Valentine Day's 10 Commandments of Love in Thailand - 2007

Back in 2007 anyone thinking that Valentine's Day in Thailand was a purely commercial holiday for selling roses without a bouquet and red lingerie for your mia noi, the Culture Ministry's declaration of 10 Commandments of Love must have come as a surprise, especially since the list of the ten dos or don'ts only went up to nine.

So far my list is three.

#1 - Love with patience, so as not to become a young parent.

#2 - Love only one person.

#4 - Avoid the risk of sexually transmitted diseases.

I'll guess the other 7.

# 3. Love the other person as you love yourself, but no masturbation.

#5. Respect the wishes of the other person, unless the request is too weird.

#6. Get home at a good hour. Sleep is better than sex. Remember no touching yourself. 

#7. School should come before sex, especially if it's with teachers.

#8. Do not take rides from strange men or even men you know who aren't strange.

 #9. Girls, don't shine your shoes, because you know what boys are after.

#10. Boys, don't means don't, even when it doesn't mean don't.

Sounds good, until hearing that the Bangkok Police were ordered out of the barracks to foil any under-age couple from committing the sin of kissing, which the boys in brown consider tam nong klong tam - mai kao taa or inappropriate behavior.

That year of No the police patrolled after school 'danger zones' such as public parks, shopping malls and restaurants and evening risk like nightclubs, bars and love motels.

"If we find teenagers under eighteen engaged in inappropriate behavior like kissing, we will give them warnings and report to their parents so they can pick them up." A police moral authority stated before adding "Alcohol is definitely a catalyst for this kind of behavior, so we will keep an eye on underage drinking."

Seemingly the police feel that sexual interactions are heightening due to the excess western influences instead of the more prosaic boy meets girl.

So following Valentine's Day rules leads to kissing and then sex and the collapse of the traditional Thai values of sober modesty.

Better by your example you should lead the young into the future, especially since St. Valentine's Day celebrates a bastardization of a Roman holiday, when the pagans beseeched Lupercus to banish the wolves from the city on February 14. On the Eve of the festival the names of young girls were picked by the boys in hope they became lovers for the year or eternity.

Sounds familiar?

Strangely can't imagine the Catholic Church ever getting involved in the art of love except to tell people what not to do, as with the Bangkok police. But then the rites of the festival of Lupercas were hard for the Church to accept.

This abridged excerpt comes from http://www.secweb.org/index.aspx?action=viewAsset&id=260

Teenagers and young adult males would meet at a cave below the Palentine to sacrifice goats or dogs. The skins of the animals cut into wet strips called Februa (from which we derive the name February for the month) and males would take these strips into the heart of the city and use them to randomly beat people (particularly women).

On the second day of the festival, each man would draw the name of one of the women who had been hit with the Februa, and she would be coupled with him until the next festival. (This was a voluntary coupling; the woman was under no legal or social obligation to stay with the man.) It was basically just an excuse to sleep with someone for a year without commitment or obligation. ________________________________________________

The collapse of morality or young people having a good time?

The Church knows best and banished St. Valentine to pseudo-saintdom with St. Christophe and St. Patrick feeling they could no longer condone a role in the propagation of a pagan love festival.

Personally I saw no under-aged kids kissing in Pattaya that year.

But if I had I wouldn't have snitched them out.

Boy meet girl

Romeo and Juliette

Is that so bad?

Ohio Getaway

Pot costs about $800 a pound in California and several years ago two boys from Duchess County New York decided to drive cross-country, score ten pounds, and drive back with the weed to sell OZs at $80. Neither Mike not Earl could remember a big bust in their hometown for ages. The cops were old and over-worked. Everyone wanted cheap weed and they could use the money.

The two twenty year-olds cut their hair, dressed in their Sunday suits, packed up their BMW SUV with empty bags, and headed west from the Poughkeepsie at dawn. The strain of the long haul was eased by good tunes and a few joints for the road. By the time they crossed into Ohio, the duo were high and the stash was down to a single joint. None would have been better, since the 1st Commandment of an outlaw was to only break one law at a time.

West of Cleveland a state trooper stopped them on I-90. He had a dog with him. It wasn't a poodle, but a Alsatian drug sniffer, which had probably been raised on hash cookies and was jonesing for a bag of weed.

"It's factory regulation." The trooper was almost as young as them. His hair was cut to the bone. HIs body fat zero. A gun was on his hip. He was everything they were not.

"What's the problem, officer?"

"Those windows are too dark for this state."

The trooper's dog barking meant one thing and he ordered the two boys out of their car. The dog found the last joint in three seconds. The $8000 was next to it. Things looked bad, until the trooper offered them a deal.

"Boys, you're probably heading to California to get some weed. $8000 worth. Come back to New York and make a little fortune. You tell me the truth and I'll let you go."

The two had never trusted a Duchess County cop, but decided to place their fate in this mirror image of law and order.

They admitted their guilt.

"Good, now I want you to turn around and drive back to New York. Don't come through this way again. You're getting off easy, just remember that. Cops farther west would have you in cuffs and you'd lose the car and the $8000."

"Yes, officer."

Mike and Earl were grateful for this gift. They threw out the joint and turned around on the next interchange. Both tried to figure out why they had gotten off so easy.

"Maybe Ohio is soft of weed." Mike had a cousin in Cleveland. He said that the police were only after crystal meth.

"Naw, it's because the state is broke and they don't have the money to try small-timers like us."

Their debate was cut short by the whoop of a siren. Another state trooper pulled them over for tinted windows. He had a dog. The dog found the marijuana scented cash in 5 seconds. Mike and Earl explained the story to the state trooper, who called his fellow officer on a cellphone.

"Just keep heading east."

"Yes, officer."

None of the headers in Duchess County believed Mike and Earl's story, but after a few homegrown joints they called the incident the "Ohio Getaway'.

A true miracle of the Drug Wars.

BERENTI MISTAH by Peter Nolan Smith

In 1991 I bought a round-the-world ticket for $1399 from Pan Express. The owner set up a magical itinerary.

"New York - LA - Hawaii - Biak - Bali - overland to Jakarta." John recited the trip from memory, since he sold hundreds of these tickets every year.

"What do you mean 'overland to Jakarta'?" Their advertisement in the NY Times offered a flight between Bali and Jakarta.

"Oh, sir." The Hindi travel agent produced an Indonesia brochure extolling the volcanic beauty of Mount Bromo, ruined temple of Borobuder, and ancient palaces of Yogakarta. "Many people prefer to travel overland to see the sights of Java of which there are many. I will reserve you a flight from Jakarta to Padang."

"Padang?"

"Yes, sir, in Sumatra." Another brochure praised the cultural heritage of the Batak, the awe of Lake Toba, and the jungle paradise of the orangutang reserve. "You fly out of Medan to Penang and Malaysia and overland to Bangkok."

"Let me guess." I was falling into step with the program. "Most people do this overland."

"Yes, sir. What are you going to do on the trip?" Hindi are a curious people and John was no exception.

"I'm writing a novel." NORTH NORTH HOLLYWOOD was a story about a hustler forced into a contract murder of a porno producer by dirty NYPD cops and who avoids violating the 5th Commandment by escaping into the desert with two lesbians filming a movie about the last man on Earth. John didn't need to know the plot. Hindi men were in some ways very curious about sex.

"Oh, sir, I must warn you that many countries in Asia do not like writers, especially journalists."

"I'm not a journalist." My typing was atrocious and my grammar was even worse.

"Whatever you do, do not tell anyone you are a writer." His head bobbed side to side like a broken bobbing dolls. "The police do not like journalists in Asia."

"I'll keep that in mind."

John was 100% correct about overlanding across Java.

I saw the dawn from the rim of a volcano, met the sultan of Yogakarta, drove up to the vertiginous heights of the Dieng Plateau, endured the scorching equatorial sun riding a motorcycle around Lake Toba and watched male orangutang masturbate without shame. The females shunned the jerk-offs. I arrived at the Medan airport for the flight to Penang. The police spotted my typewriter. I

"Berenti, mistah.

"Saya?" I had learned a little Bahasa in three months.

"Yes, you." A short pineapple-skinned officer nodded and his two uniformed compatriots pulled me from the line. The other passengers smiled with relief, happy to not be me. The police sat me in their very official office and the head officer asked, "Journalis?"

The trio wore grim faces. A single overhead fan wobbled in its socket. The chair was nailed to the floor.

"Tidak journalis. Penulis buca." I claimed the higher status than journalist.

"You write books? About what?" The lead interrogator leaned forward with a metal sap in his hand.

"About the mafia. Porno. Hollywood." I was one smack away from squealing the truth about any crime dating for Adam's eating an apple .

"Hollywood?" The three cops intoned the word with sanctity normally reserved for Allah. Indonesia was 90% Muslim.

"Yes, Hollywood." I followed the lead and told them about how JFK was killed by the CIA. They spoke about the betrayal of Sukarno by the present dictator. A bottle of Johnny Walker Black hit the desk. Red is beneath them. We drank toasts to freedom.

"Beraka," I spoke every language with a Boston accent.

Whiskey in hot weather was a hard slog. It was getting late and I asked the chief officer, "So I missed my flight, how do I get to Penang?"

"You didn't miss your flight. We held the plane. One more drink and kamu boleh pergi."

"To whiskey." Without it the Irish would have ruled the world.

The police drove me to the waiting plane. The other passengers were gobsmacked by re-appearance from the belly of the beast and even more so by the power fist salute of the police.

"Beraka."

It was a small world after all.

Cops In The Good Old Days

Nightclub raconteur Steve Lewis wrote on Blackbook.com that the NYPD harassment of the nightclub GREENHOUSE appeared to be blatant racism.

http://www.blackbookmag.com/racism-core-greenhouse-harassment/

That certainly seems to be the case.

The police hate nightclubs, because they don't get payoffs like the 'good ole days' unless they put pressure on the joint and then the 'bagman' comes to make an arrangement.

Back at the Jefferson the local mob visited the after-hour club and asked for the management.

I asked if they were there to provide 'protection'.

They said 'yeah'.

I told them we have a problem.

"See those guys over there. If you can make them leave, then will take care of you."

"Who are they?"

"The 9th precinct."

The gangster left without a word.

There was no racism involved in that incident.

Only corruption.

Those were the gold ole days indeed.

Safer Biking In NYC

Two nights ago I was bicycling up to the Williamsburg Bridge. A small crowd of bikers were gathered opposite the old Williamsburg Bank. I slowed down and spotted several city officials handing out night lights for bikes.

Free.

I got into line and a young man came up to me.

"We're from the DOT of New York and we're giving out these lights to prevent accidents." His eyes checked out my bike. "Good, you have a bell. We want pedestrians to hear you as well as see you in the darkening hours of winter."

It was barely 5:30 and the sun was setting behind the towers of Manhattan.

"Have we hit Daylight Savings Time yet?"

"No, so it will be even darker earlier." He attached a white light for the front and a red light for the rear.

"Thank you." I was pleased by this gift from the city, until he added, "We want people to ride bikes safer. To have lights and bells. To not drive the wrong way down a street or through a red light, which is a $200 fine."

"How much for not having a helmet?"

"Nothing yet." He smiled with sincerity, but I saw behind the guise of graciousness.

This was another attempt by Mayor Bloomberg to create revenue by going after scoff-laws and I said, "I probably put up a good $2000 worth of traffic violations in a day. I try not to endanger any good, but myself, however breaking the law makes me feel rich. Thanks for the lights."

"Ride safe then." The young man went to the next biker.

I rode off into the sunset, wondering how much the light batteries cost to replace, then realized that they would be stolen long before they hit E.

New York is that kind of town.

My kind of town.

No matter what Mayor Bloomberg wants.

Accidents Thai Style

Pattaya’s roads are tattooed by spray-painted outlines of bodies and tires. Directional arrows indicate how the accident occurred without attributing blame to any of drivers. Many foreigners fear that they would always be at blame for a fender-bender, yet this shouldn’t be the case, if you follow a few rules of courtesy and patience during the post-accident process. SOP such as getting all Personal Information From the Other Driver sounds fine, but fleeing the scene of an accident is a Thai tradition in many parts of the country. Most rental cars have insurance, so call the rental agency to arrange for the arrival of an agent. Overall remain calm. As long as you haven't killed anyone, then everything will work out for better or worse, although there are many other possibilities between those two extremes.

Should a crash occur, the usual policy is to wait for the police and insurance agent to investigate the incident. The coppers show up and get out their pens, take statements, while one officer sprays white paint on the road showing directions and the suspected point of impact.

Remain calm.

The language differences can lead to great misunderstandings. The officers will sort out who had the right of way. A difficult determination since many accidents will involve a motorcycle driving off the sidewalk to hit a car illegally reversing down a one-way or a driver crashing into a suddenly stationary parked car or even the odd sideswiping of an elephant, while your speaking on the cellphone or having an argument with your girlfriend.

Remain even more calm.

Officers in Pattaya do not respond kindly to threats or raised voices. Neither will the Thai drivers. Curses in western languages might not translate easily, yet Thais understand a heated tone. If you happen to have an accident with a fellow citizen, then you can vent profanely like a Yellowstone geyser for the amusement of the Thai onlookers. Otherwise be patient.

If the other driver gets belligerent, stay in your car.

If they get violent, flee to the nearest police box.

The judgment does not always go against the westerner.

Years ago in the dry season I had occasion to be driving a dirt bike north of Fang along the border of Burma north of Fang. The dust from the previous car had not settled on the dusty dirt road. Neither the driver of a pick-up truck nor I saw each other until impact, which flung me over the top of his truck into the flatbed.

Despite breaking my wrist I was grateful to have survived the head-on collision, but taken aback by the angry farmer’s tirade. Seemingly he thought a farang kee-nok shouldn’t have been driving on this road. After examining the tire tracks, the local police told the farmer to pay for my hospital treatment and the damages to the bike. The pick-up driver begrudgingly dropped the trail bike at garage in Fang and drove me to the hospital for treatment. He paid the doctor for my treatment and promised to sell a pig to settle the bill at the repair shop. I never saw him again.

A recent conversation with a Pattaya policeman at the scene of an after-midnight accident revealed that the gendarmerie is required to make snap judgments to spare the city and the drivers the cost of a trial. Payments are meted out according to damage and fault.

In minor accidents it is better to resolve the issue of payment before the arrival of authorities. Recently I drove over the foot of a woman selling lottery tickets. Her toe was bleeding. An on-looker suggested we wait for the police. I said we should go to a nearby clinic. I paid for the treatment and medicine and gave the woman 1000 baht.

She was happy with the arrangement, especially after I purchased two lottery tickets. Neither came up a winner.

It’s always best to avoid accidents. They cost time and money. None of us are Michael Schumacher and just where were you going in such a rush anyway? Not to work. Not to a fire. Taking your time might not be exciting, but a low speed allows space to correct for errors. We all make mistakes. Those outlines on the road always tell a story, if you know how to read an accident right.

None of us are Michael Schumacher and just where were you going in such a rush anyway? Not to work. Not to a fire. Taking your time might not be exciting, but a low speed allows space to correct for errors. We all make mistakes. Those outlines on the road always tell a story, if you know how to read an accident right.