Boxer boys on the river (alternate take)

Four young men were sitting on the steps outside my friend Chai's place, playing guitar.

When Chai opened the door to greet me, he invited the boys inside too.

His home was heavy on woodwork features, and decorated by indoor plants and soft lighting.

When he bought the place it was a run-down riverside slum home like all the rest.

However, in a few short months after he bought it, Chai - previously married, but now alone - managed to transform the house into a glimmering jewel.

I had not taken Chai for gay, but given his keen eye for interior design, maybe I was wrong.

'So what do you think?' he asked me, guiding my arm from room to room, as we looked out over the glittering lights in the Chao Phraya river.

He stood so close to me, he appeared to be hovering over my body.

'Lovely. You have done a terrific job.'

I do not fancy Chai, so kept my distance.

I had met Chai, a travel agent aged in his 40s, at Mum's place a few weeks before.

'I live in a rented house on the banks of the Chao Phraya. Why don't you come and take a look?' he suggested.

His waterfront place was in the middle of a slum community, easier to get to by boat than on foot.

I went by foot, setting off in mid-evening. It took me 20 minutes to find it, as I made my way through small alleyways in the direction of the river. His neighbours pointed the way.

At the river's edge, I picked my way past ramshackle homes on stilts. It was a relief to finally find the place, as it was so dark I could barely see.

Once we had finished our tour of the inside of his place, Chai suggested we move to a wooden table on his private wharf, where we opened a bottle of whisky.

The young men from the slum nearby sat with us, singing folk tunes, as the illuminated cables of Pram Ram 8 bridge shimmered in the distance.

'I want your help to write a tourist magazine, which I will give away to visitors on Khao San Rd,' he said.

Perhaps this was the real reason for the invitation?

'If you help me, I will do good things for you. I know many important people,' he boasted.

I looked at him sternly. So Chai fancies himself as an operator.

His talk of performing favours and exploiting connections put me off.

Is this the way he does business? If he was really any good, I thought, he wouldn't need to pull strings to get his way.

I turned my attention to the young men sitting around the table. While Chai fussed over me attentively, he seemed to care much less for his other guests.

They were forced to drink out of the same glass, as Chai couldn't be bothered fetching them separate ones.

They were simple, easy-going lads who loved their sport, beer and music. 'We've been here several times before,' one lad told me. 'Chai likes to invite us in at night.'

Another young man, sparsely clad in boxer shorts and a football jersey, said he enjoyed western tunes, and asked me to strum a couple on his guitar. I could feel his eyes lingering on me as I sang.

'I think he likes you,' said Chai approvingly.

When our drinks ran out, I decided it was time to bed. I thanked my host, and picked my way out of the slum.

I saw him again at Mum's place, but turned down further invitations to visit his home.

Months later, Chai was to leave his airy riverside house for a seasonal job on the resort islands.

He leased his painstakingly refurbished home to foreigners he met through his travel agency.

His job on the islands, taking tourists on nature treks and scuba-diving tours, lasted longer than he thought.

When he returned almost two years later, Chai looked so fat, plump and brown that I barely recognised him.

'It's a good life down there...plenty of sun and sea,' he said.

However, he had bad news to share, he told me, as we sat over a beer at Mum's shop.

His foreigner tenants stayed 18 months at his place, and managed to ruin it.

When Chai returned, he found his plants dead, his furniture broken. They holed the walls, and pulled up planks from the floor. He decided to sell rather than attempt to do it up again.

'I just don't have the heart to carry on,' he said sadly.

Chai was always rather drawn to foreigners, and through his job in tourism met many of them.

I wonder if the appeal of the mighty farang has worn off since a group of them laid waste to his beautiful home.