There was little time left, so from the next morning we began searching for the right place. Bangla Road was immediately ruled out, since, as Chonticha said, local gangs collect taxes and the rents are exorbitant. We looked in and around Bang Tao. It was much quieter here, still with many tourists, and Fanny would be close to her home and mother. The choice of units was wide, as something was being built on every street.

After two days of driving, calling and searching, we chose a place where a restaurant had been located until recently. The owner had passed away, and the place had been empty for some time. Next door were two massage parlors, a gift shop, and a mini golf course, and on the other side there was a large hotel with its own entrance to the beach.

The neighborhood seemed good and the place itself was in good condition. Fanny took care of the paperwork while I waited in the restaurant across the street because officially everything was going to be in her name. She signed the contract with a young Muslim, who was the nominated representative of the owners.

The rent was manageable; a small deposit was required to start with. I could pay it with the cash I had planned to use for my holiday fun. A big plus was the room at the end of the dining room, with a large mirrored window. You could put a bed there and stay overnight. The whole thing needed a little adaptation and some minor renovation of the kitchen. And that was it!

We spent the remaining two days before my departure on the purchase of equipment. We bought tables and chairs from a local manufacturer. It was a primitive workshop which made quite decent furniture from boards, and most importantly, it was inexpensive.

I couldn't help but try to haggle a bit. So I told Fanny not to agree to anything and to keep a sad face. We examined the available models and asked for prices. The young Thai girl followed us and communicated with me in broken English and with Fanny in their native dialect. When I felt that the woman was ready, I asked for a price for the entire set, that is, a dozen or so tables with chairs, when she gave me the price, I offered her half of the amount. Chonticha squeezed my hand sharply. The saleswoman's smile turned very sad.

It seemed that negotiating the price was not very welcome here. However, after a telephone consultation with the owner of the company, we got a quite reasonable discount. Fanny laughed on the way back and said I was “crazy”. I guess I was, since I had decided to risk investing in a business with a virtually unknown person, fourteen hours away from home by plane, and with no guarantee that this venture would work out. I came up with a name – “Kambo”, left Fanny some cash and one of my debit cards, and flew home to Europe.