Raposa

This is a rough guide to tipping in Bangkok. It’s cheaper in Pattaya and CNX. It is also cheaper outside Bangkok city centre. 600 THB for a HJ 1000 THB for a HJ where the masseur is naked 1000-1500 THB body to body 1500-2000 THB outside only, Body to body B2B, kissing, HJ ++ but not penetration 1500-3000 THB Penetration

It certainly pays off to compare notes!

I don’t hesitate to recommend a trip. Saigon has a better scene than Hanoi. Admin at aqua spa spoke English. Masseur spoke very limited English, but he didn’t need to 😉

Some cities hide their pleasures better than others. Bangkok flaunts. Seoul barely whispers. Saigon? It dares you to look — and if you do, it rewards you like a sinner stumbling into paradise. This forum has been sleeping on it for too long. The full-service scene here hums just below the surface — smooth, discreet, and dangerously good. Aqua Spa is a perfect doorway. Step through a quiet side entrance and you’re swallowed by deep red tapestry, dark wood, and the thick, slow perfume of something sweeter and heavier than innocence. Indochine luxury turned just dark enough to taste. You can pre-book your masseur if you like certainty, or arrive and let your instincts do the choosing. I was led there by a guide, I didn’t know their Line or Telegram. I opted for the Candle Massage — the most decadent thing on the menu. If you don’t know: Candle Massage is where warm, melted oils from low-heat candles are poured over your skin, thicker and richer than any ordinary massage oil. It’s not about muscle therapy — it’s about surrender. And surrender you will, especially when your masseur is a twink in his early twenties, all lithe limbs and soft skin stretched tight over a slim frame, tattoos curling across his wrists like promises. He moved like he knew exactly what effect he had — that slight smile, the way his shirt clung a little too tightly across his chest, the way his body brushed yours under the pretence of “adjusting your posture”. The wax dripped slow onto my skin, the heat chasing a shiver down my spine. His hands followed — gliding, teasing, pressing deep, then pulling back just before you could ask for more. Every touch was a provocation; every glance from those dark, unguarded eyes dared you to cross some invisible line. There was no rush. He worked me over slowly, methodically, until the room itself seemed to pulse with need. Every so often, he leaned so close I could feel the warm breath at the nape of my neck, the brush of his thigh against my hand. It was a game, and he was winning it effortlessly. The room blurred — red walls, dim lights, the heavy scent of burning oil and skin. Time slipped sideways. Nothing mattered outside the circle of touch and tension he spun so deftly. I left very happy. TL;DR Aqua Spa isn’t just a spa — it’s a slow descent into something lush, dangerous, and addictive. Their body scrubs are beyond anything Bangkok has to offer. Ho Chi Minh City is no longer a secret for those who know where to look. It’s a playground for the patient and the brave — and it’s playing for keeps. Minimum tip is stated on the massage menu and the total, including tips is paid downstairs after massage. Min tip was about 900 000 VND. https://maps.app.goo.gl/iRDGkVvBAgh3UYzW7?g_st=com.google.maps.preview.copy

Seoul doesn’t hand you its secrets easily — you have to go looking for them. Tucked behind the facade of a long dormant thai massage shop near Itaewon Station is Spy Massage: it is hidden behind the front of another massage shop like its sister shop «Superman» which is down the road. There are no smiles, just a narrow staircase past a middle eastern restaurant and the low throb of something waiting. Inside, it’s pure glauque — a tight, dim room that smells faintly of soap and something warmer. The set-up is bare: a thin bed wrapped in Thai sheets, a worn shower stall in the corner, a single low lamp throwing lazy shadows across the floor. Perfect. Those who are familiar with Saphan Khwai shops in Bangkok will know what I mean, I’d found the place through Telegram — I could not add them on Line without QR-codes — and booked a 60-minute Aroma Oil Massage for 100,000 KRW. No nonsense, cash in hand, pick your poison. I asked whether tip for masseur was included but got no definite answer. That night, it was a slim twink with tattoos: ink on lean limbs, a K-pop baby face that hadn’t quite shaken off its troublemaker grin. Not the kind you forget easily. After a quick rinse, he slipped into the room, polite but unreadable, and got to work. At first, it was standard — oil, pressure, a bit of chat in broken English. But the lines blurred fast: hands lingering where they didn’t need to, a slow, deliberate press of skin, a flicker of something wicked in his eyes. And then, without hesitation, he shed his clothes — one fluid, casual move — and the temperature of the room shifted. The massage became a game of slow collisions: his body brushing mine, teasing, inviting. He was soft at first, curious, but with every brush of fingers, every stolen breath, the tension thickened between us. Touch was offered, and I took it. His tattoos warmed under my palms, his skin taut over muscle and bone, so close it felt like stealing. The line between service and seduction dissolved; there was only the heat of his body and the hush of the dark. I did not get full service but I left very happy. TL;DR Seoul is a conservative city, don’t expect the same breadth of service and quality as you would find in Bangkok. The services offered here are discreet. Spy Massage runs 24 hours, offering quiet, anonymous encounters for those who know how to find them. You have to pre-book your masseur. Communication is fast, businesslike, and the environment feels private enough to leave your guard at the door. The twink wasn’t a polished model — he was real, alive, the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you when the lights are low. I left a 20,000 KRW tip (he didn’t ask for it) and the taste of the night still heavy on my skin.

Trimmed or partially waxed.

Grammar, the difference between knowing your shit and knowing you’re shit.

@CallMeLee Very happy to have made your acquaintance and to have explored the bars together.

In regards to Moonlight I am not unbiased. My regular is from there. With the boys, Moonlight is very popular for the precise reason that it has a reputation for being less sleazy than many other venues. The atmosphere is more relaxed and respectful for them. The boys can keep their t-shirts on for a good part of the night, and the boys feel less gawked at and more in control. In addition the mamasans are genuinely kind and look out for the boys. They can afford to be so because the stable of boys are not huge and they tend to be a bit more mature, so mamasans dont need to enforce discipline to the degree that Freshboy mamasans have to. The mamasans at Moonlight don’t just let anyone up on stage; there’s a certain quality standard. Since Moonlight is popular with the boys, the bar can be far more selective. Moonlight also tends to attract a wealthier clientele, and even though there may be fewer customers than in some of the louder, rowdier bars, the boys actually do well for themselves, even the non-models. If you ever notice there aren’t many boys around on a particular night, it often means they’ve already been offed by customers from outside, which is pretty normal for Moonlight. In short: quality over quantity. So yes, all customers complain about the show being boring (the boys tell me this), but boys are quality and they like the bar. So the lack of sleaze has its merits.

Usually B2B is offered as extras and paid for directly to masseur in Bangkok. If you specifically want B2B in the form of Nuru style massage then you can get it at Ganymede spa and it is listed on their menu.

Macaroni has written very well on this, but allow me to expand a little. These differences in mindsets that you describe aren’t merely personal traits but are deeply rooted in historical, economic, and religious contexts. The Western Paradigm is about structure and control ultimately rooted in a monotheistic cultural DNA where God has set down laws of motion which the world operates according to. Thus you have the origin of why Western societies generally operate with a belief in an ordered, predictable world where planning and risk management lead to security. This perspective has been shaped by economic stability with generations of relative economic predictability has created a faith in planning. The mentioned monotheistic influence that emphasises personal responsibility, stewardship of resources, and moral obligations. Institutional trust, that is functioning systems of insurance, pensions, and social safety nets, and finally a long-term orientation: the cultural value of ‘delayed gratification’ and investment in the future which is conditioned by the long era of economic prosperity in the West. The Western mindset often approaches life as a series of challenges to be managed through careful organisation and foresight. In contrast, many Southeast Asian cultures have developed an approach shaped by economic volatility, that is histories of sudden economic shifts, natural disasters and political upheaval. Further influence is provided by Theravada Buddhist philosophy and the teachings of impermanence (anicca), non-attachment, adaptability, and present-moment awareness provide both a spiritual and practical framework for navigating unpredictable environments. Buddhism acknowledges suffering and uncertainty as fundamental aspects of existence rather than anomalies to be eliminated through planning. The focus shifts from controlling future outcomes to cultivating inner peace amidst external chaos. Communal safety nets with its reliance on family and community rather than institutions. While Western systems rely on contractual obligations and institutional stability, Southeast Asian cultures often depend on reciprocal relationships and collective responsibility, where today’s generosity ensures tomorrow’s support. Volatility and poverty that has been conducive to a present orientation that focuses on immediate needs and opportunities in uncertain environments. The focus on immediate needs and opportunities in uncertain environments isn’t short-sightedness but a rational adaptation to contexts where the future is genuinely unpredictable. Living in the moment becomes less about hedonism and more about nimble response to changing circumstances. What may appear as fatalism (“Buddha will provide”) is often a pragmatic response to environments where rigid planning historically proved futile when faced with frequent disruptions. It represents a psychological adaptation that prevents anxiety over factors beyond individual control, while maintaining openness to emerging opportunities and challenges. It’s crucial to understand that Buddhism is not an all-encompassing religion in the way that many Western traditions aim to be. In Asia, religious practices often specialise in specific aspects of life rather than providing comprehensive frameworks for all decisions. For instance, in Japan, Shinto traditions typically govern weddings and celebrations, while Buddhist practices are observed for funerals and ancestral veneration. Across Southeast Asia, aspects of Brahmanism, animism, and localised spiritual practices coexist with Buddhist principles, each addressing different domains of human experience. This religious pluralism creates a complex tapestry of influences rather than a single theological lens through which all decisions are filtered. Even within specific religious traditions, interpretations vary widely. For example, in Korean history, dynasties promoting Confucian values often enacted conservative social policies, while periods of Buddhist influence sometimes allowed for greater social flexibility in areas such as sexual expression and gender roles. In cross cultural relationships it is important to recognise these differences as cultural adaptations rather than personal flaws or moral failings and trying to communicate expectations clearly, particularly regarding financial responsibilities and safety considerations. The approaches have complementary strengths; planning provides security, while adaptability offers resilience in the face of unexpected changes. The latter might not be such a bad thing considering that the next 10 to 20 years will likely be far more unpredictable and volatile than the previous decades, especially in the West.

This is what happens when you just have cultish sycophants left in government. Musk treated the civil service in Washington like he treated a startup, with absolutely no appreciation of what consequences there would be to the cuts or how the public sector differs from private sector. Ironically, emergency response is a relatively low cost measure that can earn a country a lot of goodwill, the USA just did a hash of it. Then again America doesn’t seem to want friends anymore, or tourists, but they want mining and manufacturing 1960s style.

Every season in life got its own joy.

Songkran Pool Party at SO/ Bangkok Right, here’s the lowdown on the SO/ Bangkok Songkran pool party—because what better way to celebrate Thai New Year than by half-drowning in overpriced cocktails and being hypnotised by the back muscles of beautiful young Korean men? I dragged my boyfriend of the week along (he had forgotten his flip flops so I gave him a pair of cute hotel slippers 🥰 ). We arrived early, mostly because we’d heard the queue gets biblical and we were determined to snag a decent spot with both shade and a clear view of the pool. Priorities, you know. The first thing we saw upon entering—and I swear I’m not being dramatic—was a vision. A group of young Koreans, sculpted like they’d walked off the cover of Men’s Health: Seoul Edition, standing near the water’s edge in matching swim shorts. And then it happened: he turned around. One of them. His back was… something else entirely. The kind of back that poets would write odes to if they weren’t too distracted by the lower half. Slim but athletic, not bulky—just enough muscle to trace the perfect V. There was this subtle dance happening across his shoulder blades every time he moved, I was so totally mesmerised that I forgot to go to the bar to buy drinks for a second. The crowd was mixed at first—a fairly even ratio of gays, straights, and a few who were clearly just there for the Instagram content. There were a few muscled circuit boys, twinky tourists from Taiwan, a few bears lounging in speedos, and that one older German couple who were clearly having the time of their lives dancing like it was Berghain in 2003. We eventually settled in near a group of Spanish lads from Madrid who were delightfully tipsy and wearing matching metallic short-shorts. One of them, Leo, claimed he’d lost his shirt and his ex in the same afternoon. We chatted about sangria, and which body parts were most likely to get accidentally groped in the pool (all of them). As the sun dropped behind the skyline, the energy shifted. The straights slowly filtered out or huddled awkwardly in corners while the gays fully took over—like glittery aquatic conquistadors. The music went from tropical house to deep-throbbing circuit beats. People started dancing in the water, on the sunbeds, on each other. A few guests had clearly brought go-go boys from the bars and they added just the right amount of campy chaos to the evening. I lost my boyfriend for about twenty minutes and found him being fed tequila by a group of Brazilian boys with bodies that defied biology. In the end, we left soaked, sun-kissed, and just a little bit in love with Songkran (and maybe also with that Korean guy’s back—but let’s not dwell). It was the kind of party that leaves you a bit dazed, a bit deaf, and totally buzzing. Songkran is madness, yes, but if you embrace it—and book a room near the lifts—you’ll have an unforgettable time. Would go again.