So you’re planning to meet some ladyboys in Pattaya? Read this.
The whole of south-east Asia is remarkable for its highly visible populations of transsexual women. These are not at all the same as you may be used to thinking of, if you are a Westerner. They’re not like Bruce ‘Caitlyn’ Jenner. (See my discussions on Ray Blanchard for more details.)
Ladyboys in Thailand and across Asia are not like that at all. They are
beautiful and very sexy. They are extremely feminine in appearance and manners. From their early teens they use female hormones, often birth control pills which are freely available without prescription. These can turn them into staggeringly beautiful women. And the fact is that many men are powerfully attracted to them.
My plan had originally been to make my trip to Asia after Christmas, but Crissy had told me that she was unlikely to be available then. I was in contact with a number of girls, but only she had that spark, and I knew I wanted to meet her. She was lively and enthusiastic, but had an edge about her and a depth too, that I liked. She had a way of just knowing what I was thinking, even before I said it, that always bodes well for a new relationship.
So I rearranged my schedule. In fact, November is the best time to go to southeast Asia in any case. The typhoon season should have come to an end, and the temperatures are relatively low, with lots of sunshine. In addition, flight prices are twenty per cent or so cheaper then, than in March or April. I readily persuaded myself that making the trip sooner was justified on a whole raft of counts; other, of course, than my interest in getting to know Crissy a whole lot better…
‘It’s as if a couple of jumbo-jets of Western culture crashed into a container-ship of Asia and the wreckage is still settling.’ These words jump out at me as I read over my notes. And it’s true; the Philippines is a cultural conundrum, a Rubik’s Cube of interlaced and interlocked themes, memes, images and sensations.
It’s not like India, where the veneer of Westernism added by a couple of hundred years of British domination is so thin it seems as flimsy as a bride’s veil, yet definitely attached, as if the bride herself is shy about lifting it, nor Thailand, where Western cultural influences seem grafted on, bizarrely co-exiting with something older and fundamentally opposed. Instead, the Philippines is a genuine melting-pot, a sculptor’s crucible where metallic elements are alloyed to make something completely new. The roots of European culture here go deep, deep into the fertile soil of Asia, and the resulting foliage is strange, at once familiar yet surprising.
Manila is huge. Apart from Manila itself, the conurbation of Metro Manila includes other cities that would themselves be enormous by any other measure: Makati, Pasig, Quezon, Cavite, and others. So transport is a major part of Manila life. But this is Asia, and unlike Europe, there is no organised public transport. There are no service buses, no trams or metro systems oganised by local government. Everything is run privately, and the sheer amount of private transport provision is staggering.
Given that I have not yet see anyone carrying a passenger on his shoulders, and horse-and-cart solutions are reserved for the tourist area of Intramuros, the old part of Manila, the most basic, though not always the cheapest, means of transport is the gloriously named ‘pedicab’. This is a bicycle with a side-car.
The main problem with this solution, leaving aside the thorny moral issue of whether it can be right for a 14-stone Scotsman and an admittedly much lighter Filipina to be push-biked around by a sweating 9-stone Pinoy, is the complete lack of suspension on these contraptions. Since the roads in Manila resemble the Somme after a barrage, this means a bone-jarring ride that risks lumbar impaction.
Only a woman would say anything was better than sex. Well, anyway, there is no risk of a ladyboy claiming such a thing, at least not when she is young, beautiful and has a body full of testosterone, oestrogen and progesterone, the individual cocktail of this hormone soup dependent on the individual.
Whatever, it does nothing to diminish the sex drive, which is, basically, turbo-charged. A ladyboy (transsexual variant) is essentially as randy as a teenage boy should be, thinks of cock all the time and dreams every night of being ravaged by hordes of lusty Lotharios. I am not kidding.
That this passionate desire to be fucked blue is shared by Filipina natal women really does make the place special; the sexual juice is oozing out of the walls.
Boracay is a bouquet of impressions. Triangular sails silhouetted against the sunset, tropical forest all around, an avenue of palms along the beach. Pure white sand, clear, unpolluted tropical water, adventure excursions, fun night-life and a laid-back atmosphere—not to mention exotic dancing girls. All this at prices that remain very reasonable. Does this appeal? Well, instead of Phuket or Bali, consider a trip to Boracay instead.
Boracay (pronounced bor-AH-cay) is an island in the Western Visayas region of the Philippines. It’s a popular resort amongst Filipinos and other Asians. It has an amazing beach, lots of eco-tourism and adventure sport, and great night-life. However it is relatively unknown by Western tourists, and remains fairly unspoiled and friendly. Plus, for Brits and other anglophones, English is almost universally understood and very widely spoken in the Philippines.
Well it’s been quite a couple of weeks here at the fun factory, so if I didn’t wish it before, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year — and if you are one of those miserable cunts who insist on saying ‘Happy Holidays’ well, fuck that, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. See, I’m not vindictive.
Anyway, it has been quite the Festive Season. Here I am in sunny Pampanga, Philippines, with the delightful Sam Villasencio and we are getting along just fine. On Christmas Eve we went to see friends of hers who live nearby, which turned into a typically Filipino party with Red Horse shots and much music and dancing.
We men were treated to a twerking display by the girls and I am happy to say that Sam help up the side very well. Food was courtesy of Renz and his wife Joanna but Renz did most of the cooking while Joanna, a classic Pinay beauty, entertained.
I see a lot of immature, childish videos and web posts denigrating ladyboys and telling men how to spot — and so avoid — them. But why would anybody want to avoid them? Here are ten reasons why dating ladyboys is a really good idea.
1. Ladyboys are red-hawt.
Yes, they are. You find yourself walking down the street behind a ladyboy with legs that go all the way up to her ass and you know what I’m talking about. Every man is scoping her and she knows it. Your blood starts to pump so hard you can hear your own heartbeat and for God’s sake, your dick’s getting stiff.
I visited the Philippines to see my then girlfriend Crissy José in March 2013, and we went to Thailand for my birthday. This is a small selection of pictures from the trip. Most of the pictures were taken either with a Nikon D90 or a Canon Powershot G12.
We met at the airport, as before, but this time it was close to midnight. At least that meant it was cool. In late February the Phils has not really warmed up, though their idea of ‘winter’ is ‘tops off and down the beach’ for a Scot like me.
I had booked a few nights at the Oasis Paco Park Hotel, which I can highly recommend. It is reasonably priced, very clean, nice staff and very central. It’s under ten minutes’ tricycle ride to Luneta (Rizal) Park, for example, Manila bay is about 15 minutes in a taxi and Mall of Asia only a little further. Although Malate has lost the colourful gay night-life that gained it a reputation, it is still lively and nearby.
Gallery Philippines and Thailand 2013
In one of Bangkok’s temples. I am not sure what the joss-sticks were for but never mind.
Swimming party with Crissy’s family, Pasig.. She apparently has no male relatives.
Empanada stall, Laoag. The guy on the right saw me with Crissy, and later asked if I was gay. I said no, just broadminded. He got it. (He’s gay.)
Holy Week procession, Philippines.
Alcazar Cabaret, Pattaya, Thailand..
Crissy at the Oasis Paco Park hotel,Manila, just after I arrived
Holy Week procession, Philippines.
Finals of the 2013 Philippines Universities Voleyball Tournament
Laoag city centre. It’s a lovely place
Crissy in Pattaya, Thailand.
In the street in Maybunga.
Crissy at Alcazar Cabaret, one of Pattaya’s famous ladyboy shows. Well, when you’re with the best-looking girl in the place…
Crissy enjoying a beer in Bangkok and looking cute (she’s good at that)
Outside Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City, Philippines.
Wet marrket near Araneta Coliseum, Quezon City.
Eating at the hall opposite the National Bakery, Laoag.
Street art, Dr Sixto Avenue, Maybunga.
Paoay Church, Paoay, Philippines.. The church is in ‘Earthquake Gothic’ style — that is, MASSIVE
Paoay Church, Paoay.
A wet market near Araneta Coliseum, Quezon City. Probably the cleanest wet market I have beenin
Being tourist types in Vigan, Philippines. The driver proceded to get us lost in the countryside and I got mad
Holy Week procession in Maybunga. This is in Dr Sixto Avenue
Guess who? At some campanile or another in Vigan.
A funeral in Laoag, Philippines, complete with marching band
This is what you actually do in Bangkok if you try to get anywhere by car. Sit in the same place for hours.
Night scene in Bangkok, Thailand.
Crissy sleeping (she did that a lot). I likeed the juxtaposition: sleeping ladyboy with Camille Paglia’s ‘Sexual Personae’.
A Holy Week procession at Maybunga.
Crissy at the Temple of the Flying Buddha, Bangkok, Thailand.
Alcazar Cabaret, Pattaya, Thailand. Therre are no natal women on this stage.
Kumusta! Hello from the Philippines! I must apologise to my regular fans, because for the last six weeks my life has been in upheaval. I had much to do to prepare to come to the Philippines this year and it occupied nearly all of my time. As a result my regular blog posting and YouTube uploads were in temporary hiatus.
I actually left my home in France on the 29th of November, and, after a comedy of errors that will surely find its way into a memoir, made it to Paris Charles de Gaulle. Further comedic excellence followed, in which I was obliged to repack my bags beside the check-in desk and ended up carrying hand luggage that must have weighed 15 kilos.