More on that in a future post, once I have a bit more clarity.

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In Bangkok, I’m staying in a high end part of town. While I’m booked in a hostel, it’s an extraordinary one – much nicer than most of the hotels I’ve stayed at along the way. New, clean, friendly and in a central location.

So, the conversation I had last night caught me a bit by surprise.

Outside of my room, there is a table, with two chairs that overlook Thanon Rama I and the National Stadium BTS station. The furniture is brushed aluminum, like you might find on an outdoor patio at a fast food restaurant. Weatherproof, stainproof and pretty much indestructible other than rocking back and forth due to a leg that’s shorter than the others. I have a theory that restaurant furniture is made like this on purpose so that people can’t get TOO comfortable and the establishment can get more turns as people flow in and out.

Anyway…

As I headed out for a walk around the neighborhood, there was an attractive young woman sitting at the table. I’d seen her in the hostel a couple of times already, always offering a friendly smile.

She looked up at me and said hello, so I stopped to say hi and chat with her for a few minutes before continuing on my way.

She was nice, but I knew right off the bat that something was off. Asian, but with long hair bleached blonde. Not blonde highlights or a light brown, it was closer to the color that white walls turn when they spend a couple of years in the company of a heavy smoker.

Not Thai. She didn’t have the dark complexion or warm, welcoming eyes they generally have in the southern region of the country. Chinese, perhaps Vietnamese. The hair was throwing me off, so I couldn’t tell for certain. Despite my estimation that she was in her early 20s, small tattoos had been on her bicep and ankle long enough that they were faded and out of focus like they were being viewed through a cheap camera lens.

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After a brief introduction, she got to business. So to speak.

“How long you stay here?”

“Just got here yesterday. Heading out on Thursday to go to Chiang Mai.”

“No I think you here a week already. I see you before.”

Evidently I had a doppelganger staying in my room before I arrived. I hope he tipped well, so the waiters around here don’t all hate me at first sight.

“Nope, must have been someone else. What brings you to Bangkok?”

“Getting a visa. I was in Malaysia but didn’t like.”

“Really? Why didn’t you like it?”

She mumbled something I couldn’t make out and whatever she said seemed lengthy and complicated. I didn’t ask her to repeat herself, since I was convinced I wouldn’t understand it on a second pass either.

“Where are you from originally?”

“Vietnam. Working in Bangkok.”

This was like a highly pixelated image that you see from a foot away. You have an idea what it might be, but you have to get a bit further away to be sure.

“Cool, where do you work?”

“All over. Bars. Hotels.”

The pixelation instantly disappeared. leaving behind a 1080p image. It was still surprising to hear her say it so matter of factly.

“How long have you been staying here?”

“One week already.”

“Nice, well I’m heading out. It was nice to meet you. See you later.”

“Where you go now?”

I get this question a lot in Bangkok. From hostel staff, tuk-tuk drivers, women in front of bars. I’d love to explain to them that I pretty much NEVER know where I’m going. I just walk in a direction and decide along the way. Unfortunately, that kind of conversation will wrap you up with a tout for an hour, longer if they try to convince you to go somewhere they want you to go.

“Not sure. Just going to walk around the area for a while.”

“I come with you.”

I had no immediate idea what to say to that. I hate being judgmental and didn’t want to think the worst right away, but I was pretty sure she wasn’t just interested in joining me to explore the neighborhood, but maybe?

She broke the silence.

“We go to another hotel.”

“Uh, no. Thank you, though. Have a nice night.”

When I got back from my walk, she’d been replaced at the table by two German guys eating dinner. Even though she was pleasant enough, I felt a wave of relief that I didn’t have to talk with her again.

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This was a definite first for me. While I’ve certainly been approached by prostitutes in Bangkok (hard to avoid, whether you’re having a beer or just walking down the block) and I’ve had interesting experiences in red light areas around the globe, I didn’t expect to be propositioned like that in a hostel. Backpackers aren’t exactly known for the depths of their financial resources.

Maybe she’s discovered an untapped market.

What do I do with that info? I’m a bit torn. The hostel really doesn’t want that kind of a rep, and it would be unwarranted (which is why I’m not naming the place). But I also felt sympathy for her. I may not agree with her life choices, but I wasn’t living her life and know nothing about it. She was nice and wasn’t blatantly working the place. I’m also certain she’ll be gone in a couple of days when her visa comes through.

Antwerp was a beautiful city and full of surprises (read more here). One additional surprise I got was stumbling into the red light district after boat watching.

Here’s a peek behind the curtain inside my head:

Huh, this street looks interesting. Wonder what’s down here? Lots of store fronts and guys walking ar– whoah! That’s no mannequin in that bikini!

Jeezus, there are hundreds of girls behind glass doors posing and pressing up against the glass.

Wait, what do I do?

Keep walking?

But what do I DO?

Okay, look, but only for a second. You don’t want to seem rude.

And smile politely.

Shit! Don’t smile too big! Now she’s waving for you to come over, just keep going.

Haha – that guy just got yelled at for offering a 20 Euro note to a woman.

Okay, looks like I’m halfway through. Geez, this is like a haunted house at Halloween Horror Nights. Except women keep grabbing at you from behind the glass instead of werewolves. They’re all over the place.

Tall one, fat one, old one.

Eeep!! Tranny!

Wait, do I just ignore him? I know it’s rude, but…

Hey, did you ever wonder who invented shoelaces?

This place could totally be more efficient if they just added a bill slot next to the door and it worked like a vending machine.

hmmm… she’s posing totally motionless, like a statue. I guess some guys like that.

70% of them are on cell phones the entire time. I hope they turn them off when they get a client.

Finally, end of the street. I need to stop for a drink and absorb all that.

Well, look at that. This must be where the off the record girls work.

Moving along…