Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

I found that very strange, but everything happened so quickly that we couldn’t even reason. The unknown Thai, who spoke English very well, wrote three directions on the paper.

- Take the governmental tuk-tuk, the one which has the Thai flag. It will charge you 40 baht and take you to all the three places. It’ll stay with you for 3 hours and drop you off at Golden Mount at the end of the tour. The stranger waved to the tuk-tuk and led us. – See? the Thailand’s flag, they are cheaper. Give the driver the paper. You will pay only 40 baths each for the entire ride. Have fun.

We got into the vehicle quite suspiciously but without resistance. If this was some kind of tourist scam or kidnapping, we would have been the easiest victims in history. If it was some kind of trap, at least we would have been happy victims.

Our driver turned up the sound, which was playing some kind of very funny Thai pop and turned on a light globe on the canvas roof. We danced and laughed wildly, making videos in the city streets and waving at the cars that passed us. Thanks to the eastern gods, everything went well and the first stop was a temple we didn’t know yet. The driver waited outside as we went into the place.

We came back to the car still wondering how we got into such a crazy tour and what was the intention of that well-dressed Thai. When we stopped at the second destination, we figured that he probably earned commission from that travel agency.

A bald man with a foreign face and accent poured us some coffee and presented a book with various options for sightseeing around the city. We took note of some prices to compare later, and we were a little embarrassed to leave without buying anything. That’s when I had an idea.

My next volunteer was already confirmed on the island of Koh Phangan, where the Full Moon party, one of Thailand’s most famous festivals, is held every month. Since I have decided to go to Thailand, I knew I wanted to go to this party. Being able to stay for free at a hostel on the same beach where it would happen had already made me extremely happy, but Koh Phangan was almost 20 hours away by bus and the airline tickets I found on the search sites were very expensive.

Our bald friend got me a flight for less than half the price I found online plus a ferry ticket to the island included. Kate decided to go to the same island with me and we bought two tickets. The seller was happy and so were we.

The third suggested stop on the paper was a silk kimono shop. Of course, none of us were interested in buying Thai kimonos that cost $500. Still, we looked and praised the pieces, declining all offers and we left thanking for the attention. Our friend had already secured his commission from the travel agency and that was good enough.

We watched the sunset from the temple high above the Golden Mount and I thanked deeply and quietly for all the unexpected things I had been living in Bangkok. When I was in Canada, I thought nothing would be more special than the amazing rendezvous Jordan had planned. When I was proposed at Temple Bar in Dublin, I thought I couldn’t be even happier. When Laurent said he would miss me in Greece, I wondered what I could still live that would be more beautiful than those days in the Mediterranean. So the universe gave me Bangkok, with one day more amazing than the other. I cried in silence and hardly knew that the day was still far from being over.

At about 7 pm, we left the Golden Temple and picked up a new tuk-tuk heading to the Chinatown Street Food Fair, the home and work of many Chinese immigrants in Thailand.

Street sellers selling fruit, clothes and pirate electronic devices spread themselves along the sidewalk invading even the car space. Hundreds of restaurants and the frenetic shouting of taxi drivers and tuk-tuk drivers fighting for the public attention mingled with the dirt and the bright panels on the storefronts.

Bangkok is much more than a vibrant city, it is a living organism that pulses energy in all its streets and temples.

Still scared of the street food, I persuaded my friends to join me in a restaurant where I could find a bathroom to wash my hands. After dinner we set off for Patpong Night Market hoping to find the famous ping-pong shows where Asian women perform bizarre pompoir performances.

Although we were under the impression that the day had lasted more than 72 hours, the three of us were full of energy to continue exploring the city.

Ping-pong shows are prohibited in Thailand, but they are as easy to find as traditional flowered shirts or scorpion kebabs. With every step taken on the bustling streets of Patpong Market you hear Thai people making clicking noises and announcing loudly, “ping pong show, ping pong show!”

- You pay 100 baht for a beer, this is the entrance fee. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay for the show. Come in, see and go away, – explained the second Thai we approached. The offer was the same and we thought it was worth the experience.

We arrived at the dark, practically empty bar led by our illegal guide and lady boy with makeup on led us to a table in front of the counter. It was a typical striptease house similar to the ones we see in movies, with pole-dancers on a catwalk full of half naked girls dancing. The only difference, there was no Hollywood glamor. Peeling walls, a cement counter, and uneven tiled floors contrasted with the tiny globe of mirrors hanging from the ceiling with exposed electrical wiring.

Despite the bizarre atmosphere and the unattractive appearance of the dancers, I was finding the whole experience very interesting. Two skinny Asians, wearing seductive lingerie, sat at our table offering us red drinks of suspicious origin.

- Não toquem nas bebidas, meninas. Eu não pretendo ser uma turista do sexo feminino roubada por prostitutas tailandesas [18] “Don’t touch the drinks, girls. I don’t intend to be a female tourist stolen by Thai prostitutes” is what Paula said in Portuguese. – I shouted in Portuguese, hoping my Spanish friend would also understand.

When they realized our interest was just pure curiosity, the call girls handed us ping-pong rackets and left us alone.

With just one more table taken by a couple of tourists, the show began with a huge birthday cake and colorful balloons being brought to the center of the stage. An Asian woman raised her right leg, just like a dog does when peeing, blowing out the candles. On my right side, Flavia screamed in disbelief and covered her mouth with her hands, while Kate looked at me with the same astonishment.

Then, as other girls carried the cake backstage, the Asian girl laid on the floor in a roast chicken position, stuffed something between her legs, and popped the air balloons by throwing three darts from her vagina, which also smoked a cigarette. At the same time, another young woman next to her, also without panties, immediately got up from a deep squat and displayed what she had just written on a paper on the floor: Hello!

Another young woman appeared on the catwalk, pulling from within her body more than two meters of something that looked like a Hawaiian necklace, full of plastic flowers. Immediately afterwards, ping-pong balls were launched from all sides. Kate gave a desperate shout warning that she was hit in the face by one of the balls. Just imagining having any part of my body touched by such a ball, I felt a shiver of disgust.

We shouted at the waitress and we were told to go to the bar to pay for the beers. I was so nervous I didn’t realize if the show was over or not. When we got to the counter, a huge Thai girl who looked more like a sumo wrestler said in a deep voice:

- It’s 4,500 baht.