Hey, everybody. This is Anthony Otomo and you’ll have to excuse me if what I’ve written seems a bit off. I’ve been drinking VSOP very heavily for the past few days. I thought I’d touch on my journey from being a slave to where I’m at now and the future goal of being free.
“Free” can mean so much to so many, but for me free meant never having to answer to anyone. It meant doing what I want to do with no consequence other than my own guilt (which the cognac is extremely adept at silencing). And most importantly it meant being my own master. Retiring at 65 when my plumbing doesn’t work and I’ve only got 2 or 3 marbles left rolling around upstairs is not free.
Roping myself to a huge house in Small Town Suck with friends of convenience and a few blood-sucking kids is not free. And trading my soul for a 7/11 on every corner and cable TV is a trade I’m not willing to make. And it is not free.
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Five years ago, two of my friends came to visit me here in Thailand. Richard and Charlie were two complete opposite personalities. I had become friends with these two jokers through a good friend of mine, Teddy. Richard was fiftyish, yet was fit, and rarely lacking in energy.
We met at a small get together at Teddy’s and while we were cordial, we didn’t speak much. Ted also introduced me to Charlie, who was thirty-five going on sixty. The three of us visited a bar together, and it was at this time I learned the obvious, Charlie, was a drunk. For reasons I have never determined, he was booted out of the tavern we went to, but at the time, I didn’t think much of it.
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Located in one of Jakarta’s swanker shopping malls and (oddly) above a bowling alley and pool hall is one of Jakarta’s best bar/lounges, the Mojito Lounge. The Mojito Lounge is a small lounge and bar with a great selection of cigars, comfortable couches and a wile menu of different types of Mojito’s (hence the name).
The first time I went to the Mojito Lounge I was invited by a local lady friend because she knew I liked smoking cigars. At first I was like “you want to hang out at a bar in a shopping mall?” but I figured why not go ahead and check it out.
The first thing I noticed when I walked in was ten drop-dead beautiful Indonesian girls all wearing white dresses sitting around.
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Their are several different methods of funding your travels or life overseas. You can make money through Internet marketing methods. You can become a service provider (like a graphic designer) and conduct your business online. You can also start a business that capitalizes on the fact that you are living overseas (like being involved in import/export or being a travel photographer).
And unlike your western counterparts you won’t have to make 20 or 30K a year just to cover your living expenses. Like I have mentioned before, making a thousand dollars a month can fund your expenses overseas, and everything after that is money in your pocket. Or you can build an Expat Empire and drive a Bentley, it’s up to you.
The 6 Most Common Ways to Make Money Overseas are:
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Thailand’s taxi drivers slide on and off my shit list as often an ass visits a toilet seat. There are days when I despise cab drivers and there are days when a driver has me howling with laughter.
A couple of weeks ago, I met James Grey at Suvarnabhumi airport. The PAD demonstrations were over and he arrived the day the airport re-opened. It wasn’t absolutely necessary for me to pick him up, but it’s nice having someone waiting for you at the airport, especially in light of the political situation. I took a cab to the airport, went inside to the prearranged meeting place, drank a M-150, and waited.
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I grew up in a small crappy town in whitebread USA population lame. I spent most of my early 20s looking for a way to have a Rockstar Life living and traveling around the world with a beautiful woman on each arm. Something like James Bond minus the ball removing lasers, but plus the girls named Pussy Galore.
During the late 90’s dot com boom I eventually ended up working IT, it was a good field and the money was great but I knew that my job pretty much guaranteed that I would end up spending the rest of my life stuck working in a dead end soul sucking cubicle just so I could bury myself in debt buying a bunch of IKEA end tables - and then if I was lucky after working for 35 years I could retire with barely enough money to survive on after wasting my the best years of my life.
No matter what job I had I always knew that their was something “bigger” waiting for me out in the world – something that I would never find in the states. I constantly longed to travel and live the Big Life globetrotting around the world with a model on each arm and a fat bank account; I spent all of my spare money on books about traveling, biographies about different adventurers and expats that had lived amazing lives around the world and self help programs. At work I surfed travel sites and forums all day long living vicariously through people that were actually living and traveling around the world.
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The Expat Player here, this weeks GoGo review will be the Dollhouse Agogo located on Soi 23 Sukhumvit Road, downtown Bangkok. I went there with James Grey (he hates gogo bars so I had to drag him along) and Nick Gatsby.
Alott of people like the Nana Entertainment Plaza for hitting up gogo bars when they are in Bangkok but I prefer Soi Cowboy. In my opinion it is a bit cleaner and the girls are less pushy, I also like to check out all of the gogo bars just by walking down the street (nana is more like a multi-level strip mall).
When you first walk into the Dollhouse Agogo you see the familiar dancing stage with stripper poles and a bar in the back. We grabbed a seat at the bar cuz James G wanted to get his drink on and ordered a few drinks and took in the sights.
They had a bunch of girls dancing that ranged from -1 up to solid 7’s with allot in-between. The waitstaff was nice and not pushy and the gogo girls were also friendly and not pushy.
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When I first moved to the armpit of Arabia known as Qatar there were only two things I was worried about not being able to have; ladies, because I thought all of the women were kept on “lock down” and had to wear burkas, and no booze. I could pretty much deal with the no ladies thing because I figured whenever I got “anxious” I would just sweet talk an Army gal or hop over to Bahrain or Dubai.
Much to my relief, when I first arrived I saw a plethora of beautiful off-duty stewardess (from the local airline) hanging out at Starbucks I felt a wave of relief that at least one of my “needs” would be fulfilled. But not having booze would have killed me, I was positive that I would have had a “coming off of heroin” like experience if I couldn’t drink.
I quickly learned as far as Booze goes in Qatar there were only 3 options as a for me to get my medicine…
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