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.