Ties of friendship (1)

When I first moved to my condo on the Thon Buri side of Bangkok, I found we were not alone.

Maiyuu moved there to be close to a group of his friends from school.

They lived on the floor above, but our place was almost an extension of theirs, so much so that his friends would often enter without knocking.

If I wanted to dress or walk out of the bathroom naked, Maiyuu would shoo them out, or ask them to avert their gaze.

If they were making too much noise, occasionally I would retire to the other room. Maiyuu would pay me guilty visits. 'Are you alright?' he would ask.

Those days are now gone. Maiyuu's friends who once lives upstairs have now moved out, or dispersed elsewhere in the condo.

One girl became pregnant, and now lives elsewhere in Bangkok. One lad was involved in a traffic accident, and has now moved back to the provinces, to live with his mother.

More importantly, Maiyuu and I have now changed. Compared to the heady social days of the past, Maiyuu seldom bothers to see his friends. He would rather spend time with me.

We unplug the phone, turn off the lights and watch television together, content in each other's company, and too lazy to mix with outsiders. We have become the Odd Couple.

He's a nostalgic look back at the Ghost Room, as we called it - once home to five or six of Maiyuu's friends, in a grotty corner of the 10th floor.

_
Some people leave notes on fridges; we use a blackboard. It sits high up, on top of a cabinet where the TV and stereo live. It's no bigger than a hardback novel, and the message it bears rarely changes. It says: Ghost Room, 24 hours.

Sepia-toned pic of Thai friends from the past

The ghost room is a rented room one floor above ours. Five or six young people live there, when they are not with me. They are friends of my Thai boyfriend Maiyuu.

The Ghost Room is like an extension of our place, only one floor above. One of the regulars, in a self-mocking vein, coined the term Ghost Room because she reckons only people with faces like ghosts (ugly people) live there.

A gay boy who lives in the Ghost Room, called Moo, left the message on the blackboard for me, along with the internal extension number. 'That's in case you ever get lonely,' he said. 'Just call, whenever you like.'

The other day, alone and bored, I called the Ghost Room on the internal line. Ying, a long-haired beauty with a husky voice who also lives there, took the call.

She asked me if I had eaten yet (yes) and if I was lonely (yes). She was sitting upstairs with a few friends. Would I like company?

I was expecting a crowd, but in the end Ying came alone. She walked in, switched on the TV, and we started to talk. Ying is a beautiful creature, with big languid eyes, a small frame, and long legs.

Once, I brought a western woman friend back to the condo. She happened to see Ying in the lift, was stunned by her beauty.

Ying asked me why I am always at home. 'Don't you get bored and lonely?'

Of course. I live with a guy, but we lead separate lives. He is rarely at home when I am.

I have too much time to spend to myself - and I have a job, unlike Ying and her friends. So how do they keep themselves amused?

'Thais like to spend time with friends rather than being alone for too long,' she said. 'If you are alone, you end up thinking too much.'

now, see part 2