Daddy elephant and the naked ascetic

An elephant walking through Bangkok

A young man escorting a large elephant through town asked me if I would like to buy bananas for him (the elephant) to eat.

'Dad (Ah Pa)...elephant? ' he asked.

This is the first time I have been called Dad.

Many Thais have called me uncle, but an uncle can start his duties at any age.

In real life (outside the blogosphere), I am now an uncle many times over, though I seldom see my nieces and nephews.

I was a little shocked, and shook my head to say no.

Boyfriend Maiyuu says the term does not have to mean Dad. Traders can use it as a term of endearment to refer to customers generally. Still, when I heard it, I felt old.

Before I was Uncle (Lung). Now I am Dad.

Still, it's better than being called Aunty - which, but for the tone, sounds very similar to the word 'Pa' meaning Dad.

-

'Mum's place is dead...where else shall we drink?' I asked my work friend, farang C.

He and I have drunk at Mum's shop half a dozen times. I introduced him to the place one night, to show him that life outside the tourist zone in Silom, where he lives, can be just as rich and colourful.

In Silom, he does battle with mamasans, drunken foreign friends, and bargirls who steal money.

On the Thon Buri side where I live and drink, he can take in the family side of Thai life - Mum and Dad arguing with kids, street dogs, drunken Thais...

I prefer mixing with Thais rather than foreigners, so no surprise if I should have stuck by Mum's place all these years.

But the place is now barely a shop at all. When I see it, I think of Charlie Brown's lemonade stall. Why would you bother, unless you felt sorry for the kids, or were absolutely parched?

'Let's try Klong Toey,' said farang C.

Klong Toey, which is closer to where he lives, contains an odd mix of the super-wealthy and ultra-poor. It is home to mansions and slums alike, separated only by a motorway.

As it happens, I know two places where we can drink on nearby Pra Ram 4, which span both sides of the wealth divide.

One is indoors, and looks like a boutique eatery, similar to the smart joints he frequents in Silom, or in trendy Thong Lor.

It has plenty of golden woodwork, and subdued yellow lighting, but is probably empty most of the time. Few tourists dine in Klong Toey, and most young Thais who want to be seen stick to the central city.

The other is just around the corner - an outdoors khao tom shop which also serves booze.

I haven't been to either in years. Tonight, I shall catch a bus into Klong Toey to meet farang C.

I will take him to these two little shops I know, and ask him how he would like to drink - like a farang tourist, indoors at some wannabe Thong Lor establishment - or at a humble khao tom shop, staffed by youngsters from Esan, who are tired, overworked, and thinking of home.

Which way will he choose?

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Chee Plueay Jao Leh (ชีเปลือยเจ้าเล่ห์) is a short story in Thai for children about the dangers of entrusting secrets. A merchant is washed ashore after his ship sinks at sea. He has no clothes, and locals assume he is an ascetic. They shower him with gifts and ask for his advice.

The King of the Garudas and King of the Serpents are among his followers. Because he is a nosy, fickle type, he extracts a secret from one, and passes it to the other, in the hope of getting some benefit.

Disclosure of the secret has potentially disastrous results, for the two are lethal foes.

However, when the two kings realise they have been deceived by the naked ascetic, they reconcile, and get their revenge.

Sound interesting? A Thai woman has translated one version of this ancient story into English, and asked me to check her work.

She wants to publish this story and about 50 others related to Buddha's birth in a book for young children.

A mutual friend has asked me to help her. 'My friend wants to make merit...please check her English,' he asked.

I doubt there is a market for such books. At that age, few Thais are interested in English. I am about to finish her story on the naked ascetic. Hopefully, she will then lose interest, or find some more productive way to occupy her time.

Am I being mean?

Apple pies all over

Maiyuu made two apple pies yesterday - a large pie, and a baby one. Today he has made bacon and cheese sandwiches. It is good to see the kitchen back in action, after a quiet few days.

Maiyuu hardly talks these days, which is odd - just cooks, and watches television. Perhaps he can't be bothered conversing any more.

I do most of my talking at work. When I come home, I remind myself I am entering a no-chat environment. Occasionally, a farang work friend calls. Perhaps Maiyuu resents the fact that I talk to the farang much more than I do him.

-

I am ploughing through this blog to correct the English and otherwise tidy it up where needed.

I don't often read my own blog, which sounds strange. Still, it's relatively painless. My memory is so poor these days that I can pull up a post from six months ago and barely recognise it as my own. I am working backwards, and have now made it to early October.

That's a mere two months. Even back then, my posts were too heavy. I don't know how readers tolerated it. You should have sent me a message: 'This is getting boring!'

Bare under the Christmas tree

Christmas in Bangkok

The streets on Christmas night were unusually lively.

Outside my condo, I picked my way over a group of five or six teens, sitting on the footpath chatting.

They looked at me curiously. Other raced around on motorbikes; madness was in the air.

A streetside karaoke bar was full to bursting. Thais do not observe Christmas as such, but have heard that for farang it is an occasion for drinking, so do the same.

I took a taxi to Mum’s hole-in-the-wall shop in Thon Buri in the hope of sitting amid a throng of excited young people, jostling on heaving streets.

Of course I exaggerate, but I thought I might have detected at least a little Christmas spirit in the air.

Wrong! Christmas is a central Bangkok thing, something which tourists celebrate. Out here, it was just another night.

A few customers dropped in to buy cigarettes. No one stopped for a drink. On the sidewalk, Mum’s son played chess with Pao, who works at the eatery next door.

I cleared the counter of used glasses, and emptied an ashtray, as no one else had bothered.

Mum ducked out the back of the shop to make a quick snack of crabsticks and mayonaisse, then rejoined me at the front counter.

Creak, creak! My swivel chair is in need of oil. It's base is wobbling, and it's probably on its last legs. I said nothing, as we do not get too fancy around here.

Mum was her usual cheerful self, if quiet. No one mentioned Christmas, but then I didn't expect anyone out here to exchange season's greetings.

'In a few days, we will shut up shop and take the family truck back to the Northeast to celebrate New Year,' Mum said.

We tucked into her crabsticks. The boys joined us, and Mum's husband helped himself to a few.

'We'll take the dogs in the back of the truck and stay with my mother,' she said.

Farang J, boyfriend to Mum's younger sister, and on a visit from Britain, is already there.

He did not bother stopping in Bangkok when his flight arrived a couple of weeks ago, but took a taxi to Esan straight from the airport.

The truck belongs to him, or rather, he bought it. Mum's husband keeps it in Bangkok to buy supplies for the shop.

Farang J is popular when he visits, because he has money and can help Mum's family pay the bills. They can go out for meals, or maybe hold a family bar-b-que.

This year, however, he has had to tighten his belt like the rest of us. Farang J, a contract painter, has lost his job.

'We won't do much, as no one has any money,' said Mum matter-of-factly.

Just another Christmas

Merry Christmas to readers.

Boyfriend Maiyuu and I are having a quiet night indoors.

He spent several hours today pottering in the kitchen, making tasty chicken treats.

In years gone past, he might have gone dancing on Christmas Day with friends.

This year he has decided to watch TV at home with me. Or perhaps no one called to invite him anywhere.

'Are you going out?' Maiyuu asked me.

'No...too old and tired,' I said. 'Are you?'

'I can't be bothered...I want to stay at home,' he said.

I have been busy in the lead-up to Christmas.

At nights I have gone to work as usual. During the day, I have supplemented my earnings by working for a foreigner friend.

Farang M, an engineer, works at an export electronics factory.

Every morning I take a 20min taxi trip to his company. We sit in his air-conditioned office, which resembles a sound lab, repairing the English language on his company's website.

He drives me part of the way home, and I get a taxi the rest of the way.

I get home in time for a quick shower. Half an hour later, I catch a bus for a 40min trip to work where I start my night-time job.

Today, farang M takes the day off, as it is Christmas. He is the only foreigner on the company's payroll, though possibly not the only Christian on staff.

His company does not observe Christmas Day as a holiday. If Thai staff want to take the day off, they will have to make special arrangements, like my foreigner friend. Otherwise, it's just like any other day.

Money motivates

Today is boyfriend Maiyu's birthday.

Maiyuu has been confined to bed with a chest ailment and stomach bug for a couple of days.

I have been working for a foreigner friend on his company's website, so have not been home to keep Maiyuu company.

However, I did give Maiyuu B1000 as a birthday present, at his suggestion.

As I write, Maiyuu has managed to haul himself up from his sick bed to visit the local shopping mall, where he will probably buy himself something tasty to eat.