Day 15 / January 7, 2011

Type 3 – Instant Love, The Girlfriend Experience, or 01 800 BABE

Continued from Day 13 / January 6, 2011

Anywhere in the modern world the yellow pages are filled with escort services offering any sexual fantasy you can think of – and many more neither you or I had any idea existed. There is probably nowhere that has a more available selection of professional working girls than Las Vegas. Just walk down the aisles of table games and slot machines at Bellagio or Wynn on an early Saturday morning around 2:00 am. See for yourself, it’s downtown Babylon on steroids.   

Prostitution in the Far East is much different. Much of this has to do with the fact that it is not illegal – that is not to say it is legal, but exists somewhere in the cosmic gray realm between the two. It also exists in a primarily Buddhist country, Buddhists for the most part are non-judgmental, so there is no degrading of status or negative Karma attached to either the prostitute or the client. An important factor to consider is the deeply inbreeded sense of loyalty that oriental women seem to acquire at birth. I’m not saying they are necessarily loyal to their mate or to any man in general, but they are loyal to the oral business agreement. An arrangement confirmed between two consenting adults is like a contract in blood. Saving face is the most important social custom in the Far East, and breaking a business deal for any reason will cause one to lose face.

I was lucky enough to experience a very positive relationship with a Chinese whore while on R & R from Vietnam in 1967. Maybe it is from this experience that I have a level of respect and a different view of the workingwoman in this hemisphere. They are not crack addicts or outcasts of society but intelligent, beautiful, bi-lingual, young enterprising women of refined taste. That was my memory from days of old, and enticed me with enough stimuli to become a willing voyeur and amateur travel writer ready to explore the violet shades of pulsating neon one last time.

Many things have changed over the years and remember that Chiang Mai was never the sexual recreation center that existed in Hong Kong or Bangkok. Today, the red light district is isolated to a few squatty bars along Th Ratwithi that maintain purple twinkling lights and bar girls. The bar girls are way past the girl age, and they wear nametags with snappy abbreviations like Tip, Happy, Lov, VO, and Wanna. They work for the bar and though they will chat up a storm with anyone willing to buy them a drink they won’t leave the bar. At least I didn’t think so. I was so turned off by this plastic post Vietnam 1960’s atmosphere that I didn’t last but ten minutes. A Tuk-Tuk driver brought me to the last remaining waterhole still standing in Chiang Mai that offered, live in the flesh prostitutes. Rumor has it will be torn down soon; the current name is the Spotlight Bar. Women here can be purchased for company or sex or about anything else you can imagine for 1,500 baht. That buys a long time, somewhere between four and eight hours. If they are working, the Spotlight seconds, as a go-go bar and a bar fine must be paid of 600 baht. Once again, either I have changed or Thailand has, because if the girls standing outside were any example of what could be found inside, there was no need to do anything but drive by. This icon from the past should go the route of the bulldozer and the sooner the better. It will no doubt be replaced with a Starbucks or the latest trendy little Hawaiian-style hamburger joint smartly decorated with pretty waitresses all wearing short vinyl mini-skirts.

Ali says the difference between here and the states is that the bar girls or pros have learned that the white male does not want sex at all – what they really seek is love. So for the right price, bargaining is considered an art form in Thailand, any one of these ladies will offer eight loving hours of the girlfriend experience that includes everything from falling in love on the one night stand to a convincing break-up because you said something wrong the next day. Something you had no idea you ever said or suggested. Fear not young traveler-- she may have a sister near by and your luck could take a turn for the better – on another night.

Day 14 [continued] / January 6, 2011 / Smiling Wary, Acupuncture, & Moxibustion

Thais have a particular difficultly in pronouncing L’s and R’s together. My name at the clinic has become smiling Wary. Doctor Rungrat has given this new nickname to me, for I am the man that hides his pain and smiles to everyone. I smile because I am truly happy. The sun shines endlessly, the people laugh in abundance and everything about Chiang Mai is healthy. Unlike Costa Rica where eco-travel is marketed to entice American tourists, in Thailand the food is organic and prepared with love, [the topic of food will be saved for an individual blog in the near future], and the protection of the environment comes as natural as removing one’s shoes before entering a house. It is second nature to the inhabitants and any discussion concerning it would simply be redundant. People who smile and laugh will never wage war – they simply have no time for it. It is those that take themselves too seriously that we must be watchful; a civilization that is serious believes the world revolves around their ideology.

            I lay on my side in pain with needles, wires, and current running through my body and eventually drift off to a light sleep. I awake to something new the smell of my burning flesh? There is no pain just this unusual odor, one that I have never experienced before. It’s an herb of some sort, not unpleasant, but not inviting either. I later find out that my treatment today includes moxibustion.¹

                  The clinic is slow today and Dr. Rungrat takes extra time with me. I explain that after the second treatment yesterday I felt better, but only for a short time. It was like an excellent massage, you feel good for a couple of hours and then the sore muscles knot back into the same cramping tightness they were in before the message. In my case the acupuncture relieved thirty percent of the pain but within a couple of hours I was in worse pain that before the treatment began. She explained that this was not atypical. In many cases patients will feel worse directly after a treatment with no relief at all.

            She continued with an explanation of how acupuncture works. It is a long term healing process. The nerve is damaged and thereby sending miss signals to the muscles causing cramps, and notes of pain to the brain. The nerves are pathways not unlike a vein or artery and portions of these pathways have collapsed or deteriorated causing the signals to become distorted. The needles and electric simulation will bring additional oxygen to the nerves and the tissue around the nerves so they may heal. In western medicine doctors believe that once a nerve is destroyed it will never repair itself, eastern medicine begs to differ.

At the moment I can’t tell if my sciatica is killing me because of a pinched or damaged nerve or because of the needles that were just removed. In spite of it all, I’ll write away, poolside, eating lunch and tell myself, I’ll be here for another two weeks my mind is as open as the blackland prairies of central Texas. Why not, I say to myself, enjoy the home made wide egg noodles stir fried with carrots, Chinese spinach, mushrooms, chicken and curry. Drink the natural fruit shakes and keep smiling -- Wary.

                 

1.            Practitioners use moxa to warm regions and acupuncture points with the intention of stimulating circulation through the points and inducing a smoother flow of blood and qi. Medical historians believe that moxibustion pre-dated acupuncture, and needling came to supplement moxa after the 2nd century BC. Different schools of acupuncture use moxa in varying degrees. For example, a 5-elements acupuncturist will use moxa directly on the skin, whilst a TCM-style practitioner will use rolls of moxa and hold them over the point treated. It can also be burnt atop a fine slice of ginger root to prevent scarring. Practitioners consider moxibustion to be especially effective in the treatment of chronic problems, "deficient conditions" (weakness), and gerontology. Bian Que (fl. circa 500 BC), one of the most famous semi-legendary doctors of Chinese antiquity and the first specialist in moxibustion, discussed the benefits of moxa over acupuncture in his classic work. He asserted that moxa could add new energy to the body and could treat both excess and deficient conditions. On the other hand, he advised against the use of acupuncture in an already deficient (weak) patient, on the grounds that needle manipulation would leak too much energy.

Day 14 / January 6, 2011

Continued from January 5, 2011

Type 2 -- The accelerated method – meeting in cyber-space:

This is nothing new, in the old days this method of introduction would be an arranged marriage or the family paying for the services of a matchmaker. In any case the desired effect is to eliminate the riff raft, the games, and all the people not seeking a serious permanent relationship. Oh -- even typing the word permanent gives me the willies. My mind pictures all those endless attempts of trying to wash off India ink from my hands after a day of drafting. I would then go out with black smudges on my fingertips – no wonder it was only artists that would date me.

This is the preferred method of my shrink and according to him most of the world these days. It removes the -- if factor. You sign up, complete a profile about yourself, and begin the search for the perfect girl. Sounds as easy as making a pot of spaghetti, doesn’t it? It would be except that people lie, specifically women. I’m not saying that men don’t lie, but I don’t lie – so the problem for me using this method is that it only works if both people lie or if neither person lies. I think in was Helena Rubinstein that instigated this faulty flaunting of the opposite sex.  The Helena’s cosmetic commercials were my earliest memory of the before and after looks of the average beauty queen. Birds are born with colorful feathers, usually the males, but no, women have to purchase these neat applied colors that get more appealing as the night wears on to confuse the male species. The what you see isn’t exactly what you get.

I’ve tried cyber mating in Vegas and joined a nationally recognized dating site, not some sleaze site looking to meet porno queens on their day off. Not me, I was hoping to find movie stars and waitresses on their way home. I actually met six different women for coffee before I pulled the plug and decided this wasn’t for me. The definite turning point was the drama queen with anorexia and six scars that ran from the sides of her eyes to her temples displaying the number of face lifts she had over the years. They wore like the rings on a tree that define age. She had four cups of coffee during an interview that lasted fifteen minutes, and couldn’t keep her hands still for a second. It was one of the only times in my life I was embarrassed to be seen in public.

            Ali is quick to say Chiang Mai is not like Las Vegas. If a women states on her profile that she likes art gallery openings and light conversation over coffee she probably means it. They don’t know what they’re supposed to say that’s cool so they tend to say what they mean. My ears perked up a bit, women that tell the truth? Ali continues; that is not to say you’re not going to get a certain number of women that hustle Caucasians for a living. Meaning they’ll approach each encounter with the intentions of a monk then collect boyfriends like precious saving bonds and try to extract interest payments from each one,  long distance. And, of course the few pros that surf the dating sites for extra disposable income.

            It appears both of the English and the Canadian councilors have met their current squeezes via DateinAsia.com, a free and legit dating site for anyone that has serious enough balls to roll the dice. I’m game, after all what do I have to lose as Ali says. Probably more than I want to admit, I think to myself. My problem, as I have discovered, is in my head. I have no idea now old I am. I think any female from thirty-to-eighty is fair game. In case you are wondering, I didn’t hit on the twelve-year old nurse at the acupuncture clinic – and she was seventeen by the way, and her telephone number is . . . I could never last through her giggles, but they were refreshing. I haven’t heard anyone giggle in a long time.

            I see my shrink again today at 3:30. I’ll ask what he thinks about my age denial or maybe it’s just a loss of memory. I forgot all those birthdays between forty and sixty. If I’m not looking in the mirror – now for example – if I close my eyes and picture my own face I appear to be about fifty. I certainly can’t picture the additional ten pounds I harbor nor the added lines of life that have been appearing in greater numbers, like Chinese fans expanding from each eye reaching for my temples. Try it yourself. Close your eyes and picture how you look, then compare that thought to a recent photograph. See I’m not totally crazy; I’m just as nuts as all my friends.


To be continued . . .

1/6/11 / Larry Rubenstein

January 5, 2011

I felt a hot burning sensation in my right buttocks and electrical shocks pulsating through my anklebones at two second intervals -- exactly. Giggling at me was a young girl in a blue uniform that looked no older than twelve. I thought I was in a dream.

            The only down side to this trip, and it has been ugly, was my back problems. I have been walking more than usual out of necessity. I’ve also kept a daily workout routine of Pilates and cycling in an attempt to keep some excess pounds off as well keeping in shape to a minimal degree. All of which seems to adversely affect my back by inflaming the lumbar 4/5 area. Yesterday afternoon I had my first appointment at the Mungkala Medicine Clinic.

            I scheduled two back-to-back appointments, a consultation at 3:30 and the first acupuncture treatment at 4:00. The clinic itself turned out to be a house in a nice residential setting and only two blocks from my hotel. It could be an easy walk if the treatments worked. Once again, I was greatly impressed by the cleanliness and efficiency of health care in Chiang Mai. The new patient form was one small sheet of paper asking for name, address, telephone number, date of birth and the reason I was there – nothing else. Consultation fee was 200 baht and another 500 baht for the first treatment. A total of $ 25.00, U.S. currency.

            Dr. Rungrat was a knowledgeable Thai physician that had studied medicine extensively in China for over twenty years. She knew exactly what my problem was – lower back and sciatica nerve pain down the leg. This condition appears to be more and more common with every doctor I see. I was assured I would get relief in some form and she suggested four treatments. They were booked in daily succession beginning with today and ending on Monday morning.

            For the first time in my life I was very open-minded with the concept of acupuncture. First of all, I was left with no other alternatives – it’s this or the scalpel. I was escorted to exam room number four; there were eight rooms total. The Doctor showed up within five minutes. I removed my shorts and lied on my side on a hard bed facing white- laced curtains and a lovely view to a garden in the side yard. She inserted seven needles in my body, two at the spine, two in the buttocks, one behind the knee, and two at the ankle. The ankle and buttock needles were right on, I could tell the minute they were inserted. They were in the exact stops the pain originated. There was no discomfort; I could barely fell the needles at all. Then she attached small alligator clips with wires connecting to a machine that looked very similar to a typical EKG heart-monitoring device. A heat lamp was placed within inches of my buttocks.

            Power up. I could feel it now. Electrical current pulsated through every nerve that my pain was felt and the heat lamp intensified to a burning sensation. I remained like this with a young nurse, I swore looked twelve years old, standing by me to insure I didn’t move for twenty minutes. After about ten minutes the needles began to itch and not moving was as difficult as meditation. The young nurse, Anna, would touch my body near where a needle vibrated slightly from my movement and scold me with smiles and giggles. How could anyone possibly feel annoyed in this situation?

            The first treatment ended and I walked back to my hotel, I was slightly better by about 10%. That isn’t much, but if I can improve 10% with each visit that will be a significant reduction in pain from noninvasive care and enough to make this trip really worth while.

            This morning I head to my Pilates class then back again to the clinic in the afternoon with a likely message between. I was going to say I may never come home, but the truth is I might already be home.

January 5, 2011

My shrink says my problem isn’t alcohol, its women. Ali, to be forever branded ‘my shrink’, is also trying to tie together my Vietnam experience, specifically isolating my association with Angel, my use of the name Angel in all current writing, and my current fascination of Asian women in general. It’s then served back to me as a lukewarm bowl of Munedo. He has no idea what to do with me and is grasping for straws. In regard to my Asian fetish of late I told him he should ask my friend Gary for an explanation. He might tell you I’ve just run out of dating every available woman in the U.S. -- it was bound to happen after all these years.

My shrink says that my drinking escalates and becomes a serious issue after a relationship break-up. Hello? Isn’t that a bit like saying you’re more likely to bleed after falling and scraping your knee than from walking? How about the notion that I use to drink when I was depressed, which was all the time, and after a relationship breakdown I got even more depressed.

Now that life is rosy, and my prayers have been answered -- I have work for another eighteen months. I can move forward in a more positive direction. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to say Vegas isn’t a healthy place for me to live. In that regard, I’m not very different from Alissa, completing rehab and going back to the same life style that got her there in the first place. I would have bogeyed eons ago if I could sell my house and walk away with enough pocket change to buy a tuna fish sandwich, but that doesn’t appear possible for the time being. The shrink and I do agree on a few things. One, that I should take more trips – get out of Vegas for long weekends. Try not to hang around town when I have no work to do, don’t let boredom sink its fangs into my soul leading me back to the casinos. Problem solved -- I’ll free load on my friends more often than I have in the past. What’s for dinner? The wagon that I’m trying not to fall off of is cranking along the super highway at a nice clip. I find myself standing at home plate protected best I can and waiting for life to throw the next curve ball.  

It was a very interesting therapy session, Ali really thinks I should get out there and bat away one more time in search of that perfect women. Of course, he would never use those words or actually suggest I do anything, only consider doing things. How shrink like. He grabs his big wooden spoon and stirs up the ugly fragments of my past relationships, sends them swirling around in my brain then with a smug smile announces that our therapy hour is over. I did get to hear his unabridged version of Sigmund Freud’s defense mechanism of repression and the notion that sexual desire is the primary motivational energy of human life. I also discovered that my repressed shrink has categorized the three most common methods of cornering a woman in today’s society: The slow, accelerated, and instant techniques of finding romance. Ali uses the word romance very loosely, or as he explained, it is more commonly called the “girlfriend experience” in Thailand.

Type 1 -- The slow or normal method of heterosexual relationships: This can best be described using my first wife as an example, or my second or third wife for that matter. In fact all the female goodies that eclipsed those affairs would fall into this category as well. I had without any preconceived knowledge perfected the scenario the chance encounter to a tee.

I met my first wife, Janis, in a women’s shoe store – I was selling the shoes of course, why else would I be in a women’s shoe store? I was a college student at the time and was lucky to find a job that paid a salary plus commission and fondling girl’s feet at the same time. Not a bad part-time gig. Janis and I were pure chemistry, like nitro glycerin there were no subtleties. I believe if we would have found five square feet of privacy in the stock room at Krump & Tuffly’s we would have been going at it within the first five minutes of meeting each other.

I met Kathleen, my second wife, at the veterinarian’s office. Now that I think of it, this was all your doing Mary. I had just become the proud owner of an eight-week old Akita puppy and I needed to have her checked out and given shots. Kathleen was the receptionist. The rest is history – not too different from World War I.

I met Lydia through my work. We were both married to other people but gravitated toward each other due to the default of our partners. In all three cases the time frame from the initial meeting to actually being serious spanned from a few weeks to years. Everything was left to chance; fate would cast its shadow across the paths we walked. Providence whether directly or indirectly linked to Karma or an utterly apathetic God determined all.

Statistically, if we assume there are five thousand potential partners out there and any one of them would be perfect for us, we would still have a problem. The likelihood of actually meeting any one of them is about the same as getting struck by lightning. If we were to increase those numbers to about one hundred thousand humans of the opposite sex and assume they are attracted to us but not perfect for us then our chances of meeting any one of them increases dramatically. My past associations indicate that the almost right for each other has a descending duration in time as far as relationships go. Like a slow cooked stew, the meat, carrots, onions, and potatoes should savor over time, allowing everyone to adjust. It also allows the games to begin – the chase – the action, romance, and sexual innuendos that our species seems to hold so dear.

It’s the odds that keep throwing me. A thousand years ago there were a few hundred million less people in the world and the life span of a human hovered at forty. A marriage didn’t have to last to long and still be considered perfect. How can a team have a perfect season if they keep on upping the number of games? My shrink is right, the slow or normal method of relationships hasn’t worked for me in the past and time is getting short – it’s best to speed up the action.

To be continued . . . 

Day 10

A little twist for today, a whimsical piece of fiction or possibly not. For it is said that all fiction is biographical in nature. To be perfectly honest, no pun intended, the words are mine, though Haruki Murakami created the original theme in the early 1990’s.

The Perfect Girl

Yesterday, on a clear warm evening while strolling through the Sunday walking market I passed the perfect girl. I can’t say if she were beautiful or not, I don’t know. I can’t say that she dressed like a fashion model, wearing the trendy styles of today, because her clothes were rather plain. Her hair was not remarkable either. In fact, I don’t think she was a girl at all, but a woman in her late forties or early fifties, I couldn’t rightly say.

            I suppose everyone has his or her own image of the perfect girl. Another man might find long blond hair, clear blue eyes and nice breasts attractive, or a dark haired women that is tall and slim. Maybe you know someone who has been taken in by a mousey little thing sitting quietly in a bookstore reading a magazine. I was once attracted to a woman simply because she had delicate long fingers that seemed to accentuate the sensual essence of her being. I found myself staring longer than social etiquette would suggest until our eyes turned away from each other, in a perfect shyness between perfect strangers.

In this particular case at the Sunday walking market I liked the delicate smoothness of her stride, the way she hovered weightlessly over the ground like an angel. There was a slight mischief in her eyes and a sparkle to her voice that I could hear only in my imagination. She seemed to float over the earth with a graceful motion that was sexually ignited, feminine and efficient at the same time. I hardly remember anything else about her. Her hair was dark but I can’t recall the shape of her nose or even if she had a nose. I don’t recall if she were wearing a dress or pants, or what color shoes she had on. I simply can’t recall. When I returned to the hotel I told the travel agent that I had just seen the perfect girl.

The travel agent asked, “What did I do? Did I say hello, did I talk to her, and did I follow to see where she might be heading?

“No.”

I just passed her on the street and thought to myself, there goes the perfect girl for me. Although later I fantasized in my mind that I could have stopped her in her tracks and said something spontaneous and witty. But I couldn’t think of anything spontaneous or witty at the time. I was mesmerized by the fact that I saw the perfect girl and I couldn’t do anything about it. I suppose I could have said hello, you are the perfect girl for me. Would you like to have a cup of coffee, or a cocktail? That might lead to dinner where the conversation would turn to the serendipity of us walking down the same street, at the same time, in the same market, in Chiang Mai.

We would discuss our lives over a slowly cooked meal and fall into a perfect love. We would be limited only by our uncertainties and the boundaries we set for ourselves -- and our own lack of freedom. I had lots of ideas: burning Thai incense, lighting scented candles and sneaking peeps of her coco tinted skin under one of my silk white shirts. We would lie next to each other in bed lingering forever into each other’s eyes. We would speak in lofty earth tones, how everything is open for interpretation, how each one of us perceives things in a different way, through a different lens, defined by our experiences, beliefs, and priorities. We would fall in love and acknowledge our commonalities and differences. Then we would make love and be covered in a cold sweat by the time the morning sun would wink in shades of pink and yellow through the embodied curtains of the hotel room.

            I should have stopped her and said something cleaver. Do you know of a bike shop nearby? Maybe that would have worked if I were walking alongside my bike, but I wasn’t. Excuse me; do you know a good Thai restaurant in the neighborhood? To glib, there were dozens of fine street vendors all within eyesight. Even now I cannot think of anything that would have worked. Maybe I should have resorted to the truth. Excuse me, you are the perfect girl for me, do you have time to fall in love?

            And, she would respond, “Yes I do, and you are the perfect man for me”. You look exactly the way I pictured you in all of my dreams”.

            Because we were the perfect lovers we were playful, curious, and experimental. We wanted to investigate this cosmic miracle of our meeting a bit further. Let’s leave each other, go our separate ways, find another, and test the perfectness of our being together. If we truly were perfect for each other, in a perfect world, then we would no doubt meet again, on a perfect day.

            This was all played out in my mind before her silhouette faded to a soft warm gray in the distance. I knew it would end like this and that it would only be perfect if we were to meet again. The memory of this perfect woman slowly fades from my mind with each passing hour. We had our chance and let it go – how sad – yet perfect. For each day I wake up in the morning and think to myself, is today the day that I will meet the perfect girl -- again?  

Transportation and Self Reflection

Getting around in Chiang Mai is the same whether approached as a realist – destination oriented, or as an idealist – spiritualist. Our bodies are the vehicles that carry our spiritual essence -- the journey is life. That is something I could picture Lim saying. My current philosophy is the happy joining of both, the real and spiritual worlds. I, the elephant, believe that compromise is the basis of all peace.

            Without the destination, there would be no journey. Or maybe you can help me turn this thought into a cliché. Choose a goal, then hang on for the ride and check out the roses along the way.

            In either case Chiang Mai offers three possible means of transportation. The metered Taxi that is never flagged down and typically used for longer trips, like to the airport or in my case, the twenty minute ride back to “The Cabin” for my scheduled appointments. The most common used by the locals without wheels is the Sorng-taa-ou. These are the red shared-taxis that exist everywhere and in numerous quantities. You can flag them down, tell them your destination and if they are going in that direction they’ll nod and let you climb aboard. Along the way they may pick up other passengers heading in the same direction. For the traveler that is not encumbered with exact time tables or structure of route these are definitely – not bad.

            Lately my favorite is the Tuk-Tuks. These are the open-air motorbike driven coaches. They are flagged down and scoot around through traffic at an amazing pace. The driver’s wife or child can be found sharing the front seat and keeps the driver company on evenings or weekends. The only downside is the breathing of the carbon-dioxide exhaust of traffic during rush hour. Some drivers wear hospital masks. In all cases the drivers in this provincial mountain city have quoted honest prices and no one has tried to inflate or purposely taken me out of the way to increase a fare.

I am beginning to be concerned about the non-structure I have induced since leaving “The Cabin”. Last night after the Saturday Walking Market I tried the bar scene, though I didn’t stay long. The bar girls that appeared to work for each establishment weren’t very interested in talking to a man drinking club soda … and besides the young social butterflies that did migrate in my direction were amazingly uninteresting. It looks like I must find a new form of recreation; even the live music scene so far has been disappointing, at least compared to Bangkok. What I need is a local friend, someone familiar with the city vibe. My social antenna goes up today.

New Years or not, I have found a comfortable routine for myself. I’m in bed by 8:30 pm and up by 4:30 am. I drink tea and write my thoughts from the previous day. I meditate in my own way, in the quiet of the early morning hours I wait for the sun to rise and let the present sounds and thoughts of yesterday drift inward – they pass through my mind and into the depths of my heart.

The words you have been reading are the secretion of those thoughts in route. My experiences are the ‘food for thought’ and enter the mental compost I created that lies between my ears. If these pages give off a rotten odor, you now know why, you are the recipient of verbal fertilizer.