The red and orange tint of the sky was slowly turning blue. The sun just hid itself below the horizon.
The lights started glimmering, changing the face of the Beach Road, Pattaya’s most popular avenue, into something neon, slick, and slinky. The lights of different colors exhibited good visual elements, making every dark corner of the city mysterious.
The once bland alleys transmogrify—yes, like a genetic mutation. Massage and other forms of entertainment were all opened for business.
Huge tourist buses trooped the busy highway, bringing in and picking up large numbers of Chinese and Korean tourists. No wonder why Thailand’s tourism receipt curve is still sloping positively.
The songthaew [baht bus or pick up trucks turned into mass passenger transport like Philippine jeepney] were also making money on conveying passengers; locals, travelers, and tourists alike.
You may wonder why, but yes, there is a fine line that differentiates tourists from travelers. I don’t consider myself a tourist though.
Strolling along the strip of the Pattaya’s fancied beach gave me some relaxing feel, even though the water looked turbid.
When I met someone on the street, I look at them in the eyes for a second or two. It doesn’t matter who they are.
At one point, I crossed eyes with this skinny, young, smooth-skinned human being. He’s been staring even though we passed each other already. I knew, because I used my selfie camera to check him out. I was just curious on what he’s up to, nothing else.
I did not mind him. I continued walking to look around further, and then chose for an interesting place to eat.
When I walked my way back, I found him on the exact location where we’d met. I did not turn back. And at one point, he approached me.
“Massage with everything?” he uttered.
I looked no way close to a Caucasian, so why me.
I then smiled, pressed my two palms together, bowed, and then I continued my walk.