We've seen better days (part 3, final)

Street food in Talad Phlu market, or should that be track food?

Curiosity drove me out to the wilds of Pin Khlao, which I rarely visit, and Talad Phlu. 

Scouring Pin Khlao on Google Street View, as I have done previously, I realised how much of it seemed familiar, even the nooks and crannies far from Mum's shop. I must have made a hundred visits out there; so many it was really like a second home.

I didn't bother walking around on the day of my visit, as thanks to my digital foraging previously, I felt I had already seen it. Oh, there's the spot I once taught uni students; oh, over there is the spot I once hung around with insurance agents (of all things). The list of faltering memories never ends, and did any of it amount to anything?

As for the feeling that I am really making my farewells to my former life in Bangkok as I head towards retirement, in a more optimistic sense I could also regard these odd visits as new starts. I have neglected these places for years and am now showing interest in getting to know old friends again.

However, I doubt that's it. The relationships I am rekindling on my ocasional sorties to playgrounds past have no future, and having said that I can only hope retirement holds out better.

I will have to invest time and energy into getting to know people and places in Chon Buri, where we hope to settle eventually, just as I did once when I was new to the Thon Buri side, and spent so much time rattling about Talad Phlu and Pin Khlao.

In the intervening years during my absence, both have reshaped themselves, particularly Talad Phlu, parts of which I barely recognise any more. I am sure the soul of these places remains the same, but does mine?

We've seen better days (part 2)

Pin Khlao bridge

After chatting to Bom, I walked down to the river and watched tourists pile into a Chao Phraya River ferry boat.

From Pin Khlao I took a taxi to my next stop, Talad Phlu, the market where we lived before our move into town 13 years ago, and where I still have a few friends. That took another 20min and cost 100 baht.

The driver, aged in his 60s, was one of those crafty, silent ones who engages in cursory conversation but turns a deaf ear to anything he doesn't want to hear.

As we were heading to the market I saw the turnoff to Pran Nok Road, the quick way back which I would take to get home in years past. However, I failed to alert him in time.

I am sure he would have refused anyway, as it's cheaper than the long way back via Thoet Thai Road, at the rear of the market, which his scheming type will always take if given a choice.

I spent the next few hours at the market, with a former masseur friend who now sells fried food out the front of her shop with her sister-in-law.

We watched TV and sat about as customers dribbled past. It was a fun way to spend an idle afternoon.

Talad Phlu itself is lively, especially in the evening when office workers and students come out for a bite. The market is full of streetside food places, and even some franchise eateries. Several jostle for space under overhead bridges where traffic does a U-turn before heading back into town.

The shops along the main road look modern, not out of keeping with a stroll through Silom or Siam. And of course Talad Phlu now has its own skytrain link, which it did not have in my day.

But some parts of the market have barely improved: the canal, which long-tailed tourist boats still ply, is the market's teen zone. I sat next to a basketball court under an overhead bridge.

On one side is an old wooden restaurant perched over the canal bank. Many years ago I had a meal there with my ruthless young friend Kew, who fended off a hostile diner wielding a paper-cutter.

The eatery, and concrete structure

A small wooden pier used to sit on this side of the bridge, but it is now gone. Another one sits on the other side of the bridge.

A glimpse inside the eatery

It serves diners who arrive by boat for a meal at a Thai restaurant on that side.  A bunch of school kids had gathered there but I could see few adults around.

A strange concrete structure like a pillbox still sits on my side. I suspect it was built there for the old pier, now gone.

Teens have defaced it with graffiti. While I was there, one lad in school uniform greeted me. A secondary school is about 50m down the way. He clambered on top to smoke a cigarette and call out to his friends on the other side of the bridge.

"Hey, bring over the bag of glue!" he shouted to his mates. They ignored him, so he climbed down again, muttering to himself.

On a previous trip to Talad Phlu, I took the skytrain and walked from the station on Ratchapruek Road.

The Ratchadapisek Rd entrance, and First One market

On my left, I noticed someone had bowled a block of old houses close to my old apartment on Ratchadaphisek Road, just before the overpass at the entrance of the township.

In its place is the First One night market with an enormous concreted car park area, and barely a shrub or tree in sight. It sits almost empty during the day, as its name suggests, and reminds me of a dusty cattleyard.

Signs of progress, perhaps, though I could think of sweeter, more intimate spots to visit at night.

The trip from Talad Phlu back into town on the 205-route bus cost less than 20 baht and took another half an hour. I left before peak hour traffic set in. And yes, dear reader, I have taken a motorsai, subway and skytrain out there as an alternative means of transport, but it takes just as long. 

now, see here

We've seen better days (part 1)

Down by the pier in Pin Khlao

A trip to my old drinking haunt in Pin Khlao, my first in 11 years, was a little sad.

Mum's shop as I knew it looks just as it did in the updated Google street view pics I posted here about six months ago, only more rundown, if that's possible. Out of deference to fonder memories of times past, I did not take any new pics. Too depressing; locals would wonder why I bothered.

I appear to be bidding farewell to my Bangkok life, perhaps in anticipation of retiring to the provinces, which we hope to do when I come of age in the next three years or so. But I know the move won't be that tidy; nothing ever is.

I took a motorcycle taxi from our place in Yannawa, which cost 160 baht and took 20 minutes.

I went to Mum's little shop in Pin Khlao, at the turnoff to Wat Daowadueng, as I wanted to see what had happened to it since I saw it last.

I did not expect to meet Mum, as the last time we spoke many years ago, she had parted ways with her husband. She ran a food card in the area, and he was running their shop during the day.

Now Mum's shop itself, as I knew it, only opens now at night. When I dropped by, it was closed.

I chatted to a couple of staff from the eatery next door to Mum's old shop, which Mum and her husband also once owned, in fact, but which presumably is now in someone else's hands.

I remember Bom, one of the staff there, from my old days in Pin Khlao. He brought me up to date with Mum's news.

Mum herself has moved back to Kalasin, and her husband now works in the Phra Ram 8 area along with their son, he said.

Mum's shop, where I spent many hours at the peak of my nighttime frolics in Thon Buri some 15 years ago, was shuttered, with no signs of life. It is run in the evenings by Mum's younger sister, who in this blog I called Isra.

Isra, at the shop (LINE)

Back in those days she was going out with a foreigner, a young painter from the north of England whom I knew and called in this blog farang J. 

He visited Thailand every few months when he would spent a few weeks with Isra's family in Kalasin and the rest of his time in Pin Khlao (for a selection of our tales together, see here, here, here and here).

Mum and her husband, a former army man, settled in Bangkok years before to run the shop and raise their son, whom I once taught English but has now left school.

Isra helped them run the shop when they were still together, and occasionally, during school breaks, bring her kids with her to Bangkok (her son has since left us, sadly: see here).

Today, she is still there, Mum and her husband having moved on to other things. However, farang J is out of the picture, and Isra, once so keen on foreigners, is now seeing a Thai.

"She and her partner sell food, though the place only opens after 5.30pm," Bom said.

I left my phone number with Bom. He offered to pass it on to Isra, whom I did not get a chance to meet as I had come too early in the day.

Isra and I chatted on Line later that night, and I have since found her on FB, along with the shop itself, which now has a name (เคาร์เตอร์บาร์ ปิ่นเกล้า), and admittedly looks better after dark:

New look for Mum's shop (FB)

now, see here

Forget the river trip, have a banana cupcake instead

Maiyuu's banana cupcakes

As the rain belted down this afternoon, Maiyuu occupied himself by baking a batch of banana cupcakes.

Just a couple of hours before, I was thinking of taking a day trip on a ferry down the river. I am pleased I let Maiyuu talk me out of that.

I am not really a go-places type. Neither of us are; we’d rather muck around at home.

At his request, I test-tasted one cupcake, breaking a self-imposed fast which I observe every day from lunch until 6pm.

I have not stopped eating particular types of food – I just don’t eat for six hours a day. Or if I must eat during those hours, I steal a tiny bit – mainly just fruit.

So far it appears to have made no difference at all to my weight, but I don’t care. I feel virtuous, so it’s good for my state of mind, if not for my stomach line.

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Maiyuu spent most of yesterday in town, looking for baking ingredients. He visited Sampeng market, and a supermarket which stocks imported ingredients for baking.

Later, he asked me to look up corn syrup and glucose syrup on the internet, to see how they differ.

Contrary to what I posted here earlier (this is amended text), he is able to find corn syrup and glucose syrup in town, even though they are not common. However, citric acid was a trickier find. Pectin powder, a citrus-based stabilising agent used in jellies and jams, he couldn't find at all.

'Staff at a couple of places told me that Thais don’t use them, so they don’t bother keeping them in stock,’ said Maiyuu.

‘Most Thais don’t know what these things are.’

Self-healing computer

My computer is working again. Thank you to those readers who left messages or emailed with advice on how to fix it. In the end, it repaired itself. For two days, the VDU refused to display. However, last night it came back to life.

The screen lit up. A message also appeared, in which the computer told me that it had noticed I was having problems getting started. It told me to sit patiently while it repaired itself. That took another couple of minutes.

I like computers which repair themselves. Maiyuu had found a repairman who visits at home, and was on the verge of calling him. I asked Maiyuu to wait, and turned on the computer one last time, just to see what would happen.

My HP rewarded me for my patience by diagnosing and repairing itself. Maybe it was missing me.

Well done, my little HP. I’ll hang on to you for a while yet.

The farang nester: No, Thais don't need more houses

My computer has developed VDU problems.

This blog post, which I am writing on boyfriend Maiyuu’s machine, may look terse. I am having trouble getting used to his keyboard, the mad angle at which his VDU is tilted in relation to the desk…

I have taken some terrific pictures of dishes he has made over the past couple of days – including a Thai delicacy based on an old recipe which is virtually unique to the province where he was raised – but they will have to wait until my own computer is repaired.

Brief description? The VDU will not display. Occasionally it flashes small, alternating messages on the top left: ‘Analogue…Digital’…

It also tells me to check my signal cable, which of course I have done.

Last night I Googled the problem: ‘HP computer, VDU won’t display’…

I found instances of other HP computer owners reporting the same VDU woe, but the circumstances were different, and the cure too techy-sounding for me.

Maiyuu will look for a computer repairman who fixes computers at the customer's home. I am tired of lugging the hard-drive into town; let him come here.

The last repair guy who came to our home to repair my computer charged a flat B1,000, which is reasonable. However, his swag-bag of fixes to computer ills was light. ‘Reboot…reboot!’

Most problems do not require such a drastic solution, but for many Thai technicians, it is the first one which presents itself. I wonder why?

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'I am in love with a Thai guy….we have just met, but I want to buy him a house.’ I read that somewhere.

The sheltering instinct among farang must be strong. We want to protect, provide for the ones we love.

Yet a house?

We don’t yet know what the Thai expects of us. He has his own friends and family, his own life.

We assume he expects the same things, but it may not be true. Never mind, the farang thinks: Few sensible boys would say no to their own home, especially when the person buying it visits only occasionally.

Status! Freedom!

Yet is it really necessary to invest so heavily in the relationship?

The farang should ask himself why he wants to buy a house for someone he barely knows. It could be any of the following:

1. For his own convenience (somewhere to stay)

2. To provide

2. To ensure the BF's loyalty

Most farang know what they can expect of relationships in the West. We don’t buy a house for a guy as soon as we have met him.

Perhaps because we do not understand Thais as well as we do fellow farang, love in the Land of Smiles holds out more hope. Surely the same rules do not apply?

And even if they do – if I just throw a house at the problem, maybe everything will sort itself out?

Crepe diet-buster, pean to pea sprouts, English awfulisms

Yes, I know...something about me being on a diet.

I recall mentioning it, and in fact yesterday made a dedicated effort to eat less.

Normally, like Thais, I graze. I could probably do with less grazing, I thought, if I really want to cut weight.

So, out goes afternoon grazing. I allow myself a reasonable meal in the morning. Then I go for exercise. After that, I eat tiny amounts until evening when I leave for work.

At work, I eat two proper meals, and then have another when I get home – but I excuse that eating, as I am using my brain at that hour and need the food for energy.

Boyfriend Maiyuu made the dish you see above for dinner. Being a good dieter, I ate the crepes.

I saved the other portion (which you can't see above), minced pork and basil leaf served on rice, for breakfast this morning.

Okay, now for the crepes: They are home-made, as is the salad stuffing inside. The stuffing was made from pea sprouts, carrot, spicy Chinese sausage, and avocado. Maiyuu drizzled a sauce on top, made of mayonnaise, lemon, sugar, spring onion and olive oil.

In Thai, ‘pea sprouts’ go by the beautiful name tor meiow (โต้วเหมี่ยว). The first time I heard Maiyuu say it, I had to ask him to repeat it, as I had not heard it before. He fished the container from the fridge. In Thai writing, the words look as pretty as they sound.

I looked it up on the net. The Thai author of this (link harvested - it died) illustrated webboard post agrees: it is indeed a snazzy name for a salad vegetable (ผักชื่อเก๋ โต้วเหมี่ยว).

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Dieting plays around with the head. My body knows I am playing tricks, and not feeding it enough.

When I arrived at work last night, I was so hungry I felt frantic. I bought kaow pad naem (ข้าวผัดแหนม – fried rice with fermented sausage) from a corner shop.

It tasted so much better, after hours of eating virtually nothing.

Last night I fancied my appetite was contracting, if not my stomach. How long does it take for the stomach bag to start shrinking, if you regularly deprive it of its usual fill?

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‘I feel annoyed. Very annoyed.’

This is a blog, not a style guide to the English language. However, I would like to sound off about those writers who insist on adopting silly melodramatic tricks such as the one above when they want to create emphasis.

In recent weeks, I have found this device in blogs, in messages at work, even in emails.

No one speaks in this constipated, immature manner, but they do adopt the device when they write. Can they think of no better way to express themselves?

Here’s another Illustration:

‘I feel very bad about this language device. Very bad.’

The writer must think we are stupid. He wants to create emphasis, but the only way he can think to do it is to break off the intransitive verb 'feel', hive it into a separate sentence with its own intensifier ‘very’, then repeat it – as if we were too dim to get it the first time.

What happened in between the first sentence and the second – or did he just forget the ‘very’ part the first time he wrote it?

Why not keep it simple?

‘I feel bad about this English device.’

Or, if you really must:

‘I feel very bad about this English device.’

How do you measure 'very’ anyway?

After that, of course, you can tell us why.

Recycled reader reaction

Anon the Shrink sent a message disputing my assertion that according to him, gay blogs should all be set in a sauna. I deleted him.

Another courageous anonymous poster sent me a bitchy message telling me how to write an interesting blog (by implication, this is not it).

1. No cooking. Really.
2. Entertainment news...no more than 10%
3. ...

I can’t remember the last part, but it was something about my not leading an interesting life. I deleted him too ('recycled' his comment, if I am being PC).

Anon, I suspect, assumes that I am writing a gay blog. I am not writing exclusively for this group; if I was, I probably would have to set it in a gay sauna, and make sure at least one Thai guy I meet there licks the back of my ear.

I am also writing for young people who like reading about Thai stars. To their credit, they are not interested in whether this blog has a gay theme; they are prepared to read my entertainment news regardless. This is a large and growing reader ‘cohort’, and many of them are women.

I want more women readers; I want fewer bitchy queens with nothing better to do than complain. Can someone arrange it, please?

As for the tales of domestic life with my boyfriend, including the posts on his sumptuous cooking, they are there to impress upon the jaded gay farang readership that a Thai/farang couple can enjoy each other’s company happily, without the need for sauna or gay bar distractions. They can lead a settled, stable life.

Am I making fun of my readers? Not all of you, because not all of you are nasty, bitchy queens with an axe to grind.

Am I challenging stereotypes of what it means to be a gay foreigner in Thailand? Of course. Why should gay life here be any different from elsewhere?

A gay website which ran my piece on Thai boxing star Worapoj Petchkoom (วรพจน์ เพชรขุ้ม) the other day sent me more than 100 readers yesterday. Most are new visitors, and I am sure couldn’t give a toss whether I run cooking pictures, or what my ‘take’ is on Thai life.

They just want to see the boxer take off his clothes. Blogs cater to many diverse groups of readers; not all are foreigners who rarely step outside the sauna or gay bar.

And even if they are that type, so what? Most visitors read this blog without complaint, and if they do get sick of it, act as any sensible, discriminating person would: they leave.

Thai boxer Sirimongkol takes it all off

Sirimongkol

Worapoj Petchkoom (วรพจน์ เพชรขุ้ม) is not the only Thai boxing star to have posed for a gay magazine.

Remember the saga of former Thai boxing champion Sirimongkol Singwancha (ศิริมงคล สิงห์วังชา)?  

In 2005 he was convicted of producing pornography after naked images of him appeared in a gay magazine, Heat.

The images were taken 10 years before, and the naked ones were not supposed to go public. He posed without clothes in fun for the photographers’ private viewing, he said.

Heat published them in 2003, but they did not become widely known until two years later, after police raided a newsstand selling naughty mags at Chatuchak market.

About the same time, he posed for a swimsuit spread in Lips, a magazine popular with women and gays.

Read more about the saga at the Fridae website, here (link harvested: it died).  I loved this excerpt, which I suspect comes from one of Bangkok’s English-language dailies:

'Sopon Petsawang, an MP from the government ruling party Thai Rak Thai and a former boxer himself, was quoted as saying that as far as he was aware, only transvestites or transgenders read the magazines, and expressed sadness that an increasing number of divorced women and older women are viewing them as well.'

See the images, here.

Lowering the drawbridge

Regular reader Tahmnong wants to know why it is harder to leave messages these days.

Readers now need to be registered to leave comments. Raising the comments bar has led to a drop in the average number of comments for every post.

Where once posts drew an average of eight comments or more, now we are down to just a couple. That's a shame for a blog which attracts 900 unique readers a day, as it does at present.

I have taken the step to avoid criticism by fool male farang who think all Thai blogs with a gay theme should be set in a gay sauna.

As I have said before, readers who want that kind of dismal, uninspired fare should go elsewhere.

The anonymous posting option is no longer. Anon the Psychic and his bitter kin will have to find their kicks somewhere else.

Anon the Psychic, for those who don't know, liked to leave personal criticism of me, but more often the boyfriend.

I enjoyed getting reader feedback on this blog, but in this case the antics of a bitter, misguided few have ended up ruining the experience for everyone else.

Update: Comments bar is now permanently lifted. I changed my mind.

Liquor fast, anyone?

If gym queens are a bore – I imagine they talk about little else – are diet queens any better?

I have decided to ban whisky from my diet. Liquor can add weight to your hips, even when taken with water.

One glass of martini, according to one depressing website, puts on the same amount of calories as a slice of pizza!

I am a good whisky drinker, as the booze helps me think. No more! I shall just have to use my brain at a slower pace. Will anyone notice?

‘The body processes alcohol before fat, protein or carbohydrates. Thus, drinking slows down the burning of fat.

‘This means that if you love your drink AND want to lose weight, you have a major uphill task in your hands,’ says one nutrition consultant.

How dispiriting, so to speak. While I am devising some low-cal substitute, read more about the booze-calories connection here.

Absent love, annoying touts

When I walked out of customs, I looked for my partner amid the sea of faces. Maiyuu spotted me first, and raised his arm.

Another few minutes passed before we could reach each other.

After waving, he turned and started walking in my direction.

I had to pass rope barriers, visitors waiting for loved ones, annoying taxi touts...any number of distractions getting in the way.

Just let me get to my man! What's wrong with you people?

I met my Thai guy at the airport today, after spending the last two weeks in Malaysia.

I go overseas to see my parents every year. Normally, I go back to my home country. This time, my family and I agreed to meet half-way.

When I come back, Maiyuu meets me at the airport.

I held him briefly, but didn't kiss, as that would be too much for Thais in public.

Maiyuu, who has spent most of the last two weeks rattling about the condo alone, looked thinner.

He has been cooking for himself regularly, but says it was no fun.

'I cook for myself, but there is always too much left over, which I have to throw away,' he told me.

'I missed having you to cook for.'

He dressed up to meet me - black patterned T-shirt, shorts - and wore a handsome short hair-cut.

In the taxi, he patted my stomach. 'You have lost weight, too,' he said.

Despite my prompting, Maiyuu did not see any of his friends while I was away.

To keep himself busy, he went grocery shopping instead, sometimes several times a day. That helped stave off feelings of loneliness.

Maiyuu found a brand of chocolate he likes. 'When I bite into one of these chocolates, the flavour fills my mouth, and I just feel so good,' he says. 'It helped keep me happy.'

In my absence, Maiyu stopped using his bedroom. He took to sleeping in the living room, spread out in front of the TV, so he would feel less alone.

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'A belt, sir. You want to buy?

'Where you come from?'

Hang on! What's that got to do with it? This man's trying to befriend me so I will buy from him.

He assumes I have never heard the chat-up line before. If I am a forlorn traveller, we will start a basic conversation - 'Oh, I am from suchandsuch'- before he asks me again if I am interested.

By that time, I am supposed to feel obligated. He has extended the hand of friendship in a lonely land, so I agree to buy, right?

Wrong!

In Malaysia, touts are everywhere. In the market, on the street, at taxi stands, on the bus, outside food shops.

I kept my gaze focussed straight ahead. To show interest - even to look at the goods on sale - is to invite peril.

These unskilled, desperate types selling cheap knock-offs will do almost anything to part with their goods.

'From a land far away,' I told one woman trader, giving her the brush-off.

She smiled, as they always do.

I was passing hurriedly through a market selling clothes, belts, music.

'Where you from, sir?' the next trader asked.

From another land where they have plenty of markets selling cheap belts, trousers, and knock-off CDs!

Bursting to tell

I am overseas, seeing my family.

I would like to take my boyfriend, but cannot. My family want me to themselves, which is understandable, as we go for a whole year at a time without seeing each other.

My parents, in any event, seem to regard boyfriend Maiyuu as a mere friend, or hired help.

They do not know we are in a relationship; or if they suspect, we haven't talked about it.

I would like to tell them, of course, but our lives are so different that I hardly see the point.

I don't relish telling my mother that she can say goodbye to fond hopes, nurtured since I was born, that I would one day marry and have children, as my siblings have done.

Ultimately, my parents just want to be to be happy - but preferably in a conventional relationship which could give me a family.

'What will happen when you are an old man, and alone?' they would ask.

On top of that, they hold Thais in low regard. 'They are great users,' they like to say. 'They always have their hand out. Just don't give them too much. It's your hard-earned money.'

Problems that I have encountered with Maiyuu have coloured the way they view Thais in general.

On the face of it, that's a good argument for telling them the way I feel.

However, I think it's better the way it is, at least for now.

You not like? Offer a few thoughts, then

Writing under the courageous 'anonymous' monicker, a reader leaves the following response to yesterday's piece on the foreigner-owned gay cafe in Silom:

'It seems you have moved from a location with at least a bit of reality to one which is nearly entirely back in the foreigner/tourist/sexpat ghetto.'

I must admit, that's not quite the response I was expecting. I thought readers might chip in with something along the lines of the following:

'I know of another gay farang who owns a cafe/bar/restaurant in Thailand...his experience was suchandsuch...'

I do not intend filing reports on the gay haunts in central Bangkok, as I won't visit them regularly. I have only just moved in to my condo, and am still getting to know the neighbourhood.

My friend farang C and I almost didn't end up in the gay-foreigner tourist area at all.

I wanted to take a look at leafy Lang Suan nearby, which has coffee shops and bars patronised more heavily by Thais than foreigners.

However, at the time farang C and I went in search of a place to relax, Lang Suan's bars weren't yet open.

But why should I apologise anyway?

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My thoughts on the gay cafe I mentioned yesterday?

I like the idea of providing for my Thai boyfriend, but would not consider opening a business here, as too many potential problems arise.

Neither of us are social butterflies, yet to be a good host of a cafe or restaurant, especially a small, intimate place, demands a high level of people skills.

These are people who come to eat at your place but who you may never see again. Why open your life to a perfect stranger? It feels too invasive to me.

Cafe owner farang J and his Thai boyfriend P run the place together.

Farang J provides jobs for his boyfriend's family as well, including his parents. They cook, and help run the business while he is away.

Farang J's family in his native Europe did not approve of his relationship with Mr P, so perhaps farang J enjoys the relative warmth he gets from family in Bangkok.

Yet I am sure there were times when he felt like a guest in his own home and business, with family members and their hangers-on coming and going constantly.

It would be an unusual experience, and he was an interesting man to meet.

It's all UK to me, the farang cafe provider

Farang C was horrified at the size of his phone bill: B5,000. 'I must cut down on calls to my family in the United Kingdom,' he said.

We went to the Central Department store yesterday, so he could pay his bill.

He pays by the month. I pay on a top-up basis, B100 a time, which means I never have enough money to make expensive overseas calls.

On his behalf, I asked the sales staff what farang C should do to save money on overseas calls. Should he be on a different pay plan?

A girl behind the counter pulled out a form which gave the calling rates for various countries.

We looked up ‘UK’ on the list. For good measure, the saleswoman also told me how much calls to the Ukraine cost (more than B20 a minute).

Eh? Maybe she thought they were both the same thing.

I wanted to know about the UK, and the Ukraine starts with the same two letters. No wonder she was confused.

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The Central Department store was too far away for boyfriend Maiyuu and me to visit regularly when we lived in Thon Buri.

From our new place, however, it is just a five-minute taxi ride away. We are also close to Tops supermarket.

At Central, I went past a Starbucks coffee shop, which brought back memories...Maiyuu used to take me there for a chat after we finished shopping. If I could turn back time, I'd love to eavesdrop on that nine-year-old conversation ...I wonder if we sounded much different than we do now.

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On the way home, farang C and I stopped at a small gay-owned cafe/restaurant in Silom.

The owner is a gay farang. His Thai boyfriend Mr P is the host, and greets guests as they arrive.

Two gay serving staff were also there. We met them briefly, along with the boyfriend’s parents, who help cook.

Mr P has two teen brothers who appeared to regard the eatery as a second home; they walked in and out of the place, and an internet shop next door, most of the night.

It looks like a family affair, though without farang J's large pockets, none of it would exist.

Farang J and his boyfriend Mr P, met seven years ago at the pool of the Babylon Hotel.

Back then, farang J visited Bangkok on his holidays. He was in the pool one day when Mr P grabbed him for a laugh.

Was it love at first sight? Who knows. Maybe they grew on each other.

Farang J invited Mr P to Europe. They married in a civil union, and lived there together for seven years, where Mr P learnt his excellent English.

Recently, farang J quit his job in Europe, and the couple returned to Thailand to live.

Now in Bangkok, he has opened his own business. The cafe where we were sitting has been open two months.

He relies mainly on word of mouth, though he has also left leaflets about his gay cafe at his old stamping ground, the Babylon Hotel, and other places where gay tourists stay.

Most customers are gay, though he would like to expand his customer base to include straights as well.

‘We have four regular customers now,’ Mr P told me proudly.

We sat on a small terrace next to the street, watching the evening traffic.

The two lads who serve tables stood stood behind a glass door at the front, watching us.

If I chatted to one, the other would shoot me a look to see if I was showing too much interest. Then he would go back to preening himself.

‘He needs to find a boyfriend badly,’ I told farang J.

How do you tell your gay waiting staff to stop flirting with customers? Maybe you can’t.

Farang J says running the cafe is more fun than his old job, working for a multi-national company.

Despite the huge financial investment in this place – the cafe alone must have cost a couple of million baht – farang J still lives here on a tourist visa.

'One day, I would like to upgrade to an investor’s visa, which gives me superior residency rights,' he said.

For that, however, his business must bring in a healthy income every month, and that is some way off yet.

'When you married P, did you expect you would have to marry into his Thai family as well?’ I asked him.

‘No,’ farang J admitted, while pointing out it also has its positive side: the boyfriend and his family have contacts here, and can help him get things done.

Farang J cannot speak much Thai, so relies on the boyfriend or his family to help him communicate.

His plans do not stop at a mere cafe. He is also turning the building, a converted five-storey shophouse, into short-stay accommodation. Farang J will live with his boyfriend on the top level.

I wish him luck. Another half dozen customers, including a middle-aged farang man and a young Thai guy, dined at the cafe while we were there.

Furniture man

Scene from Talad Phlu, circa 2020

Boyfriend Maiyuu has found someone who wants to buy our furniture.

He is meeting the guy at our old condo in Talad Phlu this morning.

Talad Phlu, circa 2020

The second-hand furniture trader, who has offered us B6,000 for everything - including a glass dining room table, double wardrobe, computer desk, and reclining leather chair - will turn up with a team of workers. They will dismantle the furniture, and take it away.

Maiyuu is happy with the price, though still feels a little exploited. The glass dining table alone cost more than B6,000, the price we are now being offered for everything.

He will use the money to pay the final power and phone bills at our old place. I have not asked him what he intends to do with the rest; as a reward for his efforts, he can keep it.

He has also asked the condo office how much of our B10,000 deposit we can expect to get back. They have asked us to wait a bit longer: they will ask the condo painter and builder to inspect the place first, to see how much repairs will cost.

The Tha Phra intersection; the mall is off to the right, Talad Phlu to the left

Our humble condo (circled)

We occupied our place for almost nine years. On thing I won't miss is the route 205 bus, a 45-minute journey on a good day which I took to work and back.

The Talad Phlu-Klong Toey bus

Bedroom oasis, crooked taxis, broken footpaths

Maiyuu's new mattress arrived yesterday. It's for the single bed in his room. Later, he went out to buy a fitted sheet, and pillows.

The cost was B2,000. It was all-cotton, so more expensive than some of the other brands, but not as expensive as some of the imported sets - up to B7,000 for a small size.
No wonder Thais like sleeping on the floor!

After work last night, I joined him in his room to inspect his purchases. His bed set is grey. As well as a fitted sheet, he has cases for his tube pillow (a long sausage-shaped thing), and an ordinary pillow. They go with the grey/brown theme he is establishing for his room.

Maiyuu doesn't like me snooping about his room, so to be invited in there was a treat.

I sleep in a double room - designed for a couple, with its own twin wardrobe - while he lives in the spare room, or child's room as he puts it.

Even in the confines of that small space, he has made his bedroom look attractive: he has put up lights, paper mache masks, and colourful boxes which once contained bottles of after-shave, to decorate the place.

My bedroom, by contrast, looks like a typical male environment - plain and unadorned, because I don't know how to make my living surroundings look appealing.

The most I can do is make the room functional, and keep it looking tidy. Maiyuu can make a room practical and aesthetically appealing - even striking to the eye - at the same time.

'I will do up your room soon,' he promised, when I mentioned how lacklustre it looked.

It was close to bedtime, and we were tired.

'This must be the first time you have slept on a real bed for ages,' I told him, as we sat on his mattress.

'Half my life,' he announced.

What? Maiyuu is 30.

At our last place, Maiyuu slept on a fold-up mattress, spread on the floor. It was uncomfortable, but he never showed interest in sleeping on a mattress with its own base. I urged him repeatedly to buy a 'real' bed, but he declined.

'This will do,' he said.

Then he said something else which surprised me.

'This is the first time in my life that I had my own room to sleep in.'

Maiyuu has an elder sister. Maybe when he was growing up, Mum, Dad, his sister and Maiyuu slept in the same room; communal living is common for Thais. Or maybe he shared with his sister.

I reflected on this words, and how happy they made me feel.

I am sad that Maiyuu has had to wait this long to get his own bedroom, which he can close off to the world when he wants time to himself, or time away from me.

However, I am delighted that the day when he gets his own personal space has finally arrived.
-
I have been walking to work this week. I don track shoes for a 15-minute trek which takes me from my condo in suburbia, over a railway line, and down the slummy side of a highway.

I carry my work shoes in a bag. When I get to work, I change from the jogging shoes into work shoes.

Track shoes, I have discovered, are better for negotiating the uneven, potted sidewalks in Bangkok. My ankles stay in one piece, as do the soles of my shoes.

I bought my leather work shoes only recently. The sole of one shoe is already split, thanks to the poor state of the sidewalks.

If I step into a hole accidentally, or fail to negotiate a tree stump sprouting from the footpath, I could lose everything.

Last night, I left my jogging shoes at work by mistake. I realised I had forgotten them as soon as I arrived home, and took a taxi back.

The old guy at the wheel didn't appear to know Bangkok; I had to direct him every step of the way.

On the way back, he went down two side-streets by mistake. Idiot! We are in the centre of town. How can you not know it?

Ten minutes later, we arrived outside my condo.

I gave him a B100 note. The fare came to B70.

'I have no change,' he said.

Nonsense. I wanted to complain, but I saw a tall foreigner standing outside the taxi, waiting to get in. A woman in her 20s, she emerged from the condo opposite.

I hopped out, and held open the door for her, as she leant in and told the taxi driver where to go.

'Pee, krub...' she said.

Don't bother being polite, I thought, Within a few minutes, this old man will take your B100, just as he did mine, and again claim he has no change.

I held open the door until she hopped in, and closed it for her. She didn't glance at me, still less offer thanks for my gentlemanly conduct.

'These days, young foreigners have no manners,' I complained to Maiyuu later.

'Don't help them, then,' he said.

'And next time a taxi tries to exploit you, call me, and I'll come down with change.'

Putting pride first

First, the computer at home was working; now it's not.

We spent two hours in the stifling heat getting the internet connected yesterday, after waiting for the man from the telephone company to arrive, then a technician from the condo to tweak something else.

I used the computer for half an hour before it was time to go to work.

Today, the internet connection appears to be working, but the screen refuses to light up. I am undecided whether to call someone in to look for it, and lug the hard-drive to a computer repair shop at Pantip Plaza.

-
On the slummy side of my condo, I dropped in to a laundry business. A young woman there told me that she services many tenants from my condo. In fact, her boss, the laundry's owner, started her business there.

Back then, she had four staff, and worked from her unit at the condo, picking up laundry around town which she washes, irons, and then returns.

Now, the business has grown so big that it employs 40 staff, and had to move to new premises - the shophouse where we talked that day on the slum side of the condo.

At my condo, some tenants have bought their own washing machine, but many have not, so send out their washing to be done elsewhere. The laundry charges a bit over B10 a piece, which is reasonable.

Not 10 metres from her shop is a bank of coin-operated washing machines. I don't know who owns them, but anyone can use them, and I have noticed Thais who live on that street taking their clothes in a washing basket there to be washed.

Which to choose?

At my old condo, the office provided four coin-operated washing machines in the carpark. At my new place, the office provides no such service, so owners (or tenants, in our case) are left to their own devices.

I am an independent type. I am not used to sending out washing to be done by a stranger, as it all seems too personal to me. If I could, I'd rather carry on doing it myself.

A large vacant lot separates the condo from the slummy side. Stray dogs and slum dwellers roam there...people who live in flimsy wooden dwellings with tin roofs.

I would like to lug my basket of clothes across the vacant lot, and wash it using the coin-operated machines which the Thais use, but am worried about it would look too down-market.

The Thais might look at me in a bad way: another farang drifter with no money! Any foreigner residents who spotted me carrying my washing basket would think the same thing.

Boyfriend Maiyuu says the coin-slot washing machines are probably dirty, and wants me to use the pick up and delivery laundry service instead. I might be independent, but I also have my pride. If I carried my washing basket around in public, then everyone would get to see my dirty clothes, not just the women at the laundry service.

I will probably give up my do-it-yourself quest, and do as he suggests.

-
Maiyuu has bought a mattress for his bed, which will be delivered today. For the last few years, he has slept on a flimsy padded mattress which folds up.

I had never seen the things before I came here, but they are a common sight in Thai mattress stores, for those who lack a bed base or want to sleep close to the floor.

I feared Maiyuu would carry on sleeping rough at the new condo too, but thankfully not.

At the new place, he has a wooden bed base in his room; back at the old condo, which was unfurnished, he did not bother buying a bed base or mattress, so he slept on that wretched padded thing instead.

Cunning new scheme

I tried a cunning new scheme today. The boyfriend gets sick of me asking him to do things around home.

Today I tried setting up the computer, which has sat in the middle of the living room floor since we moved condos on Sunday.

Normally, if he is at home, he won't let me do tasks which he has offered to do himself, as he reckons he does everything so much better than this bumbling farang.

However, in some cases I have to wait days before he shows any sign of wanting to make a start, which is frustrating.

A man from the telephone company comes tomorrow to connect our line, so I thought we should set up the computer today. While Maiyuu was out shopping, I tried it myself.

I am hopeless at putting things together, but even if I attempted and failed a few times, it would be better than relying on Maiyuu to do it - especially when he has been so reluctant to help lately.

I grumbled about Maiyuu yesterday. However, by late afternoon, his spirits had improved. While I was at work, he washed the dishes, baked a cake, swept the floor.

Tonight he plans to go back to the old condo to clean it further, pay the power bill, and talk to the office about ending our lease. This morning, he went shopping for groceries.

While he was away, I pulled parts of the computer out of boxes and laid them out on the floor. When he walked in the door, Maiyuu was unhappy to see me at work.

He claimed I was cluttering the place. Actually, I suspect that my starting on the task made him feel guilty. He told me to put the components back.

'I'll do it for you later,' he said.

I refused.

'I want to do it myself. I enjoy putting together the computer,' I lied.

He stormed into his bedroom, and locked the door.

At our new place, Maiyuu has a lock on his bedroom door. When he wants to show his displeasure, he slams the door and turns the lock so I can't follow him in there.

At first, I protested, but now I let him get on with it. A couple of times, I appeased him after he flounced moodily into the bedroom.

Today I ignored him, and carried on with the computer job, which has been bugging me for days.

Ten minutes later, Maiyuu reappeared from his bedroom. He was no longer angry - in fact, it was as if nothing had happened.

'You are making a mess of it - here, let me do it,' he said.

While I sat watching, Maiyuu re-arranged the computer, monitor and printer on the desk where I had placed them.

The way I had assembled them was passable, but his was better - he created more space on the desk by tucking the hard-drive and printer underneath. Much more sensible.

I have discovered that Maiyuu prefers to do household tasks when I am not at home, as he reckons I get in the way.

Previously, I assumed he did jobs while I was away only because I nagged him before leaving.

Now I suspect he would have done the jobs anyway. As he says, maybe there is no reason to nag, as he would get around to doing most jobs himself - though preferably when he is alone.

So, for now Maiyuu is back in active mode. Soon after finishing one job, he starts on another, if he thinks I am not watching. Long may it continue.

Postscript: Some readers ask why I do not do more to help. I work outside the home; Maiyuu does not.

Rubbing along together

We have moved to our condo, which should be a fun experience, but has actually been stressful for both of us.

We are in new surroundings in the centre of town...close to shops, the tourist district. The condo is also much smarter than our last one. These are all good reasons to be happy.

I have done plenty of exploring, while the boyfriend 'rests' at home. As a Thai, Maiyuu has less need to go tramping the streets to get the feel of his new neighbourhood...Thais know their way around much better than foreigners.

However, he is showing worrying signs of slipping back into the old habits he pursued at our last place.

Maiyuu was unwell with a chest infection when we moved, which didn't help. Since we started living in our new home, he claims he has been too tired to help around home.

A pile of moving boxes sits in the middle of the main room, awaiting his attention. They are mainly his belongings...I am not allowed to empty them and find a place for the contents myself.

The move has been harder on Maiyuu than it has on me. He did most of the packing, and on top of that also took on responsibility for arranging a new telephone line, and getting internet and satellite television connected.

Still, his initial response has been disappointing. Since we found a space for most of our household belongings, he has done little but sleep in front of the television.

We have yet to move out of our old condo properly. Maiyuu wanted to sell half a dozen items of furniture rather than take them with us, so left them there. They include a double bed, stereo and TV cabinet, and double wardrobe.

The rent on the old place runs out at the end of this month, but Maiyuu has shown little interest in going back to finish cleaning the rooms or prepare the furniture for sale.

After I nagged him last night, he finally took a bus back to the condo, and spent a couple of hours cleaning it.

Maiyuu is a perfectionist who works at an achingly slow pace, so many hours of work still lie ahead. Yet what would happen if the condo office were to ask for the room back?

We would have to pay another month's rent, as we have nowhere else to move the furniture.

Maiyuu claims he has spoken to the condo manager, who is happy to let him keep the furniture there for as long as it takes to sell it. I don't believe it.

'Farang would make sure we were out by the end of the month, or we would have to agree to pay more rent,' I said.

'Thais do not work like that...I have talked to them, and they understand,' he claimed.

I admit that as a westerner, I view the world with different eyes. If I see a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, I want to wash them. If I am too busy, I expect my partner to do them instead.

The idea is that we share the burden of running the household, and do so promptly and without complaint. It is not to test each other's patience by waiting until we are living in a virtual slum before we lift a finger to help.

On Sunday afternoon, when the moving men arrived, Maiyuu was still cleaning out the fridge.

I warned him days before the move that he would have to pull finger if we wanted everything cleaned and packed in time, but he preferred to watch television, until it was almost too late. On the day of the move, he did not eat, or wash: he was too busy making up for lost time.

Maiyuu says the more I nag him about outstanding household chores, the less he is inclined to do them.

'I am not some servant,' he says.

That small misunderstanding over the fridge has repeated itself in different guises many times since. In most cases, we argue, forgive, then move on. However, it is testing our tolerance of each other to the limit.

Maiyuu has now agreed to do so many things around the home that I really need to start a list, and get him to tick them off once the jobs are done.

I would add jobs which I have agreed to do too, and tick them off as I finish them. My jobs would get done sooner, because as a farang I like to make progress.

Many Thais seem happier to sit around. Either that, or they know what tasks they have to perform, as they do the same tasks every day.

We have just moved into a new condo, so we are still settling in. Once we have the division of labour sorted out, hopefully we can get on with life, without worrying whether our partner will do his share of the work to keep the household running.

'Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today - because tomorrow, new problems may crop up,' I tell him.

'That's the way farang think - I'm not farang, but Thai,' he responds.