Discount shopper, visitor to paradise, Campari queen

The old Carrefour, now Big C on Rama 4

I love shopping at the Carrefour hypermarket on Pra Ram 4, because it is spacious and smart.

I am sure that's what all low-income people say, but I don't care. It really is big.

The boyfriend and I visited Carrefour and the Tesco Lotus store opposite last weekend, and again today. Years have passed since we were last there.

‘We came here for lunch one day, while you were still living at the YWCA nine years ago,’ Maiyuu told me.

The prices in the supermarket, hardware and clothing sections were absurdly cheap.

We priced a handful of grocery items. Most were B20 cheaper than where we normally shop, at our local Tops supermarket, or in Silom.

The complex is close to the Klong Toey slum district. After touring the supermarket at Carrefour, Maiyuu took me for a walk down Sukhumvit soi 24, towards the Emporium department store, for a look at how the other half lives.

The Emporium

This is a plush part of town. The sidewalks are lined with paving-stones. We passed boutique massage joints, restaurants and interior design shops. Condos compete for space on the skyline.

At the Emporium, Maiyuu took me to the supermarket on the upper floors. The place is smart, but starved for space. It reminded of the cramped suburban mall next my old condo in Thon Buri.

Both places are owned by the same outfit, the Mall Group. They can afford to spend a little more on space, I reckon.

Not all foreigners feel compelled to spend big money buying their groceries at the Emporium. Some serfs like me would just as rather slum it at Tesco Lotus and Carrefour – not just because the prices are lower, but because we have more space to move.

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For our next adventure this afternoon, Maiyuu and I will take a walk to a fresh market which opens twice a week, close to our home.

Today is market day, Maiyuu tells me. Last time we were there, I bought a bag of large tomatoes for just 15 baht. How cheap is that?

A quick pink gin or two

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Mr Pink Gins and I are now acquainted. I met him at his condo last night for – that’s right, pink gins.

A judge friend from overseas was staying. The three of us sat around his dining table and swapped Thai guy tales.

The night before, I walked home from work through fierce rain. My jogging shoes were soaked by the time I walked in the door. They are only a few months old, but now smell like rotting flesh.

After visiting PG, I was to go to work. I took the same sodden pair of shoes in a bag with me, just in case I was rained on again.

In the opulent stained-wood surrounds of PG’s gin palace, I felt self-conscious. Would he be able to smell my disgusting shoes? They would not go down well with our fine cheeses and dried apricots, I thought.

I left them by the door. PG was too polite to say anything, even if he noticed. Nor did his charming Australian (they do have them) guest complain.

Actually, I suspect we were all too pickled on pink gins – Bombay Sapphire, Campari, and soda.

Well, I think it was Campari. I was too merry to notice.