Songs from the Sixteenth Storey
“The art of journalism is to interest the readers in the fact that Lady Jones is dead, when they had not previously known that she was alive.” GK Chesterton.
Bikes V. the Bolts…
Sporadic outbreaks of violence, threatened and actual, have of late shocked peaceful Pattaya. Internecine warfare rages between Pattaya’s traditional motor bike pillion taxis and the relatively new kid on the block – Bolt, the ‘smart’ phone hailing app.
Although only an occasional taxi bike user, the baht bus songtheaw takes me most places I need to go, I’m all for the orange jacketed bike boys and girls! They have been a feature of Pattaya life for as long as I can remember and, on the whole, provide a great and sometimes thrilling experience. It’s a great mode of transport, cheap and much, much faster than the four-wheeled variety.
A bit of a joy ride too if you like the thrill of weaving through through the narrow spaces in the queues of jammed cars and trucks, at speed and with just inches to spare It’s a great feeling exhilarating and electrifying to the senses. You feel a surge of liberation and a sense of mastery over the urban jungle, an adrenaline-fuelled thrill that encapsulates the essence of Pattaya’s vibrant energy.
Although probably a lot safer a Bolt ride is the antithesis of that adrenaline-fuelled thrill!
Anyway for now I’ll be sticking with the good old Baht bus. But, with the escalating price of fuel and everything else, I wonder how long they can continue offering that fixed ten Baht fare?
A street scene in Chom Thian, or a scene in the street…
One Sunday evening some months ago the scribbler had a fancy to try the “traditional Sunday roast dinner” advertised by a bar located in down-town Pattaya reviving fading memories of a meal that was once, going on for half-a-century or so ago, a staple part of any weekend in a UK home. It seemed an agreeable thing to do.
Knowing that at such a time in the early evening the 2.5km to Pattaya would be solid with buses bearing hordes of Chinese holidaymakers I got the concierge at our condominium to call up a two-wheel taxi.
The scribbler aboard and away we go. Turning into the main road there is a sudden sound of aggravated horn honking. One of those high-powered brutal looking ‘Moto Guzzi’ type bikes draws alongside, its helmeted rider gesticulating and screaming foul-mouthed abuse. Both parties halt their machines.
Initially my (middle-aged) driver offers the traditional Thai non-confrontational response. This appears to infuriate the other, non-Thai party; at a guess mid-20s and I think probably from one of those medieval middle east oil sheikdoms. It is not at all clear why he is so angry. I mention, perhaps unwisely on reflection, that I have hired the taxi and would like to continue my short journey without further delay. Reaction to this by the road-raged party is instant. He grabs a fistful of the scribbler’s tee-shirt and starts a furious tirade largely consisting of the ‘F’ word.
My driver now abandons traditional Thai restraint, jumps off his machine and offers fisticuffs. Both are now on their feet. My driver escalates matters by kicking over the brutal-looking bike. It hits the curb hard, modifying its paintwork with a satisfyingly loud crash. In what seemed a split second both are exchanging blows. First casualty, the visor on the enraged type’s helmet which flies through the air like a Frisbee! All is confusion, the halted traffic now backing up as far as the eye can see. Compounding the confusion the enraged antagonist’s flimsily clad female Thai passenger is screaming hysterically.
Oh dear, just another another quiet street scene on a Chom Thian Sunday… Suddenly out of nowhere a guy with a ‘walkie-talkie’ appears. A cop, I’m later told, but not in uniform.
At this point the scribbler deciding discretion is the better part of valour discreetly withdraws into the gathering dusk. Departing the scene undetected he hops aboard a nearby ‘baht bus’ arriving at the destination restaurant some 10 minutes later.
Later in the evening I run into my American friend Sam. He apparently witnessed the whole incident and tells me that eventually a couple of police pick-ups appeared. Both parties were handcuffed and together with their bikes bundled into the back and driven off.
Of the eventual outcome the scribbler could discover nothing. Feeling sorry for the taxi guy I endeavoured next day to track him down. Perhaps I could at least give him the fare he had been due. But the other drivers at the makeshift taxi ‘depot’ at the end of our driveway clammed up in a typical Thai manner. They smilingly knew nothing about anything.
Oh, by-the-bye, the roast, pork with apple sauce and crackling but no stuffing, was not at all bad, although the accompanying veg was of a thoroughly traditional and soggy sort. The attempt at ‘Yorkshire Pud’ is best not mentioned at all!
A postponed paradise regained…
Huge attendances at events, festivals, parades and processions in the last few weeks have provided ample evidence that Pattaya’s almost three years of ‘pandemic postponements’ is finally behind us. It started with the exuberant return of Songkran and is clearly gathering momentum.
Perhaps the most spectacular, and certainly the noisiest, that combined all four was surely ‘Pattaya Pride’. The procession stretched to 3.5 km with a dazzlingly exotic array of colourful costumes as well as some equally exotic ‘non-costumes’ – oh the bare-faced cheek!
