Salmon concession, paean to nerds, incompetent taxi, champion of journalists

Maiyuu is making a salmon dish (above).

He asked if he could listen to some ghastly teen-style pop on the stereo while he works.

I can hardly begrudge him, if the salmon ends up tastier as a result.

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I ventured into the tourist area for a quick beer with farang C, my neighbour.

As we drank, my eye was taken by three young French men at a table nearby. One guy was moderately well-built, with sensitive eyes and wavy hair.

‘I fancy the one in blue with glasses,’ I told farang C, who is straight, but likes to check out the men who take my fancy.

‘You like nerdy types,’ he remarked, as the three youngsters left.

‘It is good to see the faces of strangers occasionally, even foreigners,’ I remarked.

‘You’re such a social recluse that you rarely see anyone any more except for people at work,’ said farang C.

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On my way home, the taxi lost his way.

This happens so often to me it is barely worth commenting on any more. I live in the centre of town, where most tourists also gather; yet in most cases, the taxis will not know where they are going.

Taxis, in fact, are one of the reasons I seldom go out. I don’t like being dependent on their services.

I could have walked, and with a little fumbling, found my way home. But it was raining, and by the time I left farang C, I was tired.

The taxi took a right when he should have kept going. ‘What is it with you Thai taxi drivers – why can’t you find even the simplest of things?’ I snapped.

‘I don’t know these side streets, but I do know the main roads,’ replied the driver, aged in his 60s.

A Thai song from the 30s was playing on his radio.

Normally I like those old songs, but when he took his wrong turn the mood changed instantly. It sounded like caterwauling, and I almost told him to turn it off.

‘I just gave you directions for a main road, but you can’t find it,’ I said, talking over the radio noise.

A moment later, he took a second wrong turn.

‘You’re a disgrace. You shouldn’t be driving if you can’t find your way around,’ I said.

I told him to take the easy back route. I left his taxi at a 7-11 at the back of our place, and walked across the slum to get home.

I didn’t mind the walk; it was better than spending another moment in the company of a taxi driver who was too incompetent to be on the road.

The taxi driver we took to go out also needed help, as he, too, had no idea where to go.

‘Just keep going straight ahead,’ said farang C wearily.

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Maiyuu is showing a young woman friend how to bake cookies.

He spent most of the day at her place yesterday.

I can’t recall how she came to sample his cookies, but she liked them, and offered to pay him for the instruction.

She also wants to pay him to bake cakes.

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Hong Kong blogger Joyce Hor-Chung asks why I link to her blog.

In a post, she linked back to Bangkok of the Mind, after I added her, unheralded, to my blog roll a few weeks ago:

'Here's another linkback -- or whatever kids are calling it these days -- to a site that links to Joyceyland, and that has contributed a good number of hits.

'Bangkok of the Mind is written by a farang (that would be Thai for
gweilo) and his local boyfriend.

'It's decked out with G-rated glossy pix of cute boys in their underwear, and is about daily life, food, cooking, Thai celebrities, etc.

'The great thing about personal blogs is that they give you a fly-on-the-wall look of lives you would never lead yourself.'

She adds: ‘God knows what those Bangkok boys see in Joyceyland.’

Joyce is a journalist for the International Herald Tribune. Why did I add her?

I like print journalists.

Like Joyce, most take a no-nonsense approach to writing.

She understands that less is more – once they have answered the five W's (who, what, where, when and why), is there anything left to say?