A cockroach for the neighbour

Even though I am on a diet, I still take my duties as Maiyuu’s test taster seriously. For if it were not for me, where else would he turn – the condo cleaner? The poor kids who live in the slum area across the way? He has to know whether his creations have worked.

The rest of the diet is going well. Maiyuu went out last night, so ordered a pizza for me. I ate most of that too, but I sure it won’t make much difference.

Earlier, he made pasta with pesto sauce. It’s green, so it must have been good for me.

I am now jogging up the ramps of my condo building twice a day, up from one previously. I am also trying to go without my afternoon sleep, though it is hard. At work last night, I felt sleepy, lethargic, and generally non-alert. In the Land of Sleep - oops, Smiles - Will anyone notice?

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A couple of bitchy gay readers left nasty remarks recently about how this blog has descended into a cooking farce...a mere food blog, where before I used to post exciting things like guy pics, for example.

‘Maiyuu’s cooking is just poor knock-offs of that lousy stuff which Martha makes,’ they said.

You snobs! When you can whip up something this delicious after watching a TV show, let me know. When you are spending even half an hour a day in your kitchen creating, please do likewise.

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Thank you for the responses to my diet plan, discussed in yesterday’s post. I deleted several bitchy responses. One said I would have to take ‘drastic’ measures, as I was way too fat.

Another suggested I toss out everything from the fridge. Oh, disappear, food Nazis.

Anon the Shrink also waded in. Normally I would post the Shrink for his entertainment value, but this particular post failed to make the grade...he can’t have been feeling his normal bitchy, resentful, envious self. I deleted him.

I would like to meet Anon the Shrink, to give him a piece of my mind. We can match wits. We can even compare waist sizes. How about it?

Small caveat: We would have to meet in the centre of town, as I don’t like leaving my comfort zone. I propose that we allow ourselves to bring along one friend each, for moral support.

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I found a large cockroach in the bathroom. I grabbed a dustpan and broom, and tried to scoop it up. I couldn’t hold it. Next, I tried to crush the thing with the dustpan; that didn’t work either. It ran for cover under the couch.

I pondered what to do next. Boyfriend Maiyuu was away, so I couldn’t cry like a girl for help. I looked up. The bugger was scuttling across the floor, on the other side of the condo. How do they move so fast?

I found a plastic bag. By the time I looked up, it had moved on again. I was determined not to touch it. I am a clean person, but cockroaches are not. Even if I grabbed the thing with the plastic bag, in my hand, I could probably still feel the thing squirming – no thanks.

I grabbed the dustpan and broom again. By this time, it was running across the floor towards the front door. Oh, happy day. I opened the door, and gave the thing a big swoosh with my broom – straight at a primary school student sitting on the door step opposite.

I didn’t see her– honest.

My neighbour was putting on her shoes for school, but didn’t seem to notice that I was sweeping a cockroach her way. She looked scared and apprehensive, but no more than the average Thai when she sees a foreigner.

That’ll learn you, dear – get close to a farang, and there’s bound to be trouble.

Time to start dieting

I am now on a diet.

I visited my neighbour farang C the other night, where the most important item of business was weighing myself. I don’t have a set of scales at my place, as I worry that once I have them I won’t be able to leave them alone.

According to farang C’s scales, I weigh 95kg. I am 182cm, or about six foot for those of you who grew up pre-metric.

Yet I recall weighing in at 98kg the last time I went to the doctor – and I don’t believe I have grown any thinner since.

I suspect farang C’s scales are unreliable. They are trying to lull me into a false sense of security, which won’t do it all if I want to maintain my ‘fit and firm’ (to borrow the Thai, which in turn borrows from the English) appearance.

If I ever hit the 100kg mark, let me declare in advance that I shall feel so much in need of self-inflicted punishment that I will happily give the keys of this blog to Anon the Shrink (my psycho critic, who is sharing the love - he’s now dropping poison at BB’s blog).

Hopefully that unhappy day will not come to pass. Chef Maiyuu is doing his best to help.

See those strawberry cream desserts in the nip glass (pic no longer available - it disappeared)? They are tiny portions, which normally would suit not a big guy like me. But they have to do, as I am trying to lose weight.

He served the first strawberry dessert plain, then a second one with red whirls, or streaks. But that was my lot for the day: he didn’t offer me any other sweet goodies from his busy kitchen.

I examined myself in the mirror last night. Why is my stomach sinking? Is it merely the effect of gravity, or am I indeed getting bigger?

‘You have put on weight in the last week,’ Maiyuu announced last night, when I pressed him for an answer.

Drastic measures are needed – out goes the beer from my regular food intake. I have been taking a bottle every couple of days. I have also been pigging out on icecream – grabbing the carton from the fridge whenever I feel like it, sitting down in front of the TV, and having a sweet feed.

Okay, ice-cream is out too. Plus any sugar-heavy desserts from Maiyuu’s kitchen, such as fudge.

Friendship in the Land of Smiles

An anonymous poster asks whether I have any good friends who are Thais.

‘I have talked to other expats, [and ] besides their BF, they don't end up with any Thai friends because of the wide differences [between Thais and foreigners],’ he wrote in the shriek box.

I don’t have close Thai male friends in the Western sense. I don't invite anyone around to my place. I have no friends with whom I go out for meals. No one asks me to share his tales of woe or joy about girlfriend/work/family.

A woman from Esan runs a outdoors food place close to my condo. I have started asking her about her family (she has a teenage son, and a husband), and she has asked a few questions about me (‘How much is your rent?’).

I don’t know what lies in her sinews, so I wouldn't yet regard her a friend.

But where Westerners tend to be reserved until we get to know each other, Thais are more relaxed.

We can talk to a Thai, even a virtual stranger, about anything. It creates an illusion of family-style warmth and familiarity, which is similar.

In my first years here, I hoped fondly that the Thais I met socially would call me regularly, or invite me out with their friends or meet their family.

Experience put paid to that hope. The only people who tended to call were people who wanted something.

The others knew that if I wanted to see them, I could find them at our usual drinking place, or wherever else it was that we met.

These were young men from the provinces for whom Bangkok was not their main home, but the place they came to study or find work.

We might share a meal together at an eatery down the way, or go back to their place – usually a rented hole in a rundown apartment – to drink at 3 in the morning.

But I didn't want too much of that, as I am twice their age. I could have made more of their offer of friendship if I wanted, but I wasn’t interested.

Their closest friends tended to be Thais they grew up with in the same village, or with whom they went to the same school.

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My condo is popular with Thai families. Here, I can watch parents interacting with their children.

Yesterday, I saw a Mum talking to her son, who had just finished a tae kwon do class held at my condo. They were talking about his school exams.

I would have more in common with Thais of family-raising age than my old drinking friends, who were in their early 20s.

I don't know any Thai families at my condo yet.

I would be the 'ajarn' (teacher) rather than a family friend, as these are middle-class people, unlike the casual, working-class Esan folks I knew in the past.

We could get close, but not so much that I intrude in their space, as families are strange entities, and for the most part best left to themselves.

It’s too simplistic to say that we fail to bond because of our cultural differences, though those play a part.

Age differences are also important, as are differences in education and family background; all the usual things, in fact, which bind (or separate) people in the West.

No thank you needed, young man

A Thai student stopped me on my way home from work. I was walking head down, scanning the pavement.

It was after 11pm, and the young man was wearing regulation university dress: white shirt, black slacks.

I wondered why he had not gone home for a shower and a meal. Why was he still out at this hour, away from family? 

'Do you have B10?' he asked in English.

'I do - is that all you want?'I replied, opening my wallet. I gave him B20, just in case he needed more.

Being Thai, he finds it difficult to say 'thanks', not because he's ungrateful, just because it's not something Thais do easily when someone older gives them something. They might wai the person; or, as this young man attempted to do, start a conversation, almost as a distraction.

'Do you work around here?' he asked.

I can't be bothered with small talk, which made him feel uncomfortable, so he asked a second time.

'Do you work around here?'

'Mmm,' I agreed.

He looked disappointed that I didn't respond in the face-saving way that was expected. He is starting a conversation, expressing interest in me to show he feels grateful.

But he needn't, as I am happy to help. I didn't want him stuck in this unpleasant spot (I work in an industrial area) either.

'Now I need to find a bus...' he muttered.

I left him to it. Much as I like Thai ways, I can't be bothered engaging in small talk simply because a simple 'thank you' culturally is too elusive. I resumed my journey home.

Iceblock addiction, gay identity issues, candle man memories

'I want suckies!' said boyfriend Maiyuu.

That's a cry for help if ever I heard one.

I put my gay identity problems (see below) to one side, to consider the needs of my boyfriend.

God knows what could happen if he doesn't get his suckies, I thought. I must put myself in his place to consider what his plight could be like - without, of course, 'projecting'.

Actually, I knew immediately what he meant. We are deeply in tune with each other's needs as a couple. You could say we have come out to each other.

'I will go to Carrefour to buy some. Would you like to come?' he asked.

This was Maiyuu's first invitation to me to accompany him outdoors all weekend. I had asked him half a dozen times if he wanted to go for a walk.

'No,' he replied - you can't buy suckies on the street, so no wonder.

Suckies are the coloured iceblocks you see above.

Neither of us is sure what else to call them. I am sure they come in packaging, but I have never looked at the name. We do know what to do with them, however.

Cut off one end with scissors. Place in mouth. As the flavoured iceblock melts, suck out the cordial, or whatever it is in its liquid state.

'I am too busy to go out, but I will wait for you,' I replied.

'I'll be just a tick,' said Maiyuu, as he left home.

We had no other reason to visit the Carrefour superstore other than to buy suckies, but it is the only place around here which sells them.

Half an hour alter, he was back with his beloved iceblocks. As I write, he has sucked his way through at least half a dozen of the tubular-shaped things.

They are addictive, especially in a climate as hot as ours.

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Just when life was getting dull around here, I thought, Mr Anon has come to the rescue.

You will recall that I left an invitation a couple of days ago to Mr Anon to have another go at the coming-out debate, which started in the comments section of Saturday's post.

He left one of the first comments which set off the discussion. Here it is again:

'It is our parents' responsibility to know us and accept us. If you can't be honest with your own family about who you are, it probably means you have a number of identity issues.'

Oh God, identity issues!

There goes my psychological right leg.

'You are suppressed!' And with that he cuts my left leg from under me as well.

I have lost count of the number of wounding epithets or labels which Mr Anon has applied over the years. I must truly be one sad gay bastard.

His remarks are designed to hurt, of course, but the language is couched in psycho-babble - what exactly are identity issues, pray tell, and why should we worry if we have them?

Are they curable, like Maiyuu's addiction to iceblocks?
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The Victoria Coffee House, Christchurch, 1985

When I was 17, an 'adult' friend liked taking me to a coffee house, stuck on the end of a busy one-way street like a barnacle on a ship's bum.

The coffee house, on the corner of Montreal and Oxford Terrace in Christchurch, New Zealand, had been there since 1968, and was a fixture to hippies, arty types, and other oddballs who liked to wile away the empty hours until dawn. It was unlit but for candles flickering away on each table.

Farang M introduced me to his friends, who, like him, were aged in his early 30s.

I thought they were impossibly sophisticated - especially when they pulled out the inevitable joint for a smoke around our moody table.

At the entrance was an enormous white candle, stuck on a platform like the Virgin Mary on a plinth.

Every night farang M took me there, a bearded man with long hair was sitting over the candle, with a fiercely dedicated look.

He held up simple domestic candles (the kind we used in blackouts as a kid) over the flame of the mother candle, to drip more wax onto its body, to make it bigger still.

This was his job. Rarely a night went by when I did not see him sitting next to the mother candle, tending to its needs. The candle had been growing there, on its noble perch inside the front door, for years.

He did not start conversations with anyone, just melt candles. The bearded one was well known in that part of town as the Candle Guy, and had been there as long as anyone could remember.

Occasionally a newcomer would ask what he was doing, and he'd give them a talk about his life's work.

Others knew better than to keep him back from such important business. Why interfere? He is busy dripping, so leave the guy alone.

At the coffee shop, for the regulars at least, life carried on - the owner served tables, customers smoked joints and ordered one coffee after another.

Other favourites from the smudged, hand-scrawled menu were toasted cheese sandwiches, and simple ice-cream deserts, served in cheap silver-metal bowls.

They also sold liqueur, but only in the late hours, as the place was unlicensed.

Eventually the coffee shop was forced to close as it made way for city expansion. Did the candle man have identity issues? He was odd, it has to be said, and I have no idea how he ended up.

Perhaps he had created another statuesque candle at home, and spent his idle hours building that one up, before his main public performance at the coffee shop at night.

At least there he had an audience. For who can be bothered with such a painstaking task if he has to work alone?

We are all a little strange. Mr Anon, does that mean we deserve to be condemned?

Anyway, before I forget it entirely, here is Anon's latest bitchy comment. I have removed one paragraph, which is no longer relevant to this blog. As for the rest, you are welcome to enjoy it as it was sent.

By the way: To all readers celebrating Buddhist Lent, Have a happy waxy one!

'It seems to me that in this pattern with your parents you follow suit in the same way as with your other relationships. You are happy to keep things on an unreal basis that is unthreatening to you, in one apparent way, because they are controllable.

'Clearly your public and very emotional- rather than rational - reaction to the issue of being out displays some insecurity about your identity and the place you really need to occupy in terms of your relationships in all 3 areas: home, work, and extended family.

'I suspect if you can avoid coming out, it relates to you psychologically in the sense of hiding- from yourself, from any real boyfriend, from your family. Thus my belief you have identity issues in general.'