Sign on the dotted line

Maiyuu and I met the owner of the condo today to sign a rental contract. We can take occupancy immediately, though Maiyuu expects it will take us until the end of the month to get everything moved.

He has asked the owner to take back her microwave, small oven, TV and two mattresses, as we will use our own. She will return in a couple of days to retrieve those items and at the same time pick up a copy of my passport, which I forgot to take along with me today.

The owner turned up in a smart car, with her own driver, who accompanied us to the unit, and acted as a witness in signing the contract. Maiyuu acted as the witness on my behalf.

The owner was probably in her early 40s, though looked younger. She has two children studying in Australia, whom she will join on a visit soon. She was lovely, and I would like the chance to know her better.

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Maiyuu is interested in supplying bakery to a shop close to our new place. 'A sister of a friend has opened her own shop nearby. I might sell her bakery,' he said today.

Maiyuu told the owner the same thing while we were inspecting the condo, which makes me hopeful that he will indeed find an outlet for his baking and cooking talents.

He has evidently chosen not to supply my friend Wirut's eatery close to Mum's shop in Thon Buri.

Once we move to the new condo, Wirut's place will be too far away to supply with bakery products.

However, I would like to continue visiting the place, as I enjoy Wirut's company, and am now getting to know his family and girlfriend's family as well.

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The moo krata restaurant on the banks of the river

At Wirut's place last night, I received two special visitors - bloggers Bangkok Bitch and Kawadjan.

It was good to meet two prominent members of the Bangkok gay blogging establishment.

I have met BB at Wirut's place one time previously. It was my first time for meeting his Filipino friend Kawadjan.

After drinking for an hour at Wirut's shop that night, we moved to a small eating place on the banks of the Chao Phraya River, next to a well-known moo krata restaurant.

Mum's shop was empty of customers, as usual. I feel sorry for her - Mum is obviously hurt that I have stopped drinking at her place after so many years of regular custom - but I stand by my right as a customer to go wherever I like.

BB and Kawadjan are intelligent, observant, and fun. They have packed a lot into their stay here: today they might visit Siam Square, tomorrow they could be on a cold mountain top sharing an uncomfortable tent.

I am enjoying hearing their stories about life in Bangkok and their impressions of Thais.

As I prepare to cross the river back to the centre of town, which Maiyuu and I left almost nine years ago to live in the wilds of Thon Buri, I feel we are about to enter a new chapter of our lives.

I am about to return to a part of Bangkok where I have not lived since I myself was a relative newcomer to the kingdom.

It's almost as if I have a new set of eyes, like a first-time visitor to Bangkok. Who knows, BB, Kawadjan and I might get to enjoy some gay adventures on the city side of the river, too.

Old man in the wardrobe

We have started packing our place into boxes, ahead of the big move into a condo close to town.

I have not yet signed the contract allowing us to take occupancy, but that day will come soon enough.

In the meantime, I have bought 16 large packing boxes from a hardware store in the market. I have taken all the books off the shelves, and sorted them into piles of 'to keep', 'to sell', and 'to throw out'.

Maiyuu has found a trader who buys furniture and clothes. He will invite him to our place to take a look at our stuff.

He hopes to sell as much as possible, and throw out as little as he can, which makes the packing process slow.

I would like to to throw out as much as possible beforehand, but Maiyuu has been going through my 'throw out' pile looking for items to add to his 'to sell' pile, for the sake of a few more baht which the trader might pay him.

'Don't throw this out...you can sell it,' he said yesterday, as he picked up a used notebook.

'You can't sell it - it's full, there are no blank pages,' I said, surprised he would want to sell such rubbish.

'Thais will buy it for scrap paper,' he insisted.

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Another persistent complaint of Maiyuu's is that he buys me clothes, but I forget about them.

They sit in the wardrobe until they begin shrinking (or my waistline begins expanding) until the day when I can no longer wear them.

'You like wearing the same clothes over and over, to make people feel sorry for you, as if you have nothing better in your wardrobe, which is not true,' he grumbles.

He is right! I didn't realise the extent to which I had become a creature of habit, like an old man.

I put clothes into the wash, they come back, I iron them, hang them on a clothes horse, and wear them again. Who needs to look for trouble in the wardrobe?

Yesterday I took everything out of the wardrobe. I tried on four pairs of trousers, and four pairs of shorts which I didn't know I owned, or had forgotten.

I still fit in them, which is good news.

I also found another four pairs of trousers which are now too small for me (they shrink in the dark), including two pairs of smart looking work trousers which - ahem - I never wore. Sorry, but I just forgot!

Postscript: A few unkind readers at the thaivisa forum once complained that my writing was mundane. This mundane post is for you!

Thai condo life: Going up-market

Our place in Talad Phlu

Inside a typical room (not ours - but like ours, it has no windows!)

Another shot of one of the units

For the last few days, I have been looking for a place to live.

I revisited the condo where my work friend farang C rents a place. A two-room unit next to his place has become vacant. I saw it, and decided we must have it.

Readers will recall my last search for a condo a few months ago, when I visited the same condo building, close to the tourist district in Bangkok.

In that area I visited half a dozen places in all, but in the end decided against moving.

I live in Talad Phlu, a long way from the centre of town. I decided this historic area, dominated by Thai-Chinese and with a canal running down one side, had too much going for it.

Talad Phlu is known for its songtaew trucks

A main road, on a quiet day

Now, the decision seems baffling. I can't wait to get out of here.

Why the change?

This run-down market on the Thon Buri side of the Chao Phraya River has been our home for the last nine years (see more of it here).

My present condo is at least 10 years old, and offers no amenities - no gym, grocery shop, pool.

For many years, this modest 10-storey condo was the tallest building, and only condo in the area. It is still popular, as it is so close to the local market, where shopping is convenient.

However, in recent months the skyline is looking more crowded, as developers have put up a rash of condos close to the local shopping mall, about five minutes' walk to the south.

Those condos have gone up in anticipation of a skytrain extension which will cross the Chao Phraya River, linking central Bangkok to the Thon Buri side, which has traditionally been less developed.

It will bring Bangkok-dwellers over this side to visit the charms of old-style Bangkok, and take us poor suburban dwellers into town for our daily commute to work.

Lion-dancer kids in Talad Phlu

Eventually, this area may develop into a dull condo town rather than what it is now: a residential-light industrial area, dominated by the local mall.

The market in which I live has been here for more than 100 years, supplied by a railway line, still going, which runs from Mahachai to Wong Wian Yai.

Residents live mainly in shophouses, or tin shacks. The market itself is old and neglected.

It offers no cute restaurants, smart coffee shops or other modern services which shoppers take for granted in the centre of town.

A few years ago, a smart Silom-style coffee shop opened here. It closed within a year, as the mainly Thai-Chinese residents of this market do not patronise such places.

They probably go into town only rarely...local temples might hold out more appeal.

For years, the all-Thai nature of the area, despite its lack of modern shops or services, held out charm, at least for me (the boyfriend might have thought differently).

Now, however, it feels stifling, backward, and dull.

After I visited farang C at his condo the other day, he took me to an eatery he frequents. It is five minutes walk away, and nestled among trees.

Diners sit on a raised part of the eatery, which has a polished wooden floor. Paving stones are set in a small garden next to our table.

In one corner, farang teachers chatted about their working week.

'They only employ gay service staff,' said farang C, who is straight.

The young man who served me did not look particularly gay, but he did have a pleasant smile.

I ordered a Thai meal for B45.

Later, I told Maiyuu about my condo-hunting adventure.

'You can get the same meal in the market for B35, so it's not cheap,' said the boyfriend.

'We are moving to an expensive part of town,' I reminded him.

It is five minutes from the tourist district, where the rental for many two-bedroom condos starts at B20,000 - more than twice what I pay now.

On the other hand, he was impressed to hear that a taxi fare from the new place to my office would set me back just B40.

Other benefits? I get to live in a well-designed, furnished condo, with a pool and gym.

The condo, nestled between slummy Klong Toey on one side and leafy Yannawa on the other, is blissfully quiet - no train rattles below, as it does at our present place. No dogs bark when kids leave the internet shop next to the railway tracks in the early hours of the morning.

The condo is within walking distance to work. Compare that with the 45-minute journey I take now.

More importantly, for someone who has been stuck in the sticks for so long, it is set in a modern, cosmopolitan area.

The condo sits between slums on one side, and multi-million baht mansions on the other. It looks urban, and people-friendly - at least on the leafy side.

On the other side, Thais live in tin shacks on a large piece of adjoining vacant land. They light fires at night to burn rubbish and keep warm.

Around them are still more slums, which lead out to a busy motorway which I must cross to get to work.

Down here is a 7-11 convenience store, a hairdresser's, a shop with slot-operated washing-machines, and a market where women spread out fresh produce on the ground.

In this area I have also spotted several playing courts facing the road, where I will take my daily exercise. Round and round - let's watch the farang jogging!

On which side will I end up feeling more at home - the poor all-Thai side, or the wealthy, urbane one where foreigners and Burmese maids roam?

We will have to wait and see.

Just another temple fair

Youngster at a temple fair

A temple close to us is holding a fund-raising fair. I know they are raising funds, because that's what temples do. Apart from that, I could hear a monk babbling through a loud-speaker about the need to support the temple.

The temple is five minutes' walk from my place, on a side of the market which I seldom visit.

The other day, I bumped into a teenager who lives locally, and who I used to meet with his friends near the canal which runs through the market.

He and his school friends gathered there to smoke, gossip, and drink.

They stopped going a few weeks ago, probably because the police shoo-ed them away.

My friend is 15, goes to the local school, and is gay. 'Are you going to the temple fair?' he asked, when we saw each other on the street.

My friend had just bought himself an ice-cream. He offered me a lick. I said no. I walked with him back to his new hide-out these days - a small, dark, sinister looking email shop, popular with teens.

Last night when I visited the roof of my condo to look at the stars, I noticed a slowly-turning Ferris wheel off to my right where the temple sits, and heard the monk babbling into his loudspeaker. Ah, the temple fair!

It was already 11.30pm, but thought I may as well pay a visit.

Wat Klang, our local temple

First, I went back to the condo. 'Wat Klang temple is having a fair. Would you like to come with me?' I asked.

I already knew what the answer would be.

'No, I am busy making brownies,' said Maiyuu.

I went alone, which is my lot around this place, as the boyfriend seldom does anything with me outside home, as everyone on this blog must know by now.

I last visited a local temple fair two years ago, with a kathoey who used to live around here.

That visit opened my eyes to the potential weirdness of temple fairs.

When I arrived, stallholders who lined the main routes inside the temple were packing up for the night.

They sold snacks, desserts, clothes and knick-knacks which you can find almost anywhere else in Bangkok.

The convenience of a temple fair is that everyone is gathered in the one place. If you pass enough stalls you might find something you like.

Some stalls sold tiny fish in buckets. Stallholders and their children were trying to catch them in cups, before bagging them and taking them home.

Thai fair-goers stared at me. I kept a smile on my face as I walked around the place. I had never been inside this temple, and often wondered what it looked like.

It took me 10 minutes to walk past all the stalls.

At one, a gay youngster in his teens was selling perfume. He wore a white T-shirt, noticed me, and started stretching himself to show of his body. On my way out of the place, I made sure I passed him again. This time, he was chatting on the telephone.

I saw few gays, or if they were gay, they were so firmly locked in their own worlds that outsiders could but watch.

I didn't like the look of anything on offer, so bought nothing. Ten minutes later, I walked home.

A youngster outside the temple carried a whistle in his mouth. He was directing traffic, and looking over visitors' motorcycles. 

His wore his jeans in the loose, baggy style.

On my way in, I had looked at him admiringly. On my way out, I barely gave him a second look, as I had had my fill of strange Thais for one night.

Neurosis creeping in

‘Finished,' said Mum bluntly, waving me away from her shop.

She meant she was not willing to serve me at her shop any more, since I had taken to drinking at a rival place inside her soi.

Farang C and I turned up at her shop after the eatery in the soi closed. She saw us arrive, and sold farang C a newspaper.

But if we wanted to carry on drinking, she said we would to go somewhere else.

We took a table at an eatery next to her place instead.

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Suan Lum Night Bazaar

Earlier, farang C and I met at Suan Lum Night Bazaar, my first visit to that inner-city tourist haven in eight years.

Before my friend arrived, I wandered past a few stalls, and bought the boyfriend a jazzy pair of underpants.

They are stretchy, and have brightly coloured stripes.

'Are you sure you don't want a more conservative design?' the shopkeeper asked.

She was nervous that boyfriend Maiyuu may not like them, as they were more 'out there' than the designs and colours which most Thais choose.

'No - I am sure they will be fine,' I said.

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We took a taxi from there to Mum's shop in Thon Buri.

We took the route which takes us past Central World and the Ploenchit market, via Lang Suan, Petchburi Rd, and so on, until we reached the Victory Monument and we realised we still had another 10 minutes of travel still to go.

This was 8pm, past the so-called peak hour, but the traffic was still painfully slow.

The taxi driver and I talked about what to do if you are caught in a traffic jam but need to pee.

'An empty water bottle?' I suggested. 'I didn't bring one.'

'You could stretch out in the back seat there and no one need know what you are doing,' he joked.

'Or Pampers?' I suggested.

'A rubber tube and a bag on one leg?' he asked.

'And should you tell your friends?...they might be in need too,' I asked, then thought better of it.

'No, you shouldn't tell friends - they might ask to use them, too.'

We arrived more than 25min later.

'You have to stay philosophical when stuck in traffic jams,' said farang C wisely.

'That's hard when you need to use the toilet badly,' I said.

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Maiyuu is back from his two-day getaway - not at a temple, as I first thought, but to Pattaya.

Last week when Maiyuu told me that he wanted time out from our relationship, he said he would go to a temple in the provinces for a couple of days, and warned me not to send anyone looking for him.

I believe he decided some time before he left that he would not visit a temple at all. He stayed at a hotel in Pattaya instead. He told me the name, which I have forgotten. Was it in Boys' Town? No. He says it was close to a beach, where he took several walks, alone.

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Thais like plotting, subterfuge, conspiracy theories, ghosts. On the night Maiyuu returned, he asked me whether I had been on the tenth floor of the condo, gossiping about him with his friends.

'No...why would I do that?' I asked.

'I have been hiding by the railway lines outside, to watch who was coming and going - and I thought I heard you talking to Duck and the others about me,' he said conspiratorially.

'You mean, you heard us from outside the condo even though I was supposedly talking to them on the tenth floor? ' I asked, confused.

I gave up. I am not sure whether Maiyuu is slowly going mad, or if he is letting moods cloud his judgement.

He told me about his Pattaya adventures. A Russian guest in her early 20s struck up a conversation, and flirted with him at the pool.

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Maiyuu found a long strand of what is probably woman's hair in our bathroom yesterday, and asked if I had invited anyone to our place why he was away.

No - I knew few women here, which is sad, but true.

I told Farang C about the strange accusations Maiyuu has been making since he returned.

He reckons Maiyuu is feeling guilty about his Pattaya adventures. If he can accuse me of gossiping, or smuggling people into our place, then he feels better about whatever he was doing in Pattaya.

In truth, I think he spent most time in the city of sin alone, as my boyfriend is not much good with people these days.

When people go mad, do they start cutting themselves off from the world? His world is getting smaller, centred mainly on me, and home.