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Mural in ...
a Chinese temple in Penang Thailand, Pattaya, 08-03-2009.
It is 04.00 h. in the morning and I am deep asleep holding a softly snoring Moo in a tight embrace when the knock-knock-knock on my door starts. Soft groaning emerging from the other side of the door, a stammering voice "I want my Buddha back, Hans!", I don't need to make any second guess about the female identity of the person at the other side of my door.....Miss Guan of course, totally off her head no doubt on cheap Moonshine whiskey and way too much Yaa-Baa in her f*cked-up mind.
Moo seems to know what and who too waking and telling me "too much smoke and whiskey, crazy old lady", adding in a semi-screaming voice "Allai?" plus a whole lot more hot-bodied Laotian accented Thai that is way beyond my limited Thai understanding.
Not that I need to understand the words to access the nutiness of the situation. Not like it is the first time this is happening to me...pretty normal thing here in fabled Pattaya...I know what is gonna happen next and in my Farang mind through the fog of age and a lame feeling brought about by several cans of Leo beer
Mural in ...
a Chinese temple in Penang on the boulevard.... I know the complete frequence of the story about to enfold itself...
With the persistent whining and knocking continueing Moo jumps out of the bed not bothering to cover her beautifull naked body with one of these hotel provided orange colored towels, storms to the door and within mere seconds a big heavy arguements is in full swing between these two Hot Mommas. Pushing and shoving and angry feminine voices which I try hard to ignore prefering to listen to Joseph's raspy voice inside my mildly intoxicated mind "Wenn zwei Thai kämpfen, sollst Du immer draus bleiben, es ist eine private Sache zwischen die Thai, ganz ruhrig lassen so"...basically leave the Thai to themselves when they have an arguement!!!
When eventually Miss Guan is gone, another mental victim of the Thai drug and s*x industry, and a seriously still stark naked Moo returns to bed way to worked up to fall back to sleep I imagine trying to tell this sort of stuff happening to me to my bar mates back in old Amsterdam.
In the morning walking down the boulevard still quite amused in a strange sort of way, I see a heavily
Mural in ...
a Chinese temple in Penang tattood Japanese walking in my direction whom I instantly recognise from a life size photo behind Mike's Shopping Hall in front of one of the Tattoo shops. His head might have been scissored out of that carton picture but the tattoos on his upper body are a dead give away.
Walking past him I quickly and quite openly check his finger tips with furtive glances of my farang blue eyes and YES....one of his pinkies is missing a few digits. The man is Yacuza, Japanese Maffia.
I always thought the tattoo stuff and the missing finger digit stories where actually a myth brought into the world by the American movie industry, Hollywood's grip on our mental processes. Well think again mate.
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