Who wears the chef's hat in this kitchen?

Maiyuu is in the kitchen, making cooking sounds.

While he is busy whipping up some creation in there, I am often in my bedroom, tapping away at the keyboard.

I must admit, when I hear him approaching my room these days, I react like Pavlov's dog...I automatically assume he is bringing me something tasty to eat. Maiyuu - food! Maiyuu - food!

Sometimes, of course, he comes not bearing food but some instruction for the day or other cheerless news.

'Today you have to deposit your Adsense cheque before 2pm, so we can withdraw it promptly tomorrow!' he told me a moment ago.

I thought he was bringing me breakfast, but no. Normally he places his latest cooking wonder on the desk space next to me, then walks out again.

A moment later, from the other room, he will call out: 'Is it delicious?'

As yet, nothing has come out of his busy kitchen space today, but give him another half an hour...

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Blogs must change, along with everything else. In the header field under the title, I have changed the wording which describes what this blog is all about. It now reads:

'Going 'ba' Thai: Tales from a foreigner and his Thai boyfriend, who loves to cook. Who wears the chef's hat in this kitchen? Celebrity news and a diary thrown in.'

This is the only the second change in three years, and was overdue.

In the beginning, this blog focused mainly on Thai stars. These days, I can rarely be bothered, as I have passed that phase.

I prefer to write about Maiyuu and myself instead, as it feels more real.

The other day I found a mention of this blog on a list compiled by a Thai-resident farang woman blogger, who is planning to tell readers what she thinks of us all.

Feeling like a kid whose Mum is coming to inspect his room, I thought I had better get my house in order for the big day.

'Flesh blog!' I don't like the sound of that. 'Food blog!' - that sounds much better. The change to the wording in the header field more accurately reflects what I now want this blog to be.

To that end, Maiyuu now has his own category, called 'Chef Maiyuu's kitchen', which contains pictures he has taken of his own cooking and baking.

One cynical reader left a message recently which claimed that Maiyuu was only cooking for me to make up for what he fails to provide in other areas.

That brings me to the second small announcement I want to make today: I will no longer tolerate such random Thai bashing on this blog.

Only a truly pathetic soul would make such a miserable assertion...the poster knows neither me nor my boyfriend, but still feels fit to sow his poisonous seed. That is just so...lame.

From now on, I will do as the Daleks do: Exterminate, exterminate!

Supermarket discovery, groin itch curse

Maiyuu is whipping up some chocolate fudge, after yesterday asking me what fudge was.

'Like brownies, but smaller,' I said.

'I will try making it for us!' he said excitedly.

Maiyuu went out in search of ingredients, including corn syrup, which Martha Stewart uses in her baking as a thickener. After visiting a few places Maiyuu eventually found an imported bottle of the stuff at Villa Supermarket in Sukhumwit.

Maiyuu was excited by his discovery. 'A couple of shopkeepers told me I could only find it at Villa. The place is full of imported bakery items,' he said.

Dear Villa: I can see many more visits coming up. Maybe we should just buys shares?

The supermarket chain is popular with foreigners in Bangkok, according to the internet.

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Thank you to readers who offered advice on how to cure my groin itch, which I suspect is a fungal infection picked up from my condo pool.

I shall visit my local pharmacy (there are a couple in the slum area across from me) to see what they have in stock.

Three main groups of tenants appear to use the pool: oldies (mainly Thais, but also a few foreigner oldies like me); actively, sprightly farang (anyone still in their 20s or 30s); and youngsters learning how to swim.

Occasionally a group of teens also visits. They might be the offspring of tenants, or perhaps they snuck in from the local learning establishment (can't say the 'S' word any more - Adsense disapproves) next to us.

I am not sure which group brought with them the fungal infection. But whoever it is, I hope they are suffering the red itch as badly as me.

Attack of the itches

Just what do they put in pools these days?

No sooner have I recovered from my ear infection, which I probably picked up in the condo pool, than I am now suffering an attack of the itches - what looks like a prickly heat rash in my groin and down my botty crack.

I have bought the ointments, and am applying liberal doses of prickly heat powder; so much so that the floor of my bedroom is covered in a fine white sheen.

But will it go away? The itching drives me crazy.

Scratch, scratch!

Wet protesters, greased lightning boyfriend, song in a supermarket

'Carrefour, Carrefour, we love to serve...!'

Maiyuu and I went to the Carrefour megastore in Pra Ram 4 yesterday for our big shop. A heavy wet-season downpour started as we made our way there by taxi.

I watched as traders and protesters (you can go hardly anywhere in Bangkok without seeing protesters) raced about, yanking at tents and covering things up.

They were soaked, their T-shirts clinging to their skin.

Outside Carrefour, Maiyuu handed the fare to the driver, and made a sprint for cover.

I have never seen him run so fast. One moment he was sitting beside me, the next he was inside the front doors of the megastore, waving. How can it be?

'You move like lighting. I didn't know you could go so fast,' I said after joining him.

Maiyuu laughed.

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'You'll have to wait 10 minutes,' the cashier told me.

I was standing at the cash register at 4.50pm, attempting to buy a bottle of whisky.

Thai law limits the hours in which I can buy alcohol from licensed providers such as Carrefour.

I had put a bottle of whisky in the basket, thinking I could pay for the thing without trouble, but I had forgotten the selling-hour restrictions.

I can buy from 11am to 2pm, when the abstinence hours kick in, and I can't buy it again until 5pm.

Small, unlicensed outlets still sell, of course, but I wanted to buy it with the rest of our shopping, as it was more convenient.

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The special hour of 5pm is also the hour when Carrefour's young service staff sing for their customers.

They line up down the side of the store, and in front by the cash registers, to perform their corporate anthem.

'Carrefour, Carrefour,' they sing.

They wave their arms like cheerleaders. They also swivel about on the spot.

For the staff, this must be the most horrid moment of the day - when shoppers turn to stare at their awkward singing and dancing.

The song lasts for about five minutes. The red-shirted staff who formed a line in front of the check-out area were led by a tall, slender figure who looked perfectly gay.

He was the only one who moved with any conviction.

The others, including young men on rollerskates who pack groceries, smiled awkwardly and tried to avoid meeting my gaze.

'Carrefour, we love to serve...'

Next time, I shall take a camera. Would they mind?

Squalid box memories, Pantip revisted

I asked myself the other day what brought on Maiyuu's creative streak in the kitchen now that we have moved into our new condo in town.

I suspect Chef Maiyuu is capable of creating such wonders because he is content.

Maiyuu and I are much happier living in our new place in town, we realised the other day.

Back in Thon Buri, we lived in a foul old place - really, little better than a cramped apartment block where prostitutes crashed during the day before venturing out at night to ply their trade. It had no kitchen, so Maiyuu had to do his food preparation and cooking sitting on the floor.

A grotty place beset by noise from screaming children in the hallway and trains outside, it robbed us of the will to make something better of our lives.

'I would get up and not want to do anything...the place was just too awful,' said Maiyuu the other day.

It had no windows, just two doors leading on to a balcony opposite the main entrance. It pointed the wrong way, so rarely caught the breeze.

I could go on, but the thought is too depressing.

Yet this condo was one of the more expensive in the area, and almost constantly full. Many Thais live in even worse surroundings - box-shaped apartment blocks which I would hate to call home.

A young woman of the night, Joy, lived at the condo.

She was a pretty little thing who sold her body for money, and left a few years later when she fell pregnant.

'Joy was just one of them...the place was crawling with prozzies and kept women,' said Maiyuu, who knew her.

I never knew, though I often wondered why so many of the young women who lived there, only came out at night.

Good riddance!

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Nine years ago when I arrived in the Land of Smiles, I would have found unusual a visit to the busy computer shopping centre, Pantip Plaza.

The place is full of young guys, so I am sure I enjoyed my first foray to Pantip way back then.

I have been there perhaps half a dozen times since. I paid another visit yesterday with my friend farang C, who took in his Apple laptop for repairs.

After eating a quick meal on the second floor, we looked around for shops willing to repair an Apple laptop on-site (hardly any, as it turns out).

'Hardly anything goes wrong with Apples, but when they do go wrong, they are hard to fix,' one Thai repair woman told me.

After half an hour of searching, we found a promising looking place on the top floor.

I did my Thai thing while farang C, standing by my side, made grumpy comments. He enjoys pecking at the Thai service staff, who in his eyes seldom seem to do anything right.

Sure, I saw plenty of young people - young men in all-white school uniforms, service staff in their 20s.

But really, the scene did not look spectacular. It was nothing unusual. I did not ogle over anyone in particular.

It was just another collection of people, but I enjoyed it for all that, as you might enjoy a walk in the park.

When I see Thais these days, I can appreciate their beauty, but I don't wonder about their lives.

They have become regular people, just like me.