘B’” and “Non-im ‘O’” entered the frame of reference. Rory thought they were all just showing off. He was fine with his 30 days. Pop in, pop out. See something new. It suited him perfectly.
Rory had already been to Phnom Phen on his journeys around South East Asia. It was fun then, but now he didn’t want to be there. It was a drag. He arrived at night then got a taxi to the place by the lake where he had stayed previously and rang Melee to explain what had happened. He wasn’t sure if she understood, but she seemed to take the news of his extended estrangement from her all in good cheer. Was she drunk? Surely not. Probably just the famous Buddhist fatalism he had read so much about. She told him that she loved him and that was enough for Rory. He went out and had a bowl of noodles and bought a bottle of nasty spirits and went back to his room and got drunk.
Things went much better for Rory the next day. He got up early, put on his cleanest clothes and caught a taxi to the Thai consulate. Outside he was accosted by a chirpy middle-aged man who had a ‘fast-tracking’ business. Rory was impressed with the man’s efficiency. He took Rory to a tiny office full of computer equipment. Rory sat down and had his photo taken, then the man instructed him how to fill out the visa form correctly. He then took $20 of Rory’s money along with his passport and left Rory in the cramped air-con office watching some dumb Hollywood movie.
Within thirty minutes the man was back with Rory’s passport all stamped and good to go. Rory was most pleased and so paid the man over the odds for his services.
While waiting for a taxi, Rory had an inspirational idea. Why not take an airplane. He could be back in Bangkok by lunch time. That left plenty of time to get to Pattaya the same day and surprise Melee. So when a taxi pulled over he ordered the driver to take him to the airport.
Rory was right. He was back in Bangkok by 1pm. By 3pm he was in a minibus heading to Pattaya.
walking street in Pattaya
It was six o’clock by the time Rory had located the bar that Melee had mentioned on the phone. It seemed her friend lived above a bar. How convenient. His opinion started to change when he found Walking Street. Loud, raucous, with one thing to sell other than booze and that was sex: go-go bars, open plan beer bars and short time bars behind dark glass windows. Every few meters Rory heard girls shouting at him, “I love you,” and “Hello, sexy man.” Young tourists on scooters cruised up and down the street. Old men sat drinking at bar counters. Lady boys fingered poles waiting for the night to go off with a bang. This made Khao San look tame Rory thought.
And there it was the Morning Star Bar on Soi 16. It looked like some type of Irish bar. There were Guinness hats hanging from the ceiling, a TV high on the wall showing rugby and draft beer to be had at the bar. And as he focused on the bar he saw what appeared to be Melee with her back turned to him.
“Melee, Surprise. I got here early.” It was Melee but not the Melee he had been picturing as he raced across the subcontinent to get to Pattaya. She was wearing the same tight and alluring outfit that had so entranced him that first morning she had come to his room with an offer to help him sell his hash. The bruised eye was gone or hidden under make up. Her eyes looked glazed with too much booze and..
“Who the fuck are you?” It was a burly Brit in a black vest. His thick arms were covered in tattoos. His head was shaved and his nose had a metal pole through it. He was twice the size of Rory and not smiling.
Rory looked down and saw the Breitling watch on the guy’s thick wrist. Rory didn’t know what to say.
“Listen, mate. I paid bar fine for this young lady. So she’s mine for the next few hours. Go get your own.”
During the entire episode Melee said nothing to Rory. There was nothing to say. Rory left the Morning Star Bar and went looking for a taxi.
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