'Disneyland for adults'. I'm yet to hear a more accurate description of Pattaya, but I guess that depends entirely on what your definition of entertainment is. A few things are for sure - you will be pestered, you will be shocked, and you will quite possibly be repulsed. Leave your morals at home before heading to this coastal resort.
After the chaos of Khaosan Road and Bangkok, we thought we'd let fate decide the next stop on the tour of Thailand. By fate, I mean a quick enquiry into 'cities near Bangkok'. The query returned Pattaya, so with little to no research, we booked a £4 (200 Baht) minibus to get there.
The two hour journey gave me a bit of an opportunity to read some of the Lonely Planet's warnings on the place; or at least what I could with luggage invading my personal space. Sex tourism was referenced a bit, but disproportionately so compared with what was in store.
After pulling up on the sea-front we were dropped in the unforgiving South Asian sun; somewhat far from the hotel, with all our belongings and amidst many Russian tourists. Later we would learn about Pattaya's connection to the Russian Mafia.
The initial walk exposed us to some of Pattaya's seedy underbelly. Even in the daylight, lady-boys and masseurs were out in force - standing in stores on every street, hollering and hooting from afar to get our attention.
After melting while meandering around various shady streets and malodorous alleys, for what seemed like hours, we finally found our hostel - 8 Coins. This place was fairly basic and not nearly as socially inclusive as other hostels, epitomised by the cupboard-like sleeping quarters in the ten person rooms. Each person was give had a hole to crawl into, arranged in a five up, five down formation, with those lucky top-bunkers having an awkward ladder to navigate. The holes themselves were accessorised with a rubber mattress, towel and curtain to withdraw behind.
Needless to say we didn't muck about in the hostel any longer than necessary, so we hit the town. Everything we'd witnessed so far was nothing to stack up to the nocturnal notoriety or wanton weirdness of Walking Street.
After the chaos of Khaosan Road and Bangkok, we thought we'd let fate decide the next stop on the tour of Thailand. By fate, I mean a quick enquiry into 'cities near Bangkok'. The query returned Pattaya, so with little to no research, we booked a £4 (200 Baht) minibus to get there.
The two hour journey gave me a bit of an opportunity to read some of the Lonely Planet's warnings on the place; or at least what I could with luggage invading my personal space. Sex tourism was referenced a bit, but disproportionately so compared with what was in store.
After pulling up on the sea-front we were dropped in the unforgiving South Asian sun; somewhat far from the hotel, with all our belongings and amidst many Russian tourists. Later we would learn about Pattaya's connection to the Russian Mafia.
The initial walk exposed us to some of Pattaya's seedy underbelly. Even in the daylight, lady-boys and masseurs were out in force - standing in stores on every street, hollering and hooting from afar to get our attention.
After melting while meandering around various shady streets and malodorous alleys, for what seemed like hours, we finally found our hostel - 8 Coins. This place was fairly basic and not nearly as socially inclusive as other hostels, epitomised by the cupboard-like sleeping quarters in the ten person rooms. Each person was give had a hole to crawl into, arranged in a five up, five down formation, with those lucky top-bunkers having an awkward ladder to navigate. The holes themselves were accessorised with a rubber mattress, towel and curtain to withdraw behind.
Needless to say we didn't muck about in the hostel any longer than necessary, so we hit the town. Everything we'd witnessed so far was nothing to stack up to the nocturnal notoriety or wanton weirdness of Walking Street.
It's hard to miss Walking Street when you arrive, the myriad of lights and the sounds of music and girls shouting. Once past the food vendors on the way in, you become fair game for coercion towards the establishments on each side. Immediately girls wearing skimpy outfits and men holding laminated price-lists, repeating the words 'ping-pong show' and 'pussy smoke', begin their bid for attention. Every bar on either side is either a strip club, brothel, go-go bar or something more niche.
It was pretty apparent that Pattaya is a common escape for older, western men. These men filter through the chaos confidently, either accompanied by a young Thai girl, or actively seeking one. Some girls trail wearily next to their mismatched mate, while others chatted happily - taking their partner from bar to bar and engaging in banter with other girls en route.
After ten minutes of walking, we chose somewhere that seemed quiet. From the outside it looked like it was lots of bars inside one place and it seemed chilled. It was a trap. The second we walked in, girls flooded from every angle; banging on the bars and waving their arms towards us. Startled yet undeterred, we made a beeline for the pool tables at the far end, avoiding all eye contact to our peripheries. Eventually we were greeted by the main hostess who showed us to seats at the end of the corridor and brought us beer.
It was pretty apparent that Pattaya is a common escape for older, western men. These men filter through the chaos confidently, either accompanied by a young Thai girl, or actively seeking one. Some girls trail wearily next to their mismatched mate, while others chatted happily - taking their partner from bar to bar and engaging in banter with other girls en route.
After ten minutes of walking, we chose somewhere that seemed quiet. From the outside it looked like it was lots of bars inside one place and it seemed chilled. It was a trap. The second we walked in, girls flooded from every angle; banging on the bars and waving their arms towards us. Startled yet undeterred, we made a beeline for the pool tables at the far end, avoiding all eye contact to our peripheries. Eventually we were greeted by the main hostess who showed us to seats at the end of the corridor and brought us beer.
The beer in Pattaya was somewhat more expensive than anywhere else we visited, often in excess of 250 Baht (£5.80) for a pint-sized bottle. The pool was relatively cheap though, so we got respite from the main strip. We were left largely to our own devices there around the pool table, aside from the initial bombardment, with the host seeming to sense our reluctance to purchase female entertainment. She made half-hearted attempts at best to engage us with the main concept of the bar, but was busied enough with other punters.
The deal with the hostess was to generally oversee proceedings and any 'bar fines' that needed paying. A 'bar fine' was essentially a fee to take the girls out of the bar - to go out round the town, back to an apartment or for a nice seafood dinner if that was your fancy. Apparently this is something different than that required for any sexual service etc.
Back to walking along the strip and we avoided more attempts to sway us into places and stumbled across a magician. What made him stand out more was the fact he was smoking four cigarettes at once, which would form the basis of his trick. The magician collected a volunteer and used his t-shirt as a platform to make the cigarettes disappear. He then revealed an unscathed t-shirt and plucked the cigarette dimps from the volunteer's pants. After a mild round of monetary contributions, I found myself wondering how much profit he could possibly make at rate of four cigarettes per show. Given the added risk to his lungs - I concluded it wasn't worth it.
After more wandering and hearing the words 'ping-pong' for the sixtieth time, we stopped to examine the 'menu' that the promo bloke was holding. Instead of food, this menu featured a list of sexual acts - ranging from vanilla to the downright bizarre. A show would cost 200 Baht, which is about £4.65. Ok, we thought, let's see what it's all about.
The doorway to the place was barely visible, but a narrow staircase lead up to a room with a small stage in the centre and benches around the perimeter. Entering the room meant manoeuvring through a group of women who offered winks, kisses and mild sexual assault to get us to select them. Too busy declining to consider the double standards, I headed to a vacant spot on the bench.
Most of the benches were occupied by twenty-something western girls, which was odd as I'd seen hardly any on the strip. The working girls from the doorway occupied any vacant seats, with a petite Thai girl wearing a night gown sitting to my right. She used the opportunity to try to entice me in incredibly broken English towards a private area at the back, which I humoured until she lost interest and moved on.
The show started abruptly when two older Thai women marched out onto the stage and began contortion exercises. Then it became a showdown of who could get the most daft. One girl fired ping-pong balls from her vagina, while the other lit a cigarette and smoked it from hers. One girl inserted the liquid contents of a bottle and changed its colour, and the other fired darts through a blowpipe at balloons across the stage. With incredible accuracy.
After each trick, the girls would circle the crowd to collect tips - receiving a large sum from the excited Dutch chap sat to the left of our group. The tricks kept getting weirder, culminating in one of the girls pulling a string of twenty razor blades from inside of her. The Dutch guy also got weirder - pleading for the end of the string to be sent his way. He was perplexed when we refused his offering as he passed it towards us.
Looking at the girls faces, the sad fact was clear that most weren't here by choice. Some looked just as uncomfortable as we did by some of the acts, but circumstances beyond their control would often force them into this living - poverty or drug addiction primarily from what we've heard. At least if they could keep all the tips they might soon plan an escape. Once the show finished, we didn't stick around.
As a breather from the sexual debauchery, we headed to the port at the end of Walking Street. The pier was filled with Chinese tourists arriving by the boat load into the Gulf of Thailand. There weren't many attractions around the port aside from the odd nautical restaurant and a young girl of four years, seemingly alone, dancing to a boom box in front of a captivated audience.
Back to the strip, we started to notice a few strip clubs featuring 'crazy Russian girls' (according to the signs). We chatted to some of the promo staff to find out what the deal was, but it was far too expensive to entice us in. One of the slightly less 'crazy' Russian promo girls wearing gym clothes suggested a nightclub round the corner. Up for anywhere with drinks and no pestering, we obliged.
This nightclub was unlike all the other places on Walking Street, seemingly plonked on there to satisfy the Russian tourists. Of the two rooms inside, one played a strange strain of hip-hop and the other played banging techno.
The techno room was liveliest, with three pole dancers triangulated around the dance floor and moving in sync. Drunken techno enthusiasts would frequently accost the dancers only to be rebutted by the mean looking bouncers. Even after a couple of drinks, the Russian techno became too unbearable so we decided to retire back to our cupboard-like sleeping quarters.
A large part of the second day was spent lounging in the hostel cafe, mustering the courage to go and deal with people in town again. Two thirds of us found that courage and headed to the beach. It was pretty disgusting. The beach itself was fairly standard, albeit small, but the sea was terrible. The water didn't look particularly clean to begin with, but after a five minute swim I'd wrestled with more rubbish than I'd thrown away in my lifetime.
This nightclub was unlike all the other places on Walking Street, seemingly plonked on there to satisfy the Russian tourists. Of the two rooms inside, one played a strange strain of hip-hop and the other played banging techno.
The techno room was liveliest, with three pole dancers triangulated around the dance floor and moving in sync. Drunken techno enthusiasts would frequently accost the dancers only to be rebutted by the mean looking bouncers. Even after a couple of drinks, the Russian techno became too unbearable so we decided to retire back to our cupboard-like sleeping quarters.
A large part of the second day was spent lounging in the hostel cafe, mustering the courage to go and deal with people in town again. Two thirds of us found that courage and headed to the beach. It was pretty disgusting. The beach itself was fairly standard, albeit small, but the sea was terrible. The water didn't look particularly clean to begin with, but after a five minute swim I'd wrestled with more rubbish than I'd thrown away in my lifetime.
By the second evening, I'd fully concluded one day and night in Pattaya was more than enough. We couldn't muster the energy required to deal with the mayhem of Walking Street again, so we just settled for cafes out in the sticks with as few sexual shops around as possible.
Many of cafes were heavily English themed, including the one we dined in, offering pie, fish and chips and even Cornish pasties. There was even a pie truck doing the rounds, like some absurd ice-cream van from a Northerner's dream. After a quick blast of home cuisine we headed back to our cupboard to sleep off the last night in Pattaya.
In all honesty, unless you outright want some sex tourism, I wouldn't add this to your list of Thai places to visit. It was interesting to see and I'm quite sure there's no place like it, but it just wasn't my kind of Disneyland. Mickey, Minnie and Donald combined couldn't drag me back again.
Many of cafes were heavily English themed, including the one we dined in, offering pie, fish and chips and even Cornish pasties. There was even a pie truck doing the rounds, like some absurd ice-cream van from a Northerner's dream. After a quick blast of home cuisine we headed back to our cupboard to sleep off the last night in Pattaya.
In all honesty, unless you outright want some sex tourism, I wouldn't add this to your list of Thai places to visit. It was interesting to see and I'm quite sure there's no place like it, but it just wasn't my kind of Disneyland. Mickey, Minnie and Donald combined couldn't drag me back again.