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I write this only because my mind has not ceased turning for four days ... four strange days since the night that a business associate showed me to a brothel in the suburbs of the city of Makati, in the Phillipines. Quite honestly, I had no idea where I was going. 'A local bar' was the description that had been given -- 'go with the flow' the advice. Supposedly, this was my partner's former neighborhood, and the bar his old favourite...
When the taxi stopped, I emerged, suited, in to the steamy night air. After the filling Italian food and wine we'd enjoyed half an hour earlier, I desperately needed to relieve myself. After my partner concurred, the surroundings started to sink in. I was standing in a dingy, unlit laneway, one of whose sides featured a rotting wooden fence and an open plot strewn with garbage. Ten or twenty metres back, leaning over the plot, were what looked like residential buildings. On the other side of the lane, an array of structures decked with glaring christmas lights sat back from the minor throughfare. The one we had stopped outside of was only approachable through a roofed courtyard, reminiscent of the barbeque areas I'd navigated so often in my childhood in suburban Australia. It even had Aussie-style wooden tables. The only difference was that this one also sported a small cigarette shop to one side, tended to by a nameless face whom my associate initiated some kind of shortlived exchange with. Other than the vendor, the courtyard was otherwise empty. At its rear, a flight of worn-looking stone steps, straddled by what came across as a weak and dying attempt at some ornamental tropical vegetation, led up to a secondary courtyard. Various stagnant and dirty ponds sat by the side of the stairway, filled with unhappy-looking carp. Knowing I was vegitarian, my partner cracked some tasteless joke about consuming them. I was too drunk to be offended.
The upper courtyard, which was at the front of the building-proper, was filled with about fifteen giggling, young Phillipino girls. After I'd barely had a chance to take in the scene, an older woman, perhaps thirty, dashed out from the building behind the upper courtyard and descended to greet my associate and I. She was the only Phillipino I met during my stay who dressed entirely in black. Wielding a cigarette and some heavy-looking golden jewelery, her manner was charismatic to the point of transparency. After being told of our desperate need for relief, she showed me up the stairs to the upper courtyard, past the ogling eyes of the young girls, and in to what was evidently her establishment. Apparently my colleague could wait. Inside the building, there was a short but sweet walk straight up to the bar. On either side of the route there were almost-vacant tables and chairs, save one or two lonely figures drinking away quietly. One side of the room fell away in to an ascending stairway - at its base was a doorway to what the lady's gesture indicated were the amenities. Unfortunately, an unidentifiable figure was wedged half-in, half-out of the entryway and was making repetitive movements that my innocent mind deciphered as cleaning. 'Can you wait?'. I nodded and turned around to survey the 'bar' that suddenly seemed to be something else.
After a few minutes of standing around, furtively glancing from the idle bar to the active amenities to the roof, my associate entered. He suggested we use the side of the building instead. We exited, again passing the chattering girls and the staring carp. After descending to the laneway, we found that the side of the building was in fact similarly inaccessible. In the end, dodging glances from the girls that were not-so-hidden at neighboring establishments, the garbage lot received an inspection.
I was silent, unsurprised and in enthusiastic agreement when my colleague suggested that we head upstairs to an air conditioned room. It had a door, nobody in it, two very-large leather couches, a table, window and the aforementioned conditioning unit. I went to the liberty of removing my coat, and at some point in the next couple of minutes some drinks arrived. I was stricken with 'bug piss' Budweiser, while my associate's intimate knowledge of local custom had enabled him to reject and select. He ended up with something he described as 'light'. We chatted a bit, about what I don't recall.
The place was weird. No sooner had this realisation dawned than the owner lady had returned with every one of the girls from outside. They filed in, staring at me, smiling and standing in two neat lines like trained animals. 'Which one do you want?'. That knocked my brain out of commission for a couple of seconds. I turned to my partner, whom had been ignored by the girls, and back to the lady in charge. I sat dumb, gripping my bugpiss, trying to give the impression that I wasn't surprised and attempting to sort myself out a response. '... or shall we take all of them?' suggested my partner, half-jokingly. 'May as well' I stuttered, completely unable to bring myself to even stare into the wall of eyes .. let alone pick one. 'HAHAHAHA - I don't think the owner would be happy with that'. Back to square one. I later found out that at this point the girls thought I was gay. Eventually I brought myself to stare back at the eyes. They tried to smile, laugh, appear friendly. I caught the eye of a shortish girl in a tight blue dress who looked increadibly attractive. Amongst her other, ample features she had long black hair -- that's something that's always appealed to me. 'Her in the blue .. on the right'. 'This one?' asked the lady. 'No .. not her .. one left'. In hindsight, this comment racks with guilt. I guess I'm just not cut out for buying sex.
The girl who I chose came and sat down while the others still stood and
stared. She put her arm around me, and I her, and we stared back at the eyeball-wall. After some time, and a similar process by my associate, the wall dispersed. My associate and his chosen, 'Anna', shortly filed out to another room, catching the lightswitch on the way. And there I was -- in a big, dark room in the middle of suburban Makati, with a beautiful young girl. We started to kiss to the thrum of the air conditioner, but it just didn't feel right...
Ahum.
For three and a half hours, an enlightening chunk of my life, I came to the conclusion that sex is best had relatively sober, with someone you love, and without financial incentive. Although I would like to say I have no regrets (really, I don't), there are a lot better ways to lose one's virginity. But anyway, on with the story.
When I emerged and made my way outside to the lower yard, past the horde of ever-ogling, cheering young ladies, I found my associate talking to a guy with even more gold than the freak out.
The first sentence that I caught was an offer to act in a porn movie. The details followed -- I was to receive a penthouse in downtown Makati for a month, and the penthouse would be laden with an extensive assortment of maids and servants. 'They'll do your chores', said the pimp. 'All of them'. He threw his head back and laughed. After the experience I'd just had, I turned him down flat. I told him I'd edit his films (something I had experience in), but not act in them. I really felt guilty.
In the cab back to my hotel, my associate cursed me for giving the girl I was with a handsome tip. Supposedly it makes it harder to visit economically. As far as am concerned, that is good. He also explained to me that the pimp was 'everybody's favourite rapist' in his porn movies (I can see how he'd fill the part), and asked me if I'd had a memorable night. Memorable? Yes. Enjoyable? Yes. Guilt-inducing? Very.
Anyway, now I am back in my home country of Australia. I have been working through the weekend since that night and I'm still jetlagged. The events have been churning over in that half-asleep mode my mind often gets stuck in. Even though I wouldn't wish for a repeat of the night, I am considering the movie offer. Why? Well I'd definately feel guilty at least for awhile. But it'd be a unique and rare psychological experience.
God damn life is strange.
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