Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

After Kevin’s departure and my completing the changes to my work, it was now time for a few days rest and recuperation in Hua Hin. I would spend the day by the beach and eat early evening before returning to my room to watch a movie. Sunday, however, there was a football game that I particularly wanted to watch, which was not on any of the channels on the hotel television. After wandering through Hua Hin’s red light district, such as it is, I came across a completely empty bar which I felt suited my mood perfectly. Nung’s Bar is hidden away in one of the narrow side streets that make up this part of the original Hua Hin. I was soon chatting with Nung, a rather butch lady, and then playing pool with her. She was extremely friendly and hospitable and termed herself a boy. So she was born a lady and now considered herself to be a boy. “Er…is that not then a ladyboy?” I mused. I then recalled Mrs. Boss having made up the expression “kating” — the opposite of katoey — to describe women who want to be considered as men. I decided it probably better to go with this than travel down a completely new, confusing and, to be honest, completely pointless train of thought.

Nung’s number-two in the bar was Jennifer. Jennifer had been born a man but was now a katoey. Jennifer spent most of the evening by the mirror doing her make up whilst the business carried on around her. To be fair to Jennifer, the final results were well worth her effort, but how anyone could endure that length of time putting on makeup day in and day out is, quite frankly, beyond me. When it came to pool, Nung was good but Jennifer was better. Over the course of the three nights I spent visiting Nung’s bar, she thrashed me every time — at pool that is just in case you allowed your mind to wander!

Added to the mix at the bar was Nung’s life partner — an attractive Thai lady with a three-year old daughter. The entire establishment appeared to me as though it had come directly out of a Frank Capra movie. Despite the weirdness of the surroundings, the bar became a haven for me for a few days and I thoroughly enjoyed my games of pool, chats with Nung and her staff, and a few games of backgammon with Nung. So I saw out my last few days in Hua Hin in relative peace and quite…and compared to Pattaya, something akin to normality.

On my last day, the taxi arrived just as I was about to check out of the hotel. I offered my credit card for payment which, within seconds, was returned and I was being told it was not valid. I immediately realized that this was the end of the month and the strange credit card facility we have was jumping up to bite me on the backside once more. You see, our credit card facility is linked to the credit card income we take in at Jasmine Mansion. In addition, our mortgages are withdrawn through this facility. The mortgages are taken out towards then end of the month and this usually takes us over our credit limit for a few days. Naturally, I was in that period of no credit being available. No worries, I thought, as I then looked first in my wallet and then rummaged through my bag for my bank card. I had used it only once whilst way and that was two days ago. I was certain I had put it back in my wallet, so of course it wasn’t there. Rummage as much and as frantically as I did, there was no sign of the bank card. I opened up my suitcase, went through that, went through the pockets of my clean and soiled clothes, but the card was nowhere to be seen. Shit! Double shit! I had a panic attack and saw myself spending months as a free room maid at the Central Asia hotel in order to pay off my debt.

Having spent what seemed like hours standing gawping at the receptionist, for once completely without any words to get myself out of this predicament, I remembered the cash. I had a few hundred British pounds in my bag that a guest had paid for his room at Jasmine Mansion with a day before I departed Pattaya for Hua Hin. I did not have the chance to go to the bank and the money was contained in a separate internal zip-up compartment of my bag. I rummaged once more and stood like an idiot laughing as I held up almost 500 pounds in my hand. “I can pay with this!” I exclaimed. The receptionist agreed that they could accept the money as payment, although when she gave me the conversion rate, I almost returned to my numbed state. They were giving me 10 percent less than what I knew to be the present exchange rate. After several minutes of discussion, the hotel agreed to send their security guard with myself and the taxi driver to the nearest bank where I could change the money and pay him the amount owed.