“Before the smartphones, you met eyes — not screens.” Veteran visitors say the real charm of old Pattaya was in the human connection that’s now missing. (Photo by Jetsada Homklin) PATTAYA, Thailand – There was a time when Pattaya wasn’t just a beach town with neon lights and late nights — it was a feeling. A raw, unpolished oasis where people smiled without expectation, where fun wasn’t packaged, priced, and sold back to you with tax. But that Pattaya — the one remembered in the hearts of those who arrived in the ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s — may no longer exist. And if you ask the veterans who helped shape its story, it’s not just nostalgia talking. It’s grief. One expat who moved here in 2002 summed it up plainly: “Infrastructure was better, food easier to find, Wi-Fi stronger, less flooding. Gas and booze were cheap. And the hospitality? Incredible.” Today’s Pattaya still boasts luxury condos, international cuisine, 7-Elevens every 100 meters, and glossy shopping malls. But the charm — the warmth that once defined it — has grown cold. From Land of Smiles to Land of Sales Once, you could walk down the street and feel the human connection in the air. Now, many longtime visitors describe an eerie detachment. “The smartphone changed it all. Before, hunting lady look you. Now, trapping lady look phone,” wrote one commenter, summing up a shift not just in behavior, but in human presence. Another told of passing by a woman who briefly looked up and said “Wel-”, only to bury her eyes back in her screen before finishing “-come ka.” This isn’t just a complaint about technology — it’s a metaphor for what Pattaya has become: physically present, but emotionally absent. The sense of welcome that once defined the city is, according to many, transactional now. Sitting in a bar, one veteran traveler observed: “There’s tension in the air. You’re watched. Your bottle gets swilled. It feels like they just want your money and want you gone.” Even the small interactions feel off. Motorbike taxi drivers expect tips before doing anything. Prices have skyrocketed. And the warmth that once made you feel like a guest? Many say it’s been replaced by calculation. It Wasn’t Always This Way The irony is that Pattaya once thrived precisely because it was imperfect. People came because it felt real — even wild. There was dust, grit, spontaneity. The pier was a gravel lot. Walking Street hadn’t happened yet. You couldn’t find milk or apples or proper coffee. But there was heart. In the ‘90s, the first mall and fast food chains were exciting milestones. A parasail boat showing up on the beach felt like a revolution. The girls smiled. The drinks were cheap. And the fun — the real fun — was free. Veterans of the early years recall the difference clearly. “It was heaven in the ‘90s. Everyone helped each other out. Girls welcomed you. They would do anything to help. Then the mobile hit — and bar girl life changed.” Those who go back even further remember the pre-boom years of the ’80s. A former U.S. Navy member stationed nearby recalls visiting in 1981: “It was small, raw. By the time I came back in ’92, it had exploded. But it was still Pattaya.” That sense of progression — of watching something grow — was once part of the city’s appeal. Now, many say, it feels more like watching something unravel. Who’s to Blame? Everyone. And No One. Some point fingers at the tourists. “It’s not the locals who changed. It’s the tourists. We used to respect the culture,” one man wrote. Others say Thai hospitality itself has frayed under constant pressure: “Maybe tourists used to be better. Even Thais are fed up with the drunkenness and thefts by foreigners.” And then there’s the rise of digital travel culture. Many blame vloggers and influencers for turning Pattaya into content — not a place, but a product. “Worst thing that ever happened to travel,” said one longtime visitor. But COVID-19, many agree, was the final fracture. What was once a relaxed, low-pressure lifestyle suddenly became a grind. The post-pandemic Pattaya, they say, is a city of hustle, high prices, and high expectations — mostly fueled by the spending power of Chinese millionaires and mass tourism. One visitor admitted he was now scouting greener pastures in Vietnam: “Thailand let the genie out. And there’s no putting it back.” And Still, They Come Back Despite the bitterness, people still return. Maybe out of habit. Maybe out of hope. Some still defend the city. “Everything changes,” one man shrugged. “Thailand gives back what you put in.” Another added, “It’s still one of the best places in the world if you’re single.” And yet, the dominant mood among Pattaya veterans remains one of melancholy. They don’t expect the city to return to its former self. But they do mourn what it once meant. “RIP Thailand,” someone wrote. “Ten more years of this and it won’t be an oasis anymore.” “1984. A&W Root Beer on Beach Road. People smiled. Girls helped you even if you had nothing. That was paradise,” another recalled. “Now? You’re just a walking ATM.” The Illusion of Progress What Pattaya has gained in infrastructure, it may have lost in intimacy. The roads are better, the hospitals more modern, the visa policies more welcoming. But the soul — the raw, real soul — is harder to find. This isn’t about wanting to freeze time. It’s about recognizing that growth without values leads not to evolution, but to erosion. If Pattaya was once a community — wild, weird, and welcoming — it now risks becoming a showroom. Everything looks great, but nothing feels real. So yes, laugh at the “granddad tells” stories. But listen closely. Because behind every nostalgic tale is a warning: when money replaces meaning, paradise becomes a product — and then disappears altogether.