I’d been traveling
alone for about a month and I was lonely.
One day I was
driving through town on my motorbike and I started to feel ill again. The fever
wasn’t quite gone yet. I pulled over to the side of the road and found myself
sitting at a table outside a small bar. I ordered a drink and before it arrived
I realized I was outside some kind of brothel.
There were about 5
or 6 girls in the bar, lounging around and leaning over a couple of Dutch
sailors.
The sailors were
about 50 years old, heavily tattooed. I really wish I could remember my
conversation with them because it was both hilarious and very interesting.
The expression on their faces (and the faces of all the men I saw in that bar) stay with me though. They were like young men ‘on the pull’ – that strange kind of desperate intensity in their eyes (sexual desire) and a kind of assumed (false) arrogance. They were trying to look confident and self-assured. In short: they wanted to be found attractive. I recall finding this very amusing: they were in a brothel. They knew they only had to pay for what they wanted, and yet they still went through the suffering of the ‘chase’.
The expression on their faces (and the faces of all the men I saw in that bar) stay with me though. They were like young men ‘on the pull’ – that strange kind of desperate intensity in their eyes (sexual desire) and a kind of assumed (false) arrogance. They were trying to look confident and self-assured. In short: they wanted to be found attractive. I recall finding this very amusing: they were in a brothel. They knew they only had to pay for what they wanted, and yet they still went through the suffering of the ‘chase’.
The girls were an
interesting bunch...