What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession.
After getting my fill of Phuket last week, I decided to tack on a short stay in my first Thailand home of Ao Nang. The ferry from points A to B took a little over 2 hours and was pure bliss. The sea was calm, the sky clear with scattered clouds. The boat was only 1/4 full as it’s low season and the view of the islands between locations was spectacular. The package included piling into a van with the other plebs on arrival to be shuttled one at a time to our respective hotels, so I skipped that and jumped a taxi straight to the Golden Beach Resort, a semi-ritzy place just 2 doors down from Last Fisherman’s at the southern end of the beach. Speaking of, I scampered down there after checking in to grab some nostalgia and have a drink. There was a Bailey’s-and-banana shake on the menu which paired like salt and caramel with my banana Backwoods cigar. And for some reason, I got a waffle topped with mango and ice cream and it was as good as it sounds.
Then I went for a nap, and ventured back out at 20.00. All the restaurants I used to know were gone, replaced with triple the number of eateries all offering the same exact menu: Indian/burger/pizza/Thai/seafood. I opted for a place that didn’t even have a name as far as I could tell, and had a ham and mushroom pizza, 190b on sale. Then I braved RCA, Ao Nang’s only beer bar soi, what we called Disappointment Street back in the day. The bars that used to bookend the entrance were gone, with two food courts there in their place. I angled towards Amy’s Bar, since that was my local hangout for two years. Amy is the first post-op ladyboy I ever met. She’s very kind and down to earth, and was always good to me, probably because I dated her cousin, who has since popped out 3 kids from different farang and left the life. But Amy’s wasn’t quite open yet, so I walked the soi and spotted the one and only good-looking girl at a joint called Left Side. So I sat down and beckoned her over. She was 20 years old, from Bangkok, and came all this way so her family wouldn’t learn of her profession. I asked if it was hard being the only pretty girl on the soi and she said yes. The other girls envy her massive customer base and multiple drinks per night. I bought her a Coke and when she walked over to get it, I noticed her ass was a bit too big for my taste. She offered to barfine. I wondered how many pens had dipped in that ink and politely declined. Then she turned sour, and so I moved over to Amy’s where an older LB recognized me after all this time. She sparked up a joint and we chatted about all the changes in Ao Nang. Her biggest gripe was, too many Indians. And also, everything’s too expensive now. And she’s right. Happy hour drinks specials are the same as the regular price a decade ago. Food costs overall have doubled.
The biggest change I noticed was the dearth of hot girls. Amy’s used to be home to the biggest collection of pretties in the whole of Krabi. They were like the Pink Ladies from Grease, ruling the soi with the power of their hotness. They partied like rock stars nightly, and their devil-may-care attitude, tendency to get drunk and make a scene, and eternal optimism made the whole scene positively electrifying. My bargirlfriend cooterblocked me from getting with any of them, but it was still fun to be a welcome local in the mix of all that fun. In the early 20teens, Thailand was still skinny. Those days are long over. Today, all the girls on the soi are chubsters, and are about as fun as a bag of pants.
One of my bargirlfriend’s friends passed by. She no longer works in the bar. Instead, she sells lottery tickets. After getting knocked up, she opted for something less-redlight. She seemed happy, and it was good to catch up. She asked if I missed my ex. I said no. Then she asked how many girlfriends I have now. I said “Four,” but that’s not true. It’s just easier than the real answer which is I have one concubine who thinks she’s my girlfriend despite my protestations, plus one bi-monthly playmate and two once-a-monthers who service me like auto mechanics.
The girls on Disappointment Street don’t dress like the dancers in Patpong. The King’s girls typically adorn lingerie. The ones in Virgin, sexy cosplay. But the Ao Nang girls wear dresses and most don’t dance. They’re just there to drink and barfine. I was bored after a few minutes but stayed an hour, out of politeness.
The next morning, I set out for Nopparat Thara to survey the newly-constructed tourist traps. Ao Nang has changed dramatically since I left it. For one thing, the whole stretch from Nopparat to Ao Nang has been rebuilt. For nearly 15 years, since the tsunami, it was a structural graveyard–just abandoned, dilapidated buildings. No more. Today it’s resorts, malls, shopping meccas, and restaurants that come to life after the sun goes down.
The beach itself is as pristine as I remember it, and in low season I had to share it with at most, half a dozen tourists. I popped into one of the seaside restaurants with a view of the sea and had a banana daiquiri to go with my banana backwoods. A white couple sat down next to me, then moved 3 tables away, then left the joint all together. I confess to loving when my cigar smoke drives farang away. Since I can’t kill them, it’s the next best thing.
Speaking of tourists, Ao Nang is overrun by 4 types: Indians, white couples, women in ones, twos, and threes on an eatpraylove holiday, and black dudes with white chicks. I guess I never noticed before because I only ever spent time in the company of Thai bar girls but Ao Nang is a real magnet for romance. I didn’t catch the name of the daiquiri place but a few doors down I swung in to Fullmoon Bar for something called a Krabi paradise: gin, rum, blue curacao, sweet & sour. The view was spectacular as you can see from the attached pics. Then I stomped over to Reeve for a Mai Tai and sushi roll. Man, if Ao Nang had more hot Thai chicks and less stupid white girls, it’d be perfect.
After my customary late-afternoon nap, I set out for Disappointment Street again, stopping first to get another pizza, this time at a ritzier looking place. 320b for a small pie. Back when I lived here, a pizza was 100b and a bottle of Leo was 50. On my return to Amy’s I brought photos from 14 years ago, when everyone was thinner and better-looking. Everyone ooh’d and ahh’d at them. Mary, the old LB, got a kick out of seeing herself with a less-receded hairline. Some photos were dated as far back as the spring of 2010. Today all the young hotties in those photos are old fatties and married with kids.
As I sat there at Amy’s, the “only beautiful girl on the soi” from the previous night returned from a shorttime barfine. The dude with her was a short greasy middle-eastern type who wore sunglasses at 22.30. To be fair, he’ll probably never get a girl that hot again in his life. He earned his Corey Hart moment.
Later on, Amy showed up, recognized me immediately, and said, “Enjoy your time back here at home.” What a lovely sentiment. Bangkok is my home now, though who knows how long that’ll last. With no day job to tie me down, I could go anywhere. When she perused my time capsule pics, she asked me to send them to her for posterity.
The next day I took a morning walk on an all-but-deserted Ao Nang Beach to it’s southernmost point, looking for the colony of monkeys that sometimes hangs out there, but no joy. So I hiked the short staircase up the hill on a path that leads to the hidden Centara Grand Resort but stopped at the zenith and then returned to my room where I promptly fell back asleep. Then I did some online work and took a short shopping trip to buy tchotchkies for my number one concubine. None of the rest of them get gifts. In the afternoon I set out for Crazy Gringo’s Tex-Mex, because like Johnny Depp’s character in Once Upon a Time in Mexico who has to try the pork everywhere he goes, I have to sample the half-Thai half-Latin monstrosities passing for Mexican food all over TLOS. Imagine my surprise when they said the kitchen was closed, at 17.40. What kind of cuntery is that? And so I slid into the Italian joint next door (Azzurra) for wine, cold cuts, cheese, and sauteed mushrooms–940b all-in. Once ingested, I made for Last Fisherman’s again to relax and watch the sunset, but it was too full so I kept walking till I got to a little food stall that also served cocktails, grabbed a Mai Tai and watched the old familiar yellow-orange-blue-pink sundown that I took for granted for years, and was reminded of one of the few times I was able to go round behind my Ao Nang bargirlfriend’s back and have a twilight swim will a little brown beauty who worked at the local backpacker hostel. Now I can’t look seaward from this beach without thinking of her. We were in bed together when that killer tidal wave took out Fukushima. We watched it live on TV, in a state of shock.
As I made my way back to Golden Beach, I was stopped by the sound of 3 pretty Thai girls playing cover tunes at Centara (not to be confused with Centara Grand–they’re separate hotels). I stopped in for a glass of prosecco and soaked up some U2,Michael Jackson, and Ed Sheeran. It turned out they were sisters, and to say they were captivating would be an understatement, at least by Krabi standards. They call themselves Triple G. You can check out their YouTube here: https://www.youtube.com/@3tripleg633
Then I went back for a rest and a shower before checking out Centerpoint. Back in the day, it was home to Ao Nang’s only ‘nightclub’ in addition to some vanilla (no whores) bars. On instinct I made for what used to be my usual seat in Chang Bar, back when I ruled this complex, and didn’t see a single familiar face. I was one of two solo males and definitely in the top 5 oldest fogies there. When I ordered a black ruskie and the dude returned with a glass bigger than my fist and filled to the rim, it confirmed what I suspected of Phuket and now Ao Nang. They spike their BR’s with cola.
On the walk over, a couple freelancers made the soft come-on, and there were more than a handful of pusstrepreneurs (pussy entrepreneurs) lounging in the various bars. Two girls in Chang bar whose job was strictly to get people up and dancing sauntered over to my table. I sent them away in short order. Seven doesn’t dance. Two Americans dressed in brand new Banana Republic outfits–shorts and long-sleeved half buttoned up shirts–rolled in with their barfines from the night before. The two girls got to know each other while the dudes looked around to see who was watching them. Not shamefully, though. I think they were proud, like they scored those chicks off charisma and not a longtime fee. When I finished the Coked-ruskie I ordered a white Russian, just to see what they’d cut it with. The dude returned with a glass of milk that had a tiny drop of booze at the bottom. I guess that’s how they can afford to charge just 100b for drinks. I suspected a margarita was a Sprite with half a shot of tequila flavored lao khao and decided not to confirm it.
Places like this make no sense to me. It’s just farang and more farang. More specifically, it’s 70% white dudes awkwardly bopping to Cardi B and not getting lucky. When I lived here, me and my bargirlfriend would come here just to people watch. She’d say hi to her friends who got barfined and dragged here. I’d chat with the staff and other locals slash coworkers. I’ve no idea what to make of this current Centerpoint. It looks at a glance like Thais trying to make a buck and tourists not knowing how to act. Scratch that, it’s me not understanding how tourists act. They seem quite at home bouncing around to hip-hop while puffing fags and sipping Cuba Libres.
Then I went upstairs to Upbeat Bar, which now has a cover charge of 300b to watch a live music band and/or hit the ladyboy cabaret. On the opposite side at Loft R&B, a gang of shirtless douchebags did whip-its and played beer pong. In what used to be the place where me and my ball and chain could relax and get VIP treatment, a thousand Caucasians in pooka shell necklaces now cram cheek-to-jowl to listen to bad renditions of early 2000s Thai pop songs. I found a corner where I could have some peace (not quiet) and a Thai girl turned on a fan and faced it at me without being asked, re-upping my love for this country and its people. A drunk farang dude wobbled up and security stopped him to do a quick search. He mistook it for friendship, and went in with one of those drunk arm-around-the-neck hugs that straddles the line between affection and strangulation. He wouldn’t get go, and the guard almost knocked him out, but the dude bowed and scraped and wai’d and finally the guard walked off. Then a second guard came in to search him, and first he tried pulling the guard’s gloves off, then gave him a bear hug and refused to let go. For a few seconds, I thought he’d get the Patpong treatment, meaning a flashlight to the skull, but instead the guard took it all in stride and eventually allowed the sloppy Caucasian into Chang Bar.
While sitting there, I idly swiped through my X feed and saw photos of hot girls from Dollhouse, King’s Castle, and Virgin and was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of missing sexy Thai gogo dancers in lingerie. The pros of Krabi are beautiful beaches and total relaxation. The cons are zero hot Thai chicks. I decided then and there to head back to BKK for my waiting harem and bars full to the brim with fetching fanny. If/when I get the itch to see the South again, I’ll go to Samui. Ao Nang is beautiful but too slow. Phuket’s too crowded and expensive.
The ride to Krabi airport took 30 minutes. The flight was an hour seven. I had the same conversation as always with the taxi driver. “You speak a lot of Thai.” Snake-snake fish-fish. Laughter. “How long you stay here?” 14 years. “You have wife, girlfriend?” No. “Why not?” Have wife, not have money. Not have wife, have money. More laughter.
My number 1 conc messaged to say she’d knock on my door at 21.00 and suddenly I was back in the BKK routine. I have to say, my heart was split 50-50 about it. I didn’t miss my dirty apartment, but I already longed for a beach view. It’ll be great to see some butts in G-strings on a gogo stage, and meet the meager needs of my harem, but the pull of the south will never fully abate. La vie est belle.
An Ao Nang photo album matching the contents of this post can be found by scrolling to the bottom of this page.
This week’s Members Only Gallery was requested by a Member who wanted to see some cosplay+ photos of Beer and Sai. You can view it here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-sai-member-request/
but only if you become a Member. The price tag is $1 per month, and new content is added weekly.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@bar_thigh
@BangkokNightli2
Thai chick-related posters and prints on canvas can be purchased at
https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: Ao Nang is like Ko Samet. It’s the wrong place to go alone. If you go, bring a piece of ass with you, even if it means renting one for the weekend. It’ll be worth the hassle.
