You get to Chiang Mai and feel too tired of traveling to care about it. The second day you go to an elephant camp and awe at the cute baby elephant and have your theighs go sore trying to ride the biggest one. While bathing them in a river you simaltaniously almost get stuck between two elephants and almost stepped on all while trying not to be swept away by the current.
A few days later of nothing-much-else-happening you go to a Thai boxing match. You are two rows from the front with cigarette smoke flowing as easily as the booze. Sweat and water spray off the men and women as they fight, glistening in the Florissant light of the giant star above them.
Back in Bangkok you are even more disenfranchised with traveling. You need a break. The taxi drivers charging you double doesn’t help. You two go to the gay section of Bangkok. It is like the Rue de la Soif in Rennes, a street of just bars. You and your friend have nothing to talk about because you’ve been together everyday for the past month. You take a sperm shot.
Walking through a metal detecter you go to the biggest gay discotech in the city. DJ station. It’s more packed than a Japanese subway at rush hour in Tokyo. There are three floors and it takes you a hour to realize they gave you drink tokens when coming in. You meet pilots, NGO workers and men from Norway to Bangladesh.
The next day you go to a giant mall for your friend to get a book. It’s eight stories. You walk by an anime convention. When lost you end up at a board game convention and stare at the skyline.
That night your friend leaves for home and you go to the gay red-light district because you have to know what the sex show is like. Cigarette smoke gives weight to the neon lights rolling across the bodies of boys you can pay to sit with you, or do more. Two men start fucking on stage in a looney tune manner, spinning and twisting in comical ways. They make their way, never pulling out, around the club to fuck next to everyone there, scurrying alone like Charlie Chaplin. You feel anything but turned on.
You wait at your hotel for a taxi to the airport cause the shuttle lady won’t answer her phone and it’s too hot to find a different booking place.
You are going to France. At least, you say, you can speak the language there.