in this rain, what else can I do? (or Lolita's, the Continuation)

I'm in Phnom Penh and it is again pouring this night. Thankfully, after a stroll by the riverside, to see what kinds of bars they have (I am missing human interaction besides the limited ones I have had the past few days with some Khmers, who have served as my guides), I made it close to my home before it started to really pour.

After going over this blog, I realized I never posted what happened at the last go-go bar I went to in Bangkok. I purposely left that entry at a "cliff-hanging" moment, but I never followed up on it, so here's that string, nicely tied up...

So I went in to Lolita's and it was a dark, small hole, lit with soft red light. There were two bartenders, two other drinkers (what one can refer to as a "sex tourist", probably), and three young, slightly attractive women to splash us with attention. Before I went in, I want to reiterate that I was not in there to sweet-talk and eventually fuck one of the women with my well-earned bahts, but I was there to converse and to see what these places were like. I've never been to a stripclub back home, but when traveling abroad, I have more curiosity to see such places. At the time, I also had a separate agenda, which was this:

1) after being in Thailand for a mere two days, I had noticed no Asian men with fully-grown beards, or anything close to it. I had seen a couple of young gallivants with these pubescent moustaches, why even some old men with these gross (to me, maybe they think it makes them look like hot, steaming shit) long, curly single hairs, growing from their chins, but no other facial hair. I wanted to find out if Thai men were even capable of growing out a beard (the Incas and pre-Incas for example, were genetically unable to grow beards until their genes mixed with the Spaniards that conquered them).

2) I wanted to see if I could find a drinking establishment that served Wild Turkey, a nasty alcohol favored by people like George W. Bush (I think he was actually a better person when he was a drunk [just type "George Bush and drunk" on YouTube and you'll see] and before he seemingly became overly religious) and Hunter Thompson, and, of course, myself.

My agenda was simple.

So I sat at Lolita's and was promptly showered with the attention of this mid-aged Thai woman. We were shooting the shit; she was asking me where I was from, what was my name, all the surface stuff. At the same time, one of the bartender's was switching out one of the DVDs that was being loudly (and I mean loudly) played through the bar, then projected onto one of the shadowy walls. It was, of course, a porn video, the go-go bar's equivalent of the yummy scents that Vegas casinos will flower upon a part of their casino with, in order to elicit more gambling, more business, from their clients.

This video got right down to it. This blond-haired girl was going nuts about her black stud, and after making out a little, they stripped down to do the deed. Homeboy was hung, probably had a 10-inch meat sabre, and she was loving it, by the sounds of the loud (and I mean loud!) moaning that it summoned from her. At the time, I was earnestly asking one of the Thai prostitutes (because I figured if someone is going to really master basic English in this town, it will be them) if Thai guys were able to grow a beard. They didn't get my question. I think they thought I was asking them if they liked my beard, which, of course, they giggled and said, "Yeah, yeah. Is good." I tried asking in three different manners, even pointing to my beard, but alas, they didn't understand my query.

And after perusing their selection, and asking, they had no Wild Turkey.

I was kind of chuckling to myself, trying to have a somewhat serious conversation with a prostitute, while a wall of moans and butt-clapping filled the bar, with the video of the woman riding his black mamba (no mambas here in Southeast Asia; they have cobras, king cobras, banded kraits, and some nasty vipers in this neck of the woods). One of the women, at one point, asked me, "Do you like that?", pointing to the video of him royally sticking it to her, and I casually said, "Oh yeah. Of course."

That was her segway to procure some services from her, but I didn't bite. Then, the bartender asked if I wanted to buy her a drink. I didn't shake or nod my head, but didn't commit to it, but nevertheless, minutes later, after I chugged the remnants of my beer, I saw that I was tagged for her drink, my drinking/taxi-ride home allowance home. I was fucked.

So I bailed, kind of pissed, and walked out to the alley of go-go bars. I wouldn't have the funds to hit up the one that initially intimidated me, which stunk. A gorgeous, mid-aged woman walked out of one of the porches, hooked her arm around mine and asked, "Where are you going?", with this twinkle in her grin. I smiled at her and pointed out to the main street and said, "Right over there." She hung on for a little bit but left me, before I walked back to the SkyTrain.

Other then storming through downtown in the general direction of Banglamphu (to make up for the transportation funds I had been depleted of), that was my last night in Bangkok. After I'm done shopping for everyone I want to bring gifts back for, I may go back to the go-go bars, fully-funded, but I am, for the first time, missing my friends, my family. I miss really talking to someone. It's difficult meeting people on the guesthouse/hotel circuit, but I'm going to try tonight.

Oh, and by the way:

1) Thai and Khmer men can grow beards; they, obviously, choose not to. On the Thai/Cambodian land border, I asked Leung Keung, this jovial, helpful Khmer "travel guide" (the ones who help tourists like me through the border), if they could, after we had shot the shit and felt comfortable asking him. He said they both like to keep clean-shaven because it is "gentlemanly" and befitting of Buddhists (Thais are 95% Theravada Buddhists, while 90% of Khmers are). Only Muslims grow their beard in these countries, apparently. After he said that, I was tempted to shave my beard.

2) after methodically searching, I have yet to stumble upon any Wild Turkey, or cobra wine (bottles of whiskey or wine with a dead cobra, coiled within the bottle; it's supposed to make the alcohol, um, punchier; also illegal in the States). My online research makes me think that cobra wine is a mostly, or solely, Vietnamese delicacy (if you choose to call it that).

Oh, tomorrow I'm off for the shooting range by the airport! I'm not sure if I'll shoot a rocket launcher (it is estimated that there are 3-6 million active landmines in Cambodia, a country the size of France, and this has made me reconsider the shooting of it; the way I see it, shooting a rocket into one of their hillsides is like desecrating their already raped land, so I think I would feel too awful about doing it, no matter what illogical justification(s) I can assuredly concoct), but I'm definitely in for the AK-47. I'm so scared of guns.