Thai condo life: Where's the action?

Large frangapane trees grow by the rooftop pool of my condo (see above).

Last night, after spending several hours in front of the computer, I went for a solitary swim. The sun was setting, the place empty. From the pool, I could smell the sweet scent of frangapane in the air.

Before I went home, I picked a few flowers, which now sit in a small bowl in the kitchen.

I did not see anyone on the way there, or on the walk back.

Few Thai tenants bother with the pool. They make up 80% of the tenants here; the rest are foreigners. Some use the pool, though few during the day when I am there.

Simple acts such as picking a few flowers for the boyfriend make me happy, but I am not sure it will be enough to keep me occupied.

I am missing the contact with real life which I enjoyed at my old condo, on the Thon Buri side of Bangkok.

We lived in an old fresh market, where there was always plenty to watch. We battled with noise from a railway, dogs, and chickens, it is true, but I could also talk to people.

At my new place, we live in much better surroundings, but I meet fewer Thais.

Thais who live here have money, good jobs. They come here to escape the nastiness of life on the streets, so it should be no surprise if the place feels cut off.

For the time being, Maiyuu and I can take simple pleasures from our new, improved surroundings in the centre of town.

I enjoy looking at the pink wattle tree, which I can see from my bedroom. In the morning, I sit on the veranda and watch the sun rise on the high rises in the Silom business district.

My boyfriend enjoys our new closer proximity to shops in town. He can walk around Silom, just a few minutes by taxi from here, if he wants a break from home.

I hope we meet a few friends at this condo. I was hoping Maiyuu would make friends with some of the tenants while I was away overseas, but he did not.

He appears to have spent the last two weeks almost entirely in his own company.

The condo has a gym, close to the pool. Young people also meet most evenings for tai kwon doe classes. Does that sound like my thing?

I could press weights in the gym, perhaps, but once again I would like to do it with a friend. Maybe I should put up a notice: 'Gym weight-training buddy wanted!' - and see what happens.

Absent love, annoying touts

When I walked out of customs, I looked for my partner amid the sea of faces. Maiyuu spotted me first, and raised his arm.

Another few minutes passed before we could reach each other.

After waving, he turned and started walking in my direction.

I had to pass rope barriers, visitors waiting for loved ones, annoying taxi touts...any number of distractions getting in the way.

Just let me get to my man! What's wrong with you people?

I met my Thai guy at the airport today, after spending the last two weeks in Malaysia.

I go overseas to see my parents every year. Normally, I go back to my home country. This time, my family and I agreed to meet half-way.

When I come back, Maiyuu meets me at the airport.

I held him briefly, but didn't kiss, as that would be too much for Thais in public.

Maiyuu, who has spent most of the last two weeks rattling about the condo alone, looked thinner.

He has been cooking for himself regularly, but says it was no fun.

'I cook for myself, but there is always too much left over, which I have to throw away,' he told me.

'I missed having you to cook for.'

He dressed up to meet me - black patterned T-shirt, shorts - and wore a handsome short hair-cut.

In the taxi, he patted my stomach. 'You have lost weight, too,' he said.

Despite my prompting, Maiyuu did not see any of his friends while I was away.

To keep himself busy, he went grocery shopping instead, sometimes several times a day. That helped stave off feelings of loneliness.

Maiyuu found a brand of chocolate he likes. 'When I bite into one of these chocolates, the flavour fills my mouth, and I just feel so good,' he says. 'It helped keep me happy.'

In my absence, Maiyu stopped using his bedroom. He took to sleeping in the living room, spread out in front of the TV, so he would feel less alone.

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'A belt, sir. You want to buy?

'Where you come from?'

Hang on! What's that got to do with it? This man's trying to befriend me so I will buy from him.

He assumes I have never heard the chat-up line before. If I am a forlorn traveller, we will start a basic conversation - 'Oh, I am from suchandsuch'- before he asks me again if I am interested.

By that time, I am supposed to feel obligated. He has extended the hand of friendship in a lonely land, so I agree to buy, right?

Wrong!

In Malaysia, touts are everywhere. In the market, on the street, at taxi stands, on the bus, outside food shops.

I kept my gaze focussed straight ahead. To show interest - even to look at the goods on sale - is to invite peril.

These unskilled, desperate types selling cheap knock-offs will do almost anything to part with their goods.

'From a land far away,' I told one woman trader, giving her the brush-off.

She smiled, as they always do.

I was passing hurriedly through a market selling clothes, belts, music.

'Where you from, sir?' the next trader asked.

From another land where they have plenty of markets selling cheap belts, trousers, and knock-off CDs!

Bursting to tell

I am overseas, seeing my family.

I would like to take my boyfriend, but cannot. My family want me to themselves, which is understandable, as we go for a whole year at a time without seeing each other.

My parents, in any event, seem to regard boyfriend Maiyuu as a mere friend, or hired help.

They do not know we are in a relationship; or if they suspect, we haven't talked about it.

I would like to tell them, of course, but our lives are so different that I hardly see the point.

I don't relish telling my mother that she can say goodbye to fond hopes, nurtured since I was born, that I would one day marry and have children, as my siblings have done.

Ultimately, my parents just want to be to be happy - but preferably in a conventional relationship which could give me a family.

'What will happen when you are an old man, and alone?' they would ask.

On top of that, they hold Thais in low regard. 'They are great users,' they like to say. 'They always have their hand out. Just don't give them too much. It's your hard-earned money.'

Problems that I have encountered with Maiyuu have coloured the way they view Thais in general.

On the face of it, that's a good argument for telling them the way I feel.

However, I think it's better the way it is, at least for now.

You not like? Offer a few thoughts, then

Writing under the courageous 'anonymous' monicker, a reader leaves the following response to yesterday's piece on the foreigner-owned gay cafe in Silom:

'It seems you have moved from a location with at least a bit of reality to one which is nearly entirely back in the foreigner/tourist/sexpat ghetto.'

I must admit, that's not quite the response I was expecting. I thought readers might chip in with something along the lines of the following:

'I know of another gay farang who owns a cafe/bar/restaurant in Thailand...his experience was suchandsuch...'

I do not intend filing reports on the gay haunts in central Bangkok, as I won't visit them regularly. I have only just moved in to my condo, and am still getting to know the neighbourhood.

My friend farang C and I almost didn't end up in the gay-foreigner tourist area at all.

I wanted to take a look at leafy Lang Suan nearby, which has coffee shops and bars patronised more heavily by Thais than foreigners.

However, at the time farang C and I went in search of a place to relax, Lang Suan's bars weren't yet open.

But why should I apologise anyway?

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My thoughts on the gay cafe I mentioned yesterday?

I like the idea of providing for my Thai boyfriend, but would not consider opening a business here, as too many potential problems arise.

Neither of us are social butterflies, yet to be a good host of a cafe or restaurant, especially a small, intimate place, demands a high level of people skills.

These are people who come to eat at your place but who you may never see again. Why open your life to a perfect stranger? It feels too invasive to me.

Cafe owner farang J and his Thai boyfriend P run the place together.

Farang J provides jobs for his boyfriend's family as well, including his parents. They cook, and help run the business while he is away.

Farang J's family in his native Europe did not approve of his relationship with Mr P, so perhaps farang J enjoys the relative warmth he gets from family in Bangkok.

Yet I am sure there were times when he felt like a guest in his own home and business, with family members and their hangers-on coming and going constantly.

It would be an unusual experience, and he was an interesting man to meet.

It's all UK to me; the farang cafe provider

Farang C was horrified at the size of his phone bill: B5,000. 'I must cut down on calls to my family in the United Kingdom,' he said.

We went to the Central Department store yesterday, so he could pay his bill.

He pays by the month. I pay on a top-up basis, B100 a time, which means I never have enough money to make expensive overseas calls.

On his behalf, I asked the sales staff what farang C should do to save money on overseas calls. Should he be on a different pay plan?

A girl behind the counter pulled out a form which gave the calling rates for various countries.

We looked up ‘UK’ on the list. For good measure, the saleswoman also told me how much calls to the Ukraine cost (more than B20 a minute).

Eh? Maybe she thought they were both the same thing.

I wanted to know about the UK, and the Ukraine starts with the same two letters. No wonder she was confused.

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The Central Department store was too far away for boyfriend Maiyuu and me to visit regularly when we lived in Thon Buri.

From our new place, however, it is just a five-minute taxi ride away. We are also close to Tops supermarket.

At Central, I went past a Starbucks coffee shop, which brought back memories...Maiyuu used to take me there to relax after we finished shopping. If I could turn back time, I'd love to eavesdrop on that nine-year-old conversation ...I wonder if we sounded much different than we do now.

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On the way home, farang C and I stopped at a small gay-owned cafe/restaurant in Silom.

The owner is a gay farang. His Thai boyfriend Mr P is the host, and greets guests as they arrive.

Two gay serving staff were also there. We met them briefly, along with the boyfriend’s parents, who help cook.

Mr P has two teen brothers who appeared to regard the eatery as a second home; they walked in and out of the place, and an internet shop next door, most of the night.

It looks like a family affair, though without farang J's large pockets, none of it would exist.

Farang J and his boyfriend Mr P met seven years ago at the pool of the Babylon Hotel.

Back then, farang J visited Bangkok on his holidays. He was in the pool one day when Mr P grabbed him for a laugh.

Was it love at first sight? Who knows. Maybe they grew on each other.

Farang J invited Mr P to Europe. They married in a civil union, and lived there together for seven years, where Mr P learnt his excellent English.

Recently, farang J quit his job in Europe, and the couple returned to Thailand to live.

Now in Bangkok, he has opened his own business. The cafe where we were sitting has been open two months.

He relies mainly on word of mouth, though he has also left leaflets about his gay cafe at his old stamping ground, the Babylon Hotel, and other places where gay tourists stay.

Most customers are gay, though he would like to expand his customer base to include straights as well.

‘We have four regular customers now,’ Mr P told me proudly.

We sat on a small terrace next to the street, watching the evening traffic.

The two lads who serve tables stood stood behind a glass door at the front, watching us.

If I chatted to one, the other would shoot me a look to see if I was showing too much interest. Then he would go back to preening himself.

‘He needs to find a boyfriend badly,’ I told farang J.

How do you tell your gay waiting staff to stop flirting with customers? Maybe you can’t.

Farang J says running the cafe is more fun than his old job, working for a multi-national company.

Despite the huge financial investment in this place – the cafe alone must have cost a couple of million baht – farang J still lives here on a tourist visa.

'One day, I would like to upgrade to an investor’s visa, which gives me superior residency rights,' he said.

For that, however, his business must bring in a healthy income every month, and that is some way off yet.

'When you married P, did you expect you would have to marry into his Thai family as well?’ I asked him, referring to his parents' presence at the shop, and his teen brothers passing in and out.

‘No,’ farang J admitted, while pointing out it also has its positive side: the boyfriend and his family have contacts here, and can help him get things done.

Farang J cannot speak much Thai, so relies on the boyfriend and his family to help him communicate.

His plans do not stop at a mere cafe. He is also turning the building, a converted five-storey shophouse, into short-stay accommodation. Farang J will live with his boyfriend on the top level.

I wish him luck. Another half dozen customers, including a middle-aged farang man and a young Thai guy, turned up to dine at the cafe while we were there.