Second thoughts

Does anyone remember the Joni Mitchell song, Big Yellow Taxi?

Don’t it always seem to go
That you don't know what you’ve got
‘Til it's gone
-
'You live in a lively place. You are lucky,' said farang C, who visited me at my condo on the Thon Buri side of town for the first time yesterday, after he showed me his place in the inner city last week.

Boyfriend Maiyuu and I have set our hearts on renting a place at farang C's condo, or perhaps one close by.

After seeing farang C's place, I invited him to visit us at our condo, so he would get an idea about how we lived, out in the sticks as it were. It is the first time I have invited a farang friend here since loyal reader Ian came for a meal in April.

I took farang C to my condo, where he met Maiyuu.

He took a look out our ninth-floor window. Below is a slum sitting next to a railway line. Still, I guess the skyline looks good.

From our place, we can see a large stupa, which belongs to a temple; a private university, and a large private hospital.

Maiyuu greeted farang C, but otherwise said little and tried to stay out of sight. Maybe he was not in the mood for socialising.

Outside, it was raining.

'Here, let me help,' offered Maiyuu.

'Stand still,' he said, as he squeezed a bright orange poncho over farang C's head. He also gave us an umbrella.

'There!' he said, laughing.

'Thank you,' said farang C, impressed with Maiyuu's hospitality.

I took farang C to an eatery on the banks of the local canal.

We walked past youngsters playing basketball, and another playing area where local women were stretching and working out.

A gay man was perched on a box, leading a class in aerobics. 'He looks like he is in his element,' said C.

The eatery, which has open sides, is beside a pier. When we arrived, local teens were jumping off the pier into the canal.

They promptly asked us for B20 each, which we gave them.

One boy missed out. I told him to ask his friends to divvy up the money we had just given, as I had no more B20 notes to give.

'They won't share with me,' he said, looking dejected.

When long-tailed boats approached, most boys would clear out of the way, though a hardy few tried to grab the sides of the boat to scare the passengers, mainly foreign tourists.

The young man who wanted money popped his head in the window, and asked for money again.

'Do you have any B20 notes?' I asked farang C, as I had run out.

He gave the boy B35 in change, which he passed through the open side of the eatery.

Seeing him with money, the boy's friends swarmed around.

Wisely, the young man refused to split up the money, just as his friends had refused to share with him. He thanked farang C with a big wai .

Inside the eatery, a Thai man in his 50s was eating alone.

'Very good,' he said in English to no one in particular, referring to the dishes he ordered.

'I come to this pier every day, sometimes several times a day, because I grew up by the sea, and love the water,' I told farang C earnestly.

'I am the same...I love the water, and miss it where I live. You are lucky to have this eatery, and the canal,' he replied.

As the rainy skies cleared and the sun began to set, the last few long-tailed boats of the day went by, followed by a large passenger boat.

'I have never been to this eatery with the boyfriend, because he seldom ventures outside. I love this market, but Maiyuu barely makes use of it,' I said.

'One thing I enjoy is being able to show friends around. Almost every little shop here has a piece of history.'

'Is you boyfriend depressed? Why does he keep himself shut away all day?' farang C asked innocently. He is still getting to know us and our strange ways.

After finishing at the eatery, I took farang C on a brief tour of the market, past the local secondary school, and into the 7-11 where Mr Friendly works.

He was on duty, and looked nervous to see two large farang in his shop.

Hustling farang c out of the shop, I took him back to the condo, cutting back along the railway line.

'Would you like to visit Mum's shop in Thon Buri?'I asked.

The hour was late, but we hopped in a taxi. It took us past half a dozen massage joints and seedy nightclubs on a dimly-lit stretch of road.

'I didn't realise you had so many knock shops out here,' said C approvingly.

The market where I live is home to two barn-like massage dens, with gaudy neon signs on top. In the neighbourhood around our place, there are many more.

'I would never have to leave the market, if I had a home here,' said farang C. 'You want to swap condos? You can move into mine, and I'll live here,' he said.

He was joking, of course. But after introducing this market to my friend, I was reminded again about how much I enjoy living in an old Thai market, and how much I will miss it if we move.