Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

Having learnt from my previous Asia Cup football outing, I decided to plan my traveling arrangements a lot more carefully when the day of the Australia match arrived. I wanted to go into Bangkok to buy a bookstand for the hotel and thought this would be an ideal opportunity to make that journey, heading over to the football match thereafter. My publishers had given me the name and location of several stores that sell bookstands. I printed this information from the email and asked Mrs. Boss to go through it with my driver for the day to be completely sure the instructions were understood. As I boarded the car, just after midday, the driver asked, “You want buy bookstand, stand book, book stand, yes?” I replied, “Yes to all or any of those,” and checked that he understood the instructions given to him by Mrs. Boss, which he assured me he did. Why, after almost three years here, I am still inclined to take such things on face value is beyond me. I really must be very, very soft in the head!

We drove off towards Bangkok and I relaxed in the safe knowledge that today I had time on my side and, if anything, I would be likely to have to spend several hours just sitting and relaxing. I did not know the location of these stores firsthand and was only aware that they were on Ladprao Road, nearby the Macro store. As we journeyed closer to Bangkok I double checked that the driver knew where we were going and he nodded feverishly whilst again uttering, “You want buy bookstand, stand book, book stand, yes?” although adding a couple of extra stand books and bookstands for good measure. Again I sat back in the car and watched the world go by, thinking that it is not such a bad life after all.

As we reached the centre of Bangkok and areas familiar to me, my driver was overjoyed by the lack of traffic. I cautioned him not to get too carried away, as this was undoubtedly the quietest time of the day in this regard and things may not look so rosy an hour or two from now. There was, however, no dampening his apparent joy. “We nearly there, I ask directions,” he told me and pulled over to the side of the road before getting out of the car to make his enquiries. I looked around to notice we were in Bangkok’s Chinatown and that old feeling of ill ease started to rear its ugly head. I was sure that George, my publisher, would have mentioned Chinatown in his directions as he has always been most specific on such matters. When my driver returned, I enquired once again, although now with considerably less Bon’homie’ than previous occasions, as to whether he knew where we were going and was treated once again to his repetition of the words book and stand in alternating positions. I once again accepted that he knew what he was doing and even as I write this cannot believe my own stupidity.

We entered the heart of Chinatown with its bustling street markets, narrow alleyways with shops of all types and size selling almost everything and anything and I began to be convinced this would be a successful excursion. This feeling did not, however, last long and as we traversed another corner and then another without finding anything more than shopkeepers shaking their heads when asked for a seller of bookstands (or stand books if you prefer). After one and a half hours we eventually found a shop where the owner told us they did have bookstands and asked us to wait whilst they got the said item from their store room. As we stood on the street outside I noticed that this shop was immediately outside the car park we had left our vehicle in and had therefore walked straight past it and subsequently covered the entire area of Chinatown for no reason whatsoever.

My now failing mood did not pick up much when the bookstand frame minus the stand was produced after a thirty minute wait. It was very dusty but I was sure would clean up easily enough and although it was not exactly what I had in mind, it did appear as though it would serve the necessary purpose. After another discussion with the shop owner, another assistant was dispatched to get the stand which appeared after another thirty minute wait. The arrival of the stand did not improve anything either as it clearly did not belong to the frame and the two did not fit together comfortably or aesthetically. I remonstrated with the owner who assured me everything would be okay, all I had to do was wait and a new piece of equipment would reveal how everything would come together. After only twenty minutes this time, the new piece duly arrived in the form of a rusty extension to the stand with two small parallel holes to the top of it, through which an even rustier nail was fitted. The shop owner, his wife and their three assistants all beamed as they constructed this hodgepodge of pieces making up their version of a bookstand. The stand itself was balanced precariously on the rusty nail and fell off at the slightest touch let alone when trying to revolve it as was the requirement. I explained that this was not what I wanted. I cursed as I turned and left the shop and headed back to the car park with my driver, who looked totally bemused by my failure to purchase the stand book bookstand.

As we exited the car park the shop keeper’s wife jumped out in front of the car and started banging on the drivers window. He opened the window and she told him that they have a new fully functioning bookstand if I would prefer. “Fuck off!” was my simple, if rather impolite response as I bade the driver to make haste for the football stadium. It was now after 5:00PM and we had already been informed that the traffic congestion in the stadium area was very bad. The dark clouds were gathering.

As we edged our way out of the centre of Bangkok, I was forced to explain to the driver that I was not going to look at the bloody new bookstand. They should have shown me in the first place rather than torturing me with several second hand bits and pieces from the depths of their store room. I doubt he understood this and again I was faced with the reality of how significantly different the Eastern and Western cultures are in almost every regard. I did enquire of my driver as to why he thought there was only the one shop purporting to sell bookstands when my message from George had referred to several such establishments. It was now he told me that we did not go where he had been directed but to an area he thought would be better. This f****** idiot knows nothing about bookstands or purveyors of bookstands so he ignores simple directions on how to fulfill his mission, totally ignores them, and ends up taking me on a fool’s errand. Sometimes this country can drive you over the edge and I was right there at the precipice at that moment not yet realizing things in this regard would worsen as, of course, they always do.

We reached the stretch of road that had nine days earlier caused me great concern, with its traffic congestion, to find it was completely clear and a journey that had then taken two hours was covered in five minutes. As we turned into the now familiar road leading to the stadium, the traffic was heavier but time was on our side and it was, once again, raining heavily, so I was content to sit in the car hoping it would clear by the time we reached Rajamangala Stadium. My driver announced with a broad smile across his face, “This Ladprao Road.”

“What? What the f*** are you telling me?”

“This Ladprao Road like it say on paper your wife give me, see here it say Ladprao Road and up there on sign see, same same, Ladprao Road.”

“You complete and utter f****** w*****!!! Are you telling me that you knew where this place was all the time and still took me to Chinatown?”

“Of course I know Ladprao Road, I taxi driver.”

“Taxi driver you may be but ahead of that you are a f****** c***. We were coming here for the football anyway; we could have gone to the shops mentioned on the list you were given and got the bloody stand book bookstand. I could then have had a few hours to sit down, eat some food and relax before going to the football match. Instead I am dragged round Chinatown is the heat of the day and then made to stand for nearly two hours watching some idiot shopkeeper try to sell me his scrap metal.”

My rant over, I considered simply strangling the driver or finding the nearest very tall building and jumping from the top of it. Added to all of this, the rain was not abating and, in fact, was getting heavier. I sat and swore to myself over and over again, which left me at the point I have been several times before, hating being in this damn country.

As we entered the stadium complex, I gathered my senses and told my driver where he should collect me after the match. He insisted he was going to put the car in a local car park and I stressed that, from prior experience gathered only a few days earlier, he would be unable to do this. I told him these car parks would be closed off and that he would have to travel away from the stadium. He refused to listen, as is often the case with Thai people; I mean how can a stupid farang know more about anything to do with Thailand than a Thai? I let him think what he wanted but insisted that he meet me at the same location the previous driver had arranged with Sam and me. Although he nodded his agreement I, quite understandably, was far from convinced so I drew him a map and pointed to all of the relevant spots which we were clearly visible from our present location. Yes, he would me meet at the place I had indicated after the game. Filled with absolutely no confidence that the pickup would work as planned I put this to the back of my mind and headed off, in the pouring rain, to the stadium.

Having played very well and beaten Oman 2-0 in the second round, Thailand were top of the group level on four points with Iraq, who had beaten a lackluster Australian side 3-1. Australia had drawn their opening fixture 1-1 with Oman meaning they had to beat Thailand to qualify for the quarterfinal stage. Although the performances to date of the Australian side had been significantly below expectations, I seriously doubted they could perform as badly again. I held out little hope of Thailand securing the win, or even draw, that would see them defy the odds and progress further in the competition but, as a lifelong Crystal Palace supporter, I have become accustomed to teams of my choosing lacking success.

As the game commenced I was bitterly disappointed at the size of the crowd. I looked around the stadium and it appeared to me to be no fuller than on my previous visit. I accepted that the rain may have had some effect, but come on! This is the biggest football match to have been staged in Thailand for a number of years, the team had performed well above expectations and had a realistic chance of not only qualifying for the latter stages but winning their group and thus having a quarterfinal at home here at Rajamangala.

Thailand started the more brightly after they overcame their early nerves, albeit against the run of play, Australia scored through their main striker, Mark Viduka. Although they defend well as a team their lack of physical presence often means the Thais suffer when playing the more robust teams. Again this was the case, though calling Mr. Viduka ‘robust’ is perhaps something of a compliment to him — maybe portly, would be a better description. Still, he is big and strong and plays his football in the English Premiership. This setback, however, seemed to serve only to spur the Thai team on and they controlled the rest of the half. Their other real weakness is in not having a good quality goal scorer able to put the ball in the net to complete some of their wonderful build-up play. Time and time again they shredded the Australian defence only to see the chances go begging.

As the game went on, the ground filled and people were still arriving in their droves as the halftime whistle blew. At the start of the second half, the stadium was nearly full with my guesstimate being a crowd of over 50,000 — now that is much more like it. The atmosphere was fantastic and the Thais pressed forward searching for the equalising goal. There really was only one team in this game, but time and time again the lack of a clinical striker cost the Thais dearly. With ten minutes remaining, a free kick to Australia saw Mr. Viduka score another headed goal and the game was all but over. The stadium atmosphere collapsed and the Thai team followed suit conceding two further goals to see Australia triumph 4-0. To say this was a false score line is an understatement. This left a very poor Australian team to meet Japan in the quarterfinals.

I left the stadium upset by the Thai defeat and rather surprised at how emotionally involved I was. Whatever I may say in moments of anger, it is obvious to me that I care very deeply about this country and its people despite everything I believe I have to endure. Of course, thirty minutes after I should have been sitting in the car and traveling home, I was still standing at the appointed pickup location getting wetter by the second and any compassion I may have had was now but a distant memory. Several phone calls to the driver had only received the response, “I do U-turn now, I do U-turn now.” This, of course meant nothing to me and I was no wiser as to his whereabouts or likely time of arrival.

Nearly an hour of standing in the rain eventually saw my driver calling my name and running across a four-lane freeway waving his arms. I followed him to the car, which he had simply stopped in the middle of this busy freeway, and risked life and limb as I dodged the fast moving traffic. I started to ask why he was not where I arranged to meet him but the initial nonsensical response forced me to give up. I was tired, I was very wet and I can assure you I had had more than enough of this idiot for one day. I put my head back and slept the entire way home.

With my football trips over I now have the imminent arrival of my good friend Peter to look forward to. I am sure that there will be the odd story or two to report after his visit and if not, well at least I am sure I will have enjoyed a few bottles of good red wine in his company.