Music in the market

I complain often about the amount of noise which Thais make. However, one kind of noise which I do not mind is the sound of young ones playing music.

From my condo, I can hear someone practising what sounds like a trumpet. Close to the canal which I visit daily, I can hear someone in a shophouse practising piano.

I haven't identified which homes the sound comes from, but I enjoy listening. I want to call out messages of encouragement.

The playing sounds so crisp when it's live, so to speak, compared to recorded music played through a stereo. One day, as I walked towards the canal, I heard a mother giving her children instruction in pronouncing English vowels.

I have only ever heard that once. I should have called out encouragement on that occasion, too.

Eerie condo silence descends

I took my time rising this morning, as it was raining outside.

The sound of soft rainfall makes me sleepy, and I like it. The sky is still a dark grey, almost purplish colour, and the air is cool.

Apart from the sound of the rain outside, all about us was oddly quiet. Normally at this hour, the din of the day has started...kids crying, adults arguing, and that's just in our condo.

I ventured into the hallway to investigate.

Surprise! The noisy, inconsiderate Chinese family which has persecuted us for months has upped sticks and gone.

Overnight, they packed their things, and evacuated the two rooms they occupied on our floor.

My partner  Maiyuu overheard them say months ago that they would like to find a bigger place to rent.

When I returned from work last night I saw them packing, but thought nothing of it.

This morning, however, they were gone.

When I woke, I noticed how quiet the floor had become, for the first time in years.

'What's going on?' I asked Maiyuu.

'Maybe they are asleep,' he said.

I placed a fold-out plastic stool in front of their door, and stood on it hastily.

If the Chinese were still about, I didn't want them to spot me. We do not get along.

A thin strip of glass runs along the length of the room, just below ceiling level.

It's put there to let in light from the hallway, but today served as my peeping hole.

I took a quick look through the window, and clambered down.

The room was dirty, but bare. So was the other room they occupied on the opposite side of the hallway.

They left a small burn patch on one floor, where they kept their gas cooker. Other than that, there was no sign of them.

The Chinese liked to leave open the doors to their rooms all day, except when their children were sleeping.

We were privy to all their living noises - conversation in Chinese, cooking sounds, children crying, parents arguing.

They regarded the ninth floor as their own; the rest of us who just happened to rent or own places, a mere inconvenience.

I complained to the condo office many times about the noise.

'We'll talk to them,' said the manager.

Office staff warned them to keep down the noise, but they carried on regardless.

If I shouted, or banged on their door in a moment of anger, they would look at me stunned, and shut up for a moment - then start making noise again.

Once, we argued in the hallway.

I left my room shouting and cursing, as I could no longer concentrate, the noise was so bad.

The Chinese family comprised two sisters in her 30s, along with their two young sons.

They had one child each to a sulky Thai/Chinese man. He shared the same space with them, along with his spindly, grey-haired mother.

The old woman was the worst, as she let the kids do whatever they wanted.

Want to ride a bike and bang into things in the hallway? No problem!

I saw one of the mothers crossing the hall, so let her have it.

'You really just don't give a shit about anyelse else, do you?' I fumed.

The woman, a tiny thing with a fiesty temper, started banging away at me in Chinese.

Her aged, child-indulgent mother heard the commotion and joined us in the hall.

Now, I had two women shouting at me in Chinese.

'Maw maw maw maw!'

I shouted at them again, and stormed off. Short of throwing objects into their room, what else could I do?

In my battles with the Chinese, Maiyuu was little help. Being Thai, he does not like confrontation, so says nothing unless really pushed.

'When I was at work at night, did they make as much noise then as they used to do during the day?' I asked Maiyuu.

'Yes.'

'Did you ever complain?'

'No.'

Speaking up for our right to live in peace and quiet was my job, and Maiyuu was happy to let me get on with it.

This might be a good time to talk to the people who run this condo. I would like to tell them that if a family moves in, I reserve the right to spank their children when the noise gets out of hand.

For the time being, the place next to us is vacant.

This is a popular condo, so it may not sit unoccupied for much longer. Who knows what lies ahead?

This could be the lull before the storm, but for the time being we are enjoying it.

My butterfly collection

Two foreigner bloggers in Bangkok are puzzling over odd features of the Thai gay scene. Bitch of Bangkok and Kawadjan are perplexed by the obsession among Thai guys about whether a potential mate is a top or bottom.

If a bottom meets another bottom, then in the Thai mind grave doubts arise as to whether the pairing could ever work between the sheets. BB:

'Basically, two bottoms or tops doesn't work in the Thai gay mind and you instantly fall from grace and even get asked if you can provide them with someone more fitting. I think that's both tasteless and silly. Two bottoms and tops can also have great fun and no one deserves to be dropped like a hot potato for releasing their sexual position or role.'

Kawadjan relates a similar experience:

'Too bad you're a top... we could have, you know...' said this flight attendant that I was MSN-ing with a couple of nights ago. We were just starting some friendly chat when he suddenly veered towards that topic. I couldn't believe I'm having that conversation again and so early into the getting to know each other stage. But what did I expect as this constantly crops up, especially among the locals. It's already getting annoying.

'A friend also has this recurrent encounter with boys he chats with on the internet who, upon learning that my friend is a bottom, would say something like, ''Well, we can just be friends''. Meanwhile, I know of someone who has been dating this guy for a couple of months only to be told that the relationship did not have a future because both of them are top. Ugh.'

Then there's the tendency for Thai men to collect a small coterie of partners, none of whom he elevates to the exalted status of boyfriend (or girlfriend - it cuts across both genders) - but any of whom he could take to bed, whenever the desire takes him. In Thai, a guy (or girl) in reserve is known as a kik.

The popular definition of 'kik' is someone who is closer than a friend, but not as close as a boyfriend or girlfriend. More from the Bitch:

'The notion of ''boyfriend'' has really been destroyed in gay Bangkok. I have not met one couple that is steady and where both parts do not cheat. On the contrary, I have slept with quite a few guys that would later tell me (or not) that they already have a boyfriend.

'As a rule of thumb, Thais don't sleep with their friends. That is no problem. However, you will just be elevated onto kik status - and then you are allowed. All in all there is a striking ease with which people can change their status with others. But when people ask me: "Do you have a boyfriend?" I haven't found out if they actually mean having a boyfriend - or just a kik.'

Read the full post here. Kawadjan's post is here.

Unpaid bills

Today is pay day. I was the first to wake, as I usually am. I turned on the computer and found I could get no internet.

I tried the phone. A recorded message told me that service had been suspended. Without a phone line, we could get no internet either.

I recall getting a call from the phone company a few days ago, warning us the bill was due to be paid.

I found the phone bill, which was unopened. It had been sitting at home since Sept 2, when it arrived.

A payment of B850 was due on Sept 27. It is now two weeks later. No wonder the phone company gave up. They suspended our service, to make sure we paid.

I woke the boyfriend, and told him the phone service had been suspended. He left home in good spirits, to pay the bill, buy groceries, and do other household jobs.

By the time he returned, service to our phone line had also been restored, so I could use the internet.

That was a relief. I had feared they could keep us waiting for days.

If someone issues a bill, it's usually because he wants to be paid.

Maiyuu has been sitting at home watching movies all day for weeks. He could have at least opened the thing.

I don't want to turn into one of those grannies in the West who opens her bill, circles the due date, pays it days in advance, then worries about whether they will get her payment or whether they will cut her service inexplicably.

But nor can I understand this lackadaisical Thai attitude about paying bills and keeping the household running.

A bill? So what. Let 'em wait.

Living with noise

Noisy chickens live in a chicken coop along the railway line next to my condo.

A middle-aged man who raises them lives in a tin-roofed shack, the kind you see in slums.

In modern touchy-feely language, it's a 'community'. That's also the word they use in Thai, though in a Stalinesque touch they might call it 'Community No 2' after giving the name of the local area. But what they really mean is 'slum'.

Passenger trains roar past on the single line which runs past his place, and my condo next to it, every day. In peak times, they pass every 10 minutes.

They create a terrific noise, as the Railways of Thailand runs mainly old, run-down locomotive stock.

One train yesterday stopped about 20 metres short of the platform.

Maybe the driver was asleep. He had trouble getting the locomotive to move again, so did what all drivers do - just clamped his foot on the accelerator. The thing did not budge.

'Brrmmmmmm!' the train roared. The train still refused to move, so the driver revved the engine again, and again.

A man in a railway kiosk drops a wooden barrier across the railway line every time a train is about to pass, so cars know when to stop. He came out of his kiosk and stared.

'I can do a better job than that,' he appeared to be thinking.

Eventually the train moved on, and made it to the platform.

The birds in the shack only add to noise levels.

The man with the shed keeps up to a dozen birds there. The number keeps increasing, which is bad news. What happened to bird flu?

He might raise them for their eggs, or sell the birds for their meat when Chinese festivals roll along. Boyfriend Maiyuu reckons he actually raises them as fighting birds.

In any event, they make a terrific din. Someone only has to walk into that shed and they will start squawking.

I can hear the melee from the birds from my condo on the ninth floor. They compete with the noise from the railway, and is so loud that it is starting to drive me mad.

The third chief source of noise in my life, my inconsiderate Chinese neighbours, also causes me stress.

I can probably do nothing about the railway, as it is a public service. As for my Chinese neighbours, I have complained many times. What's left?

The squawking feathered ones are kept in dirty upturned rattan baskets under a tin shed with open sides. If the noise carries on, I might have to pay their owner a visit.

Will he be in a fighting mood, like his wretched birds?