The calendar hanger

One of the benefits of having a boyfriend who doesn't work is that he can do things inside the home.

While I am at work, he can get on with making small improvements. When I came home last night, I saw that Maiyuu had found a place for a calendar from my sister and her family.

He pointed to it proudly. It is hanging close to the kitchen table. For days, it sat unloved on a bench over there, as we didn't know where to put it.

My sister assembled pictures of herself and family to make a calendar for the 2009 year, which she passed on to my parents, who gave it to me.

I have never heard of this personalised calendar fad. Is it widespread?

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Readers say they that rather than revive the friends of the night stories from Mum's shop, I should just go back there, and write new tales for this blog.

I agree, it might be time for a visit. Since moving to a condo in town, I live a long way from Mum's shop in Thon Buri.

My friend Farang C, who lives in the same condo but managed to visit me several times at Mum's shop despite the distance he had to travel, recommends I go by ferry on the Chao Phraya river.

If I find the right spot to disembark, from there it is but a short five minute walk.

I will go back soon - I promise. The question is, will anyone else be there, or have my friends from that area all gone?

Meanwhile, I am still tidying those old stories from Mum's shop, which I shall repost soon.

Spurning the cash handout, the pool bug man

The government is handing out B2,000 baht cheques as a one-off gift to low-income taxpayers to kickstart the economy. In theory boyfriend Maiyuu should be eligible, as he does not work.

One potential snag, however, is that he lives with a foreigner with a good income. Do the authorities check such things?

When I mentioned the cash handout to Maiyuu yesterday, he appeared to know nothing about it. 'I have no income at all,' he said matter-of-factly.

He quickly lost interest. 'I would probably have to go back to my home province to get it,' he said.

I consoled him.

'Long queues form wherever the cheques are handed out,' I said. 'You have to stand for hours in the heat.'

Like many of the Thais who have turned up to get their cheques, Maiyuu believes, perhaps perversely, that the measure will not work.

'Thais are still shopping, though they go mainly to supermarkets. Hardly any go to markets these days, which suggests the economy is not as bad as the government claims,' he says.

Maiyuu is a healthy skeptic where the government is concerned, especially this Democrat-led coalition outfit.

One day I will ask him to draw up a list of his thoughts about its performance.

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I am feeling less remote from this place, after I seized the opportunity to talk to a few Thais yesterday.

Earlier, I wrote about how I felt increasingly alienated at my new condo, as I seldom get to talk to Thais any more.

Later the same day, several opportunities presented themselves. I can't remember all of the conversations now, as my memory of events rarely spans beyond 24 hours. However, I can recall these moments:

1. I spoke to the boyfriend about the rules for conscription into the army, for a blog post which also appeared yesterday. I wanted to make sure I had my facts straight.

2. I spoke to the boyfriend about the state of the economy, and the government's attempts to get it back on its feet.

3. I said hello to a condo security guard, and someone from the office.

In another morale-boosting step, I performed a small public duty at the condo's rooftop swimming pool, picking up sweetie packets discarded by young Thai swimmers the day before.

I was standing at one end of the pool. At the other, a Thai man in his 20s told a young charge how to kick while holding a boogie board (or whatever those spongy handheld things are called).

I scooped a handful of flower petals, mosquitoes and other bugs out of the water to clear the way for the big man (actually, a boy of about 10) as he came through.

New idea: Next time I feel alienated I shall ask the condo office if I can act as pool attendant.

My duties shall include scooping bugs out of the pool, and ticking off Thai youngsters who litter. It shall not include life-saving duties, as my stamina at freestyle swimming is so poor that I would probably sink before I reached anyone.

Lobster buns, living in a shell

My boyfriend loves Martha Stewart's show, which is a good thing: I get to try some of the delicious dishes she cooks!

The other day, Martha invited on to the show a New York chef who specialises in lobster. He made a lobster roll - lobster meat, mayonnaise, and a few herbal goodies stuffed in a bread roll, which he sells to his lunchtime customers for $19 a pop.

Moments after the show ended, Maiyuu left home to visit the supermarket.

When he came back, he was carrying the ingredients needed to make the dish - lobster, mayonnaise, and buns. He whipped it up yesterday for lunch, and made another lobster roll for me to tuck into while I was at work.

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As I walked to work, I felt isolated and cut off from the life around me.

Commuters were lining up at the bus stop, vehicles whizzing past. It was evening rush hour, so no surprise if the streets were busy.

Yet these were among the first Thai faces I had seen all day. In mid-afternoon, half a dozen young This turned up to play in the condo swimming pool. I had also walked past a few cleaners...that's it.

I live in the same condo complex as a middle-aged Burmese man from work.

He likes to chat animatedly to Thai co-workers at the office. Once, I did not know why he bothered, as they looked like mere acquaintances rather than friends.

Back then, I lived in a lively market on the Thon Buri side of Bangkok, and chatted to Thais outside work regularly. I could not undersand why anyone would need to make such an effort with strangers at the office.

'Save conversation for your friends!' I thought.

Now I live in a quiet inner-city condo, and know why he makes the effort....it's because he, too, no doubt feels isolated and cut off at home.

When was the last decent conversation I had with a Thai? I can't remember.

I will have to recover my sense of adventure, and search out opportunities to speak Thai, or I fear my interest in this place - maybe even tolerance of the things which foreigners normally love to hate (heat, stray dogs, and so on) - is in danger of wearing thin.

Postscript: I might revive the friends of the night series of posts from Mum's hole-in-the-wall shop in Thon Buri. First, I should re-write them to make them more accesible to new readers who know nothing about the place. This project might remind me of what I have lost - the pleasure of getting to know Thais. Can it be so hard?

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.