Name a price (2)

"My name is Gai, which is Thai for chicken. Nurse, my daughter, is 10," he said.

My new friend at the sit-down eatery then pointed to his aunt, and her son.

"His name is Dey," he said.

I turned to the boy, who is older than Nurse.

"What does that name come from?"

"It comes from Dewar's [Dey-wars] whisky," he said proudly.

"Back in those days, we used to drink a lot," said Gai sheepishly.

Gai's wife is called Tew. I don't know where the word comes from - I must ask. It is probably part of a compound. Depending on what word accompanies it, she could be a mountain range, a panoramic view, a row of trees.

Sometimes Thais are at a loss to know what to call their children.

At my office, I know a Thai man who has three sons. He called them after the Thai words for One, Two, and Three, presumably because he couldn't think of any better name when the first boy was born. When the other ones arrived, he carried on the same way he started.

Earlier the same day, I went for a massage, where I had encountered other unusual Thai names.

The massage shop, about 15 minutes' walk from my home, is run by a large family. A big girl from Esan, in the Northeast, worked on my back.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked, as soon as we started. "I ask, because I need a mate."

A woman in her 50s turned up. She brought a small boy with her. The boy's name was Leo, after the Thai beer.

"You have a delicious sounding name," the Esan woman joked. "Come here and give me a taste."

"My mother's name is Beer," said the boy.

"Is your Dad's name Lao Khao [home-brewed alcohol]?" the Esan woman asked him.

now, see part 3

Name a price (1)

At my new eating place in the Klong Toey fresh market, I have exchanged the sickening smell of drain water for the bracing odour of raw meat.

Sound unappealing? It's not all bad.

A few weeks ago, I left the smelly noodle place close to open drains where I was grabbing a quick meal before work for a covered shop further inside the Klong Toey fresh market.

The smell coming from the drains was unbearable. I hope the owner and his wife, who support four children, don't mind that I have moved camp.

The place where I eat now, a two-storey shophouse, is further inside the same street. If I kept walking, eventually I would reach the heart of the fresh market.

Trucks carrying pig carcasses and green produce compete for space in the narrow street with residents, traders and customers getting about on wobbly bikes, motorbikes and on foot.

My bus stops around the bend. I follow a large group of passengers as we head down the street, past the streetside stall with the open drains where I ate before, and down towards my new place in the shophouse. Some drop into the shophouse eatery with me for a meal; others carry on their way further into the market.

I bow my head and try to look busy when I walk past the streetside stall, which sits just inside the corner.

Every night at my new place, runn by a local family, I order the same dish from the menu of fried rice with pork.

"Don't you get sick of that? You should try one of our dishes with basil and chilli - we're famous for them," a Thai man told me.

Aged in his early 50s, he introduced himself as Gai. His mother owns the place. I had seen him in the shop before, serving a group of middle-aged men who come nightly for a meal and a whisky.

Thais are a friendly lot, but this was the first time I had met anyone. Gai invited his wife over, and his aunt. They introduced me to their children.

Gai's aunt runs a food cart outside. The shop itself has been open 30 years.

It is on the ground floor of a shophouse, with a living area upstairs. The sides open onto the street. When the shop closes on weekends, the owners pull down metal slide doors to shut it off from the outside world.

"In years gone past, we were located closer to the street. The alcohol laws were not as strict. We could open at all hours, and the place was full of customers," said Gai.

He asked me what I did. I told him.

"I would like my daughter to improve her English, and my aunt wants her son to study more, too."

I met the girl, aged 10.

Almost all Thais have nicknames in addition to their formal names. The girl was named after the English word "Nurse".

"She was born at Bangkok Christian Hospital. We thought it looked clean, tidy and proper, so we called her Nurse," said Dad.

now, see part 2

Show him who's boss

A regular reader who posts bravely behind the name 'anonymous' has been offering me advice on what to do with my boyfriend.

For his own good, he says, I should force him out to get a job. I should give him a deadline, and if he fails to meet it, tell him to find a new home.

Anonymous was annoyed when I said I might have to negotiate with boyfriend Maiyuu before I visit the dentist next week. I want to make sure I have the money in hand when I go for my appointment.

I have asked Maiyuu to withdraw the money from our main account. For the sake of convenience, and because I like to 'empower' him with responsibility for the finances, he holds the ATM card.

If he does not give the money to me, I would have to use my own money, which would be silly, as I would rather keep that for when we really need it.

The anonymous reader reckons I lack the courage to upset him. He says I have fallen into an unhealthy relationship of co-dependency with my boyfriend, and that he should contribute financially, or get out.

Of course he should get a job, and help me pay the rent. It all sounds wonderful, in theory.

A few practical obstacles remain.

My boyfriend is gay. I can't expect him to cut up pig carcasses in a fresh market.

He has skills in particular areas, such as cooking, clothes-making and design.

I would like him to get a job which makes use of those skills...but at his age, and with his lack of qualifications, finding such jobs is hard.

If he does find such work, probably it will be through friends, not by knocking on doors.

Even if he gets the job of his dreams, it will be poorly-paid. The cost of getting to work and back will consume most of his earnings, and I will rarely see him.

But let's put that to one side. The farang critic says he must get a job!

Thanks to me, Maiyuu's days of flipping hamburgers at McDonalds, which he did when he first arrived in Bangkok years ago, are over.

That's me indulging him, Mr Anon would say. True, I wouldn't want to see him in such unrewarding work. But they wouldn't want him anyway - he's too old.

In any case, why should it be my job to lay down the law? Some foreigners appear to think that it is their duty, if not their right.

I have tried the confrontational approach. It makes him angry and does not always lead to an improvement.

I now try more subtle approaches, which over time I hope will achieve the same result.

Maiyuu owes it to himself to get a job and build a better life. If I fell under the Klong Toey bus tomorrow, he would have no home, no job, and no money.

If it was me, I would do whatever I could to make myself as financially independent as possible, for my own peace of mind.

I don't know how he lives with himself, knowing that his health and general welfare - whether he even has a roof over his head - depend on keeping this farang happy.

That's not a fair or satisfactory basis on which to run a relationship, and gives rise to Mr Anon's complaint that we have fallen into a co-dependency rut. Or to put it another way: Where is Maiyuu's self-respect?

That's the way foreigners think, anyway. My Thai boyfriend had a tough childhood. My upbringing in the West was privileged by comparison.

I don't really know what he thinks about financial independence, the power to make one's own decisions in life. He's never had much money. Before he met me, he went from job to job in different provinces, moving about the place with friends.

He would probably think independence was a great idea - if he thought it was possible to achieve.

Someone has to show him that with his skills and background, such goals are still attainable.

I hope that day comes for him - but it won't come if any sooner if I force him out to find a job he does not want.

I shall have to work on him in more subtle ways, which seem lost on some foreigners, whose first instinct when confronted with a Thai boyfriend who does not behave in the way they expect, is to lay down the law.

That might work in a relationship of equals, which each partner gives as good as he gets, and can afford to walk away.

But Thais from poor families do not always think of themselves in such terms, at least where the mighty farang is concerned.

I have education and money which my Thai boyfriend lacks. Mr Anon thinks I should wield the power which those advantages confer to get my way.

I wonder what would happen if Mr Anon should happen to end up with a noodle-cart worker for a mate rather than a tertiary-educated student, which he has at present.

Now, he can afford to insist on equality - if his Thai friend is prepared to pay his share, then he is showing respect to the farang.

Mr Anon has a Thai friend who reckons it's a good thing if a Thai date can pay his own way at least five times, to show he's 'serious' about the farang.

Not all relationships here fall into that tidy category. Just how much money do you think a poor Thai who left school at 15 or 16 can bring to the household?

Want him to 'pay his share' at the movies? Take me out for a meal, to show he really loves me?

Perform any number of other financial tests to show he genuinely cares?

I don't care for the farang money test. It's cheap, nasty and demeaning. Its advocates sound like outsiders...foreigners perpetually on the outside, looking in.

I wonder how the farang who advocates that his Thai dates jump through such hoops would feel if he was the one on the receiving end - told he must pay for this, pay for that, before he qualifies for the exalted status of 'boyfriend'.

Few Thais would insist that farang perform such tricks. They treat them with more respect.

Why gays make the best friends

Ten reasons why straight men should befriend gays. Here's a list left at the Pantip webboard. The author doesn't say if he's a guy or a girl...but judging by the last item on the list, he's probably gay.

1. He's a lively companion if you're going out.

2. He won't go after your girlfriend.

3. He will invite you out for exercise, which will improve your general shape and condition, and make you more attractive to women.

4. He will help you choose suitable women, because he can look at a woman and tell what she's like.

5. He will help you cool down when you get on edge, such as when you are in a tense encounter with other males...he will act as the middle-man, negotiating a sensible way out.

6. He will make you more interesting to women, by advising on how to improve your style and personal appearance.

7. He will make your room look more attractive, orderly and clean.

8. He will keep away closet gays who have only bad intentions.

9. He is happy to listen to your woes, whenever you want to unload.

10. When you're drunk and out to the world, he will give you pleasure. When you wake up the next day, you won't know anything happened.

Readers who left comments said the last item looked scary. One suggested an addition to the list:

11. He will look for opportunities to become more than just a friend, whenever you slip up...

Gnawing problem (2, final)

My Thai dentist was working on a patient when I dropped in, but came out when he heard my voice.

'Hello!

The dentist greeted me by name. He was wearing a mask, but I could tell he was happy to see me.

Aged in his 40s, he likes to talk about rental properties he owns in Bangkok.

I overhear these conversations while he worked on my tooth. He did not chat to me, but to his dental assistants, as he pokes about in my mouth.

'Suction..!'

Pause.

'I have found a new tenant for the place in Silom...'

Pause.

'Gauze...'

My partner boyfriend is unimpressed that I want to start seeing the dentist again.

'You are just looking for new excuses to spend money,' he said.

'Well, maybe you would like to go back to work to supplement our income?'

This did not go down well.

'Aren't you happy to spend time with me at home?' he asked sadly, as he pulled out a cigarette.

When I saw the cigarette, I knew I had touched on a sore point. Smokers like to light up when stressed.

'My boss now pays just B150 baht a day. If I go back to work, I will spend more money there than I do when I am home,' he said.

Hours later, as I travelled home on a bumpy bus after work, he sent me a text message asking me for B500, so he could cook something for us to eat.

'If you don't want to eat delicious food, then don't worry,' he said.

Since quitting full-time work two months ago, Maiyuu has stepped up his interest in cooking.

Before I left for work, I took a step back from possible confrontation.

'No one is putting pressure on you. I worry about you getting lonely at home, and falling out of touch with friends,' I said. 'Work can be fun, you know.'

The boyfriend rolled over and went back to sleep. The farang seemed happy, so why worry?

Still, I have nagging doubts - things I would like to get off my chest.

Let me put them in plain farang speak.

'Wanting to stay at home all day is not normal. Is this what you want from the rest of your life?

'Do you ever feel guilty when you watch me go out to work every day?'

'If ever I left this place, you would have no home, no job, and no money. Doesn't that worry you?'

Needless to say, I didn't ask him any of those things.

This is Thailand. Western standards do not apply. Here, I compromise and settle for second best, as it may be all I can get.

I will give Maiyuu money to cook, which is all the encouragement he needs to stay at home – if he lets me visit the dentist without complaint.

I visit the dentist in two weeks. I would like it to go smoothly. In particular, I would like to have enough money to pay the bill.

I have warned Maiyuu that I will need to pay a dental bill that day. If, come that time, Maiyuu refuses to withdraw the money I need, then I shall have to re-assess my generosity.

It probably won't happen that way, but we foreigners who like to fret and think too much can't help but worry. I hope for the best, but expect the worst.