Discount shopper, visitor to paradise, Campari queen

The old Carrefour, now Big C on Rama 4

I love shopping at the Carrefour hypermarket on Pra Ram 4, because it is spacious and smart.

I am sure that's what all low-income people say, but I don't care. It really is big.

The boyfriend and I visited Carrefour and the Tesco Lotus store opposite last weekend, and again today. Years have passed since we were last there.

‘We came here for lunch one day, while you were still living at the YWCA nine years ago,’ Maiyuu told me.

The prices in the supermarket, hardware and clothing sections were absurdly cheap.

We priced a handful of grocery items. Most were B20 cheaper than where we normally shop, at our local Tops supermarket, or in Silom.

The complex is close to the Klong Toey slum district. After touring the supermarket at Carrefour, Maiyuu took me for a walk down Sukhumvit soi 24, towards the Emporium department store, for a look at how the other half lives.

The Emporium

This is a plush part of town. The sidewalks are lined with paving-stones. We passed boutique massage joints, restaurants and interior design shops. Condos compete for space on the skyline.

At the Emporium, Maiyuu took me to the supermarket on the upper floors. The place is smart, but starved for space. It reminded of the cramped suburban mall next my old condo in Thon Buri.

Both places are owned by the same outfit, the Mall Group. They can afford to spend a little more on space, I reckon.

Not all foreigners feel compelled to spend big money buying their groceries at the Emporium. Some serfs like me would just as rather slum it at Tesco Lotus and Carrefour – not just because the prices are lower, but because we have more space to move.

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For our next adventure this afternoon, Maiyuu and I will take a walk to a fresh market which opens twice a week, close to our home.

Today is market day, Maiyuu tells me. Last time we were there, I bought a bag of large tomatoes for just 15 baht. How cheap is that?

A quick pink gin or two

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Mr Pink Gins and I are now acquainted. I met him at his condo last night for – that’s right, pink gins.

A judge friend from overseas was staying. The three of us sat around his dining table and swapped Thai guy tales.

The night before, I walked home from work through fierce rain. My jogging shoes were soaked by the time I walked in the door. They are only a few months old, but now smell like rotting flesh.

After visiting PG, I was to go to work. I took the same sodden pair of shoes in a bag with me, just in case I was rained on again.

In the opulent stained-wood surrounds of PG’s gin palace, I felt self-conscious. Would he be able to smell my disgusting shoes? They would not go down well with our fine cheeses and dried apricots, I thought.

I left them by the door. PG was too polite to say anything, even if he noticed. Nor did his charming Australian (they do have them) guest complain.

Actually, I suspect we were all too pickled on pink gins – Bombay Sapphire, Campari, and soda.

Well, I think it was Campari. I was too merry to notice.

Grey cats, pink gins, gay condo conspiracy

I found a frantic grey cat on the ground floor of my condo building as I left for work.

It was trying to get out, but had become panicky and confused.

The cat would disappear to the back recesses of the ground floor entrance area, and charge forward with all its might, heading for what it thought was the door, which is made of glass.

It hit a full-length plane of glass next to it instead. Bonk!

Unperturbed, and apparently unhurt, it would then trace back to where it started its last run at the entrance, and start again. Bonk!

At this rate, the cat will have used up its nine lives in a flash.

I opened the door, and beckoned. The cat did not understand, and made another charge at the floor-to-ceiling glass pane instead. It looked terrified, but could not get out.

A quick-witted foreigner standing outside witnessed the cat's antics.

He walked inside and positioned himself in front of the pane which the cat kept striking with its body.

I should have done that myself, but didn't think of it.

Eager to avoid the human, the cat spotted the open doorway next to the man, and charged out. Finally he was free.

'I don' t know who owns the cat, but it's gone now,' said the foreigner.

'I was slow. I didn't understand what it was doing,' I confessed. 'I am pleased you figured out what to do.'

'A Thai cat - we had to help,' he said.

We introduced ourselves.

'Which floor do you live on?' he asked.

I told him.

'Do you write that blog...Bangkok of the Mind?' he asked.

'How did you know about that?' I asked, lowering my voice.

I didn't know this man, and we bloggers have to guard our identities.

'A friend and I decided that the person who took the picture of the Silom skyline in the blog header must be on the sixth or seventh floor of this building,' he replied.

I shall call him Pink Gins, after one of his favorite tipples. PG lives in the same condo complex, though in a different building from me.

'I will take the picture down!' I declared.

'It's too late. We all know about it,' said PG, who invited me to pink gins at his place.

Busted! Secret out - and all because of a dumb cat.

Lazy cleaner, plucked eyebrow distraction

A cleaner called me over to act as translator.

She was talking to a farang couple who are about to move in to my building.

I don't enjoy this job. Foreigner newcomers inevitably feel awkward, as if they are being treated like children.

They have their dignity, even if they are forced to communicate with amusing hand signals.

I feel awkward, because I don't know them, but this is the first time we get to meet.

'Tell them that if they have any trouble moving in, they can call on my help, or call the office, and they'll send someone down to fix it,' she said.

Yes, yes, dear.

The cleaner, aged in her 40s, and comes from Esan. We have spoken before, usually when farang C, an immediate neighbour of mine who has no Thai, wants to hire one of the condo cleaners to do casual work cleaning his place.

I tell the cleaners what time to arrive.

I don't mind doing that, because I know farang C. The first time I asked the cleaners on his behalf if they would like to clean his place, he was grateful.

'I have waited two years for that...they just don't understand basic English.'

I suspect farang C is just impatient.

I passed on the request to the foreigner couple. The man said nothing, and let his wife do the talking.

Her eyebrows were so sharply plucked, they were distracting. As I talked to her, I found myself looking at her pencil-line eyebrows rather than her mouth.

As soon as we had finished our business, I walked away.

The cleaner gave me a smile. I reckon she could have told them that herself, but wanted to put on a show. Regardless, I don't like it, and would rather not do it.

Next time, dear, get a dictionary.

Argument over, kitchen cranks up again, pear charlotte comes out

Relations with the boyfriend have now improved, after a rocky patch which lasted days.

When Maiyuu is unhappy he passes sarcastic comments rather than confront a problem directly, perhaps because he is worried about how I will react.

When he made some smart remark yesterday, I turned down the TV so we could have one of our 'talks'.

I could not bear this ill-feeling carrying on for any longer.

'Living with you is not easy. I get up in the morning and I am not sure what mood you will be in. If you're in a good mood, will it last, or will you explode?' he said.

Maiyuu walked around looking glum and making sarcastic comments because he thought I was in one of my mercurial, unpredictable states.

I went silent and started thinking broody thoughts about going back overseas because I thought he had lost interest in our relationship.

Our bad patch started when he bought an I-Phone on hire purchase. He said he would find the money to pay the debt himself, and asked a woman he knows if he could sell bakery in her shop.

'First, she has to cancel the arrangement with her present supplier. It's just a small shop, but until she has spoken to the person who supplies her with bakery, I can't start work,' he explained yesterday.

I shouldn't have expected that a work opportunity would come along so easily.

If I was the coffee shop owner, I wouldn't enjoy the task of telling a supplier that his services are no longer needed, which is perhaps why Maiyuu has not heard back from the woman.

He doesn't want to call her himself, in case she feels pressured.

Possibly, as he says, nothing will come of it.

'I couldn't understand why you were telling me nothing about this bakery business. I expected to hear how many pieces of baking you would make a day, what you could hope to earn...' I said.

'Foreigners would get excited about such a piece of news.'

For Maiyuu, this farang was getting his hopes up needlessly, and maybe trying to pressure him into getting a job.

A few days ago, I told Maiyuu not to worry if he could not raise the entire B900 a month repayment himself. 'But it would be nice if you could find some work to do.'

I still feel that way, but will stop hassling the poor lad for now.

Foreigners would probably chase a work opportunity, no matter how humble.

But Maiyuu barely knows this woman, and is really at her mercy as to whether this baking venture comes off or not.

-

Maiyuu is now back to his usual productive self in the kitchen, after a lean few days in which he made little, no doubt partly because we weren't getting along.

Yesterday he made a macaroni pie, a berry fruit loaf, and rice risotto, made to his own recipe, with salmon and caviar on top. Today, he’s working on a pear charlotte.

Teaching beckons, touching necktie moment

I want to go back to work teaching, to meet Thais, and keep my mind off other, more troubling things.

I enjoy teaching English to Thais, and haven't done it for months.

Today I visited a large noodle place on soi Amorn, the slummy side of my condo.

I have been in there once or twice before, and noticed that it is popular with tertiary students.

When I visited this morning, I was the only customer, but I noticed that two or three tables had been pulled together by previous customers, probably students. They like to grab a noodle before class.

The place, which has potted plants and Buddha spirit houses on the perimeter, and also sells tea, coffee, and fresh fruit juice, is run by a husband and wife couple, who were joined today by their son. While I waited for my noodle, I heard Dad ask his son, aged about 18, about work.

'You can't just sit around here all day doing nothing,' he said.

His son, who wore jeans and a black T-shirt, looked rough, like part of the local element. When young men who work in the street walked past, he called out. A few came in to chat.

Dad's conversation with his son reminded me of the ones I have with Maiyuu. I was delighted to witness it.  He didn’t look too interested in what his father had to say. I know the feeling!

When Dad started reprimanding his son, the young man looked around at me, to see if he should feel embarrassed. No, it was just some farang, who can't understand the language.

It was safe to carry on, so he did. I can't tell you what else was said, as the traffic outside the shop was too noisy.

I will go back tomorrow, and ask Mum and Dad if they would like their son to learn English when he is not working, to keep his mind occupied.

If that fails, I shall ask them if I can leave a notice in the shop advertising my services as a teacher to any tertiary students who might be interested.

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A touching scene between two security guards at my condo: A guy in his 50s was doing up a necktie for a new recruit, aged in his early 20s.

The new guy wore a cap, crisp white shirt, and blue trousers...standard uniform for the guards at our place.

The older guy and I have spoken half a dozen times since I moved in. He was showing the new guy the ropes.

The young man stood there obediently as the older one did up his tie.

Then the young one undid his trousers, to tuck in his shirt.

'Go into the guards room to do that,' said the older man, perhaps concerned that this farang's modesty would be offended by the sight of a security guard in a state of half-undress.

I went out to do errands. An hour later, as I walked past the guards station, the young one gave me a big smile, and a salute. Thank you! He's off to a good start.