The Thai Airways Boeing 777 has still not left the Suvarnabhumi tarmac; he is still driving on the taxiway of Bangkok International Airport when a passenger undoes his seat belt. Her white socks go up to her calves. On his feet, Lacoste slides probably unearthed at the Chatuchak market, this temple of designer copies where counterfeit stalls stretch as far as the eye can see under tin roofs. His t-shirt announces Phuket Kick Boxing.
“Water!” I want water! » The hostess complies, and during the entire trip, will not once ask him to raise his seat. The return to Paris will be long. Its Thai neighbors, discreet and polite to an excess, have long drawn their conclusions. They even coined a word to designate this type of traveler: “French Arabics”. An expression that we attribute to French expatriates themselves, those who want to not be confused with these tourists.
The kingdom’s news channels now know by heart these travelers of another kind who land on dream beaches just as they squat in building lobbies. Who offer themselves for a few handfuls of baht, in massage parlors with dilapidated pink neon lights,
the entrapment, here legal, that their country of origin refuses them. And who, between two sunburns, work to export, ten thousand kilometers from home, the uses of 93.
Bangkok, Pattaya, Phuket. The noisy and heady capital and its fine sandy seaside resorts – “the kingdom of a thousand smiles”, says an old slogan of the Thai tourist office – have in turn learned what France has known for a long time. At Vic3, a budget hotel in Ari, a trendy district of the capital a stone’s throw from the Sanam Pao skytrain station, the fourth floor swimming pool has its rules. No drinks. No cigarettes. No durian, this tropical fruit whose smell is somewhere between rotten onions and sewers. Displayed large. Understood by everyone. Until the arrival of a young Frenchman.
Between the airport and cheap parties
Louis Vuitton shoulder bag. As soon as he enters, he gets annoyed by the instructions. Lie down on the edge. A joint is rolled, while two young Russian women swim laps. “Done ch…”he growls. Tomorrow he will fly to the seaside resort of Patong. From Bangkok, he will have seen the go-go bars of Soi Cowboy, the red light district of the capital and the KFCs as numerous but much cheaper than in Île-de-France. The Siamese megalopolis is just a corridor between the airport and cheap parties: that is enough for its happiness.
Their territory on the island is called Bangla Road. The neon street of Patong, saturated sound systems at 3 a.m., creepy establishments and shisha bars. Their favorite neighborhood has an even more telling name: the 4,000. Like the city of La Courneuve, in Seine-Saint-Denis.
These tourists land on the beaches as they squat in the lobbies of buildings
It was in Phuket that Songkran, the joyful and sacred Thai national water festival, degenerated two weeks ago. These “French Arabics” seized a tanker truck, pushed police officers and blocked traffic. Scenes filmed and posted on social networks, often by the authors themselves. Provocation for Instagram stories. Seven arrests. This is what this New Year’s Eve in Patong leaves behind. Seven young people picked up by the police after an almost unreal scene. A taxi driver surrounded like prey. The weapons were paltry, simple water guns. Toys are part of the decor: during Songkran, we spray each other in the streets, we splash among strangers. The tradition is good-natured, but the festive ritual has here transformed into a scene of intimidation. Worse ! A Thai man who refused to play was beaten to the ground, two French people were arrested the next day.
The list of incidents is growing. A couple in full exhibition and in broad daylight, without concern for onlookers. Further on, swimmers defy the prohibitions, as if the signs were just decorations. “By Allah, it is darkness!” » On Instagram, this recent video of a scooter rodeo, in the middle of Patong, is playing in a loop. The machines brush against each other, in a fury like insects attracted by the light. Each night adds its layer to the uneasiness and its backfiring noise.
Towards a tightening of visas
Until now, Thailand, for which tourism accounts for 20% of its economy, has been quite accommodating. In this postcard kingdom, “farangs” (a word coined by phonetic distortion of the word “France”, designating white-skinned foreigners) are welcome. All welcome. To the point that sites such as Halalbooking, a reservation center for Muslims, recommend the hotels most compatible with Islam. From beaches accepting burkinis to spas that can sometimes be privatized: everything is rated with stars like in any travel catalog. The Thais started selling halal fried chicken, riding on this boon of community tourism without thinking about the consequences, without thinking that they would import our news while opening snack bars offering “French tacos” and kebabs with Algerian sauce.
None of this is entirely new. Already, in 2023, the French embassy had been forced to come out of its reserve. In Phuket, the increase in incidents involving French nationals ended up worrying the consulate, which was sent there to meet with the police and local authorities. Dangerous driving, refusal to comply, altercations: the legendary local patience showed its limits. The idea of tightening tourist visas is circulating. And above all, a practice is established: that of immediate expulsion after an incident, a simple way of restoring order without being burdened with pedagogy. The only souvenir that these vacationers will bring back.
