Another Day At The Beach – Jomtien Revisited
Around 5 years ago I did a story called "A Day at the Beach". I've always wanted to do another look at a day on the beach at Jomtien. This is it.
I still love going to the beach. It's a past-time I never tire of. Possibly because it is so relaxing. It is such a nice way to get away from it all. To stop thinking, to stop working, to stop everything, except lazing in the sun, and for those so inclined, quaffing a few drinks over a good book, or the daily newspaper, while damaging the upper dermal layers of your flesh in the broiling sunshine. The quest for a good tan, and all that accompanies it in the way of sanuk, is the cure for what ails one. At least for me anyway. It's pleasant and pleasurable, and the beach is a great place to see your fellow humans, particularly the female types, in a more natural, becoming, sometimes, attire.
Now-a-days I don't care so much either way if my lady (now wife) accompanies me to the sandy shores of Jomtien or not. "Up to her" as they say here. I can fend for myself after all these years. My "my ow krup" (Trans. =don't want/no thanks) works wonders on most vendors on the beach trying to entice me into buying their wares. I'm a much better informed consumer of beach products. I know the costs, a bit more language, where to get most products I may actually desire much cheaper off the beach, even without the wife's help, and have the know-how as to usually keep these pesky fuckers from bothering me, at least I think I do, as I seek to relax, and sunbathe, and sometimes get lightly sloshed on the sand under the whispering palm trees, amidst the soothing, screeching, roar of the jet skies and wave runners.
I still love to talk to the foreigners, farangs, and check out their Thai gf's/wives, or to watch the farang women as they walk by, and I sigh in contentment knowing my Thai wife's ass will probably never become so large, nor her tits so pendulous. Hopefully. I like to people watch, and to observe the foibles and antics of my fellow humans as they frolic on the shore. Farangs can act like such snotty assholes toward the Thais sometimes I've noticed, especially the white women. Jealousy perhaps? Knowing their husbands would probably love a romp in the hay with the slight, young, nubile, brown lass trying to sell them an ice cream cone, rather than their fat-arsed bossy bitch of a self. Who knows why they behave this way really. But it is a fact, and I've observed quite enough of this behaviour to last me a lifetime. I have to struggle mightily to refrain from commenting sometimes. I do though, refrain, as there is nothing to be gained, for anyone really. So I ignore the cows, and their sometimes ignorant, bigoted husbands, for the most part anyway.
So today I brought a paper tablet and pen with me, to record the numerous wares on offer on Jomtien Beach once again, and my observations of said wares and their salespersons, along, also, with a bottle or rum, a bunch of cd's and cd player, my trusty cheap dark sunglasses, a ballcap for the brutal rays of the sun that will fry my already reddened and peeling forehead, (I was here the past two days already) and also my darling wife, who has come along with me, to sample the foods of the beach more than any other reason I believe. She hasn't brought her bathing suit, will not come out from under the umbrellas, won't try the rum, (her loss, my gain) lost her sunglasses, again, (for about the fifth fucking time. I refuse to buy her new ones on the beach! Surin Plaza has a great shop with decent copy sunglasses for a hundred baht any pair) won't swim with me in the semi-polluted refreshing salty waters, and, at times, makes me wonder why the hell I used to want her to come to the beach with me. (To be fair, she does like to go to the hotel swimming pool though. And will actually swim there!)
We set up at my favorite spot on Jomtien just across and down about fifty yards from the money exchange, heading further up the beach, away from the Pattaya Park end to be precise. There is a "free of charge" hong nam (toilet) just across the street in a newly done over restaurant I can never remember the name of. The bathroom is new and clean. Plus there is a small bar on the street in the front of this restaurant where the ladies working there know how to make a decent, strong, gin and tonic. This is primo Jomtien beach territory! Having the money exchange nearby is also a plus, in case the wife or girlfriend decides to eat every gahddamned shrimp, crab, mussel, mango or whatever is offered her during your beach stay, and you need to get more cash for the baht bus ride home, or to pay for your beach chairs.
I love the beach here, especially Jomtien. I hate the infernal beach vendors though. Damn their hides! 🙂 There must be a better, less intrusive, more advantageous for all, way to sell these wares along the beach. They can really be irritating after a while.
So we grab our lounge chairs, and the show begins brothers.
——————-
1.) As soon as the wife and I sit our asses in the lounge chairs we are hit up for a sale by an ice cream girl.
Not now honey, fer chrissakes. Let us at least work up a sweat before pushing your goddamned I-suh-cleam down our throats will ya? Maybe later.
2.) I believe there is a spinning red police beacon on top of each beach umbrella that is triggered as soon as you plunk your butt on the lounge chair. How else can every beach vendor within a kilometer know you've just sat down and so greatly desire their services, and wares, and victuals?
I close my mouth and say nothing as the next lady offers her fried crabs to my lady and myself. Crab, (boo/poo) being my lady's favorite food, I leave the decision to purchase up to her and her appetites. We just ate not a half hour ago though, but she has been known to chow down when the mood strikes, especially with seafood.
3.) The steamed mussels boy stops by.
Yeah, right! Listen brother, I love mussels, but who the hell in their right mind would buy and eat mussels here, on the beach, from you? Not knowing how fucking long you've been tramping up and down the beach in the hot sun trying to sell this batch! I spew a firm, "My ow krup"! (No thanks) Can we spell Salmonella? Looks like a good way to catch a nice dose of Hepatitis methinks.
4.) The shrimp lass stops by for a chat.
"Im" I say to her, (means you are full) "My haew" (Not hungry). Come back later darling, as I'm sure you will. My wife loves the beach as long as she doesn't have to swim or go out in the sun. It's great. She can just lie back and be offered foods she loves every 30 seconds or so. She loves shrimp. The vendors that make an eternal nuisance of themselves gain NO business from me!
5.) The same I-suh-cleem lass comes by again, and before she can open her mouth I glare her down and she slithers away. Bothersome cunt she is, I'll buy any ice cream I want in the near future from someone else!
6.) As I lay down on an extra lounge chair I've arranged away from the umbrellas to catch some nice warm Jomtien sunshine a shadow crosses over me. I look up, and a platter of mango is thrust in my face. FUCK off woman!! Take yer mango and stick it up your ass! Somewhere away from me preferably, as you're blocking the sunlight. I'm not really a mango kinda guy, ya think?
7.) Next on offer is watermelon.
Not now.
8.) How about some pineapple sir?
Screw asshole.
9.) Massage sir?
Hey, massage THIS, woman!
Oh, okay sir, no problem, but that'll be extra.
10.) Foot massage sir?
Listen woman, if you don't get out of my sunlight and my face I'll be massaging your womb with MY goddamned foot! How's that fer a foot massage. No!
11.) I turn and plead with my wife to call off the vendor dogs, but she's fast asleep. Ack!!
12.) Pedicure/manicure sir? (This with a gentle nudge on my arm)
Do they really look so bad that you needed to wake me up darling? I mean, it's been what? Maybe 16 hours since I last had a manicure and pedicure. NO!!!!!! And don't touch me. Where the hell are your manners woman?
13.) Steamed corn on the cob sir?
No. Well, maybe later. It is tasty. Even without some butter and salt.
14.) Silk sir? Nice Thai silk?
No! Fuck off! What? I look like a seamstress or something?
15.) T-shirt sir?
I ignore him, and write "t-shirts" in my log book of beach vendors, and go back to feigned sleep. It's hot!
16.) Next is the shorts guy.
I ponder the fact that many people actually do clothe themselves from these beach purchases. Mostly German tourists it seems, from what I've seen anyway. 🙂
17.) The sunglasses lady comes by and tries to sell me a pair, as I stare at her tits through the sunglasses I already own which are planted on my mug.
Do many people who own a functioning pair of sunglasses already usually buy more as they relax on the beach? Nice tits.
18.) Now comes the silk bathrobe guy.
Now, these are nice bathrobes for sure, but certainly most people would be right in assuming it would be cheaper and easier to buy their bathrobes in the shops, wouldn't they? Who buys this stuff while suntanning? Farang tourist women? Surely not the men? No?
19.) Next the pocketbook/handbag lass strolls by. She is cute.
20.) Spling loll sir?
What? Oh, spring roll. I buy a few and spend the next 15 minutes trying to teach the kid how to pronounce "spring roll". Forget it. R's are beyond his tongue.
21.) The kids selling the parole/release of their good luck caged birds try to scam me yet once again. I'm hip to their scam. Good luck for who? "No." "Please mister." "No." "Please." "No."
One of 'em gives me the finger and sticks out his tongue. Scram ya little Burmese brats.
22.) Jet ski anyone?
Nope. My back can't handle the bumps anymore.
23.) The banana boat ride looks fun though I think to myself. I need a beer. Or another glass of rum and ice. Fun! What the hell am I thinking?
24.) Another hang-glider parasail glider almost impales himself on a tree branch. I wonder how many tourists actually do hurt themselves here. I am always waiting to see some Frenchman slam face first into a coconut palm on his way down to the sand.
25.) Sir, tattoo sir?
Huh? Oh, hey come 'ere. I have a son who is a tatoo artist and he wanted me to get some of the flash sheets these Thai tattooists use so he can see what their artwork looks like, and maybe incorporate some into his work. I wake the wife and explain/have her explain to the kid what I want. I picked some good stuff I think my son can maybe use and had him go make copies at a shop, and paid him for the copies. No. I don't want a tattoo!
26.) Grapefruit sir?
No, but I'll have a grapefruit juice and Schmirnoff vodka if you have some? No? Then go away, please.
27.) One lass comes around and wants to sell me some kinda nuts I've never even seen before.
I'm curious, but not that curious at the moment. I need a beer. Where the hell is the lounge chair waitress?
28.) A lass selling roasted peanuts makes her move.
I accept, in anticipation of my forthcoming beer Chang.
29.) I also accept the offer to buy some nice green grapes, which I wash off with some of my bottled water. Delicious.
30.) As my beer arrives I notice a beached whale rise up from the sand just a ways away from me. Yikes! What the hell is that?!! Whales don't have legs! I realize it's not a beached whale, but a farang lady tourist with the bottom of her bathing suit stuffed up the crack of her dead-fish, white, enormously fat, ass. It takes me all of my will-power to restrain myself from gouging out my eyeballs with my pen. I shudder, and take a deep swallow of my beer Chang to force down my rising gorge. I nearly puke. There oughta be a law against this shit! The public needs to be protected! The woman has more rolls than a wholesale bakery outlet fer chrissakes.
31.) I notice they have sailboards for rent on this section of the beach now.
Yipee.
32.) A woman wanders buy selling silk screen wall hangings. Some are quite beautiful. But does anyone really need to buy these from the beach?
33.) Carved wooden elephants?
No thanks. Have one already. Hey, I was drunk that day I bought them.
34.) Carved wooden elephant heads?
No thanks. I have one already. (Not bought on the beach!)
35.) Puka beads sir?
Uh, no thanks. My puka bead wearing days are long past I'm afraid. Buzz off, bub.
36.) A lady walks by showing off her three tiered black silk bird kites. The wind dies suddenly, and she nearly pokes out one of my eyes jerking on the damned thing near my seat while trying to keep them afloat. Get outta here you freakin' maniac!
37.) Someone obviously seems to think I'm a down and out Isaan alcoholic. They try to get me to buy some Lao Khao rice whiskey. I almost retch at the mere thought.
38.) A lass walks by selling bathing suits. Hmmmm. Genius? Or insanity?
39.) Wanna shellac umbrella sir?
Sigh.
40.) Baseball caps for sale too.
I don't recognize any of the team logos, except for the Yankees hat. I hate the Yankees. I'm from Boston.
41.) Leather belts anyone?
Yeah gimmee one so's I can hang myself from the nearest palm tree and put myself outta my misery. Get lost.
42.) Woven sun hats.
Maybe there is a call for selling these here on the beach. Anyone ever buy one?
43.) Silk scarfs sir?
Silence. I ignore her until she goes away.
44.) Cotton candy sir?
Ah yes, there is nothing like the crunch of sand laden spun sugar candy in the mouth to make your day at the beach complete! Better than just flossing it is.
45.) Popcorn?
Yes, please come back once the movie starts and I'll buy a bucket. Move along please. You're blocking my sunlight.
46.) Squid? BBQ, or sun dried?
Haaaack! Neither, thanks.
47.) The wife grabs the papaya bok bok lady and has her pound out a half kilo of this fiery slop.
I move upwind from the scent.
48.) Hill tribe trinkets. Sold by authentic hill tribe trinketeers. Sweating profusely in their authentic hill tribe garb.
Who are the customers on the beaches encouraging the sale of this stuff? Are you mad?
49.) Woven wrist bands/woven cloth wall hangings sir?
Uh. Have you got a wrist band that says "Fuck off please"? No? What a pity. Move along please.
50.) Sandals?
Yeah, but none of them are even close to a farang's foot sizes. At least not this farang's, and my feet ain't that friggin' large.
51.) More wallets for sale.
No elephant skin ones, and that's all I want now-a-days. See ya!
52.) Blankets/thin beach towels.
Good idea.
53.) Maps?
Of Thailand of course. In case you get lost on your stroll along the seashore I'd imagine.
54.) Plastic covered fish chart of the fish of Thailand sir?
I already have one thank you. Gave it to my daughter's teacher up in Surin for the classroom. Looks nice hanging on the classroom wall.
55.) Plastic covered chart of dogs?
Why?
56.) Plastic covered chart of horses?!!
Huh? Horses??!
57.) Cigarette lighter sir?
I have one already. See? It's laying there on the friggin' table in plain sight! My ow krup.
Yes sir, but does yours have a switchblade knife hidden inside?
Uh, no, but I know I'll probably regret that when my smokes attack me one fine day.
Beat it.
58.) A lad comes by selling some really fine key chains.
I start laughing, hysterically.
59.) Fine woven plastic string hammocks sir?
Oh yeah, give me a fucking dozen why don't ya. I imagine they are so comfortable with that cheap braided scratchy-ass nylon crap rope you made them out of. Scram, please.
Why don'y you get together with the silk selling broad down the beach a ways? Maybe some nice silk fabric hammocks would be kinda interesting. I'd maybe buy one, maybe.
60.) Carved wooden plaques of fine serene village settings, with stands to display them.
No. Leave me alone!
61.) Knives sir?
Urk! Why? Is the hammock guy pissed off and coming back after me? How about a machete then? Fuck! This guy's got all sorts of switchblades and gravity blades, banana knives, and fish gutting blades. We could start a major fucking gang war with his wares!
I break out in song. Rum does that to me. "When yer a Jet, yer a Jet 'til the end, ta da da de dum dah da de dum dum de daaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Maria. I just met a bargirl named Maria." Oh, sorry. Got carried away there. Woke the wife up.
62.) Shirts sir? Polo shirts? Tommi Hilfligigiler?
What? Tommi who? Haha! No no, don't be embarrassed. Please, Say that again! That was great! Hahaha.
63.) Gilligan hats.
Yep. Just like Gilligan wore on the old TV show, "Gilligan's Island". A true fashion statement if there ever was one. Don't go home to the village without one!
64.) Very large shellaced wall fans sir?
Get away from me woman before I kill you with my new switchblade knife. Vamoose!!
65.) Wind chimes sir?
Yep, gimme two and I'll hang them here on my beach umbrella, to lull my ass to sleep once you beach vendors and touts leave me alone long enough to close my eyes for a second or two.
66.) Buddha necklace amulets? Good luck for you!
No. Sorry. I'm a Raelian. Got any clones for sale there? You know Buddha was really an alien from outer space ya know. Jesus too. No, no. I'm just joking. I am from Mars though. Wanna see my green pecker? Jeez, she was cute. Is my wife looking? Hope she doesn't bring back the cops.
67.) Coconut oil for suntanning sir?
Raw, freshly pressed, bottled around ten minutes ago it seems. Sorry, but no. I fell for this scam a few years ago. Took me months to finally wash that shit off of me!
68.) Women's blouses.
I'm a man! Need I say more darling? Go bother my wife. She's got all my baht anyway.
69.) Chicken sir?
Chicken on a stick? Hey! I've been watching you walk past me all day in the hot sun with that same rack of chicken sticks. What, you want to poison the falang? Fuck off.
70.) Small luggage is offered me for sale.
Makes sense really. How the hell else can one possibly carry back all the crap you've bought on the beach from all the vendors back to your hotel room?
71.) Donuts?!!
Wise career choice son. You'll go far here on the beach. Keep up the good work. Get out of the damned sunlight kid.
72.) Carved wooden motorcycles sir?
Where's my switchblade?
73.) Stuffed and mounted Cobra's sir?
Have they been de-venomed (or whatever the hell you call this) before you mounted them? I read just recently, in the Bangkok post yet, that these fuckers don't take out the venom sacks, or clean the remaining venom from the fangs. The dried venom is still extremely poisonous and potent! Be careful if you handle one of these prizes. Don't prick yerself with the fangs!
I am fast approaching 75 items for sale on Jomtien Beach. Will I surpass this number? I wonder.
I'm fried a golden brown now. Actually the tops of my feet are beet red to be truthful. A guy tries to once again sell me a thick leather belt. My ow krup! Fuck off! I'm writing! Can't you see? I might just buy it, and then chase him down the beach flailing away at him with it.
Severely overweight farang damsels wallow in the frothy surf. A few so horrible to see in a bathing suit that once again I have to restrain myself from plunging my pen into my poor, abused, eyeballs. Skinny young farang men trundle by. Some so frail they look like heroin junkies with advanced Aids/HIV. Their short pants hanging from their boney asses, with what looks like enough material to make a least one parasail parachute, maybe two small ones even. How the hell do they get so damned skinny? Are they ill?
Hairy-backed European men stand near me smoking, and drinking their beloved Heineken, looking for all the world like balding, bandy legged lowland silverback gorillas, with Cuban cigars stuffed in their maw. Now some Thai lady wants to sell me some vitamins! Shit, soon you'll be able to buy your Viagra right here on the beach too. My legs feel burnt now. I cover my feet with sand, and place my denim shirt over my thighs and shins. Hmmmmmm. It's hotter out than I thought.
A Thai man thrusts some plastic hair clips in my face, and squeaks a rubber Winnie the Pooh doll at me viciously. An evil expression on his face makes me flinch away. He looks like something from a Steven King made-for-TV movie. Where was he last month when I was doing my Xmas shopping? I'm fading fast. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold out. My resolve fails me, and I purchase a "Magnum" i-suh-cleem bar. The bandanas look cool, and I really should buy one of the knitted Rastafarian dreadlocks cover caps with the Union Jack on top. My son would like that. Ack! What am I thinking!? What? 40 baht for the Magnm ice cream bar! Fuck! More plastic covered maps are offered to me, and crab, and goong (shrimp) too.
A monster farang woman, blonde, to be sure, and immense, with lovely rolls of fat cascading down her back, arms, and thighs, disrobes near me and prances in the sand sexily. She does a belly flop into the surf, and the Thai lounge chair/sun umbrella staff hurriedly move everything further up the shore because of the new high tide line levels the great white whale has created. She's a true force of nature she is.
Blindness takes on a charming appeal and allure when she plods out of the sea water and begins to peel off her bikini top for some tanning. I'd pay a million baht fo a nice stout harpoon right about now.
It figures.
It's the only goddamned thing I haven't seen for sale on the beach today.
The afternoon sun sparkles and dances on the water. A cool constant breeze now flutters the scalloped multi-colored edges of the beach umbrellas, like the flapping pennants in a medieval jousting match. The rainbow colored cloth snaps and pops in the breeze, chattering away in a jazzy riff. A festival atmosphere floats on the now cooling zephrs. We're at the beach. On holiday. Good reason for festivities I'd say. Especially if you saw all the snow I left behind me in farangland! The sun shines down its warming nuclear rays, and puffy white clouds begin to pile on the horizon. The day is nearly done.
Even the beach vendors seem to be packing it in. Time to go home. Another day at the beach is finished. May there be many more to come.
Tomorrow I'm starting a harpoon stand. I'll make a fortune on Jomtien Beach! Check it out.
I'll be back on the sands of Jomtien in another couple of weeks. Thank the Lord!
Cent
(The Central Scrutinizer)
———————-
"For like a god thou art,
and on thy way
Of glory sheddest, with benignant ray,
Beauty and life, and joyance from above."
Robert Southey
——————–
Stickman's thoughts:
The magic continues.
