If you want to understand the absolute duality of Pattaya, you have to stay awake until sunrise. You have to watch the magic spell break.
2:00 AM. Club Republic on Walking Street.
Nan is a queen. She is sitting in the center of a VIP leather booth, bathed in red laser lights and the heavy bass of EDM. Next to her is Jason, a 30-something tourist from Perth who just dropped 15,000 Baht on two bottles of Grey Goose.
When the waitresses bring the bottles out with the sparklers blazing, the whole club looks at their table. Nan tosses her perfectly ironed hair, takes a sip of her cocktail, and laughs at something Jason says in his thick accent that she doesn’t actually understand. She is wearing a tight Zara dress, flawless makeup, and heels that make her legs look a mile long.
In this exact moment, surrounded by smoke machines and flashing lights, she looks completely untouchable. She looks like the wife of a millionaire. Jason looks at her and thinks he has conquered the city. He is buying the ultimate Pattaya illusion, and Nan is delivering an Oscar-winning performance.
5:30 AM. A hotel on Beach Road.
The illusion is over. Jason is passed out face-down on the King-size bed, snoring loudly. The Grey Goose has done its job. Nan quietly slips out of the sheets. The club lights are gone, replaced by the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent lights of the hotel elevator.
She walks into the bathroom and begins the deconstruction. The 4,000-baht dress comes off, carefully folded into her bag so it doesn’t get ruined. The high heels are kicked off her aching, blistered feet.
From her tote bag, she pulls out her actual uniform: an oversized, faded Doraemon t-shirt, grey cotton sweatpants, and a pair of 50-baht rubber flip-flops. She takes a wet wipe and aggressively scrubs off the bright red lipstick and the heavy eye shadow. The untouchable VIP queen disappears down the sink drain.
What is left in the mirror is a 27-year-old, exhausted woman with dark circles under her eyes, who just wants to sleep.
6:15 AM. Second Road.
The sun is coming up, casting a yellow, sweaty light over the city. The streets smell like exhaust fumes and grilling moo ping (pork skewers).
Nan climbs into the back of an empty blue Baht Bus (songthaew). There are no VIP leather sofas here. Just hard metal benches. She sits in the corner, pulling her knees to her chest because the morning breeze is chilly.
She opens her small Hello Kitty coin purse. Inside are three crisp 1,000-baht notes from Jason. She carefully folds them and hides them in the hidden zipper pocket — that is the money for her mother’s hospital bills and her daughter’s school uniform in Isaan.
Then, she digs her fingers into the bottom of the purse, searching past a broken lighter and a tube of lip gloss, until she finds a coins. She holds it tightly in her fist.
The Baht Bus approaches her dark, narrow Soi in North Pattaya. Nan reaches up and presses the buzzer. The truck screeches to a halt. The girl who was drinking premium French vodka just four hours ago steps down onto the dusty road, hands the driver coins, and walks toward her 4,000-baht-a-month windowless room to sleep until 3 PM.
And then, she will wake up, put the heels back on, and do it all over again.
Tourists fall in love with the 2 AM version of these girls. They think the sparkling lights and the VIP tables are real life. But the truth is, the realest, most honest version of a Pattaya girl is the one sitting in the back of a Baht Bus at 6 AM, wearing sweatpants, holding a coins
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