Introduction
When I said I wanted to solo travel Thailand, friends and family told me it wasn’t safe, especially for a female travelling alone. Having lived and interned in Thailand for two months through a scholarship programme, I was confident it was just negativity bias talking and that I would have zero issues.
Well, that was before I met Mr. Pong.
What Happened: Day 1
On a warm evening around 6pm, I headed to Lamai beach in a white singlet and a floral linen wrap over my bikini. With the sun soon to set, the beach had few people and had a calm, serene atmosphere.
I started filming myself dancing on the sand with my phone set up on a large piece of driftwood. The driftwood also held an empty coconut with a little purple flower, and a dirty white sock. A couple of people glanced my way every now and then.
A few minutes later a little Thai man emerged smiling and entertained. He wore a faded yellow polo shirt, giant crocs, and black Puma shorts that were too big for his stick-like legs. He had a warm smile and his skin was a deep brown, reminiscent of mahogany. He was tidying up the beach near where I was dancing and continued to look over now while cleaning.
A few minutes later, he walked over and jumped into one of my videos, attempting to dance along. It felt like those TikTok videos where strangers spontaneously join, making the video all fuzzy and wholesome.
We paused and chatted for a moment. His eyes were vibrantly blue, an unnatural hue probably from diminishing age and health. His voice was high-pitched and parrot-like. As many Thai do, he skipped over certain consonants, and his accent made it hard to understand many of his words.
At the end of the conversation, he asked me, “Do you like fruit cocktails?” and I shrugged my shoulders upwards neutrally. He said, “Come back tomorrow and have a drink here”. I asked his name and he said "Mr. Pong", pointing to a blue sign two metres away in the sand that had his brand name and the drink list. He owned about ten or fifteen beach chairs along this section that overlooked where I’d been dancing.
At some point he mentioned something about “boys” and “boyfriends”, but I didn’t quite catch his train of thought. He was probably joking about there being lots of guys at the beach.
What Happened: Day 2
The next day, I went back to Lamai beach. I’d already intended to go, so figured I might as well support the local business. Mr. Pong cut me a coconut and I melted into the beach chair, savouring the Pinterest snapshot of sipping a coconut on a tropical beach while overlooking the ocean horizon. He disappeared behind his small shack. I started journaling while drinking the sweet, refreshing juice.
Mr. Pong occasionally yelled, “Come get coconut!” in his bird-like voice to people passing by. He was working hard and business seemed tough. I was Mr. Pong’s only customer.
After about an hour, he came over to sit by me, patting my arm to say hello. He checked in on how I was doing, then he returned to work. He began coming and going every few minutes to make small talk.
On his fourth visit, he lounged on the chair beside me. He whipped out a pair of tweezers and began plucking at the singular, long hair under his chin. His other hand reached out touching my arm. It was in a more lingering way this time, like he was petting a Persian cat. He continued with small talk, though I struggled to understand. He said something along the lines of, “11pm you come here, I pay”.
My internal alarm bells went off. He wanted me to return at night time? But he started talking about working hard and working long hours. Did he work until 11pm every day?
I nodded along, curious for clarification. The isolation of the empty chairs lined up beside me suddenly sunk in and it felt like the sun had just hidden away. Mr. Pong continued to speak, revealing his real intentions.
This is my paraphrasing based on what I gathered from a few minutes of conversation. He said, “I’m lonely, no woman long time, Thai girls in bars no good… I like European women, come for a few weeks then bye bye, no talk…” Again he said, “11pm… you come back here, okay? I pay you…” I said, “No, thank you” to his kind offer and he exclaimed, “Why! I pay you, I pay you”. I stared in disbelief.
He’d said he doesn’t like Thai women because they talk “blah blah blah”, his nose crinkling. “I like European women who can’t talk, just come and go, come, go”. I’d sat there staring at him in confusion, glancing between his sports sunglasses reflecting back at me and the hand on my arm. My inner monologue had been going, “What the fuck”. I think he said he hadn’t been with a woman for five years and was lonely. He asked me to come get a massage; there was a small massage room next to his coconut shack, which he also managed. I also politely declined.
After another couple of minutes, I stood up, handed Mr. Pong 100 baht, thanked him for the coconut and left.
I strolled along the beach, my expectations shattered and brain firing, questioning morality and life. The sun returned to shine, crowds laughed in the resorts and kids played in the water. It felt as though I had just stepped out of a different reality and back into society.
I’d had some story in my head about Mr. Pong being this cute, wholesome man working hard to support his family. Had I been stereotyping and patronising him? He was a single, lonely man attempting to turn girls into prostitutes.
I contemplated the legitimate threat of schemes where locals could spike female solo travellers’ ordered drinks, perhaps get them to have a “massage” and take advantage. The traveller could be left powerless due to pervasive corruption, bureaucratic inefficiencies and language barriers (applicable across South-east Asia).
In this case, I don’t think Mr. Pong had his methods down pat, but had it been someone affiliated with a long-time network with structure and methods, the outcome could be very different.
Conclusion
I’m glad to be the one writing this article, rather than a media outlet.
Perhaps my family’s concerns weren't just negativity bias and I was a bit naive — but ultimately, nothing serious happened.
I recognise more so the significance of being alone in Thailand as a young female, rather than with an official programme. However, I do believe the risk and vulnerability is worth the gains of independence and being in an incredible country. I'm grateful for the first-hand insight without suffering real consequences.
Sharing this story isn’t about scaring anyone or deterring you from exploring the world. I wanted to encourage awareness.
Enjoy the adventure, but trust your instincts when something feels off. Be brave, but not stupid. And don’t assume small, tanned, local Thai men who give off wholesome vibes are actually wholesome.
Lesson learned.
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