Blog turns 2

This blog is now two years old. The second anniversary passed on April 27, with 1,500 posts on the board. I would have mentioned it then, but I forgot.

In the last 12 months, I appear to have lost my libido, and now I am losing my memory as well. Relax, I tell myself: these are but two of the pleasures of getting old!

So, what do the next 12 months hold in store?

If I can remember how to do it, I shall scan more images of Thai guys. Boyfriend Maiyuu buys plenty of magazines, but they have never been scanned, because he doesn't want me tearing them up.

I can understand that, but if I can work out how to scan images without having to rip apart the magazine, I shall go ahead and do so.

I hope Bangkok of the Mind continues to make readers happy. As always, comments are welcome. Here's to year three!

Gay temple offer spurned

Thai gay activists are unhappy after a senior monk complained about the number of gays and kathoey entering the monkhood. He suggested Buddhism may need to set up separate temples for them.

Natee Teerarojjanapong says it is wrong to want to isolate gays and ladyboys, just because they are different. Society is a healthier, more lively place because its diversity, which can hardly flourish if people are kept apart.

Phra Payom Kalayano, abbot of Wat Suan Kaew in Nonthaburi, called for 'gay' temples in an interview with Bangkok Today newspaper, written up in this earlier post, here.

Phra Payom, known for his sense of humour, said increasing numbers of gay males are following in the footsteps of straight men, entering the monkhood when they turn 20, to thank their parents for their hard work in raising them.

Once, few gays entered the monkhood. Today, the abbot says, 5-10% of monks are gay.

They are particularly common in the northern region, while in the North-East, he notices many monks are trying to be gay, but have yet to perfect the art.

He says if the thought of a temple dedicated to gay monks sounds strange, even odder is the fact that so many young men who are gay would want to enter the monkhood.

Senior monks do screen young men who apply to join. However, they cannot be too strict about eliminating gays, as many temples are short of monks. No one wants to see temples end up deserted.

'The parents of gay men who apply to join the monkhood, funnily enough, are also often generous benefactors of temples...if we were to turn away their offspring, there would be trouble.'

The Buddhist canon forbids from entering the monkhood men who have changed their sex, who are obvious lady-boys, or men who have castrated themselves.

Activist Natee says if gays and kathoey make up 5-10% of the population at large, then it should be no surprise if that share is reflected in the number joining the monkhood as well.

President of Gay Politics, Natee said gays held Phra Payom in high respect. However, on this occasion they would have to disagree.

If some individual monks failed to stick by the rules, they should be punished by those rules. He should not lump all gays into one category.

He suggested the abbot set up at his own temple a training ground for monks and novices. Those who refused to fit in could be sent there for instruction on how to change their behaviour.

'If Phra Payom wants to make this offer, then in fairness he should suggest monks who can't leave women alone should be separated from the rest of the flock as well.'

Natee said gays who refuse to fit in might be better leaving the monkhood, as they would enjoy more freedom to wiggle their backsides on the outside.

Kathoey toilets arrive

The age of the kathoey toilet has arrived. A temple in Rayong has built a toilet specifically for women of the second gender, as they are also known (men who want to change their sex).

Abbot Phrakru Wisut Sansophid, who thought of the idea himself, says kathoey who had visited the temple were given a hard time if they tried to use the men's toilets.

In this age of equal rights, he decided he would create a sit-down toilet especially for them, which they can reach from the women's toilet room.

The toilet has proved popular with kathoey, and a source of amusement for straight visitors.

A sign outside in the temple grounds - where visitors come to worship a shrine of the revered King Taksin - displays a symbol of a person in a wheelchair, for disabled toilets; a figure in trousers, for the men's toilets; a figure wearing a dress, for the women's toilets; and a figure wearing a dress on one side, and trousers on the other, representing a kathoey.

Head inside the toilets, and another sign makes it explicit: 'Kathoey toilet', it says.

The toilets, for the disabled, men, women, and kathoey, are made of granite and cost B900,000. They were built last year and opened three months ago.

Khao Sod newspaper, which published a story about the kathoey toilet, spoke to cleaner Saengarun Suksai, who said the toilet had been a hit since it opened.

Visitors laughed when they saw the sign.

Straight women did not dare use the kathoey toilet, in case people thought they were kathoey. As for kathoey themselves, they let off screams and squeals of delight, and rushed to try it.

A kathoey patron said she was delighted with the toilet find. She did not feel comfortable using the men's toilets, and women gave her strange stares when she tried to use theirs. Having her own toilet was just great.

Thai social climber (2, final)

Duck has good luck with foreign men. Since I met him, he has gone out with three, who visited Thailand as tourists, fell in love with Duck, then invited him back to their home country for a visit.

Duck, who comes from a coastal province close to Bangkok, grew up in the same town as my boyfriend, Maiyuu.

He asked me to write emails to his foreign boyfriends.

Duck's western friends knew that I helped with his emails, and seemed unworried by the fact that they conducted their long-distance love affairs through an intermediary.

At times I concealed information, though I tried not to lie outright.

Previously, Duck was in a relationship with a man from Spain. They lived in the same condo building as me, and were together five years.

Spanish Fly liked to play around. Duck put up with this as long as he had a roof over his head.

One day, Fly met a Thai Chinese student. They saw each other on weekends first, but then Fly asked his new love to move in. Suddenly, Duck was without a place to live.

Shortly before Fly threw him out, Duck met a tourist from California. In his 30s and a psychologist, he visited Bangkok, and took Duck to Koh Samui.

They shared a bungalow on the island for a few nights. It was Duck's first time on a plane.

In Samui, Duck and Mr California fell in love. Eventually, though, the tourist had to leave. They kept up regular phone and email contact until one day, the interest from Mr California's end stopped.

Duck was devastated. For days, he turned up at my place to check his email. He missed sleep, cried, came down with a stress-related illness.

Earlier, we spent weeks trying to organise a visa for Duck to visit his boyfriend in California, without success.

In my emails, I did not tell the foreigner that Duck was previously living with Spanish Fly, and had been doing so for years.

Mr California, who was no fool, wanted to know why a young man of 27 had still not found regular work.

But as the relationship with Mr California was winding down, Duck met a new westerner at a sauna.

This was Mr Germany, who despite being a policeman wears a beard and moustache.

Duck found the German's appearance intimidating, as he had never met a farang with facial hair.
Mr Germany invited Duck to join him in Pattaya for a six-day break.

Mr Germany, like Mr California did before him, offered to take him back home and enrol him in an English language school.

Thais look to the stars for guidance. Duck went to a fortune teller a few weeks before, who told him he was likely to travel overseas.

At the time Duck thought the fortune-teller was referring to Mr California, but in the end, Duck ended up visiting Mr Germany instead.

As Duck's email helper, I wrote Mr Germany a few messages.

I did not tell him about the previous men in Duck's life. I passed on news about what Duck had been doing, and on Duck's behalf asked after his health.

I did not write any begging letters, to any of his men.

On one visit to Pattaya, I found a paperback book of love letters, written in Thai and with a corresponding translation in English.

The letters are fictional but serve as exemplars for Thais who meet foreign tourists who visit Thailand.

It gives them ideas about what to put in begging letters to the foreigner once he leaves these shores. The book belonged to a Thai woman friend, who has a foreign boyfriend of her own.

She had underlined key passages: 'This month, my expenses are likely to be high, as Mum has to go into hospital. Can you help?

Most letters in the book are sent by Thai women to western men, though there is a small section for gay Thais to write to foreign gay men.

The authors say they are bar workers, sometimes prostitutes. They tend to come from Esan, and have no money.

Mum has fallen ill, the car has broken down, or they want to leave the sex trade. They ask the foreigner to send money. Some specify the amount.

A few stories are about hope: one student says she is about to graduate. She and her foreign male friend plan to buy a home. She writes to ask after his health.

Most stories, however, are about despair. The girl has fallen pregnant, but her western lover has lost interest.

The book is popular, with many printings.

Do Duck's experiences with western men belong in the hopeful, or despairing category?

I would say that he lives in hope, but often meets unhappiness.

I have met Mr Germany.

He is close to retirement, Duck a mere 30 years younger.

On his visit to Pattaya, Mr Germany met an old Thai boyfriend from a former visit.

This young man comes from Korat. He told Mr Germany proudly that he had now met another tourist.

A British guy with whom he had fallen in love sent him B100,000 to build a home in his home province.

Mr Korat also managed to obtain a visa to visit Mr Britain for a few months.

At the time he was selling his body, which is not the kind of thing you want to tell the embassy. For his visa application, he found someone to claim in a testimonial that he worked in a restaurant.

I'm going to ask him for more!' Mr Korat boasted.

Mr Germany was shocked by his brazenness.

'Duck doesn't ask me for anything,' he told me.

He's a lucky one then...maybe it just falls into his lap.

Thai social climber (1)

Stop me! I am becoming Thai. In the West, I would never have asked what kind of car people drive, and how big their houses are. What's happening?

Boyfriend Maiyuu ventured outside, a rare event.

In the condo carpark, he spotted his childhood friend Duck with his German boyfriend. They were going out - and appeared to have their own car!

'Duck has become hi-so - he now has his own car,' Maiyuu reported, when he returned to the condo.

'What kind?' I asked, momentarily shocked by my own interest.

'A Toyota - it could be a rental, but who would want to spend B1,000 a day renting when you could buy?' he said.

Mr Germany is on a visit to Thailand. He has bought a house in a coastal province close to Bangkok, and is now buying furniture to put in it.

Close to retirement, Mr Germany plans to move here in the next 12 months. Duck will stay with him on the coast, in a sub-division which is close to Duck's family home, and where other foreigners also live.

They are likely to travel between there and Bangkok.

'Why would he buy?' I asked.

'Duck has probably been blowing in his husband's ear, saying how much they need a car,' said Maiyuu.

Lucky Duck. Soon, by the looks of it, he will have a home and a car. I have not provided either to my boyfriend - but he claims he is not worried.

'Who cares?' said Maiyuu. 'Let them get on with it.'

Is it right to assess people by what assets they have gained, or good fortune they have met?

Thailand is a developing society, where the economy has grown at furious rates. It is only natural that Thais should be aware of changes in their friend's social standing.

When I met him eight years ago, Duck lived in rough conditions in a tiny room in the same condo as us, in Thon Buri. He had no formal qualifications, and no job.

The last part has not changed. Duck still lives in this condo, but has switched rooms. When his German boyfriend is in Bangkok, he stays in that room.

On a noticeboard inside the condo entrance, Duck has pinned a sign offering 50-minute foot massages at his place for B40.

He started offering the service after taking a brief course in massage therapy at a temple in town.

As far as I am aware, that's all he has done to improve his skills. Years ago, he told me he wants to be a hairdresser, but is no doubt waiting for his boyfriend to put him through a course.

Since the two met several years ago, Duck has divided his time between Bangkok and Germany.

Every six months, he goes to Germany to stay with his boyfriend on a three-month tourist visa, before returning to Thailand to wait another three months under the rules before he can apply for a visa again.

now, see part 2

Spot check

A Thai man in his 20s boarded the bus. He was with his mother, who was in her 50s.

The young man was good-looking, but had been admired before. When I cast a glance at him, I felt he was aware of my gaze. He was used to people admiring his clear-faced appearance.

He shifted uncomfortably, as if he disliked the attention.

His mother had several growths under one eye.

They sat next to each other. Soon after they had seated themselves, the mother put her head to one side and fell asleep. He head touched her son's shoulder.

For westerners, that's too close. Mothers do not fall asleep in the bus and expect their sons to support their heads.

A few moments later, she woke, and raised her head. I felt relieved.

A family I know runs an Esan food eatery close to my office. The woman who runs it is in her 40s, and has a son who has left school and is about to enter the police force.

Occasionally, I stop to talk to them. Once a year, I drink and have something to eat there.

When I first met the family, the young man had just started secondary school. Every day on the way to work, I walk past their busy shop, which runs for 20m along the sidewalk on one side.

One night recently, I visited with a friend. The young man turned up late in the evening. He gave his mother a wai, and started to help run shop.

We were seated off the street in what, during the day, serves as a car-park for trucks. The shop owner sets up tables in there at night, after the carpark is no longer in use. It is behind a wire fence.

When she puts tables in there, she can effectively double the space of her shop, which is narrow if confined to the sidewalk. To get in there, we duck through holes in the fence.

They have also created a children's play and sleep area inside the fence, so regulars who bring their children can put them somewhere while they drink.

Mum normally serves food, but if she wants a break can ask her young staff to take over. She employs Esan girls to serve customers, cut up vegetables, and wash dishes in plastic tubs.

Her husband, who works for the same company as me, helps at the shop if he is free.

Late in the evening, Mum and son appeared on our side of the fence. They examined each other. First, the son looked at something on his mother's head. He parted the hair on her head to get a good look.

Then, Mum inspected on her son's back.

He pulled up his shirt. Mum squeezed a spot.

This was probably the first time they had seen each other in a long day.

Do mothers in the West do this? Beyond her son's teenage years, probably not. It's just too intimate and personal.

Children probably would not offer to do it for their parents, unless they were very old.

Here, the same rules do not apply. Because it is so different, it is touching, and heart-warming to watch.

Thai dinner drama (2, final)

While I waited for loyal reader Ian, I went for a walk. I discovered a shopping area at the back of the mall which I did not know about before.

A long pathway behind the mall took me into a busy housing area resembling a slum, where I dodged youngsters zipping about on their motorbikes. There were no exits, so I just kept walking, looking for the main road.

Finally I made my way out into a large vacant area of land under an overrpass, where young Thais were playing football. By the time I found the road, I had almost walked the whole distance back home again.

I was hungry, but would have to find food elsewhere.

Before leaving home, I ironed one of the shirts in a large pile which the boyfriend had promised to do for me the night before, but did not. After my walk, it was now drenched in sweat.

Back at the mall, I found Ian, who had a head cold. I took him to a shop behind the mall which I had found moments before. It sold chicken on rice.

A fan on the ceiling spun slowly, moving around the hot air in the shop. Staff busied themselves cleaning, as the shop was about to close.

Ian probably wondered why were eating in this rough place rather than at my home.

'He hasn't cooked anything, and the place is a mess,' I said.

My guest was polite. He did not complain.

'I asked myself where I could take you if I couldn't entertain you at home, but around here, other than the mall, there is nothing,' I said.

We went to Mum's shop in Thon Buri instead.

More Real Thailand was on display over there: noisy customers smoking away furiously, wobbly seating too small for Western-size bodies, squat toilets in primitive karaoke shops and eateries where you knock your head on the ceiling if you forget to duck.

'This is the way Thais live. It is a world away from the tourist spots in Silom. I hope you don't mind,' I said.

Ian was diplomatic. Not a word of complaint passed his lips. He pulled out a towel, to mop his face. I bought him some talcum powder from the 7-11 behind Mum's shop to help him cool down.

Mum stopped at our table for a chat.

'How long have you been coming to Thailand?' she asked.

I answered on Ian's behalf.

'Over 20 years.'

'Do you have a Thai girlfriend?'

'No.'

'So what's wrong with Thai women?' she asked.

'The farang prefers men,' I explained.

'Oh...so he's like you?' she asked.

We passed a few hours over there, seated under a large tree on plastic chairs at a flimsy plastic table. The setting was not much, but at least we could enjoy the evening breeze coming off the Chao Phraya River.

'Shall we go back?' asked Ian. He had brought his camera to take a picture of the happy couple.

In a text message, I asked the boyfriend how he was going.

'I am cooking curry and pasta,' he said.

About 11.30pm, I took Ian home. When I opened the door, I found not chaos, but a picture of order and serenity.

Gone were the ugly black rubbish bags, packing boxes and other clutter which had sat in the middle of the condo for months.

Now, there was open space. I could walk around again, without fear of knocking into things.

But for a vase of dead roses which I had forgotten to replace, it looked perfect. The smell of paint thinner hanging in the air had also vanished.

I thanked the boyfriend, who was dressed in ultra-short clingy cotton shorts, and a loose T-shirt. He looked as relaxed and rested as if had just risen from 12 hours sleep.

Ian, bless him, can go with the flow. He's used to Asian ways.

At midnight, we ate what he called the main course. Never mind if it was five hours late...at least it arrived.

The chicken and rice dish which we took at the shop behind the mall was simply the entree, he said.

I asked Maiyuu to talk to our guest. A perfect host, he was charming. He did not join us at the table, but chatted as he watched TV.

At 12.30, I took Ian down to find a taxi.

His parting gift? A magazine containing pictures of Love of Siam actor Mario Maurer. On the front cover, he is taking his shirt off.

A sight for sore eyes, after the maelstrom of the last 12 hours. Thank you, Ian - and may you enjoy the rest of your stay.

Thai dinner drama (1)

The dinner date was for 7pm - not midnight!

I had invited loyal reader Ian, visiting Bangkok from his homeland Australia, to dinner at 7pm.  Boyfriend Maiyuu offered to cook.

An appointment for dinner carries heavier overtones for foreigners than it does for Thais, for whom time is highly flexible arrangement.

For the foreigner, 7pm means just that. We can turn up a little late, but not so it is indecent.

For a Thai, 7pm is just another point where the big hand of the clock stops during the day, or night. No reason to get stressed.

I suggested Ian catch a taxi to the local shopping mall, a landmark in these isolated parts, where I would pick him up. When I left home at 6.50pm, Maiyuu was still in the middle of cleaning.

Chairs were strewn about. Rubbish bags where he had stuffed his clothes were overflowing. No food had been cooked.

Maiyuu rose the day after 12pm. He had promised to tackle a large pile of ironing the night before. He had not started that, but I put it out of my mind.

For days, he had promised to tidy the place, which has looked like a bomb hit it since we started decorating months ago. He hadn't started that, either.

In mid-afternoon, he finally started to tidy. I withdrew for the day, to let him get on with it. I went out for a few hours, to teach English.

When I returned at 6pm, he was cleaning CD covers. Really, I think I would have started on a bigger task, such as clearing the floor of obstacles, particularly as time was now closing in.

'Would you like me to call it off?' I asked.

Boyfriend Maiyuu was angry.

'That's up to you. I don't care. But what makes you say such a thing, when I have already started cleaning?'

'When will you cook?'

'When your friend is here...or do you expect me to start serving the meal as soon as he arrives?' he asked waspishly.

'Well, I thought we could all eat together.'

Boyfriend Maiyuu wanted to do the poor Thai houseboy act...slaving away in conditions of servitude, making a meal for two foreigners, while we sat and enjoyed ourselves.

Our place is not suited to that, as the cooking area is right next to the dining table. Apart from that, I wanted Ian and Maiyuu to get to know each other. He can hardly do that if he has to cook.

I took a shower. When I emerged, the boyfriend had opened a bottle of paint thinner, which he was using to scrub paint stains off the floor. The air was filled with the heavy smell of mineral turpentine.

Things were getting worse, not better. No one can eat in such conditions.

I gave up, and went to meet Ian.

Before I arrived at the mall, I received a text message from the boyfriend.

'So, I take it you're not bringing your friend back now?'

I replied saying I would take Ian to Mum's shop instead, then return later.

now, see part 2

Bay leaf Dad

My Thai parttner Maiyuu sent me down to the market to buy fresh produce.

Going to the market is always a challenge. Last time I was there, I accidentally told a woman trader that I was a father to two children.

Now, it was time to do battle again.

Last night Maiyuu asked for B1,500 to pay for ingredients for the meal, which he will cook for me, himself, and loyal reader Ian, who is visiting Bangkok. He went to a 24-hour supermarket to buy supplies while I slept.

Today, Maiyuu asked me to get from the market two other items: mince meat, and bay leaves.

He scribbled down what he wanted on a piece of paper. I usually hand this over to the women traders, who sell meat, green produce, and groceries from benches in what was once a thriving, covered fresh market.

More than 250 years ago, the market where I live was a favourite dwelling place of Chinese.

That was back in the times when the Thai capital was in Thon Buri. Later, the Chinese community made Sampeng their main base, and Muslims took their place.

Together with Chinese who stayed behind, they farmed betel trees on the banks of a large canal which runs through the market.

Today, no betel trees remain. I can't even find any betel chewers - the old folk you see around town with black teeth.

However, some Chinese trader families remain. Today, they share the large selling space in the market with men selling talismans and Buddha amulets; beggars, and dogs.

The beggars and dogs like to sleep on the unoccupied benches. When I walked in, one beggar was fully stretched out on a bench, asleep.

Today I thought I would be a grown up, and order Maiyuu's supplies without handing over the note. I found the stall selling green produce, and pulled it out.

I read the word for bay leaves...then stopped.

Maiyuu had written the number 5, and a Thai character which could stand for baht...or could stand for the Thai word for leaf, as they both start with the same letter.

Thais abbreviate everything. Which word did he mean?

Bay leaves - five of them,' I ordered hesitantly.

The woman trader looked at me oddly, and pulled out a large bunch of bay leaves.

'How can you order five?' she asked.

I meekly handed over the note.

'Five baht, not five leaves!' she exclaimed.

The man standing next to her laughed. Silly farang.

Where do I order meat?' I asked. My self-confidence had just taken a dive. I was back in the silly language land I occupy where I raise two children, even though I do not.

'Over there,' she said - and for good measure, called out to the woman at the meat stand that the farang wanted mince meat.

For the pork mince order, the same Thai character appeared, next to the number 30. Ah: that must mean 30 baht's worth. It could hardly mean anything else.

I ordered, and the woman put it in a bag. No mistakes, this time.

It's so much easier in a 7-11. You just walk in, pick what you want, and hand over change. In a fresh market, you have to do awkward things like read out notes, and talk to people.

I took my bags of mince meat and bay leaves down to the pier, where I put them in a prominent spot next to me, as I sat on a bench seat watching the long-tailed boats go by.

I wanted Thais to see that this farang is a clever one. He can order vegetables and meat from the fresh market!

And today, he managed to do it without adding to his already large family.

Did anyone notice? Probably not.

Scenes from the market

As I mentioned the other day, this blog marks its second anniversary this month. To mark the occasion, I thought I'd open up a little.

These images are taken from Talad Phlu, the fresh market were we live in Thon Buri, starting with the local railway station, perhaps its key feature. Like the gaudy purple?

The market is well known for its traditional Thai dessert shops (see above), and sleepy way of life.

Nearby, locals gather by the overbridge each day to drink coffee, which is brewed in a traditional style.

Handsome Thai-Chinese lads run the coffee shop. Unfortunately, I have none of their pictures to show you.

I have seen these guys gather there for years; I remember their faces, even if we have never met.  For more, try this site.

Under a bridge next to the canal are basketball courts, where local youngsters also kick ball. I head down there often to watch the long-tailed boats whizz by and chat to passersby. Below is a scene from Bangkok Yai canal, which runs along one side of the market, and where betel traders used to gather many years ago.

Gay monks rampant in North (part 2, final)

Phra Payom says that on his travels of the nation's temples, he has found most gay and kathoey monks in the North, though he has no idea why. The South has very few, while other regions contain a mix.

The Northeast has many gay and kathoey monks whose heart is in it, but who have yet to master the graceful body movements, he says.

'They are an eyesore. They want to be gay, but haven't worked out how to do it yet.'

But gay monks are not confined to the young. Some temples have gay monks aged in their 50s and 50s, who have been in the monkhood 10 years or more. If gay monks are caught doing anything naughty, they can be chased out.

'However, they are often clever at arranging flowers, speak nicely to people, and can help senior monks putting on functions, so they end up staying.'

Phra Payom says Thai television soap operas, which often include gay characters, offer role models to Thai youngsters, and might explain the increase in gays and kathoey.

He suggests television stations show social responsibility by airing viewer warnings after raunchy TV soaps have aired, to remind viewers about Buddhist moral precepts, and the importance of doing the right thing.

'Chasing other people's partners and going crazy over sex [as the characters do in soaps] can lead to confusion overs sexual identity,' he says.

He also urges temples to impose tougher screening on young men who want to be monks - even if they end up losing supporters as a result - and more guidance from state cultural watchdogs.

Gay monks rampant in North (part 1)

So many young Thai gays enter the monkhood these days that one day Buddhists might have to set aside temples specifically for gay monks, says Phra Payom Kalayano, abbot of Wat Suan Kaew in Nonthaburi.

Thais who want to make merit by giving food or money to gay Thai monks can go to those temples. Thais who are annoyed by the presence of gay monks can go somewhere else, he told Bangkok Today newspaper.

The newspaper asked how older Thais must feel when they spot gays among temple monks.

Even in a monk's yellow robes, gays still look the part. With their spiked hair, pretty faces, and pert chests they can look prettier than girls. Thais who make merit at temples and encounter pretty-boy monks might be put off.

Increasing numbers of gay males are following in the footsteps of straight men, entering the monkhood when they turn 20, to thank their parents for their hard work in raising them.

Once, few gays entered the monkhood. Today, the abbot says, five to 10 per cent of monks are gay.

They are particularly common in the northern region, while in the Northeast region, he notices many monks who are trying to be gay, but have yet to perfect the art (แฉ! พระสายเหนือ ตุ๊ดเยอะ).

Phra Payom has a sense of humour. Last year he baked up a batch of so-called Jatukham cookies, which he sold in smart aluminium boxes to mock the craze for Jatukam Ramathep talismans then sweeping the country.

He says that if the thought of a temple dedicated to gay monks sounds strange, even odder is that fact that so many young men who are gay would want to enter the monkhood.

Senior monks do screen young men who apply to join. However, they cannot be too strict about eliminating gays, as many temples are short of monks. No one wants to see temples end up deserted.

'The parents of gay men who apply to join the monkhood, funnily enough, are also often generous benefactors of temples...if we were to turn away their offspring, there would be trouble.'

The Buddhist canon forbids from entering the monkhood men who have changed their sex, who are obvious lady-boys, or men who have castrated themselves. These rules have been in place for a long time, as has the screening process to select men for entry to the monkhood.

However, in this age of human rights - and the need to find benefactors for temples - monks can do little but acquiesce.

now, see part 2

Pulling the finger out (3, final)

This blog is about to celebrate its second anniversary. It is only fitting, then, that I should usher in the third year by meeting loyal reader Ian.

Ian is visiting Bangkok from his home country, Australia. I have invited him for dinner next week, which my Thai partner Maiyuu will cook.

Hardly anyone visits our place these days, and in fact my boyfriend has become a virtual social recluse. If his friends from the condo knock at the door, he ignores them. When I come in from outside, he gets me to lock the door.

The room in which he spends most of his time, which is also the one with the door for receiving visitors, is a mess.

The home decorating is unfinished. Three walls have been painted, but one remains.

The fourth wall is also the hardest one: the television and stereo cabinet, fridge, and shelves sit against it.

To get at that wall, we would have to move all those things first. To make room for them, we would have to move boxes of clothes and books which have sat in the middle of the room since the redecorating work started two months ago....and so on.

When I first told Maiyuu about Ian's pending visit, several weeks ago, I asked him if he could finish the painting before he comes.

I don't want my guest walking into a place that's unfinished, especially as I have been waiting so long for him to get the work done.

By avoiding his own friends, he can put off painting the last wall. But if I invite one of my own, I thought, he would be forced to finish it.

If not, we would have to entertain my friend in what looks more like a bomb shelter than the guest room and dining area which it used to be.

Maiyuu would feel shamed into finishing the work, I thought - and early responses were encouraging.

'Yes, I'll paint the wall and have it finished in time,' he said.

Last week, however, we encountered a small hiccup: Maiyuu told me that he'd changed his plans for the room.

'I will buy wallpaper from Chatuchak market, and paper the last wall in bright colours instead,' he said.

That will leave us with three walls which have been painted in a purple cherry colour, and a fourth wall in an as yet-unseen brightly-coloured wallpaper...but I said nothing.

The important thing is to get the work done.

The weekend came and went, and with it the opportunity to buy wallpaper at Chatuchak Weekend Market. Maiyuu spent most of that time at work, making clothes.

Finally, the news I had been dreading arrived.

I reminded Maiyuu that Ian would pay us a visit next week, then asked if he would have the last wall wallpapered in time.

'No. I won't get it done on time. However, I'll make the place look tidier than it is now.'

So, my cunning plan to pressure Maiyuu to get the last wall done has failed. He has let my deadline slip. Yesterday he spent most of the day sleeping, though he did cut my hair, and cook roti Indian bread while I was seeing friends at Mum's shop.

The day was not a complete loss, but the fourth wall is nowhere closer to getting done. We haven't even bought the wallpaper yet. And what about all those cans of purple paint which sit in the bathroom? We might have to give them away.

Maiyuu does not mind cooking in a place which is still in the midst of being redecorated....and he hopes that the two farang who sit down a week from now to enjoy his meal won't mind either.

Time to roll out cunning plan number two. Ian, how are you with a paint brush?

Songkran, new and old (part 2, final)

This year, I notice, many teens are wearing full-length cotton pyjama pants and shirts. Songkran revellers like to wear Hawaii shirts, or other bright colours.

Pyjamas also tend to be brightly coloured, so maybe that's why they wear them. Another reason might be that they don't want their good clothes to get ruined, so they wear PJs instead.

Plastic gu*ns which kids use to squirt water at each other have shrunk in size. In previous years, kids carried wea*pons which looked like machine gu*ns. This year, most kids have small hand-held pist*ol, powered by water packs which they carry on their back.

This year, a family close to my condo has set up a pit stop rather than travelling around on a motorbike to throw water.

They run a small shop next to a railway station kiosk where I buy beer.

Four or five children under 10 stand in wait for people like me. When I walked past today, one child squirted water at me, before his sister told him off. 'The farang is not playing!' she said.

I bought my beer, and went straight home. No need to tempt fate.

The Ministry of Culture is running advertisements about Songkran on television. One shows foreign and Thai revellers swapping Songkran gear.

The foreigners give the Thais their plastic water gu*ns, and the Thais give the foreigners their small water conches, which under the Songkran tradition, Thais use to pour water over their elders' hands.

In return, elders give young ones a New Year's blessing, as the Songkran festival also ushers in the Thai New Year.

The ads suggest that foreigners are responsible for sullying a fine Thai tradition, by introducing plastic gu*ns to the Songkan festival.

Although some foreign tourists do come here during Songkran, specifically to join the water fights, I doubt they introduced the practice.

In any event, Thais embrace water fights wholeheartedly themselves. They don't need foreigners' help.

At work, on the night before Songkran, I watched as young Thai woman took a small watering can and asked if she could sprinkle water on the hands of her more senior colleagues.

She was about to finish work for the night, and wanted to bathe their hands as a sign of respect before taking off for the holiday.

These are people with whom she works every day, and are not much older than she is herself. My colleague looked embarrassed, but did it nonetheless. It took just a few seconds, and was sweet to watch.

Those on whose hands she sprinkled water, flicked the water back on to her in a friendly fashion.

I don't know how many Thais still bother with this tradition.

I chatted to the manager of my condo before the festival began. She was spending Songkran with her brothers and sisters in Rayong. They would visit their father, and take him out to make merit.

'We will sprinkle water on his hands, and he will say, ''Happy New Year!''

'We will take Dad out to give food to the monks in the morning. Old people need to make as much merit as they can before they die, but often cannot get out to do it themselves, so rely on their children's help.'

In a brief story on the first day of Songkran, the Manager newspaper visited an old person's home in Bangkok. The atmosphere was quiet, it said. Elderly residents were going about their day as usual.

If they were lucky, some would get a visit from family over the holiday - if they were not too busy throwing water at each other on the street instead.

However, most had not heard from their children in some time, and expected this weekend would be no different.

Songkran, new and old (part 1)

Teenagers tear up and down the streets in the Thai market where I live on their motorbikes. I can see them from my condo balcony. I can also hear them revving their engines.

They make an angry buzzing sound. When the sound of many, many motorbikes revving their engines is combined, they are like menacing hornets.

Whole families can squeeze onto one motorbike, while managing to spray water at people at the same time.

Welcome to the Songkran festival! This is the day three, the last day when streets are given over to teenagers to do almost whatever they please. Tomorrow, life returns to normal.

Most revellers probably get about on those noisy motorbikes. Others station themselves on street corners, like pit stop machanics on a motor racing track.

These are the Songkran revellers who do not have wheels. They include children too young to ride motorcycles - though no one is really too young in Thailand, as I see under-age drivers, in their early teens or younger, driving motorbikes almost daily.

Teens stationed on the street, usually close to home, lug out large tubs of water, which they use to recharge their plastic guns or plastic water basins.

They dip them in the tub, fill them, then throw the water at people.

They step out onto the street, to block the oncoming traffic, which comprises mainly Songkran revellers on motorbikes, or trucks.

I do not see much 'ordinary' traffic plying the streets of the market where I live. Many Thais go to the provinces during Songkran. Sensible ones who are stuck in Bangkok stay indoors.

The street which I can see from my condo is covered in water, even though it has not been raining.

When kids walk out from their pit stop onto the centre of the road, teens on motorbikes stop.

Revellers plaster their faces with a wet powder substance, then tip water over their head.

Sensible ones use the water which kids tip on them, to rub the power off their faces at the same time.

The most popular mode of travel for Songkran revellers is probably to pile on the back of a Toyota 'pick up' truck.

Yesterday I counted 15 teens on the back of one open-deck truck. They had hauled their water tub up there too.

Even though they are probably the most powerful vehicles on the road during Songkran, they too, have to stop if the street-corner kids walk out into their path.

Once they have been splashed - and they splash the kids on the street in turn - they can move on.

Sitting at Mum's shop in Thon Buri last night, I watched dozens of sodden, bedraggled souls wander back from Khao San Rd, a popular spot for throwing water during Songkran.

Some dropped into Mum's shop to stock up on cigarettes, which they keep in waterproof bags.

This gave me the chance to catch up on the latest Songkran fashions.

now, see part 2

Just too cute

A young Thai guy is confused. Twice recently, he has passed a Thai teen male, who uttered the word, 'Cute!'

It sounds like a tease, but is intended as a compliment. 'When I turned around, the young guy was smiling at me,' says the Thai, who calls himself Dominamia. He left his story at the Pantip webboard.

'Nothing about the guy's appearance suggested he was gay.'

The young man who complimented him on his appearance was 19-20. He was walking in Bon Kai in Bangkok when they crossed paths.

A couple of days later, the same thing happened again. At Suan Lumpini Night Bazaar, he walked past a couple of teens seated on a bench. The moment he passed them, he heard the same word: 'Cute!'

'I turned around to identify the source of the sound, to see if they were referring to me. Sure enough, the same thing had happened again.

'No woman has ever complimented me on my appearance like that,' says Dominamia, who describes his looks as average.

'If a woman had said that to me, I'd be pleased...I might smile in return, or thank her. But to have guys say it...I wasn't sure how to respond, and feel confused.'

He asks what he should do if it happens a third time. 'If I turn around and smile, would they jump on me and drag me away?'

A couple of readers who left messages in response said similar things had happened to them. 'I live in a dorm. A pack of kathoey who pass me on the work say that to me every day.'

From other readers:

'Don't let yourself become gay!'

'Are you wearing clothes or a bag which take the fancy of gays?'

'You probably suit the specs of the gay set. Are you wearing tight-fitting clothes? Too much make-up?'

'Cute!'

Comparing boyfriend notes

A foreigner colleague invited me out for a drink.

Farang S is gay. We rarely see each other at work, and in fact had not spoken in years before his invitation. He asked me out for gay solidarity and bonding.

We are both in long-standing relationships with Thai boyfriends. He hasn't met mine, but I have met his.

'So, how did you meet him ... in a gay bar or disco?' he asked.

Presumptuous!

'Neither,' I said.

Farang S, who fancies he knows most things about Thailand, looked surprised.

Not all Thai boyfriends come from bars, or were raised in the poor Northeast. Not all migrate to Bangkok in search of work, or sell their bodies to make ends meet.

I didn't pick up boyfriend Maiyuu at a nightspot, but met him through a friend. He comes from a seaside province close to Bangkok.

Maiyuu left school early when his parents died, but is clever in other ways, even if he does not shine academically. I am proud of him, and was peeved to be asked that question.

'We met in a lunchtime restaurant a few months after I moved to Bangkok. The eatery was in the hostel where I stayed.

'I told the owner about my life. He suggested Maiyu move in with me to be my friend, as I was living alone and felt homesick.'

If I was unkind, I would have jumped in and asked farang S the same question about the love of his life.

'So, which a-go go bar did you meet your boyfriend in?'

But I didn't, because I am made of better stuff. The real story of people's lives is usually more complicated.

Even relationships which start in a gay bar can develop and prosper. I didn't like the implication, that I met Maiyuu on a tacky sweep of Bangkok gay nightspots, and that the boyfriend, poor and stupid, latched himself on to me because he needed the money.

Do I think too much? Possibly.

That's how many relationships between foreign tourists and Thais start. But to be courteous, I think we should give people the benefit of the doubt.

How many relationships which begin in a gay disco or bar last the distance? Not many. It reflects poorly on the Thai and foreigner alike if we assume that they all have to start there, even if many of them do.

The foreigner's know-it-all veneer conceals a weary cynicism and underlying disappointment with his life in Thailand.

Maybe he was having a bad day with his own boyfriend, which soured his mood. If his Thai boyfriend upset him, then they must all be no good, right?

I felt sorry for farang S. Next time, he'll have to pour out his misery to someone else, because I am not interested.

Jiving with granny

The Chinese grandmother who lives next door woke me up at 7.30am. She took one of her daughter-in-law's new brood into the hallway of the condo. It started to cry.

Both of her daughters-in-law now have children. The Chinese father is rarely around. I am plotting what terrible things I can do to them today to get back at granny for waking me up.

1. In the spirit of the Songkran water-throwing festival, I could tip a bucket of water over the shoes outside their room - except that could keep them in all day, and I don't want that.

2. I could beat on their door, while the children are asleep. That will make them rattier still, and could backfire on me early tomorrow morning.

3. Complain to the office, except they are sick of hearing from me now.

4. Turn up my stereo, and risk annoying my other neighbours - the decent ones, who keep their noise levels down.

As I write this, granny and the child's mother are sitting huddled inside their room. I know, because I took a peek in the open door as I pretended to take the rubbish out. They look as if they know they woke up the angry farang, and are scared.

I stood at the door and glowered at granny, as she stood rocking the baby in the hall.

The other noisy child, who knows I hate them, tucked on granny's pants leg, to let her know I was staring.

Granny, who is tiny and skinny but with a voice as raspy as a chainsaw, wears Chinese peasant pants. Apart from raising children, she appears to have no life.

I have never seen her in the market. The furthest she gets is the condo carpark. What kind of existence is that?

She has no English, and no Thai. I can't communicate with the woman.

The hall, you silly old dear, echoes - you can't take the kid out there. You can do nothing sensible, but move out!

Gordon's bathroom treatment

No, not the BF...BTS Jin

I want to enter my Thai boyfriend in a reality show contest.

Our place needs cleaning, and since he is a fan of reality shows such as Hell's Kitchen, he should grasp the concept quickly.

The host of that show, London chef Gordon Ramsay, uses the F word with great abandon. When he swears, the young cooking charges in his kitchen take notice.

If he doesn't like what they have cooked, he is even prepared to close his restaurant, and send diners away with empty stomachs, rather than serve them food which is below-standard.

I can't swear at my boyfriend, of course, as he would get upset, then refuse to do anything at home. But in a fantasy world, I could call on Gordon to do it.

Today, I cleaned the bathroom floor, then mopped a small balcony attached to one room of our condo.

The outside temperature must have been close to 40 deg.

While I was getting hot and sweaty cleaning, my Thai boyfriend was - what - helping with the ironing? Painting?

No. He was sitting in the other room, looking for details of Madonna's latest album on the internet.

Our bathroom floor is laid with wooden slatted grills. You see their likes in saunas. I lifted each one, cleaned it, then put it on the balcony to dry. Then I scrubbed the floor itself, followed by the walls.

The cleaning momentum stalled when I realised that we had run out of wall cleanser. I went down to the market to buy it, the first of three or four trips into the market which I made on errands today, while the boyfriend sat ensconced in the condo.

When the bathroom was done, I started on the balcony. I gathered up some potted plants which died long ago, and which the boyfriend has promised to remove but never has, and threw them in the rubbish.

Then I scrubbed the tiled floor surface of the balcony with a brush and rag until it was clean.

This cleaning activity took some time, but the boyfriend, unperturbed, carried on looking for Madonna songs.

As I took the pot plants out to the rubbish in the hall, I passed Maiyuu sitting in front of his computer.

'Now that you have done that job, don't complain that I didn't help you,' he said. 'I have offered to do it, but you don't listen.'

He does offer - he just never does it. Sometimes this impatient farang gets tired of waiting.

Later, as I wandered down to the bank on another errand, to withdraw money for our joint living expenses, I had a daydream where two contestants who look astonishingly like Maiyuu and I were taking part in a reality show contest.

The host's name is Gordon. He's a professional chef who takes little nonsense from anyone. The contestants are Mr Farang, and Mr Thai.

Gordon: So, here we are, then. Today, in a new twist to the show, I'm getting my young charges to clean the bathrooms of my restaurant.

Mr Farang, here's your scrubbing brush, plastic bucket, and cleaning solution. Today, you're doing the bathroom with Mr Thai.

Farang: Cheers, Gordon.

Thai: What's a scrubbing brush, plastic bucket, and cleaning solution? How do I use them?

Gordon: What the f**ck do you mean, you don't know how to use them? Do you really expect this farang to do the whole job himself? Get in there and do some work!

(Gordon shoves the Thai contestant inside bathroom. The Thai goes into a sulk.)

Half an hour later, Gordon returns to inspect what they have done.

Gordon: This is the worst example of a f**cking cleaning job I have ever seen! The challenge is over, but the work is only half done. Did anyone show any initiative?

Mr Farang: Well, Mr Thai used the brush to scrub his nails. He didn't have any thinner, so he used the cleaning solution to take off his nail polish instead.

As for the bucket, he used that to sit on while I scrubbed the floor. So, he did show some initiative, yes.

Gordon: What are you, his f**cking cheerleader or something! That's no excuse!

Mr Thai: Don't grumble to me if the bathroom isn't clean. I wasn't ready to do it yet, and Mr Farang was happy to step in and clean it alone. He just failed to finish it on time...

Gordon: So, it's really his fault?

(Mr Thai checks his nails, and says nothing.)

Gordon: Well, that's f**cking brilliant, but what about my bathroom? The guests are arriving in a few minutes. I don't want to have to tell them to f**ck off because my cleaners haven't finished the bathroom yet. Close the place down!

View from a Bangkok condo

Can I help you take a wash?

'Quick - I hear the guy below taking a shower. Go over to the window and look.'

Our Bangkok condo looks down on a bunch of tin-roofed houses. A young man who lives in one of the houses with his family is a favaourite of ours, especially when he takes an outside shower.

We can see him from our condo window. Sometimes I am standing there with the boyfriend, innocently admiring the sunset, when he tells me to step back, as the more serious business of man watching has called him outside.

'You're too close...he'll see,' Maiyuu tells me, and I know he has detected the young man is outside having a shower again.

The young man keeps his shorts on, so as not to offend the neighbours. The houses down there face each other, or are built close together.

He showers in a common area with a tin roof. Young men park their motorcycles there and sometimes party in the same place.

The young man lathers himself with soap, then uses a hand-held plastic water holder to tip water over his body. He scoops up the water from a large black tub.

I haven't seen him around for a while, and thought he had moved out, so was surprised to have Maiyuu tell me earnestly to get up and take a look. 

As for Maiyuu, he stayed where he was in front of the TV. I went to the window as instructed, as the boyfriend was too lazy to get up himself. Below, I saw not a handsome young guy in his 20s, but a man in his 70s.

His body was stooped over. Wearing a sarong, he was standing in the same spot taking a public shower.

My boyfriend's finely attuned hearing picked up the sound of water splashing. I couldn't hear it myself.

'It's just an old man!' I said.

'I know - I was pulling your leg,' he said. 'The young guy has gone.'

Salad days

Another day starts for my Thai partner: he wakes up, and turns on the television.

He might do something more with his day than just watch the tube. Often, he likes to cook. For the last couple of days, he has made salad.

He cuts up ham into strips, and fries it.

Sometimes he makes spring rolls, then chops them up, and adds them to the hydroponic lettuce. He asks me to buy nuts from the 7-11 convenience store, which he sprinkles on top to round it off.

Maiyuu also enjoys making the dressing, using a combination of vinegar and red wine.

I would like to provide more detail, but when I quizzed Maiyuu about what he puts in his salad, for the purpose of writing this blog post, he told me it was a trade secret.

'You'll have to buy my recipe,' he said.

If he gets bored with salad, he can try other things. He has made beef curry a few times this week. And for the last two nights, he experimented making instant chocolate cake.

Both attempts at making the cake have failed, as precise measurements are needed.

Sometimes, at the last minute, he throws in a little extra butter, oil, or whatever, as he likes to improvise.

Some recipes don't like an improvising chef, so the result is not always a success. The other night, the chocolate caught fire in the microwave. The cake came out as hard as a rock.

When he gets tired of cooking, he falls back on those trusty Thai standbys: watching television, and sleep.

Maiyuu does not go out much at night any more. He rarely takes telephone calls from friends. The other afternoon, his friend Duck from downstairs knocked on the door.

Maiyuu took a look through the peephole at who was outside, and decided not to answer.

He has also declared that this year he probably won't join the Songkran water-throwing festivities, as he would rather spend his time at home with me. Normally, he goes out with Duck and his friends.

I don't know know what has turned my boyfriend into such a home-dweller.

He is wearing his hair long at the back. It is so long, it is curling around his neck. I have urged him not to cut his hair, as I like stroking it.

Maiyuu has resisted the urge to cut it, even though it is getting so long it is annoying him.

Maybe that's it: my boyfriend has become a semi-recluse because I have asked him to wear a fem hair cut.