Gay Boy Thailand

In Chulia Street, the backpacker and restaurant area in Penang, I normally avoid the samlor drivers and their persistent offers. But a reader of this blog had told me that if I spoke to them maybe I could get info about the local gay life.

So I spoke to one of them. This was not one of the geriatric ones, but a middle aged Malay Muslim man who spoke good English. He started with unsolicited offers of massage and girls, and after a warm up of this I said:
- Any boys here?
- Oh sure, said the driver without missing a beat. – I find nice boy for you. No problem. We go look.
- How much for the trip?
- 30 ringit for one hour. (= 300 baht)

Off we went. It was close to midnight but because of the Chinese New Year holidays many people were still out in the streets, eating and drinking and chatting. The evening was mild, 22 C perhaps, and the air clear without the pollution that chokes Bangkok.
- I am heavy, I said. I felt sorry for the man who had to pedal me around.
- No problem, said the driver. – Sometimes I take two people.
- I am two people, I said.
- Yes, said the driver.
- Where are we going?
- I take you to beach. Have boys there who walking. Walking back and forth. Looking. Can find lovely boy for you. No problem.

I count as two Asians

The bicycle taxi went down to the old British fort and what I had read on Utopia was a cruisey area around a park. There were few people. 3-4 young men sat around a table near a parking lot. We arrived at the beach promenade and the driver said:
- You like him?
- Who?
- This one.
The gentleman on offer was a 30something who was helping someone to park a car outside a restaurant. He looked straight, unhealthy and rough. I would not be surprised to see him in a prison cell.
- Never mind, I said.
- No?
- I don’t think so.
- OK. I find nice boy for you. No problem. We go back to the park.

Back in the parking lot a chubby Chinese guy around 30 had parked his car and was crossing the road. The samlor driver rang his bell. The Chinese man didn’t seem to understand what the issue was and kept walking. The samlor driver went after him.
- Never mind, I said, worried that Mr. Chubby was just someone who was passing by.
- You not like him?
- Never mind, I said again.
- Ok, said the driver. – Not worry. You are here for holiday. I will make you happy. You are my customer. I will find someone you can have a good time with.
- That’s nice, I said.
The samlor driver pedalled back to the restaurant. He shouted something to another Malay man who was standing outside. A loud discussion in Malay followed. I was embarrassed. It was my sexual preferences they were shouting about across the road. So much for Islamic sensitivities.

The samlor made another turn on the road. The Malay man from the restaurant went inside and came out again with a skinny late 20ies Chinese guy who wore a white shirt. I apologise for the crude nickname I have for him, but the moment I saw him the name “Mr. Ratface” stuck in my mind.
- Him in white shirt, said the samlor driver. – You like him?
- Keep going, I said. I didn’t want to stop and have to talk to Mr. Ratface.
- He is 20 years old, said the driver.
- Really? He looks older.
- Yes. He works hard so he looks older.
It is more likely Ratface is on hard drugs, I thought to myself.
- You want him? asked the driver. – He is experienced.
- No thank you, I said.
This ended the beach promenade section. We went back to town.
- This pub is good, said the driver.
- Is it?
- Yes. Have boys there. Easy to get.

The place looked like nothing special, some tourists sat outside on the pavement and some locals sat inside an Irish-style pub, but I made a mental note to go back some time.
- These boys you talk about, are they Malay? I asked.
- Most of them are Chinese.
- They like the money?
- Yes. 30-40 ringit. They will come to you. No problem.
The driver went by Komtar, the shopping centre. There was nothing to see there either.
- Can you take me back now? I asked.
- OK, said the driver and we went downhill to Chulia Street.
- You want to eat or drink? asked the driver, hoping for a restaurant kickback.
- Never mind. I will go back to the hotel to sleep.
- Next time I find boy for you, ok? said the driver.

I was out of Malaysian ringit. The driver said I could give him Thai baht instead but he gave me 7 baht to the ringit. At the airport it was closer to 10. I felt somewhat ripped off, both for the exchange rate and the lack of the promised gay life. The three boys he had showed me were all straight and none of them would have survived in a Thai flesh market, not even in the darkest soi. But I didn’t regret the samlor trip. Now I had seen Penang by night.