Wild dogs, odd tourists

Many readers have emailed to ask for the address of farang P's gay-owned, gay-run cafe in town, which I visited the other day. Thank you for the interest. I am sending you a reply, giving details of how to find it, and a contact number.

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The stray dogs which live around my condo are getting out of control. They like to fight in the early hours of the morning, and gang up in packs to attack each other.

Can't someone give them a home, round them up, or put them down? I live in a middle-class area now - I don't want to be bothered by such nuisances!

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Farang C took me to Nana Plaza. I must be the only foreigner in Bangkok who did not know where to find it, so now at least I can put that worry to bed. I've seen it, so that's that.

Earlier, farang C, who introduced me to my new condo and is also my neighbour there, took me on a tour of Irish pubs in soi Convent, and Sukhumwit soi 1, Nana.

For good measure, we also dropped in to a hole-in-the-wall bar in Silom soi 1.

Why all this socialising activity in Bangkok's tourist hot spots? I am the new guy in town, the ignorant fellow from the sticks. Farang C is showing me the Bangkok he knows.

If I ever visited these exotic places, it was nine years ago, when I first arrived in the kingdom.

In deference to the fact that farang C is straight, we visited only straight bars, but I imagine the gay ones are little different.

In a bar close to Nana Plaza, we took a seat on a raised perch overlooking passing wildlife on the street. At a table behind us, two foreign men had persuaded two young women who work at the bar to sit on their laps.

We played 'spot the teacher-type'. Then, spot the tourist; spot the guy with the cellphone; spot anything which looks unusual (plenty of them), and spot normal, well-dressed types (precious few).

Tiring of that, a couple of hours later, I went home alone.

At Nana, I rubbed up too close to humanity's dark side. As I went to bed last night, I felt soiled. Today, I feel little better.

I doubt the delights on offer at tired Nana Plaza represent the real Bangkok, even for most tourists.

Surely they would have more sense than to mix in such desperate places. They do, don't they?

Wilting boyfriend, new mango dish

Maiyuu made a beef and vegetable stew to welcome me home. He made it the night before, so it would be golden and delicious by the time we ate it. It was.

At the airport, I bought Maiyuu a bag of soft sweets, including coloured snakes and owls, which I found in a specialty sweets shop.

I also bought him a carton of cigarettes, a frog made of dark wood which makes a croaking sound when you rub a stick on its back (see image above), a box of chocolate bars - and one other gift, me!

I asked him if he would like to go out for dinner last night, at a little gay-run place nearby.'No, I would rather stay home,' he said.

He has now retired to his bedroom for more sleep. He is finding the humidity hard to take, so has turned on his air con.

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'Can I squeeze that for you?' Mr P asked.

He has just served us a meal at his boyfriend's cafe, and spotted a pimple on my cheek - a legacy of eating excess during my break overseas, I suppose.

I last visited the cafe, gay-owned and gay-run, just before I left.

I returned for a second visit yesterday, with my condo neighbour, farang C. Boyfriend Maiyuu earlier turned me down.

The cafe is busier now than the last time. Several gay couples were dining inside. Farang C and I sat outside, where we were waited on attentively by Mr P, boyfriend of the farang owner, and other gay staff.

'No, thanks - I think I will wait to get home to squeeze it myself,' I said.

I asked Mr P how he tends to spots on his own body when they come up. 'I squeeze them, dab with a tissue, then apply an alcohol solution,' he said matter-of-factly.

Is that what diners want to hear over a meal? No, but if you want a homely atmosphere, this must be it!

Farang P, the cafe's owner, came out with a mango dessert for us to try. He had been experimenting in the kitchen.

It was cooked in honey and butter - caramelised sliced mango, if you like - and served with cream.

'Delicious,' we agreed.

Farang P wants to make his own ice-cream to go with the dish.

Pimples aside, I like the casual, relaxed atmosphere at farang P's cafe. We are customers, but he and his staff treat us like friends. In a place as big as Bangkok, could you hope for anything better?

The cafe has its own brochure, and a name card with phone number and map, which I took home last night. Email me if you want to know the name of the cafe and directions.

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.