Let's move, shall we?

I have been contemplating moving to a condo closer to work.

It is just five minutes from the central business district in Bangkok, so rents are more expensive. But it is close to the office, and my friend farang C lives there.

I asked Maiyuu excitedly if he would like to move.

'Of course,' he said. 'But we'll need money.'

I worked out how much we would need to help us move. Farang C sent me the number of the condo, so I could ask if they had any spare rooms for rent.

'Here's the number,' I said to Maiyuu.

'What's the rush? We can hardly leave tomorrow. You'll need the money first,' he said.

'It's not about rushing. If you call now, you can ask about the place, and if they have anything for rent. If there are none vacant, then that is the end of it.

'Why waste time organising money and moving men, only to find later that they have nothing for rent?'

The boyfriend was not convinced. In truth, I suggested we move mainly so he would get his own kitchen. He enjoys cooking, but in our present place has little preparation space.

At work last night, I started to have second thoughts. 'The motorcycle taxi men will charge you 40 baht to get to work. They put the price up when they see you are farang,' said farang C.

They don't do that in the sticks where I live, I thought.

The owner might ask for six-month maintenance payments, as they did with farang C, I thought.

The appeal was starting to wane, but I was out of step with boyfriend Maiyuu, who was belatedly starting to warm to the idea...

Scolding nanny

'Hello, Mr Sheffield...'

Maiyuu was practising a nasal drawl which he picked up from watching too many episodes of the Nanny on satellite television.

Mr Sheffield was the retired blue-blood English Broadway producer. The Nanny was his nasal-voiced, Jewish, blue-collar nanny from Queens.

When I hear Mr Sheffield's name mentioned in the house, I know Maiyuu is in a good mood, and that I can expect a delicious meal soon.

I am sorry to make such an association - it sounds mercenary - but is true: One does tend to follow the other.

Last night, moments after getting in from work, Maiyuu presented me with a dish of pasta and beef strips with chili. 'Hello, Mr Sheffield...' he said. He draws out the name Sheffield.

'Hel-lo, Mist-er Shef-fieeeeeld...'

This morning, he made a garlic bread snack.

Maiyuu had sent me down to the market yesterday to buy the bread. I misunderstood what he wanted - I thought he was after a French stick - and brought back something which looked like sliced French bread, but with raisins.

'That's no good for garlic bread,' he sniffed. 'Next time, don't buy anything.'

Later he went down and bought the bread himself. 'The 7-11 was full of it - how could you not find any?' he asked.

Well, if he had put it like that - 'sliced, white bread' - I might have had more luck. His Thai was more vague.

'Hello, Mr Sheffield,' he said as he presented me with his garlic bread snack. The bread was cut into small squares, and sprinkled with sugar.

Should I be Mr Sheffield, or the Nanny? Probably Mr Sheffield, as I cannot get even a simple bread order right.

Kitchen vacancy

Maiyuu is unhappy to see outspoken Prime Minister Samak Sundaravej booted out of his job.

He likes Samak because he can cook, and gives his critics as good as he gets.

The Constitution Court yesterday ruled that Samak's cooking shows violated a ban on outside employment, and ordered him and his cabinet to leave office immediately.

The ruling party, however, says it will nominate him to serve again as prime minister when the House sits on Friday. Samak has accepted the nomination.

The Manager newspaper, owned by a co-leader of the protest group People's Alliance for Democracy, ran pictures of PAD protesters cheering the decision.

They danced, sang, punched the air with their fists. 'What are they - morons?' asked Maiyuu, disgusted.

He was just as unhappy to see journalists hanging around the House yesterday, waiting to see if Samak would be nominated again. 'A pack of vultures,' he sniffed.

Should Samak not want the job after all, we would like him to know that there is a space available in our kitchen for an extra cook. He can samak (the Thai work for 'apply') to work here instead.

Samak can share cooking duties with boyfriend Maiyuu. We live in a fresh market, so he should have no trouble finding ingredients.

One of Samak's shows was called 'Tasting and Grumbling,' so called because Samak has a sharp tongue, and likes to complain.

In that regard, he and Maiyuu should get along well.

Leaving the tourist zone (2, final)

Tinker entertains the men while they are here. When they go back home, they send her money.

Farang C had told me about one of her sponsors, an occasional visitor in his 30s called David.

In a bold moment, I asked her about Mr David.

Tinker looked surprised. No girl wants people outside the 'zone' to know that she sells her body.

She described him, and showed me his picture, which she took on her cellphone. However, she did not tell me how they met.

Good girls don't meet men in bars; still less do they take them to bed for money like Tinker.

'At first I did not like farang. I was scared of them....they have such big bodies,' she said.

'I had never met one before I came to Bangkok, and my brother never introduced me to any foreigners.

'But now I have decided that I like them - sometimes more than Thai men, who are unfaithful towards women,' she said.

'I was a shy girl,' she insisted. 'I did not lose my virginity until late. My father, who is Chinese, was strict about letting young men seeing me.'

Tinker is no longer so bashful, but we didn't go into that.

After a couple of hours, Tinker and farang C left to go back to town.

Tinker wanted to visit her women friends at the bar.

According to farang C, who went with her, Tinker latched herself on to two foreign customers as soon as she arrived. While she chatted away, farang C amused himself playing pool in another part of the bar.

One the men lives here, but the other farang was a tourist. What did tinker see in him? Money, I suppose.

How many foreign sponsors is enough for a woman of the night? I should have asked.

Leaving the tourist zone (1)

Mum's shop is five minutes' walk from the Pin Khlao Bridge pier

I met a foreign friend, farang C, at Mum's shop. He brought along Tinker, a bargirl he has known since his arrival in the kingdom, 2.5 years ago.

To get to Mum's shop, they had to travel from the tourist district in Silom, where farang C lives, and his girl friend works.

They took the skytrain, and the subway. Then they hopped on a ferry to the Thon Buri side. As they sat on the boat, they watched the lights of Bangkok at night slip by.

Tinker grumbled about the long journey. She was not used to leaving her comfort zone in Silom.

'Why can't your farang friend meet us half way - ha sip, ha sip (50-50),' she asked farang C about me.

'Farang Mali has to travel, too...he does not live around Mum's shop,' he replied.

However, within a few minutes of climbing aboard the ferry, she relaxed.

'It is beautiful out here,' she said, holding his arm.

For Farang C, getting away from the tacky tourist district does him good, too.

He enjoys the all-Thai environment at Mum's shop, and jumped at the chance to meet when I suggested it.

Tinker, who has a tiny figure, and cute, impish face, put on a good show for farang C's friend (me). She wore a bright, billowy yellow dress, and greeted me with a big smile.

At first, our conversation was business-like: originally from the Northeast, she has a degree in Thai traditional dance, and is studying tourism.

We did not talk about her work in Silom, nor how she supports herself.

Tinker, farang C tells me, has overseas-based sponsors - foreign men visit Thailand as tourists, fall in love with her at the bar, then send her money every month when they go home.

now, see part 2