What Did Santa Bring?

I hope all Trader readers had a very Merry Christmas and you have sufficiently recovered to face a bright and prosperous New Year.  This year, of course, Christmas celebrations were almost a non-event because of two lots of bar closures due to the Thai general election.  I’m guessing bar owners must have been livid, having to shut up shop with the town finally full of cashed-up punters.  According to the Bangkok Post of 15 December, “The ban is to prevent canvassers from entertaining voters at drinking sprees before they go off to cast their votes.”  If that is the case, I can’t personally see why the bars should not be able to reopen immediately after the polling stations close.  But … ours is not to reason why.

Because of deadlines for submitting this article, I can’t report on how successful or otherwise the Christmas period in Pattaya was this year so I’ll have to recount a story from a previous year.  The following is an edited extract from the hilarious book A Fool’s Diary, scribed by yours truly, describing a full year of expat living in Pattaya.  Pathetic free plug or not, let me relate a tale from the ghost of Christmas past.

’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the sois,

All the creatures were stirring, including katoeys;

The piglets were hung o’er the spits with care,

In hopes that the punters soon would be there;

The Hostesses were resplendent, all dressed in red,

While visions of sugar-daddies danced through their head ...

My apologies to Clement Clarke Moore for that desecration of his splendid poem.  All that aside, Christmas Eve convinced me this is not a good time of year for the pig population of Thailand.  Every bar worthy of the name put on a party, the centrepiece of which was most often a very unhappy pig roasting over a spit.  The punters were out in force; their numbers only matched by the mass of coloured balloons tied to everything resembling a fixture.  And the girls?  The Bar Hostesses may not fully understand the significance of Christmas in its traditional sense, but that didn’t dampen their enthusiasm.  Red ‘Santa’ caps and short red skirts were the fashion of the moment and ‘Melly Kitmart’ replaced their usual greeting of ‘Hello Sexy Man’.

By midnight, the explosion of popping balloons meant the long night was drawing to a close.  I had been sitting at a beer bar talking with my long-time friend, Nok, having a great time drinking and playing games.  But that all came to an abrupt end when one of her old ‘customers’ turned up on his motorbike.  She rushed out to greet him then quickly returned to the mamasan with the cash for her bar fine.  As she retrieved her handbag she gave me a smile and a conciliatory, “Sorry, I have to go,” knowing full well I would understand.  Now sitting unattended, I could only watch as she slipped out into the night.

... She sprang on his bike, to her friends gave a whistle,

And away they both flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ’ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

The following afternoon I awoke with a mission in mind.  The good thing about Christmas Day in Thailand is all the shops are open, affording me the opportunity to make some post-last-minute purchases.  Over the past week the department stores have been crowded with conscientious farang doing their Christmas shopping in the traditional way.  I prefer to shop after the event to avoid the crowds and take advantage of the many heavily-discounted bargains available.

This year I only had to buy one thoughtful gift for my long-suffering tee ruk.  I had already assured my beloved that I’ve learned my lesson from last year when my gift of a 1,000 baht phonecard was received less enthusiastically than expected.  I tried to explain it was a practical gift, something she could utilize every day but, apparently, it was not ‘lo-man-tic’ enough.  I was given the impression the only thing less appreciated would have been if I’d paid her parking tickets.

So this year I had to come up with something romantic, or at least clever.  I thought of calling my mate Robbie for advice but then remembered the debacle over the birthday present he gave his own girlfriend.  (He had his bum waxed.)  No, I had to buy something big, wrappable and expensive-looking.  In the past, before wrapping any non-convertible gift, I would spend a little time removing the price tag.  I didn’t want the recipient to know how much I paid (or didn’t pay) because ‘it is the thought that counts’.  In Pattaya however, the female recipients of my rare gifts often survey the item as if looking for the price tag.  And when they don’t find one, they come straight out and ask me how much it cost.  To Westerners this behaviour is rude, but to Thais it is perfectly acceptable.  I’m used to it now and have devised a cunning plan.  I have a set of my own blank price tags and can set my printer to print out any amount I want on the small labels.  For instance, say I purchase a gift for 300 baht, I remove that tag and replace it with one reading 1,300 baht before wrapping the item.  When she receives it and checks the price, the lady merely thinks I was stupid for paying too much rather than being the Cheap Charlie that I am.  Works every time.

So what did I finally get for my beloved primary care giver that year?  A 26,000 baht DVD player, a 12,000 baht Breville toaster oven, a 10,000 baht steam and dry iron plus a 6,000 baht non-stick wok.  Needless to say she was speechless, but the hospital staff were very nice and the doctor’s fine stitch work did not even leave a scar.  No chance of a repeat of that this year, even though I was surely tempted by the automatic washing machine.  On that note and while I am still in one piece, I’ll wish you all a Happy New Year.