Hello Fellow Travelers! Back safe and sound from Bangkok, after an all in all pleasant trip, I’m back in the “button room” as they used to say in the 90’s or so (although it was referring to something else actually), but for those who were too young to have assimilated that saying then repurposed to various contexts, think in this specific case of a room where technology takes center stage but there is also a showcase with all the memorabilia filled with memories accumulated over the years, a couple of comfy “gaming chairs,” there’s an arcade arcade booth and lots of other fancy stuff (but that’s another story), and most importantly it’s the place where your friendly Neighborhood Editor spends a good part of his time when he’s not out having fun or earning a couple of pennies working by the sweat of his brow.
I landed in Florence on Wednesday night around 11:00 PM and still haven’t found the time to jot down a few lines to wrap up the last travel diary. This is because the next morning I was already swamped with work, which on one hand helped me keep the usual “Thailanditis” in check, but on the other hand wiped me out even more. Changing habits, temperatures, diet, and daily mood overnight after a trip that lasted about twenty hours in total following 15 days of “doing whatever the hell I want whenever I feel like it” is never easy. Anyway…
The last two days in the capital of the Land of Smiles were a mix of excess and inner peace like I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Excess because on the final day, after my usual visit to 7-Heaven—where this time I was served by Miki—I went straight to Vovo just down the road to indulge in another session of pleasures, choosing the “Combo” option, the “Classroom” room, and a voluptuous lady whose name, unfortunately, I no longer remember, but I clearly remember her breasts, her hands, and her mouth—really skilled and enjoyable. In fact, she managed to get me off without much difficulty within the half hour, even though I had already finished just half an hour earlier—so really impressive.
This service, costing 2300 Baht (not cheap), includes the themed room, the girl in a school uniform with skirt and stockings, and the option for her to remove part or all of the outfit, staying only in panties. Given how good her breasts were, she even went the extra mile with a satisfying “Spanish” service, kneeling between my legs as I enjoyed her attention while sitting on a comfortable leather armchair—very pleasant, I must say. Then came the rest of the service as expected, and in the end, I came inside those lips too.
I hadn’t been back to Vovo since last year and can confirm the impressions from my previous visit: a good-quality “Pump Station” with small extra options for aficionados and an overall feeling of a “tailored, quality experience” from entrance to exit. Everything is always very clean and orderly, the spacious reception and corridors give a sense of informality (unlike the nearby 7-Heaven, where every small movement is designed for privacy to avoid other girls and clients running into each other in the corridors), and the playful atmosphere inside puts the client at ease right from the start.
It’s a bit pricey overall, but it’s an experience worth repeating every now and then without worrying about the extra 25 euros.
Another indulgence happened the night before, more in terms of time than money. After enjoying an hour and a half at the Toro nuru massage in the afternoon—which I hadn’t tried before (I’ll talk about it soon and a review is coming)—later that evening I went to Butterflies looking for inspiration, and I found it in a young girl from Isaan named “Poppy.” Of course, she also had an unpronounceable Thai name tattooed somewhere on her, but I wouldn’t even know how to write it.
At the entrance of the Go-Go bar, the usual Mamasan was eating on the balcony. As I passed by, she signaled that she would come greet me, but I told her with a laugh to take her time and went in. My trusted waitress has been gone since mid-August last summer, but her petite ex-colleague is still there and always treats me with some respect—probably because she knows I’ll eventually buy her a drink if she behaves. So, in the temporary absence of the “Capasan,” at my request she went out of her way to find me a good spot on the sofas in the stands—and she did. I settled in, ordered a gin and tonic, and looked around.
There were several potential girls already engaged, but a few notable ones were also on the stage. Shortly after, the “capasala” came by to greet me, and since I probably wouldn’t set foot in there for at least six months, I bought her a drink. She encouraged me to pick a companion girl. Meanwhile, another waitress I kinda liked and who wasn’t bad looking walked by, so jokingly I pointed at her. I offered her a drink and she officially became the replacement for my old trusted waitress. She’s nice, and although not as hot as the bikini girls, she’s not bad to look at either. Ah, I am incurable, my fetish for waitresses will never go away^^I raise a toast with them while a girl on the stage watches me and smiles. From how she fidgets trying to get noticed, she probably wants me to throw a hook to get her down, but she doesn’t appeal to me, so I tend to ignore her as much as possible. On the other side of the stage, near the center of the room, I notice two girls wandering in pairs—one is a rather tall, slender girl, and the other is more compact, kind of “mignon” style, but with a nicely rounded butt, almost a rarity around here.
I’m about to steal the little laser pointer from the waitress to call her when someone beats me to it from the stands, and I see the red dot pointed at her and her friend. The guy is sitting right on the upper sofa behind me. The girls brush past me, the petite one glances over and smiles. Too bad she’s already been chosen. Up close, she actually has a pretty face.
Unexpectedly, in less than a minute, while I was watching the tall blonde with silicone boobs on the stage, I see the two girls from before coming back down to the floor… A sign of destiny, I’d say. Maybe the other guy didn’t like them, or there was some misunderstanding—better for me. I wait for the girl to get on stage for her turn, and as soon as she looks at me, I signal her to come over. She laughs, comes down, and sits next to me. Drinks for her and the waitress, because I feel like it.
After a couple of drinks, the doll warms up properly and heats me up too, sitting on my lap with that nice full little ass. She teases, provokes, kisses me, and when after a prolonged massage over her panties I’m about to slip a finger inside her pussy, I realize it’s time to call the barfine. The hassle woman arrives and says: “700 + 4000 short time.” I could counteroffer 3000 and she’d probably accept, but I’m feeling generous and since it’s practically my last night to have unlimited fun before returning to Italy, screw it—I tell her it’s fine and to bring me the bill so I can take the girl to my room.
She goes to change and after a while comes back in civilian clothes, as expected. So at midnight we leave, I say goodbye to the “Mamasanta,” and head toward Soi 6 with this little woman who, despite wearing at least six-centimeter wedge heels, is still tiny—but very cute, I must say. Before reaching the corner between Soi Nana and Soi 6, I cross to the other side of the street to avoid the Viet-girl waiting there for clients. Obviously, I don’t owe her anything, but since she’s tried to reach me several times and I haven’t even responded, I’d feel a bit mean passing her by with my new company without saying anything. So I take a wide detour and we arrive at the hotel.
As soon as we enter my room… Dynasty Grande The girl starts praising the room, “Nice big room! I like.” She opens the bathroom door, “Wow,” then sits on the bed, “Nice bed, so big!” I begin to think she vaguely likes big things^^, but aside from that, I already sense that after sex I won’t be sleeping alone tonight either. And sure enough, around two o’clock, after the shower and the first round, instead of freshening up and leaving, she calmly settles under the blanket, intertwining her legs with mine as if to say“I’m not leaving, not even if you kick me, but just in case, I’m holding you tight”So I start fondling her a little, squeezing those cheeks while hugging her, then I slip out of her “deadly grip” and get out of bed. She looks at me suspiciously; I cover her up to her neck with the blanket and say, “I’m going out to the balcony for a smoke, you can stay here and sleep if you want.” She smiles satisfied, “Goodnight,” and hides her face under the blanket. How cute she is, I like her, and she can stay as long as she wants tonight — after all, she’ll pay the bill when she wakes up.
I go out to the balcony, smoke a bit, write some nonsense with other travelers in the “Bangkok Birre e Balorde” WhatsApp group, then come back inside, go to the bathroom, and rejoin the half-hard guy under the covers. A minute later, a hand practically lands on my face and slips a leg between mine — it must be a conditioned reflex, or maybe she was a snake in another life and killed prey like this, who knows^^.
She’s still all under the blanket; I check that she’s still actually breathing, then close my eyes for about an hour. When I open them again, I see she’s come back up from under the covers, and the sight of her breasts and that pretty sleepy face gives me quite the urge. This time I dive under the blanket and wake her up with flicks of my tongue. She grumbles a bit but plays along. I want to mount her, but I also want that nice, full, firm ass that’s a pleasure to spank. I cover the bald guy, help her flip over, and half an hour later she’s also passed the Holy Sheep Test. We freshen up quickly, exchange a few ritual flirts, and then the same scene repeats: I light a Marlboro on the balcony while she rests on the bed. Meanwhile, feeling inspired, I upgrade to premium class for the return flight as well. In the end, with those two days of forced stopover, I spent less than expected, the budget holds up, so thinking that you only live once, I spend those 200 euros for the upgrade with a smile on my face. I take a sip of honey tea and join her—both on the bed and in the world of dreams.
In the end, she leaves around seven in the morning after a thank-you blowjob, draining the last drop of my sacred nectar with the help of her fairy-like hands—a damn fairy, literally. And thank God it was supposed to be just Short Time.
Small parenthesis: after all these years I have now realized that if you stay in a good hotel/apartment and pick up the chick around midnight or shortly after for a Short Time, in most cases she will stay over as if it were a Long Time, benefiting then in the morning (or several times in the night as in this case) from the same service as the more expensive service, and without the risk of her leaving early with one of the classic excuses when you have already paid for a LT. It’s not an exact science but it comes pretty close. I will probably elaborate on this topic in the next “Random Thoughts of a Punter“ because there is a lot to be said about it. Parenthesis closed.
As for the inner peace I felt during these two days, I’m referring to an almost complete sense of tranquility—both on the penultimate day with the Nuru Full Service at Toro, from which I emerged decidedly relaxed and at peace with the world, and also because I didn’t experience the usual early wave of melancholy that always hits me as the return date approaches, turning into anguish when it’s time to leave the city for the airport. I even felt like buying some small souvenirs for friends and relatives in the afternoon, just like a normal tourist passing through the city, a thing I usually avoid precisely because of that “goodbye” feeling it triggers.
On the last night after a double at the “blowjobs” in Soi 33 I stopped by to say hello, avoided Nana Plaza because it was too much work to make the rounds of GoGo in search of balordine and Mamasan I had to say goodbye, but I stopped for a beer at the Orange Bar on Soi 7/1, where NaNa wasn’t around this time, only her skinny friend with silicone breasts and some other forgettable colleagues. Then I went to the bars on Soi 7 to say “hi” to the girls who still remember my ugly face, like Milk, who seems to have improved in every way since she stopped working at the Orange Bar. She looks like she’s found some balance, which makes me happy. Unfortunately, that little bitch Baimon wasn’t there, and since I no longer have her contact because she changed her Line number, I couldn’t say goodbye in any other way.
On the upside, her blonde colleague, who for some unknown reason remembers me even though I barely remember her, was there, as well as LB Gift, who hasn’t given me a break these days with her messages. I always answered with more or less believable excuses, only to find out that one of her friends told her she saw me around one night when I texted that I wasn’t feeling well and stayed in the hotel (forget about the CIA, Israeli secret services, or KGB, these girls know everything).
She seems genuinely sorry that I’m leaving, which is a shame because she has a dick, but aside from that, her company is more pleasant than that of many girls I’ve met—not just in Thailand, but that’s another story…
Finally, I returned to Soi 11/1, stopping to eat some good grilled beef accompanied by a plate of morning glory at Krua Khun Puk, a very popular little restaurant in the area that offers excellent food at reasonable prices. In fact, if you go with more than one person, you usually have to wait for a table even at 4 a.m. Then I stopped by to say hello to my playmate friend at the Orange Bar and all the country girls from the staff who were there. I’ll see some of them again next time, others not, but it doesn’t really matter.
This time, the “sympathy prize” goes to the charming Miyu, who even when drunk maintains an enviable innate sweetness. Although I haven’t had many chances to interact with her, she has always been unobtrusive and pleasant. Special mention goes to Pik, who, if I had time and the will, would be worth working on to see what happens. But I don’t want to just bring her to my room for a quick romp and be done with it, and despite her numerous hints and practically proposing herself several times these days—especially after 4 a.m.—I preferred to avoid it. Not because I don’t like her, but quite the opposite. However, she doesn’t completely convince me, time is limited, and the choices are endless. So, that’s fine.
The others are the usual noisy background crowd that adds to the atmosphere, but one is much like another, except for the usual Ink, who depending on her mood and the amount of alcohol she has in her system, can be lovable or hateful from one night to the next. But considering she’s a restless and quite a naughty girl, you just leave her as she is.
I slowly sip the last beer, pay the bill, say my goodbyes, and cross Sukhumvit for the last time. At 5:00 a.m., time seems to have stopped; the minutes pass slowly, there’s quiet in the room and calm in my mind. I don’t want to leave, of course, but the thought doesn’t distress me. I go out onto the balcony, leave the glass door wide open—let the mosquitoes come in; soon I won’t be there to get bitten. I take the last can of coffee, drink it, smoke the last cigarette sitting in shorts and flip-flops, watching the rowdies entering and leaving the Seven Eleven down in the neighboring building.
It’s time for the last shower, hot water, steam fogs up the mirror, the alarm on my phone rings—it’s almost time. I get dressed, close my bags, say goodbye to my room, and go downstairs. The young lady at reception—the same one who several times these days called me when my guests left the hotel—has sleepy eyes and looks like she wants to sleep, but she’s attentive. A quick, painless check-out and a last smile: “Need a taxi?” — “No, I’ll manage myself, thanks.” Bolt quickly finds me a driver with an SUV to the airport—takes two minutes, I see him practically at the start of Soi Nana. Two minutes later I see him enter the Ibis Styles parking lot at the corner, where the Viet-girl always parks. A message: “Which hotel are you at?” I send him the hotel name, see that he leaves there and stops at the corner of the street. “Soi 6,” I write. He starts moving hesitantly. “Come closer,” I write. “Ok,” he replies. I recognize the vehicle and stretch out my arm holding the phone, finally he sees me and parks. He seems like a decent guy, just a bit slow. I toss my bags in the trunk, and we’re off. He asks if he can take the highway so we arrive sooner. “Up to you,” I replied, knowing it was fine since it wasn’t the first time and that taking the highway actually saves a few minutes, even though the fare goes up by about 75 Baht. I watched the city slowly thin out as we headed toward Suvarnabhumi.
“What airline?” the driver asked.
“Air France.”
So he’s just slow with hotels, good to know. He parked, showed me the fare — Bolt’s original charge plus 75 Baht for the highway — helped me sling my backpack and suitcase over my shoulders, then handed me the other bag. I took the money from my pocket and rounded it up.
“That’s fine.”
He thanked me, wished me a good trip, and I headed to the smoking area after the last entrance. I stayed there about half an hour in the cool morning air. The sun was rising and starting to warm things up. I put out my last cigarette, turned just after passing through the automatic doors, the door closed behind me.
“Bye bye Bangkok, see you around.”
This time I got through security in 15 minutes, and the rest was just waiting around the airport. I even had enough time to stop by Burger King for a feast of nuggets and fries (hoping my stomach wouldn’t mind), then I headed to the gate to wait for boarding.
The return flight was pleasant. Tired but relaxed, I fell asleep right after takeoff, only to be woken up by the clumsy guy behind me struggling to pull down his tray. Better that way, at least I got to eat too.
Premium is definitely more comfortable than Economy: welcome champagne, a rich menu with gourmet dishes, metal cutlery instead of plastic, larger trays, a handy amenity kit in a practical case with comfy socks, eye mask, earplugs, and mini toothbrush and toothpaste, wider and more comfortable seats, a blanket that’s not made of cheap fabric, a bigger screen for the entertainment system, and headphones that isolate external noise well.
As for legroom, I wouldn’t have had any major disadvantage in Economy anyway, since I’d booked a seat by the emergency exit, which at least lets you fully stretch your legs, although the seat itself is just barely wide enough. But overall, the difference is noticeable throughout the entire flight, which is just under 12 hours from Bangkok to Paris.
In the city of the Eiffel Tower, it’s 5:30 PM and I’m at the airport on the moving walkway, starting to make the first work calls. The “jeux sont faits,” as they say around here, and the three-and-a-half-hour layover is just a final moment of relaxation before heading home.
The flight from Paris to Florence is half empty. For this leg, I’m in Business Class, front row with two empty seats next to me. Maybe it wasn’t really necessary for a one-and-a-half-hour flight, but the delicious prawns on my plate say otherwise, and those two French cheeses and the delightful lemon tart agree. The seats are the same as economy, but the treatment and priority differ, plus being in the front rows means skipping the boarding line. One last indulgence to close the circle — a good ending for this vacation that kicks off 2025 in the best way.
And with this, I say goodbye, warmly thanking all the Traveler Friends I met along the way and everyone who shared this little big adventure with me.
May 2025 bring you all joy, health, and many new discoveries.
Now I’m enjoying a well-deserved weekend of relaxation, then it’s back to writing, because as always, the to-do list is long and time is short.
See you soon, and all the best to everyone!
