Pla didn't understand why her life had taken such a bad turn. She made offerings at the Buddha regularly, and fed the saffron-robed monks as often as she could. But her father, who had always had a problem with alcohol, began squandering the family's money at the village dice games. And then their water buffalo, Poi Fai, who was vital to keeping the farm going, could no longer pull a plow. They absolutely had to have a new water buffalo. To top it off, her mother needed goiter surgery. Pla had just turned eighteen and suddenly all these problems were hers. Her twelve year old sister could just plant rice and play. That was simply how things were in Isaan, the rural northeast of Thailand. The oldest must take up the yoke. And in the case of the most unfortunate young Isaan girls, that meant being with a farang. If somehow, she could earn the favor of a farang, all could be fixed.

Farangs were foreign men, and foreign men had money. If she could get one to come live with her at the village, that would be the greatest accomplishment of all. But such a thing seldom happens, so they say. Still, she could hope. The advantages it would bring to her family! One thing favored her: she spoke much better English than most Isaan girls. English had always interested her - she pushed herself to learn it after graduating from school at age twelve. Then there was the curious thing that farangs liked about Isaan girls - they were dark. All Thai girls - all Asian girls, she had heard - wished to be light-skinned. But farangs didn't mind dark girls, even seemed to prefer them in many cases. She must have had plenty of Lao blood in her family to be so dark. Yes, she could find a farang who would like her, enough to pay for a new water buffalo and her mother's surgery. She could do it. She had to.

Pla bought a ticket for a van ride to Pattaya. The resort was famous for being a playground of farangs in Thailand. Her mother gave her the name of a beer bar where her cousin Aw worked. The bar was called Tippler's Dram. It was owned by a farang from Australia. The mamasan's name was Jit. That was all she knew. The heat of the trip was murderous, even for an Isaan girl. People sometimes died in heat like this. Pla had heard of global warming, was this it? No, this was just Thailand - hot, hot, hot. Pattaya was a beach with a breeze, things would be much better there. At the end of her ride, she still had to find the right baht bus that would take her to the beer bar. People were helpful, and soon she was walking in to Tippler's Dram. It was open-air with lots of overhead fans. Aw gave her a hug and brought her to the mamasan Jit.

"How good is your English?" Jit asked.

"Only basic, but I will learn," said Pla.

"What does 'up to you' mean?"

"It means 'your choice.'"

"Good. Always say to farangs 'up to you.' They like that. Let's see your ID. Ah, just turned eighteen. Why are you here, trouble at home? It's always like that. Don't worry, all girls here are in the same boat. I never can tell what farangs will like, but I think you are pretty. You will do well. Not like your cousin. Farangs don't like her, for whatever reason."

"I will do my best."

"I like the way you present yourself. Yes, you will do well." Pla followed her cousin to the back room of the bar. Aw wore the outfit of a sailor girl, with a pleated skirt that was very, very short.

"Have you eaten, Pla? I can get you a meal."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Aw brought some chive cakes for Pla. She seemed happy to help her cousin.

"You can stay with me for a little while, until you find your own place. My roommate will not like it, but screw her. Do you know the phrase 'screw you?' You'll hear it a lot."

"Yes, I hope I don't have to say it to anyone, ever."

"Oh, that's a funny one. There is at least one good fight a day among the girls. They say 'screw you' a lot. Do you know what a bar fine is?"

"I think so, but tell me."

"If a farang wants to take you to his room, he will have to pay the mamasan a bar fine. It's not very much. But the bar needs to make some money. It's only 400 baht. Fifteen dollars is not much to those filthy rich farang. Mamasan told you to say 'up to you' to a farang, but there is one time that does not apply. He should always wear a condom. That is not up to him. It is a problem sometimes, especially with drunken farangs. You will have to be very clever in those situations. Usually it works itself out. But you will be challenged, I promise you."

"How much do I charge him?"

"Up to you!" said Aw, and they both laughed. "Bar girls usually charge 1500 baht. Forty-five dollars. Don't take less. The girls in the discos, if they are pretty, some charge as much as 3000 baht or more. Also, there is short-time and long-time. Short-time is an hour or so. Long-time is great money. If the farang decides to go long-time with you, he likes you. Here again, a girl must be clever. She can make some good money long-time. Plus, he will usually buy her things. Clothes, jewelry. A girl can do well with a few regular long-time customers. Well, let's get you out in the bar so you can find yourself a farang!"

Pla didn't tell Aw what brought her to Pattaya in the first place. Like the mamasan said, they all had a similar story. Aw knew that Pla's father was a drinker, but she didn't know about his dice games in the village. Pla knew that Aw's father had some medical issues - she was pretty sure that's what drove Aw to Pattaya. There were no farangs in the bar. In fact, except for the six young Thai girls in their naval uniforms, there was nobody in the place. Jit brought Pla a soda to drink. Farang music played on the sound system. Hip hop from youtube.

A sweaty old farang with messy grey hair poked his face into the entrance. Despite being skinny, he had a substantial stomach on him. And for a farang, he was quite brown. Some farangs loved to lie out in the sun. He walked over to mamasan Jit, but stared at Pla as he passed her.

"Some fresh meat, some fresh meat in here, I see! This new one's right pretty, mamasan, right pretty, I reckon. Things might be looking up in this joint." Jit gave him the briefest of smiles. Such rudeness, she had to put up with it daily. Jit was old now, thirty-five, and no one would want to bar fine her. She was glad to be a mamasan, but these rude farangs tested her patience daily. The farang sat himself down across from Pla and smacked his lips. Yes, he smacked his lips.

"What's your name, little morsel? Or can I just call you that - Little Morsel?" Pla pressed her back against her chair, futilely trying to distance herself from this rude, ugly farang.

"My name is Pla."

"Well, can I buy you a ladydrink, Miss Pla?" Pla knew she could not refuse. Ladydrinks were overpriced and one of the main ways a beer bar made money.

"My name is Nigel, by the way. I pop my head in daily to see if there's any new girls. Even when there are, I'm usually disappointed. But then I see you and POW! You certainly light me old circuit board up. Without a doubt."

Jit brought the ladydrink to Pla, wrote out a bill, and placed it in a jar that she set next to Nigel. He ordered a beer for himself and kept talking. All Pla needed to do was keep nodding her head and he kept right on yammering. She understood little of what he said.

"You're a good listener, Pla, I like that in a woman. I'm going to pay your bar fine right now. Would you like to come see my loom?" He laughed as he said 'loom.'

"Excuse me, I'll be right back," said Pla. She grabbed Aw by the arm and pulled her into the back of the bar.

"This grotesque thing wants to take me back to his room. I don't want to go. Can I say no?"

"It would be a big mistake for you to say no. He is a regular here. You are new, you need to say yes. He only lasts a few minutes, and then you will have 1500 baht in your purse. It doesn't get any easier. This is a job, it isn't Fantasy Land. Go tell him yes. You must." Pla walked back out to Nigel.

"Okay, we go to loom."

"That's the spirit, Lassie." Pla followed him out of the beer bar and down the street. They caught a baht bus and it was a short ride to Nigel's apartment. He was an Australian expat who was living his golden years in the Land of Smiles, drinking, smoking and sleeping with every young Thai girl his pension could afford him. A monger through and through. He kept talking as they both showered - Pla was understanding less and less of it. To be suddenly naked with this old man strained her comprehension. Pla had a plan to manage what she must do. The mechanics were easy. It was the draining of her soul that was the problem. To minimize that drain, she imagined she was back on her farm, eating delicious fruit, plucked fresh from the trees. Drinking wonderful coconut milk. Petting her beautiful water buffalo, Poi Fai. That was how she would endure the time it took this farang to relieve himself. And like Aw said, he was through in minutes.

"Will you take 1000 baht, lassie?" said Nigel as he zipped up. She was prepared for this. Many of the expats were cheap. Cheap Charlies, they were called.

"1500 baht. You can pay more, but you will not pay less."

"Alright, lassie, alright. You can't blame a poor bloke on a pension for trying."

Pla took a baht bus back to the beer bar. She sat down and wondered if the other girls were laughing at her. But it was as if nothing had happened. Pla had possibly expected some praise from Aw for going through with it, despite how creepy the farang was. But Aw said nothing. There were three customers in the bar now, old expats like Nigel. Would she never see a handsome young man? Foolishly, she had visualized all farangs as such. Now she was starting to realize that most of them would be like Nigel. He was the norm, not the exception.

"Allo, lovely lady!" Another ugly old farang sat himself down in front of Pla. "I buy you drink, then you go with me." Pla listened to him while she nursed another ladydrink and then they were off to his loom. Things went about the same as with Nigel. Pla collected her 1500 baht and went back to the beer bar. She wasn't seated long when another old farang approached her. He had a slightly different angle.

"You're new here, nice to meet you. My name's Oliver. I'm an Aussie, like many of us in Pattaya. An expat. I often say I'm sorry to bar girls. I'm sorry for the bad men you meet. Not all farangs are bad. Many are nice. What's your name, my dear?"

"Pla." She liked the courteous tone of this farang. And he was well-groomed. But old nonetheless.

"Pla, there are many nice fellows that come in here. But some bad ones, too. I hope you can forget about the bad ones and think about the good friends you will make here. You are a lovely girl and will make many new friends."

"Thank you."

"Someday, soon, I will pay your barfine. You are a beautiful young woman. But for today, I will just buy you a ladydrink. Again, so nice to meet you." Oliver left and it wasn't long before another old farang took his place. One of the types Oliver apologized for.

"Hullo, my love, guess what? Bam! I'm paying your barfine. The less said, the better, eh? C'mon, take my hand. Gimme a little GFE, a little girlfriend experience."

Pla followed the farang to his room. He didn't look so happy when he was finished.

"Well, here's your money. You're a pretty girl, but a bit of a starfish."

"A starfish?"

"Oh, you're farm fresh. A starfish is a girl who just lies there and does nothing. You need to move your bum around a bit, moan a little."

"Okay. Next time, I do better."

Pla went back to the bar with 4500 baht in her purse. Maybe she had enough already to buy a new water buffalo! It had been so easy, and yet, so hard. Would she get numb to this? No, never. It would always rip away at the skin of her soul. When would she find her soul naked, with no protective covering? Some day. But not soon. She longed to pet her water buffalo, to share a meal with her mother and sister in their stilt house, high and safe from even the worst monsoons. When Pla first thought about farangs, she thought she would meet one, a good one, and that would be it. Now she realized she would have to sift through many, many old and ugly farangs to get the money she and her family needed. How could she have misunderstood things so badly? She had been so naive.

After their shifts were through, Aw took Pla back to where she lived. It was like a shed. There was an electrical outlet, but no water, no stove, no toilet, no sink. Only an oscillating fan kept it from being insufferable. Aw had a lot to tell Pla.

"I have much to say, most of it is very good. But I'm going to start with the bad. All of the other girls at the bar are jealous of you. You get barfine after barfine with no problem. Some of those girls only get one or two barfines a week. I sometimes go through a day or two with no barfines. You need to quit the bar."

"I've only been there one day."

"That's okay. We will make you a freelancer. We take the money you've made, and buy you some really nice outfits. I've been practicing makeup, I'm quite good at it. We get you a phone just for customers. Then you go to the discos on Walking Street. There will be no Cheap Charlies there. Mostly young farangs with money. The Japanese men are extremely generous. You will be rich, for an Isaan girl. You just need to stay away from yaba. Young men will want you to do it with them, you must not. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. No yaba."

"Many bar girls get ruined by yaba and other drugs. There is a lot of pain in what we do, and there are many ways to try and deal with that pain. Sometimes it's not drugs, it's an abusive boyfriend. Just as bad as yaba. You have the opportunity to make a lot of money and then go back home to Isaan and live your life. People say Thai men are no good, that farangs are better. I tell you, no man is good. Even the best of them are butterflies, flitting from flower to flower. The worst are wife-beaters. Make your money and get out."

"Thank you, Aw. For everything."

"You are lucky. You won't have to work so hard. I have to tell farangs many lies to get extra money from them. So many complicated lies to keep track of. One mistake and I'm ruined." Pla did not feel lucky. She felt overwhelmed.

The next day, Pla gave her resignation. Mamasan Jit was unhappy.

"You will end up no good, sister. You should stay here with us and be safe. All girls in the discos end up on yaba. Please, stay here." Pla listened to her, but she stuck to the plan that she and Aw had laid out.

The next night, Pla wore a sparkly silver minidress, heels and the best cosmetics. She found her way to the discos on Walking Street. So many flashing lights! Pla knew what Las Vegas was - it looked a little like that. Aw had told her to look for groups of Japanese businessmen in suits and stand near them. Japanese men were perfect customers. Respectful and generous. A middle aged Japanese man bought her a drink and called for a taxi. His suite in the hotel was nicer than anything Pla had ever seen. She remembered not to be a starfish. To act like she enjoyed it. He gave her 5000 baht when it was all done. 5000 baht! It was probably nothing to this rich Japanese man. He likely had a wife at home in whom he had lost interest. It was that simple.

In two week's time, Pla had made 50,000 baht. She was delirious with joy, and yet her soul ached. She decided to surprise her mother and come back home with the money. Maybe she wouldn't need to return to Pattaya. She took a van back to the farm and found her mother right away.

"Mother, we can get your surgery done now. We will get another water buffalo that can pull the plow. My sister can have some nice things, I will take her shopping. But most of all, I want to see Poi Fai. You don't know how he helped me to get through my time in Pattaya. You'll never know. Just the thought of seeing him again. He will have a fine retirement here with us. I want to go down to the stall and see him now."

"My child, you have brought us such wonderful news, and I am afraid all I have is bad news in return. Your father had gambling debts. Bad men, gangsters, came by and threatened to set the stilts of the house on fire. I had no idea when I'd ever see you again, and that you could make such an astonishing amount of money so quickly. I did what I thought I had to do. I sold Poi Fai to a meat company and paid off the gangsters. They were happy and left. I, too, loved Poi Fai, but I did what was necessary. He was useless, and hadn't many years left.

"I only asked Buddha one thing, that He protect the one who protected me."

"Yes, we all loved Poi Fai. But you still have your family."

"He was family, too, and now gone."

"We have a bigger problem now. When your father learns you have this much money, he will want it. Give me the money for the doctor and the new water buffalo. I will pay for them promptly, before he learns I have cash on me. He will have questions, of course, but I will outsmart him. Then you must go back to Pattaya. If you never see your father again, that would be a good thing. Thank you, my child, for what you have done. Surely, you are the best among all daughters in our village."

"How long must I stay away? Yes, I made money there, but it has its own cost. There are so many ways for life to turn bad in Pattaya."

"I think your father has only a year or two left of this life. He is starting to look jaundiced. I will still need you when plowing time comes. Two daughters, ach! But we have always managed, somehow, to get it done. We're better off without any more males. When your father dies, that'll be it for me, as far as men are concerned. If you find a man, we can only hope for the best. If you must bring a man into our family, above all, let him be a good man. A man who doesn't drink or gamble, or beat his wife. Is there such a one left in this world? We can only hope."

"I'll go back. But I must visit often."

Pla went back to Pattaya and rented a nice apartment. She let Aw live with her for free. There were so many ways to go wrong in Pattaya. It wasn't yaba, or an abusive boyfriend, that became Pla's undoing. It was her need to have nice things. She upgraded her apartment again, went on shopping sprees, learned how to run up charge cards on the Internet. Her old life on the farm in Isaan meant less and less to her as time went on.

Two years passed and her father finally died. She could go back home now to live, but she had no interest in the idea. His death scarcely affected her. She visited her family on holidays. When hired help was needed, she sent her mother the money to cover it. No more plowing for Pla. Mom could sit back and chew her betel nuts each day, enjoying the mild buzz.

Pla took many English lessons and studied Muay Thai boxing. Her English in particular improved - she had an affinity for it. She spent a small fortune in skin lightening products. Every Thai woman wanted to have light skin. But the farangs liked her the way she was. She could pick and choose at the discos. If she didn't want to go with someone, she'd simply tell them no, and that was that. Too many farangs were so badly behaved. She preferred the Japanese men, who were polite and tipped well. But they weren't always to be found in Pattaya. Men from India were the worst. They were the cheapest of the Cheap Charlies.

A few years more, and Pla became bored with spending money. She felt stuck, with nowhere to turn. Isaan and Pattaya both, meant nothing to her now. She could try to stake all her happiness on finding a good man, but what a joke that was. What good man would take her, knowing her history? She had given everything; she was spent.

Pla thought of suicide. She read a lot about it. It was a tricky affair that often went wrong. People didn't understand that. The movies had it all wrong. It was hard to pull off. All those lessons at a gun range, just to get one bullet right. So many vegetables didn't get it right. Rope, razor blades, pills. They all had their failure odds and nasty consequences. She quickly gave the idea up.

She thought of bringing her sister and mother to live with her in Pattaya. But that was selfish. They were perfectly happy in Isaan, as she once was. Why ruin their lives? If only she could be happy on the farm once again. But it was far too late for her. She wished she could wear the saffron robe and be ordained as a monk. That, however, was only for men.

Finally Pla went to Bangkok and saw a psychiatrist. He found it interesting that she had never had a boyfriend. Pla simply said that all men were no good in her eyes. A girlfriend, perhaps? No, she didn't lean that way. He put her on an anti-depressant. In a month she felt much better. What kind of magic was this? She didn't trust it, but she took her pill every day without fail. It made it difficult for her to have an orgasm, but what did she care? She just faked it with farangs, anyway.

Two more years passed and Aw told Pla that Tippler's Dram was up for sale. The Australian who owned it was going back to his country. Pla thought that she could do well as an owner. But the Aussie laughed at her.

"You need to show two million baht in the bank, girl!"

"I can do that."

"You can?"

"Yes. And don't worry, I'll make sure the key money is good, though I doubt I've much competition."

"When did your English get so good? And where's the boyfriend? I'd like to meet him."

"No boyfriend."

"No farang boyfriend! This is getting more novel by the minute. It can be rough at times with no man to fall back on. Not a life for a pretty girl."

"Soon, I won't be a pretty girl. Men go for the youngest ones, you know that. But I can handle myself."

"And what will you do when a drunken farang gets out of hand?"

"I can call the Tourist Police as well as anyone. And I know Muay Thai."

"Well, go to my realtor and see what he says." The realtor was skeptical as well.

"A bar girl becoming an owner? Oh, my. Well, it's happening more and more. I don't suppose you have a degree?"

"Those farangs don't have degrees. I know how a beer bar works. And I can eventually buy the property itself - that's something farangs can never do. To start, I can be the mamasan and owner both. That will save me money."

"You qualify to buy the business, but it's unlikely the property itself will ever come up for sale. You should know that."

"Owning the bar is a good start. I'll work on owning the land underneath it later."

Despite the skepticism, Pla met all the criteria and Tippler's Dram became hers. She was elated. And she loved how the work kept her mind busy. No time to think of sad things. She was good at using social media to promote the place, something the old Aussie hadn't a clue about. All told, it wasn't as hard of a job as men made it out to be. Yes, lots of paperwork, but no worse than when she was buying things off the Internet like a mad woman. She still had time to visit her mother and sister because the bar was closed on holidays.

When Pla turned thirty, she looked in the mirror and realized she wasn't so young anymore. Still pretty, maybe, but not young the way farangs liked. Her bar had performed well under her guidance. She had done a better job than the Aussie with it, and her money had grown. She treated her staff well. But asking them to sleep with obnoxious farangs, could she really say she treated them well? Pla had learned the word exploitation, and that she was very much part of the exploitation cycle. She knew as well as anyone, what it felt like to be exploited. What could she do about it?

At first, she wanted to sell the bar, wipe her hands clean of the whole mess. But it would still be a beer bar. What if she converted it into a women's health center? Oh, the other bar owners next to hers would have a fit! Bringing a dose of reality onto a men's playground would take some doing. Over the years, she had learned how to get things done, and she was sure she could pull it off. It was harder to do than she anticipated, but Pla made it happen. She was no longer a mamasan/bar owner. Now she was a fundraiser. The story of the Isaan farm girl who became a bar owner and converted it to a clinic had some legs, and Pla did well in her new role.

The health center had no shortage of women seeking services. It became well-known, and even the bar owners, most of them, admitted that it filled a real need in its district of Pattaya.

At thirty-one, Pla assessed her life. Maybe now she could think about a husband. A child. But why ruin things?

Was she happy now? No.

Was she content? No.

Was she at peace? No.

But she felt she could finally rest a little. At last, she could rest. A litle.