Change your cooking oil!

Mum's shop in Pin Khlao

'I hear you have stopped going to Mum's shop and are now drinking at a new place in the soi?'

That was farang J, boyfriend of Mum's sister Aor, who is staying in the Northeast.

He took a taxi there as soon as he arrived in Bangkok from his native London several weeks ago.

We had not yet seen each other since he came, but already he knew that I had turned my back on Mum's shop.

Aor takes care of farang well, so no surprise if he should be enjoying his stay. I called him for a chat as I sat at the very same place which threatens to get me into trouble.

It is an eatery just down the way from Mum's shop. As drinking holes go, it is far superior, with its own outdoors bench and tables, a rock-pool garden, air conditioning, TV, music...

The eatery sits between Mum's rented apartment and her shop. She passes the place whenever she walks from her apartment to her own shop, or back again.

Last night I called out a greeting. Mum smiled awkwardly, but kept moving. In her eyes, no doubt, I am a traitor.

I had been going to her shop for six or seven years, when suddenly I upped sticks and took my custom somewhere else. Odd indeed.

Well, it's not my fault that she let the place go to rack and ruin. Mum and her husband do nothing to bring in customers any more.

Over the last few weeks, while I have been drinking at the rival place, I have seen just one customer sitting at Mum's shop, a regular who has been visiting the place even longer than I have.

'I left the shop because it's a dump,' I told farang J on the phone.

After we finished our call, a sense of guilt began to settle on my shoulders. I sent farang J a text message.

'Bugger it...I might have to go back anyway,' I said.

The new place suffers from one major drawback: cooking smoke from an open-sided eatery next to it drifts down to the outdoor area where I sit.

The open-sided place - really just a glorified food cart with tables and chairs - is outside a 7-11. It has a good name locally, and has been there for years.

They may have a good reputation, but they are slow to change the oil in their fry pans.

The stench of old cooking oil, accompanied by acrid smoke, drift down to where I am sitting next door. Cough, cough.

Why does the city not tackle smoke pollution caused by these lazy eatery owners who are too cheap to change their cooking oil?

The place where I was sitting is owned by a young go-getter called Wut. He has put B300,000 into his eatery, with ambitious plans to expand further.

The eatery is a bright spot in an otherwise dank and grey neighbourhood. It has been open only a matter of months, but already his customers are being smoked out.

If customers can't sit at his place without drifting down from some cheapo joint down the way, his investment could go up in smoke.

It's an Asian thing, perhaps, but it's also smoke pollution, and a health hazard.

The choices before me are looking sad. Mum's place is a dump, so I don't want to send time there. Wut's place is modern and comfortable, but covered in a cloud of cooking-oil smoke.

Maybe I should just stay at home with the boyfriend, where at least it is safe.

Seamless farewell

It pays to get to Thai funerals early. You get to meet the family, who are on hand to welcome guests.

One other reason? Thais cremate their dead promptly. The cremation was to take place at 3pm. Within 20 minutes, it was all over.

I went to the funeral of a farang colleague I barely knew. Farang K was Christian, but married to a Thai. He was cremated at a temple in town.

One couple turned up at 3.22pm. The deceased's casket was already in the furnace. I could hear it whirring, though smoke had yet to appear above.

What did they miss?

Thirty minutes before, a couple of men - possibly temple employees - carried the casket around the funeral pyre, set inside a small pavilion. We followed in procession.

The men carrying the casket took it up the steps of the pavilion, then set it down in front of the pyre.

Guests filed towards the casket, wai-ed the deceased, and left a paper flower in front.

As we descended the two or three steps of the pavilion on our way back to ground level, we walked past a large photograph of farang K, the man we had come to see off.

Later, as the casket prepared to enter the pyre, guests again mounted the two or three steps of the pavilion, to face the casket.

We set alight paper flowers and put them in front.

We left the pavilion one by one, then once again re-assembled into a group.

It was a casual affair. As soon as we re-joined the group, we resumed the conversations we had broken off when we entered the pavilion.

Even mounting the stairs to see the casket, guests were still chatting. It was informal, relaxed, and natural.

Two close friends of farang K, whom I had expected to see at the cremation, failed to arrive, possibly because they were stuck in traffic.

I arrived an hour early to the temple, in Ramkamhaeng. I was able to take part in all the ceremonies, including walking in procession around the funeral pyre. I was the only farang guest there at that time. The others were running late, but only by a few moments.

I was also able to meet members of his family.

If I had turned up at 3pm, the most we could have exchanged was greetings and farewells, as the ceremony lasts only moments.

At the cremation, I met farang K's ex-wife, his two adult children - who look much more Thai than farang - and his sister-in-law, who lives in the US but happened to be in Thailand when he died last week.

Farang K's children sprang to their feet when I arrived. They introduced themselves, and offered me water.

His daughter is an air hostess. His son is looking for work as a ski instructor.

I loved hearing them speak Thai, and watching them wai the Thai guests who turned up. I also enjoyed the casual, relaxed way they mixed with farang guests.

They took good care of us. Farang K had taught them the ways of the West. Their Mum had taught them how to be Thai. They switched from Thai mode to farang mode and back again with ease.

I am sure farang K was proud of them. I just wish I could have seen them together as a family when he was alive.

I also met farang K's elder brother, who travelled to Bangkok for the funeral, his first visit to Thailand in more than 20 years. That time, he came for farang K's wedding.

Guests were chatting in small groups as I left. I said goodbye to farang K's former wife, and waved goodbye to the kids.

By 3.30pm, I was heading back to the office in an office car with two Thai guests. My glimpse into the lives of these people, who I will probably never meet again, was over.

Farewell, farang K.

Through your Thai family, and the farang friends who knew you in Thailand, your ties to this exotic land live on.

Snaffling the ingredients

I am in trouble, after drinking all the wine which Maiyuu uses for cooking.

A few weeks ago, he bought a bottle of champagne. I can't believe he was proposing to tip this in his next cooking mix (it cost almost B1000), but Maiyuu is not used to buying wine, and has trouble telling drinking wine from the cheap stuff we throw in the pot.

'Where's the bottle of champagne?' he asked the other day. He had opened it a few days before, but we didn't finish it. I polished it off one morning while he was not looking.

'I drank it,' I said sheepishly.

'I wanted to use that for cooking!' he claimed. In that case, you can pay me B1000,' he said.

I talked him out of that, but then he insisted that I also settle accounts for a bottle of red and white, which he had bought a few weeks earlier, once again for cooking. Once again, this was quaffing wine, not the cheap stuff we use for cooking.

The red is gone, the white almost empty. He has used both a little for his cooking, but my needs have been greater.

The wine just looked too inviting, squeezed in among bags of cooking flour, eggs and cooking paraphernalia on the dining room table. I drank most of the them, I am afraid to say.

I agreed that I would help him with the cost of the red, so yesterday paid over B300, after negotiating him down from his initial demand of B500.

Heretic moments

I didn't go to church. Last night I couldn't sleep, possibly because I ate something too spicy before bed, but more probably because I couldn't stop thinking about the experience which lay in wait.

At 3am, still unable to sleep, I sent a message to Mr T, excusing myself and suggesting we leave it for another day.

It might have to be spontaneous, if I am still capable of such things....some day when I just happen to be awake on time to meet him outside the 7-11 before we head off together to his favourite place of worship.

Off to church, eyes off the priest

Mr T, the young man from the North who works at the local 7-11, has asked me to church this morning.

T is a Catholic, and tries to visit church every week. The last time I dropped in to the 7-11, we chatted about his religion, after I noticed him wearing a cross.

'Do you go to church often?' T asked.

T wears his hair in a Korean-style hairdo, long down the sides of his face. His chest is bony, and he pulls at his pants nervously when we talk.

'Hardly ever...I went to a tiny Christian church in the market here once. Middle-aged women were learning Chinese. It looked like a happy-clappy church.'

The church in Talad Phlu

T says he has been to several local churches, none of them particularly grand. The congregation is mainly Thai.

I shall have to ask him tomorrow when he started observing Christianity, or whether he was brought up that way.

With the exception of that poky little place in the market, I have not been inside a real church since I left the West to live in Thailand more than eight years ago.

It's about time this sinner returned to the fold of a warm, friendly congregation, though I am nervous about what awaits.

I am not a Catholic, but no one else in church will know that. But will they try to button-hole me as their only farang churchgoer, and ask me to spread the word?

T says he enjoys taking the bread in his mouth which the priest hands out at communion.

If he invites me to join him at communion, I might have to decline, as it's not part of my faith.

On the other hand, it's been a while since a man put anything in my mouth, so why not?

Today T called me with instructions where to meet. 'Wait for me at 8.30, outside the 7-11, if you like,' he suggested. 'I will come and get you.'

I wondered if I would be able to get up in time.

'What do I wear?' I asked.

He laughed. 'No special dress.'

Before I leave I shall have to look up the Thai words for Bible, congregation, and priest. Then I'll be right...well, that's what I am telling myself anyway.

At that early hour of the day, my mind is barely functioning, but I will have to make sure I am fed, watered, washed and dressed by 8.30 if we are to make it to church on time.

Another unsettling thought has just occurred to me. Do I have to sing?

No ice-cream guilt

Boyfriend Maiyuu is going cold on the idea that he makes bakery products for the little eatery I found in Thon Buri.

He has yet to speak to the owner, but when I told him that he proposed buying Maiyuu's bakery products on a fahk kai basis, he poo-pooed it. 'We're the ones who shoulder all the risk - if he can't sell anything, he has the right to return it. He doesn't have to pay,' he said.

In that case, I asked him how he felt about selling bakery, perhaps to some other place, by the conventional method - kai song.

Maiyuu says that too has its problems, as we would have to keep our price low enough for the person selling it to add a big enough margin for himself.

I told Maiyuu I would still like to take him to the shop next week to meet the owner...so we shall see what happens.

In the meantime, we have bought ourselves a small bar-b-que stove and a blender, and today Maiyuu returns to the shopping mall to buy some other cooking device.

In more gays-at-the-supermarket news, at the mall yesterday we visited two stalls selling boutique ice-cream, and spent B1000 in five minutes.

Can many families afford to blow so much on ice-cream in one go? I doubt it. Three cheers for the pink baht!

Cooking up a storm

Maiyuu still has a few friends after all.

We don't often get visits from Maiyuuu's friends these days, but a moment ago I met one of them.

The girl, a tenant in this condo, is aged in her early 20s, and has a toddler. I don't know how they met.

Maiyuu bumped into the girl when he went out to buy ingredients for his latest cooking creation. He brought her back, so he could give her some of his baking.

'My boyfriend can't keep up with everything I make - food is going to waste,' he said, pointing at me.

I was sitting at the computer in the next room.

The kitchen table is groaning with puff pastry sausage rolls, ingredients for a clear vegetable and mince soup, a fig cake, and strawberry jam.

'Are you making food just for fun?' she asked, sounding surprised.

'I am testing my skills to see what I can do,' said Maiyuu, laughing.

He gave her a plate of baking goodies. The girl thanked 'Pee' Maiyuu, and left.

'The owner of the eatery close to Mum's shop is keen to buy your bakery,' I told him.

'Wirut wants me to take you to his shop, so you can meet and talk business,' I said.

'Really?' asked Maiyuu, looking marginally, but not over-excited.

'Let me have a think first about what I should make for him.'

Girly bakery prospects

I took along a sample of Maiyuu's baking last night to the owner of a new eatery I have found close to Mum's shop.

He did not taste it himself, but asked if he could give it to his girlfriend to try.

He is keen to buy Maiyuu's bakery, but needs to make small extensions to the front of his shop first. He targets the lunchtime office-worker trade.

Wut, the owner, runs the eatery with a joint shareholder. They lease the place from Kor, a local property-owner who I have known since the days when we both drank at Mum's shop.

We spent the night chatting, mainly about his business, and the different ways of selling bakery, including fahk kai.

I do not have a business brain, and am still finding this concept hard to understand.

By the sounds of it, Maiyuu would bake every day, but if Wut could not sell it all, he would have the right to return the rest, or at least not pay for those he was unable to sell.

However, if a customer came along and wanted to place a bulk order herself, Wut would pass the order on to Maiyuu, who could get the extra business without Wut adding a margin.

That's all I can remember at the moment. The eatery was quiet last night, but Wut says it was his first day back in business since he closed for four days over New Year.

I went with my friend from work, farang C. We ordered several dishes from the menu, including sweet and sour fish, which farang C was as good as any he had tasted overseas.

Wut hires two chefs, who work in a poky kitchen making Thai and farang dishes which cost just 35 baht each.

As for Mum's forlorn shop at the head of the soi, no one drinks there any more, it seems.

When I walked past the place furtively yesterday, heading for Wut's eatery just inside the same street, it was empty.

Wut's place closed at 10pm. As we passed Mum's shop on our way home, it was again empty.

She does, however, get custom from motorcyclists.

Customers on motorcycles stop by at the rear of the shop, and order cigarettes. She passes the cigarettes to them, and they race off.

Thais like the convenience of being able to pull up on a bike, do their transaction, then tear away again.

One motorcyclist stopped in the middle of the road to ask for directions while we were sitting at Wut's shop.

Wut's eatery has been open just five months, but he is finding it hard to spread the word, as there is no local business association in the area.

'No one wants to take part in local product fares or promotions, because it's dog-eat-dog,' he said.

'Thais like buying to go...they cannot be bothered finding a place to park, or sitting in restaurants if they can just order off the street,' said Wirut.

Office workers are often on foot, which is good for Wut's business. They do not need to hop on the motorbike, or find a place to park.

Wut wants several different baking items a day, in various packaging and sizes, for those who eat at a table, and those who want to take away.

We have just bought an oven. I am not sure how many items Maiyuu can produce a day, and I told Wut that Maiyuu has not catered professionally nor sold his bakery to anyone before.

Still, they can always talk. When the changes to his shop are complete, probably some time this month, Wut says he will give Maiyuu a call.

Socially dysfunctional cook

We are being pleasant to one other, so peace to our household has returned.

Maiyuu and I can withdraw affection and pretend to be uninterested in each other for only so long. Being awkward is much harder than being pleasant, so why not just be nice?

The other day I came down with 24-hour flu. The boyfriend was staying with a friend, so I didn't see him much.

I sent him two text messages saying I felt sick. He responded to both messages, but talked about other things, not the fact that I had flu.

Maiyuu is a hardy type from the provinces, who wonders why anyone would make a fuss over something as trifling as 24-hour flu.

However, given the cold and aloof demeanour which I had showed towards him in the previous 48 hours, he was also in no hurry to offer sympathy.

So, the pendulum has swung back, and we are treating each other normally again, after a silly row days before over money.

He spent the day baking: a custard slice, and a cake with lemon and figs. He also made a trip to Silom to buy groceries, and at home, made a wall decoration from an old calendar.

He also made rice soup with chicken for me last night, after we failed to phone through an order to the food place in the market in time.

As boyfriends go, he's not doing too badly. He might be dysfunctional, depressed, and socially reclusive, but at least he can cook!

Postscript: I will take a few of Maiyuu's baking treats to the new restaurant/bar I have discovered close to Mum's shop, whose owner Wirut I met last week.

If Wirut likes them, he might be interested in buying Maiyuu's baking, for sale in his shop.

Maiyuu has packed a couple of custard slices as a test sample. I might take along some of his chocolate truffles as well.

Another pie, dear?

Boyfriend Maiyuu spent the night at a friend's place last night. He sent me a text message while I was at work, saying he would be away. He asked whether anything was wrong, as I had been behaving strangely towards him.

Since our argument a few days ago over money, I have barely touched him. I show polite interest, and chat when the mood takes me...but it is not the same, and he knows it.

I have not forgiven him for his unpleasant response when I asked for a larger share of the extra money I am making at work.

Maiyuu argues that any extra money he gives to me, I will spend on myself or others, not on our needs as a couple.

He is right, of course, but then a share of the money he keeps for us in the main account also goes on his own strange needs...for example, the nights he spent alone at a cheap, local hotel over Christmas, on a so-called mental health break.

At home, Maiyuu is working as hard as ever ... yesterday he made small pastry and custard pies, and larger custard slices with grapes inside.

He makes them so well, he should really sell them.

I feel sorry for him, as he does not know whether I am really enjoying the fruits of his labour any more, as I seem moody and distant.

If I appreciate his cooking, he feels valued.

If I ignore him or seem non-committal, he wonders if he has done something to upset me. He feels insecure and worried about what will happen next.

If he had a job, he would have a life outside home, from which he could draw a sense of self-worth or personal security even if his life with me was going through a bad patch.

But no. He wakes up every day not knowing what mood I will be in - but busies himself in the kitchen regardless, for what else can he do?

If he sits idly watching television, I might have a go at him...if he keeps busy, then at least he is out of harm's way.

What a life. Yet it's one has has chosen for himself.

This is not an invitation to readers to pile in with advice urging me to force him out to work. It's Maiyuu's life, and he must do as he sees fit.

I give him as much freedom as I think is reasonable, including control over most of the finances, because he wants to look after our needs as a couple, and make me happy.

There's nothing wrong with that. I just wish it didn't leave him (and me, in a financial sense) so exposed.

He rocked my boat

Three comments from readers, in response to the saga over the boyfriend and money. They were left in response to yesterday's update, in which I explain why Maiyuu gets to keep control over the finances. Some readers are evidently unhappy with the ending. Here are excerpts from three comments:

❤Whatever floats your boat pilgrim ! .. but how about a ban on any future pity evoking, sympathy inspiring narrative attempts to solicit your readers tender mercies?

❤"Looking after the finances in our household gives Maiyuu a sense of independence...dignity, if you like."-- this is kind of patronizing, don't you feel? But, yeah, whatever rocks your (and his) boat, mister.

❤Just like a beaten housewife, you need the negative treatment to reinforce your own idea of yourself as worthless, useless, undeserving of happiness.

I deleted the first two messages when they appeared, but kept the last, because the reader went to some effort to respond (it's longish). I have revived parts of them here so I can respond to everyone at once.

I don't know who left the first comment. The second came from a young overseas-based Thai blogger called Aurix, who has faulted me for 'patronising' behaviour in relation to Thais before. I can't be bothered covering the same territory again, so - sorry about that, kid!

It might come as surprising to some, but I do not write to evoke sympathy. I do not know how these sagas will end, as I write them from one day to another, like a diary.

So, if in the eyes of some readers, blog entries appear to flip-flop between inspiring sympathy for myself and being critical of Maiyuu, and back again, that's why.

On one day, he will be on top (so to speak); the next, I might assert myself again. When we are happy, we are in harmony again, so the flip-flopping settles down.

For some readers who have followed the blog a while longer, a collective portrait of Maiyuu emerges, despite the daily fluctuations. Here's another excerpt from the third comment above:

'He doesn't contribute financially, and he lies, steals, and drains your money (furthermore there are some recent questions about his health and state of mind).'

Perhaps Maiyuu is a work in progress - I am still teaching him how to behave [patronising enough, Mr Aurix?]

If fixing breaches in relationships was a simple matter of uttering a few pleasant-sounding words - or one partner asserting his dominance and power over the other - then the world would be a simpler place.

Unfortunately, it's not. Relationships take work. Not all readers may like the way I run mine with Maiyuu. In that case, just be thankful the relationship belongs to me, and that you don't have to share!

Some readers may also dislike Maiyuu. That does not worry me, as I never set out to portray him as a cute, compliant Thai boyfriend who does whatever I ask.

As readers, we like to identify with writers whose stuff we read. One other reader the other day was upset that I let Maiyuu get away with so much. 'I am sorry for caring!' he said.

Maybe I have lost his support. I hope I do not lose too many as a result of the Maiyuu sagas, as the blog is about much more than just him or me.

But at the end of the day, it is still my blog. Just as I can't stop idiots visiting, nor can I prevent them leaving again - though this blog's community of readers is probably no worse off for their absence.

New watering hole

I have found a new place to drink. It is close to Mum's shop, but better. Unfortunately, it also lies along the route between Mum's shop and her apartment.

She visits her apartment regularly when she is on duty at the shop. Luckily, last night I did not see her.

I am sure she would not appreciate seeing me at a rival shop. Times are tough, and I should know where my loyalties lie.

The new place, not 50m from Mum's own, has air conditioning, a counter out front, soft music, a small garden and waterfall, toilet, cheap menu...

It looks as smart as any Thai-owned eatery you would find in town, and looks sadly out of place in an area as rundown as Pin Khlao.

The eatery is owned by Wut, an enterprising businessman in his 30s whose girlfriend works nearby.

I took a seat. Within five minutes, he had introduced himself. We chatted for the next half an hour.

His place has seating inside, and a benchtop bar out the front overlooking a small rock garden and waterfall. As I sat outside admiring his handiwork, a friend from the past called out my name.

'Hello, Mali!' he said.

Kor is a young landowner in the area. We know each other from months ago when we used to drink at Mum's shop.

Back then, Kor was a regular. These days, he appears to have deserted the place, along with almost everyone else in the neighbourhood.

Kor joined me at my benchtop table, and ordered a whisky.

'You know, I own this place. Wut rents it from me,' said Kor. 'He's doing well.'

Occasionally, Wut would join us when he was not busy serving customers inside.

At least a dozen young people, mainly students, came for a meal in the two hours I was sitting there.

'Why is Mum's place so dead?' I asked Kor.

Wut, a newcomer to the area, listened in to Kor's tale.

'It's in a prime spot - right at the head of this street,' said Kor.

'The street is deep...there are condos down here, the local police station, even a naval property.

'Most people who enter this street have to pass Mum's shop first.

'As recently as 18 months ago, it was still a popular meeting place for locals...some nights the place was just packed.

'Police from the local station came, local shopkeepers, tenants from the condos, students...but these days they have all found new places to drink.

'Why did they lose their customers? Mum and her husband became complacent,' said Kor.

'If you turn up, you serve yourself. Often, the counter is cluttered with dirty plates, empty bottles and glasses, so you have to make a space for yourself.

'It is also overrun by dogs.'

Mum's shop now caters to casual foot traffic - people walking past the shop on their way home, who realise they have run out of cigarettes or water. She rarely sells much else.

As a place to meet local people and drink, Mum's shop has had its day, and everyone knows it. I don't know why she and her husband bother to stay.

'It is good for the memories,' I told Kor.

'There's not much else left,' he said, laughing.

Wut listened diligently, but had business problems of his own which he wanted to discuss.

'My two cooks make the same dishes on the menu every night, but they rarely taste the same. Yet for the sake of my customers, I want them to taste the same no matter who makes them.'

Does he sound the complacent type? No fear. I hope his business thrives and prospers, as a reward for his worrying, and hard work.

I welcome the arrival of Wut's eatery. It's a civilised way to drink and dine, and is well overdue on the Thon Buri side of the river, where tourists seldom venture.

Now, how to square it with Mum?

-
'Oh, here we go - I thought the money issue was decided,' said Maiyuu.

I had just told him of my latest proposal - that he give me an extra B2,000 a month, down from my initial demand of B3,000, and just a small share of the B12,000 in new earnings which I am making at work every month.

'I can still help with household expenses if we end up short,' I said.

Maiyu grumbled that, given my indecisiveness, I might go back to asking for the full B3000 before long.

This morning, before I woke, Maiyuu had visited the local supermarket to buy supplies. He returned with two bags full of vegetables, including mushrooms, corn, and asparagus, which he is now turning into a meal.

Readers chastise me for giving Maiyuu control over my ATM card.

Ideally, I would like Maiyuu to go back to work, and might suggest he looks for a casual job as a salad hand or pastry chef in a small eatery such as the one I found last night.

But for as long as looks after the household well, he can keep the card. I could assert myself and demand the right to do this and that, but where does that leave him - or us?

Power play

The boyfriend complained of stomach pains. My bickering over the finances was causing him stress. Whimper....whine...moan. He asked me to buy some Coke, to help ease his stomach cramps, which I did.

'If this argument over the finances is causing you so much stress, then I will forget about the demand for a share of the extra money from work...I will even give you a share of the cheque I get from Google every month,' I said. 'Things will go back to the way they were.'

He pulled up the blanket and said nothing.

In truth, we did not get to 'arguing' about it...we just exchanged a few stiff text messages.

However, I knew if the matter was not defused soon, a heated argument was not far away, as Maiyuu refused to haggle with me, or even consider my demands.
I asked him how he felt.

'Up to you,' he said.

That's Thai speak for: 'I feel great, thanks very much, that you have dropped all your demands and given me exactly what I wanted all along.'

I decided I needed time away from home, so spent the day yesterday in the company of a farang friend. He rents a comfortable home close to a temple about 10mins from my place.

After drinking until sundown there, we carried on to Pin Khlao, though not to Mum's shop, which is dead - but a small eatery close to the Chao Phraya river, which was lively, and a more enjoyable way to spend the evening.

Last night when I returned home, I found Maiyuu had bought no food for us to eat. It is one of his jobs, but he hadn't done it. He jeered me when I walked in the door, to make me feel victimised and small, as he knows he can do it.

'No, there's nothing to eat...the shops in the market are closed. No, I won't go down to look for anything...you will have to go outside again yourself.'

I said nothing, and took a shower. When I came out again, I heard him ordering pizza on the phone.

Maiyuu knows he can bully me up to a point, but that ultimately he has to help, or I really will blow up.

Gays like inflicting emotional (and other) pain on each other. Maiyuu enjoys flexing his muscles, to see how much he can upset me. Last night, for a change, I refused to respond to his provocations. I played meek, acted the victim, to see how he would react.

Ten minutes later, I was lying next to him with my eyes closed, in front of the television. He prodded me in the shoulder.

'Why don't you go to bed? Don't fall asleep here.'

Meekly, I did as I was told.

I hope he noticed that I showed no interest: No customary 'good-night', or anything else. As the bullied party, or victim, as some readers have put it, I had become timid and submissive.

What he needs, of course, is for me to yank down his pants next time he walks past. I should give him a firm spanking on the backside, as he seems so intent on acting like a child.

Children bully. Adults negotiate and try to reach a compromise.

I have a surprise for him this morning. Today I shall go from being meek and submissive, back to being the strong half again.

I shall demand he gives me B2000 a month from the extra B12,000 I am making every month.

'I have changed my mind,' I shall say.

Maiyuu argues that he spends his money wisely, on meeting our needs as a couple, but that I tend to spend my money only on myself, or other people. He has a point.

However, I am not asking for much. I doubt he needs an extra B12,000 a month to meet our needs as a couple.

In any event, life is too short to spend worrying about it.

Plenty of Thais survive on much less. Maiyuu appears to have stopped working, so is bringing in no income, and making no contribution to our relationship, other than helping keep the household running.

Being gay does not give him the right to wield power or influence over anyone, just because his partner might also be gay and inclined to want to settle arguments rationally rather than use brute force.

But if it's force he wants - as some kind of weird confirmation that I really do care - then I can do that, too.

Let's have another go at it

Do I sound sad and desperate?

From Mr Anonymous:

'I suggest that your previous message in which you appear to be considering joining a slum family in compensation for the loss of the very slim company your ''boyfriend'' provides does not only make you appear sad and desperate, it means you really are sad and desperate, and furthermore you are stuck in this defensive cycle in which you argue yourself (and anyone else who suggests it) out of positive change. You need a good professional counsellor more than anything else.'

Mr Anonymous, with whom I have battled on this blog over the boyfriend before, says if I am unhappy with Maiyuu, I should leave.

Referring to a blog post, he noted that the other day I was contemplating joining a slum family, I seemed so desperately in need of love and affection, or even just a place to belong.

He also reckons that I like being a victim - I will criticise the boyfriend, then when readers offer advice confirming what a lousy boyfriend he is, I will do a curious about-face and start defending him.

Or, if I do not go as far as standing up for his actions, I will at least defend our relationship status quo rather than contemplate ditching him for someone new.

I know it must look like that. But there are two sides to every story. Try as I might to be fair to both sides, I can't give you a perfectly balanced picture.

To put it another way, if I invited Maiyuu to give you his thoughts about the joys of living with me, his odd farang boyfriend, I would probably come across very differently.

Occasionally Maiyuu tells me himself what it is like living with me. Hellish! It is at these moments that I realise I am not such an accommodating customer, nor even that enjoyable to live with at times, try as I might to keep the peace at home.

Men who strive to keep other people in the household happy are seldom rewarded for their efforts. My father has spent a lifetime doing it.

I recall many times as a child when I longed for him to put his foot down and take sides with one member of the family or another. But he was more interested in restoring equilibrium than forcing problems into the open.

For that, he could rely on my mother, the feisty one in the household.

She fretted that in the eyes of her children, she would end up looking a witch. My father was the saintly one, simply because he rarely disciplined his kids.

That's the first time readers will have heard me talk about my family life...it might also be the last, as blogs (in my view) should not serve as mere platforms for airing emotional laundry.

For that, as Mr Anonymous rightly points out, I should consult a counsellor.

-
The boyfriend, who has spent most of the last 12 hours of sleeping time hiding under a blanket, has surfaced, and made himself something to eat. He appears in better spirits, perhaps because he has noticed that my own moods are now back to normal.

Thais know us much better than we imagine. I reckon some can read minds, especially those who love us.

I had contemplated spending the daylight hours with a foreign friend, but now think I might just chance spending it at home, since we are getting along.

From heart sister Lyn:

'Isn't this your relationship routine, you two tend to have big blowouts during the winter months. I'm surprise you didn't argue during Christmas. Since I have been reading your blog, you tend to have blowouts with Maiyuu during these two months. Didn't you guys argue over money last Christmas and the previous Christmas? I swear I read your blog way too much. It's like your cycle. You complain and he bitches, then you make up.'

So true! I was thinking the same just the other day...we were overdue for a fight. As I said yesterday, this time of year is strange and moody, as people's routines are upset. For the last two years at Christmas and New Year, we have come unstuck.

Something falls off the motor which normally keeps us running together smoothly. We have to find it, then put it back in place so the thing starts working again.

-
I need more women friends...they understand men much better than other men do. Sorry, sisters, but it just had to be said.

At 5pm today I am supposed to teach English to a couple of students who live around here. Actually, being teens, all they demand of me is that I show my face...they like regularity, reliability, and patterns.

If I skip a day, they feel as if they are missing something - as if Mum and Dad have just had a fight. Their emotional centre of gravity starts to wobble.

It doesn't matter what I say, as long as I show up, like Dad presenting himself at the table for the evening meal.

However, this evening I might have to visit a foreigner friend instead. He has a boisterous dog. I can play with him without having to worry about anyone else. I am overdue for time out!

Postscript: The young man wearing the grey singlet reminds me of the boyfriend. Small, and slight - though we should never mistake that for 'soft', or 'weak'. And as for the one in the household who acts as appeaser: is he 'soft' and 'weak' too?

My father would argue not. Next time I see him, I shall have to ask.

PS2: I am listening to Rose Sirintip's new album, Show (โรส ศิรินทิพย์). Here's a tribute to the BF: Khon Derm ('the same guy'). I'm not about to change, and I hope you don't, either.

ไม่มีอะไรที่จะแยกเราจากกัน
ไม่มีอะไรทำให้ฉันจะเปลี่ยนไป
ยังเป็นคนเดิมคือคนนี้ที่ยังรักเธออยู่
ไม่คิดเปลี่ยนใจ
จะนานเพียงใดแต่ใจฉันไม่เปลี่ยนแปลง
จะมีเพียงเธอ เธอคนนี้ตลอดไป ให้วันเวลาพิสูจน์หัวใจ
ว่าใครรักเธอ ว่าใจฉันแน่นอนแค่ไหน
และตัวฉันคือคนเดิม คนที่รักและมีเธอ ตลอดไป

Stick to the gay track

Boyfriend Maiyuu has solved his pastry problem.

He is making puff pastry. The book of recipes he is using, which he bought the other day at the shopping mall, urged him to roll the stuff into sheets using a rolling pin, but it didn't work.

Earlier, he had mixed in flour with salted butter chopped into small squares, also without success. The problem, as I understand it, is that the butter would not blend in with the flour.

Last night, after three failed attempts and much cursing, he decided to knead it with his hands, which achieved much better results. The butter blended in with the flour. This morning he will bake it in the oven.

He attributes the problem to a misprint in the recipe.

-
New Year is a mad time. Strange things happen to people's habits, and moods.

Yesterday I asked Maiyuu for a share of the money I earn from the extra work I am doing at the office. I am earning an extra B12,000 a month. I don't know how long that it will last, but it is good to have.

The other day, I asked him for B1000 a month from the total. He said I would have to wait until next month, as in his view I had already spent enough this month.

Unhappy with that answer, last night I proposed upping that to B3000, which after all is only one quarter. My suggestion set off a blizzard of nasty text messages.

Maiyuu was absent, having the spent the night before, all yesterday, away from home. He refused to answer my calls, which left only SMS exchanges.

'Why don't I just give you back the ATM card? Or would you like me to move out, too? That way you could spend all the money on boys, and have the place to yourself as well.'

That was the nastiest of his messages. When I arrived home from work, Maiyuu was sitting on the floor, belting a large mound of dough with a rolling pin. He probably imagines it was me.

He was still in a sulky mood. 'I am not supporting anyone...I just don't want to go back to running short before pay day every two weeks, as I was before,' I said.

'You have already told me that you want to keep the Google cheque from your blog advertising. Just how much do you need?' he asked.

Previously, I gave Maiyuu money from that source whenever he asked for it, to supplement the money I earn from work, most of which Maiyuu spends on our needs himself, as he keeps my ATM card.

He transfers to me a share of my salary every pay day, but it does not last.

For the next couple of months, I will need to save my Google Adsense money, as I am going overseas. Maiyuu has declined to give me the money from my salary, so I have no choice.

'If B3000 is too much, I will settle for B2000,' I said.

I do not mind if Maiyuu keeps my ATM card, or has control over how most of our money is spent. But I will not force myself to scrape and scrimp in misery when we have no need to do so.

Maiyuu reckons he spends my money more wisely. He has a point there, even if he rarely tells me how he spends it, or what we have left in the account.

I do not throw money at gay guys, as I don't go to nightclubs. I do give small amounts of money to some of the kids who live in the market, because they have little.

That's forgivable, and Maiyuu knows I help them.

Occasionally, I am tempted to support people in more substantial ways, which I suspect is less sensible.

I know a young man in the market whose mother works long hours selling goods away from home, but who has no home phone to call her.

He is close to his mother, and misses her when she is at work. He has an elder brother, but he is often away. Their father is dead.

My young friend owned a second-hand cellphone, but it broke.

I asked him how much a second-hand replacement phone would cost. 'A bit more than 1000 baht,' he said.

In a silly moment the other day, I thought how good it would be to buy him another second-hand phone, or at least give the money to his mother. She could buy it for him, without saying that I helped her.

But then I thought: 'Why him?'

He has an elder brother, who might get jealous, or insist he keep the phone to himself.

My young friend does not like being seen in public with me, as I am older foreign male. His brother or friends could tease him for being gay.

I know other deserving cases around here. I look for people on whom to shower love, because my boyfriend is so unresponsive to me, or seems distracted with other things.

A few possible solutions:

1. Bury myself in work or reading books, and try to forget about my emotional needs.

2. Mix more with gays, and less with straight youngsters who are good at asking me for money. On that note, start visiting gay nightspots, though ideally I would go with a friend rather than alone, which looks sad and desperate.

3. Forget about mixing with families in the market. I am the only westerner living in these parts, and tend to stand out.

Postscript: Thanks to Neil for the advice about pastry which cracks. I shall pass it on.

Get on with your pastry, then!

Making pastry can be a challenging business, judging by Maiyuu's failed attempts so far.

Maiyuu spent hours yesterday trying to roll pastry without making it split. Maybe I do him an injustice: he has made many pies in the past without problem.

He gave up the effort after two failed attempts, and left home to spend the night with whoever is entertaining him outside home these days.

-
A gay youngster hopped on the bus as I was heading to work. He had dyed his hair blond, and wore his black pants low, with a jacket, and low-rise T-shirt.

He shot me a gay look as he sat down - maybe out of habit, or to see if I was interested. A few moments into the journey, someone called him on the phone.

'I wanted to go to DJ Station or Or Tor Kor last night but I have a cold,' he told his friend, referring to those two well-known gay nightspots in Bangkok.

After the call, he stretched, showing me glimpses of his white underwear.

His apple eyes, shapely forehead, and square lips were all distinctively Thai. In a gay nightclub with 100 customers, he would be among the best 10 best-looking youngsters there.

We left the bus at the same place. He walked ahead. I was making my way to a noodle stand for something to eat before work, which is close to a bus stop, and a 7-11. He sat down at the bus stop.

After ordering my noodle, and leaving my bag at the foodstand, I wandered over to where my young man was sitting. He was on the telephone again.

I tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his call. 'You are very pretty - did you know that?' I asked.

He smiled - and I returned to the noodle shop. By the time I had finished my noodle 10 minutes later, Mr Handsome Blond had left.

-

In the market, I visited a shop which serves pork off the bone and rice. I visit regularly, as I like one of the young men who serves me.

After the meal, a man in his 50s walked out before me. He had asked the family which runs the shop to give him B20, so he could call his daughter, who sells goods in the area.

They declined. As we left the shop, he was grumbling, so I gave him the money instead.

We talked, attracting strange looks from residents in the market.

My new friend is called Da Bua. He lives behind the shop where we had eaten moments before.

We walked back to his place, taking the scenic route. Outside his simple home, which sits in a small slum community, he introduced me to a neighbour in her early 50s and her teenage son.

I bought a bottle of lao khao, his favourite tipple. We found a place to sit, and he brought out a checkers-style board game called makhos (หมากฮอส).

We played, but I spent most of the next three hours talking to his neighbour, and her 14 year-old son.

'I have no family here, and would love to be part of someone else's family if you would let me,' I said.

I must have been feeling lonely.

Mum accepted me happily. Today I will go back to see them again.

Love thy neighbour

Boyfriend Maiyuu has spent the last three nights away from home - the first two, at a nearby hotel meditating, and last night with a friend.

This is what he tells me, and I have no reason to think otherwise.

It's New Year, so we all have to do something different.

For three days in the last week, my company has put us on an early-start, early-finish shift. So I have done 'something different' too.

'I hope you do not mind if I am not here. Being alone gives me time to think, and makes me feel better inside and better about my life,' Maiyuu told me two nights ago, on a brief home visit before returning to his meditation hotel.

'I am staying at a cheap place, a hotel around here,' he said.

'Where's your overnight bag?'I asked him before I left.

'Oh, I left it at the hotel last night, so it's still there,' he said.

-
Maiyuu has bought a new German oven, for his baking. When we visited the mall together a few days ago to buy my new glasses, we also took a look at portable ovens.

The oven which he uses for baking is small, unreliable, and old. The new one looks super-duper - what else can I say?

He has yet to use it, but has been busy looking at cookbooks for new ideas.

-
The people who live below my condo celebrate New Year at home. They hire powerful stereos or karaoke machines with a deadening, thumping disco beat.

One place puts up tinsel outside every year. They sit around at a table, or dance.

A girl who joined their party screamed all night long, intoxicated by the noise she was making.

The family opposite raises noisy chickens. Last night, they took over the chicken shed for their New Year celebrations. They had hired their own stereo or some other sophisticated noise projection device, which pumped out music with its own beat.

I have seen both families come to blows before, and thought another commotion was in the offing last night.

How can you enjoy yourself properly, when the family directly opposite is blaring out its own music?

After tossing and turning in bed for two hours, I finally heard someone call out: 'It's time for bed.'

An hour later, by 2.30am, the worst of the noise had died down. I took half a sleeping pill, and the problems of the world faded away.

-
On New Year's Eve, the night before, Maiyuu and I watched fireworks light up the city from a window in our condo.

I held him by his shoulders, as I didn't want him falling out.

Our heads turned here and there like spectators at a tennis match. Over here, a big plume of orange! Over there, candle lanterns floating in the sky!

He is a sweet kid. Maiyuu lit a cigarette, as he tried to contain his excitement.

He had recently showered. I put my nose against his head and sniffed his hair.

Where heroes are made

Bangkok Yai canal, which runs through Talad Phlu 

'Can't you just polish the old ones?' the boyfriend asked the optician hopefully.
She shook her head. No, you can't.

He tried again.

'Can't you just put the new lens in the old frames?'

'No - I want new frames,' I said.

Maiyuu and I visited an optician at the local shopping mall yesterday. I need a new pair of prescription glasses. He was determined to part with as little of my money as possible.
Of course he asked the questions in jest. However, if they had replied 'Yes', I might have had an argument on my hands.

For someone who has good eyesight like Maiyuu, all this fuss over glasses is hard to understand. I buy a new pair every 12-18 months.

I chose a new pair of frames, with his help. Actually, he went straight to the cabinet where the cheapest frames are kept, chose one for me, and pronounced they would look 'perfect'.

Actually, they do not look too bad, if a little on the trendy side.

'I am too old to wear these,' I said.

'They will make you look younger - and they are cheap,' he said approvingly.

We did try on a few others, but settled for the pair he liked which will set us back the least.

The young woman serving us enjoyed our exchange: the farang urging the Thai to spend a little more on his eyes, the Thai keeping his purse strings closed.

They also tested my eyes. My eyesight has grown worse in my right eye, as I suspected.

My new eyeware, with a new pair of lens, will set us back B7,300, which is not so bad really.

Maiyuu put down a B4,000 deposit. 'You can find the other B3,000,' he said.

I talked him down from that lofty position by agreeing to buy him a present at the local bookshop - two cooking books, worth B600.

-

Long-tailed boats bring tourists with their bikes to canalside eateries

I met bad boy Kew at the riverside eatery for a drink.

He wanted to meet in Pin Khlao, where he could pluck my guitar moodily on the banks of the Chao Phraya River, but we decided the local eatery by the canal running through Talad Phlu would be easier.

He turned up shortly after 2pm, the first time we had met in four or five months. The last time I saw him, I brought along a straight friend of mine, farang C.

At his request, Kew took us that day to a forlorn part of town where men pick up girls off the street.

Yesterday, Kew was in a subdued mood. His mother had bought a desktop computer, and then a laptop computer, for the use of his younger sister, who is still at school.

'My sister wanted the laptop so she could show off to her friends,' Kew complained.

Kew knows he is his Mum's favourite, but is having trouble communicating with her. He says she should have saved for a rainy day the money she spent on the laptop. Kew's parents left each other years ago, and his mother is not well off.

My young friend is close to his younger sister, who shines academically - or did, before she became hooked on her friends.

'She told me to butt out of her business. I cried,' he said.

Kew's former girlfriend is also causing him problems. She is 18, and has made herself pregnant with a man she befriended in the provinces. Kew worries about her, as he fears she is too young to raise the child herself.

'I tell her to stop smoking and drinking, so the child has a chance of being born normal,' he said.

I felt sorry for my friend, who came close to tears a few times as he told me the sad stories of his life.

Kew, a security guard, works for a local car firm. He can look after his own needs financially and is even managing to save money, he says, so life is not all bad.

While we were drinking, a fight broke out at a nearby table. A small man in his 50s started shouting at a woman. I don't know what the fight was about. Kew could see more of what was happening from where he sat.

'If I intervene, will I get thumped?' he asked.

'Don't do anything - just sit,' I urged.

However, we were both on our feet a few seconds later when the man pulled out a paper cutter. The sound of the blade sliding out of its metal sheath is unmistakable.

One of the women at the table was trying to restrain him.

I was the first to arrive. 'That's enough,' I told him firmly.

Kew did much more. He put himself between the man with the blade and his female target, and threatened to take the knife off him.

The little man with the fiery temper agreed to put his cutter away. The woman he was scolding fled the restaurant, and life returned to normal.

I was proud of Kew. On his feet, coming to the rescue of a woman, he looked tall and strong.

'You are the hero of this shop today,' I told him after we had returned to our table.

'You're my hero as well.'

Kew and I have known each other since he was 18. He is now 25, looks harder in the face, but is still handsome.

While we were drinking, three long-tailed boats pulled up at the pier outside the eatery - a small restaurant with open sides perched on the banks of the canal - and disgorged their passengers and bikes on to the rickety pier next to us. 

Under the bridge, close to the canalside eatery

They were tourists, who had come on a bicycle ride around the market. Before their ride, they drop into the restaurant for a bite to eat.

I spoke to one of the guides, a tall Thai woman in her early 20s.

'I like girls like that - if I didn't have Maiyuu, I might be with her - she suits my specs,' I announced.

I would like to think it could be true. Who knows.

Kew, for his part, decided he liked the look of one of the Dutch girls in the tour group.

An hour later, as another tour group was getting back on a long-tailed boat by the wooden pier, having finished their ride and their snack, a Thai tour guide chatted to Kew through the open sides of the eatery.

She was on the pier, piling bicycles onto the boat.

After she left, a member of the waiting staff told Kew that the girl had left her phone number.

She must have liked the look of Kew, but was too shy to ask for his phone number herself.

Kew called back, but did not sound interested, as his moods were still flat.

My young friend has depressive tendencies, but I am not sure how to help him feel better.

'Can I kiss your forehead?' I asked. 'It looks sad.'

'No - you're mad,' he said, laughing.

Postscript: Happy New Year to readers.

Khao tom reunion

Farang C went for the Thai option last night, choosing to drink at a humble khao tom shop rather than a trendy, tourist-style place nearby, as he did not want to sit indoors.

In Klong Toey, where we met, I gave him a choice of two places to drink, which I had last visited years before.

One was an indoors eatery which looks like it belongs in the tourist district, with soft lighting and trendy furniture.

The other place, next door, was a khao tom shop whose good name stretches far and wide among Thais, but which to many farang might look too basic.

Without hesitating, Farang C chose the khao tom place, whose owner and family remembered me from last time.

I introduced farang C to the owner, Jay. If we decide against returning to Mum's forlorn hole-in-the-wall in Pin Khlao, the khao tom in Klong Toey might even become our new local.

That should please Jay and her family, as the place was quiet.

Several young men turned up late to order food, probably for their girlfriends. A few couples also dropped in for a meal, but other than that, the place was empty.

I drank whisky, farang C drank beer. About midnight, he left for a girly bar in Silom, and I went home.

-

The Mall Tha Phra, our local mall

Maiyuu and I are visiting the local shopping mall, our first social outing in months.

I want to buy a new pair of prescription glasses, and need Maiyuu on hand to pay the deposit.

First, I shall have an eye test. Maiyuu can sit next to me in the little booth where the optician places lenses over my eyes.

'Can you read the letters on the bottom line, please...'

Last time we did this, about 18 months ago, Maiyuu was surprised at how poor my eyesight had become.

After the eye test, I will seek Maiyuu's help in choosing a pair of frames.

As my eyes get worse every year, so does the bill for new prescription glasses go up. I hope he doesn't mind.