Man of the household (1)

A Thai woman runs an eatery close to my workplace. She saw me walk past, on my way home. I had just finished work.

Mauy, 38, comes from Esan, in the Northeast. Her shop, which sells Esan food and alcohol, consists of metal tables lined up on the sidewalk against a wire fence.

It is basic, but a good, cheap place to eat and drink for people who work in the area.

Many years ago, I used to drink regularly at her shop. Now I rarely visit. The last time was a few months ago. Her shop is on the same road as my office.

Thais are expert at remembering people's names. Muay has always known mine, but until this week I couldn't remember hers.

When it rains, and she sees me walking past, Muay owner asks her son, Chuay, to take me to the office on the back of his motorbike, so I don't have to wade through puddles.

If he's not there, she will ask her husband to do it, or brother-in-law. All three have given me a lift down the road in the past.

In years gone by, the road would flood badly. I would take off my shoes, and wade through ankle-deep water to work.

When it rains, taxis fill up quickly, and tuk tuk drivers don't want to know.

Thanks to climate change, or maybe simply better drainage, flooding on the road is no longer so bad. But if Muay sees me, she will ask one of the boys to take me anyway.

They take me to my office, or in the opposite direction to my bus stop.

The other night, she asked Chuay, a handsome lad aged about 20, to take me to the end of the road towards my bus-stop.

Chuay hopped on his motorbike. I climbed on the back.

As we pootered down the road, I asked after the young man's mother.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine," he said.

He asked me where I live, and if I had just finished work.

It was small talk. I rubbed his shoulders as we went.

now, see part 2

Name a price (3, final)

I told the story about the funny Thai names I encountered at the massage shop, to my new friends Gai, Tew, Nurse and Dewars.

As the children sat with me in the sit-down eatery, their parents asked them to try talking to me in English.

'How are you...where are you from?" Dey asked, while admitting he was not good with languages.

I answered.

Then the girl asked me a few questions. Her eyes shone brightly, and she looked eager to talk.

"Nurse is not scared to speak, and has a quick mind," said Dad.

Gai asked me if I would like to teach them English.

I said I would be interested. First, we would have to find a time when the children and I were both free.

"Please give me your cellphone number, and I will send you a text message," I said.

I sent him a message that night, asking him if he was serious, and if so, to name which days suited.

I did not get a reply, but then Thais are not good on texting.

The next night, Gai was away. I spoke briefly to Tew.

She called her daughter on the cellphone, to see if she was still interested. "Do you want to learn with the farang?" she asked shyly.

The next night, I met Gai again. He fetched a glass, and poured me a beer.

"I will ask you to join me in a small beer," he said. "I don't drink much - two or three bottles a day. But I drink every day," he said.

Further negotiations followed.

"Can you cope if I pay you just B200 an hour?" he asked.

I had asked for B250 an hour, which is already cheap. However, I was prepared to charge that no matter how many children turned up.

Happily, however, Gai thought that was the daily charge per student.

His aunt joined us, from her cart outside the shop.

"I don't have much money," she said.

Gai looked at me, waiting to see if I would cut the price still further. I stayed silent.

The next day, I called Gai on the telephone. He handed the phone to his wife. A further round of negotiations followed.

We settled on a flat price of B500 a day. However, three children will join the classes, not two - another member of the extended family.

The children go to a public school nearby. It has a specialist unit which gives English instruction in most subjects.

"All the kids around who live around here go to that school," said Gai.

Foreigners teach at that unit, which is for secondary students only. The family once hired a foreigner to teach Nurse privately. Neither child is old enough to join the unit yet.

Their parents are eager for them to learn. On Mondays and Tuesdays after school, they have extra tuition in other subjects.

I will teach English to the three youngsters later in the week. We will meet above the shop, before I go to work.

The teaching assignment will bring in extra money, but could also wear me out.

I hope I still have energy left for my main job. If I turn up looking bleary-eyed, it's because I've taken on to much work teaching Nurse, Dewar and Beer down the road.

I told a Thai-Indian friend from work about how my new friends tried to drive down my price.

"Are they Thai-Chinese?" he asked.

"If they are, then they want their education, and a discount as well - they're businesspeople," he said.

"They look like ordinary Thais. But their shop has been there a long time," I replied.

"In that case, they might have saved money - shops like that did very well in the past," he said.

Tew, mother of Nurse, asked me to teach conversation. She also negotiated on behalf of Dewar's Mum.

Thais get sick of grammar instruction - that's what they get in class, from their mainly Thai teachers, and it fails to work.

Conversation is easier to teach than grammar instruction. If the boys fail to follow what's going on, then we can call on Nurse, who is just 10 but bright, to help.

"They have asked me to teach conversation," I told my friend.

"They want to pick up the farang's accent," he said.

Lessons start this week.

Waggle, waggle

A young Thai man wearing flimsy white shorts was waggling his bottom provocatively in front of me.

His mother called out to him by name, to let him know a farang was approaching from behind.

I was late for work, and walking in a hurry. I had left the steps leading from an overhead bridge and was now on the footpath.

I walked past the mother. She saw that I was a farang male, so called out to her son, who was slightly in front of me.

'Taem!'

He turned around, saw me, and looked shocked.

A large farang was bearing down on his scanty frame. More importantly, it was a male.

Taem looked about 16, tidy, and compact.

I didn't wait for an introduction. This young man looked cute.

'Do you have a boyfriend?' I asked.

He giggled, put his hands up to his mouth, giggled some more. His bright white teeth flashed in the fading dusk light.

He must waggle his butt - more like strutting on a catwalk - as a matter of course, because he didn't know a male was approaching. Does his mother get sick of all that preening?

She wanted to help her son find a mate. That's why she called his name, so he wouldn't miss me.

Taem repeated my question. His voice was deep.

His mother laughed.

'No.'

'Why are you waiting?'

I was in a hurry, and couldn't slow down. In a moment I would be past him.

He laughed again.

'...Or do you like being single?'

I sped past. I looked back at him a few times, as I continued my hurried journey to work.

He kept waggling, a white beacon in the gathering gloom.

But the distance between us grew, until he was a faint white blip at the end of a dark road.

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