Yes, I’m a romantic, I admit it. It can cloud my judgement, and annoy readers.

Lately I haven’t let my girly side out much, as I have been busy going through old posts, tidying some of the appalling English I found.

Now that I am getting over the shock, and am managing to beat the blog back into some kind of shape, I am almost ready to indulge my emotional side again.

No surprise, then, if I should succumb to tears so easily when I heard Grammy artist Au Hareutai Puangboonsri‘s new song Missing You.

Au, who has branched out from singing to become a local body councillor and boxing promoter as well, peels it all away, at least for this fan.

Missing You is from Feminine Night, her new joint album with Grammy singer Amp Saowaluck Leelabutr. The the pair held a concert to promote the album in late September. Au is the one on the right.

The lyrics (quick translation below) are right on the button of what we feel when we are no longer with someone who used to make our lives complete.

It's like an emotional precision bomb. Lyrics this knowing can only have come from the heart of a woman – probably long-term Grammy song-writer Nim Si Fa. Read more about her here.

I found the song on the internet, and recited the lyrics for Maiyuu as he made us breakfast this morning.

Like me, he is a fan of Au and Amp. He promised to buy the album.

‘I haven’t gone anywhere,’ he said, referring to the lyrics. ‘I’m still here, caring for you.’

Read Au’s story here. She has one of the best voices for contemporary Thai music around...what a shame we rarely get to hear from her. Her involvement in boxing and local politics keeps her too busy.

Missing You

I have gone back to the place where we first met.

The trees, the flowers, the lake look the same.

Everything looks familiar

Nothing has changed...it's only missing you.

The sun shines through the window, and the past floods back.

On the outside, my life looks the same

At home, nothing has changed.

But really, my life is not complete.

Since you left, it’s not the same.

How can it be the same without you?

Where are you? I miss you...

Whenever I close my eyes, I think of you...

We’ve been apart many years

Life appears to go on

But it’s never been the same

How can it be, without you?

ขาดเธอ – อุ๊ หฤทัย

กลับมายืนอยู่ตรงที่เดิม ที่เราเจอกัน
มองต้นไม้ ดอกไม้ สายธาร มันยังสวยงามอยู่เหมือนเดิม
ได้แต่มองอย่างคนคุ้นเคย ที่ตรงนี้เหมือนเดิมทุกอย่าง
ไม่เปลี่ยนแปลง ขาดแต่เธอเท่านั้น
ดวงอาทิตย์ยังส่องแสงมา ที่ตรงหน้าต่าง
ภาพความหลังกระจ่างขึ้นมา ได้แต่ยิ้มทั้งมีน้ำตา
รูปเธอวางอยู่ตรงที่เดิม บ้านหลังนี้เหมือนเดิมทุกอย่าง
ไม่เปลี่ยนแปลง ขาดแต่เธอเท่านั้น
* อยู่ไหน คิดถึงเธอ
หลับตา ฝันถึงเธอ ทุกที
จากกัน นานหลายปี
ดูชีวิตเหมือนจะเดินไปด้วยดี
แต่มันไม่เคยสมบูรณ์เลย
ไม่เคยจะดีเหมือนเดิมเลย
จะดีอย่างไรเมื่อไม่มีเธอ
ซ้ำ *


The song is here.

On a whim, I decided to catch a ferry boat down the Chao Phraya river.

‘Do you want to come?’ I asked boyfriend Maiyuu.

‘No...I want to make jelly and pears. But you go...it’s an outing, so should open your eyes and ears,’ he said.

Where to go? Mum's shop at Pin Khlao sounds like a good place. I hadn't been there in six months, since Maiyuu and I moved into town from the Thon Buri side of Bangkok.

I took a motorcycle taxi to the pier at Saphan Taksin, and a ferry boat down the river. It was packed, mainly with tourists, school students, and monks.

I overshot the pier by two stops, as I am not used to seeing the place from the river. I took another ferry back, and walked down to Mum's shop.

These are partial glances at the shop, and the eatery next to it. I took the pictures while no one was looking.




Mum looked surprised to see me. We sat down for a catch-up, which took less than five minutes.

'We bought this marble table for the shop - three thousand baht,' she said.

‘I have to go to the market. What a shame, you will miss the big party.’

Mum’s husband celebrates his 60th birthday today, and has invited regulars to join them at the shop for food and drinks. I can’t go, as I shall be at work.

Mum has swapped shifts with her husband. After years of working the night shift, she now works days, while her husband comes out after 6pm.

'He wasn't sleeping properly...he was drinking here for hours after he knocked off. We changed over so he could get more rest.'

By midnight, the end of our little street was humming, thanks in part to our lively group...farang C travelled out from town, as did bad boy Kew, who brought a friend.

‘It is my birthday next month,’ said Mum. ‘Don’t forget!’

We were born in the same year, one month apart.

Mum will make large pots of several dishes, including Thai curry, for the party. She uses a small space for cooking at the back. Mum and I picked the tops off baby chili peppers, in preparation for their party.

‘Are you still with your boyfriend?’ she asked.

‘I am...’

‘So you moved together?’

‘We did...’

'I pay just a fraction of that price at my place just around the corner,' she said, referring to my rent.

I went walkabout, with Mum’s three dogs accompanying me. At a food cart nearby I took a pork/rice meal, then dropped in to see a friend.

My friend Wut owns an eatery. When I dropped in to see him, Wut was putting up a light outside his shop.

‘Where did you go...you just disappeared!’ said Wut. ‘We don’t see you any more.’

‘I moved...we're now further away,’ I said.

'The new place will have a bigger kitchen, more seating for customers, even space for a live band,' he said. 'You must come back for a visit.'

At the eatery next to Mum's shop, I bumped into another face from the past. Young Pao, a young tearaway from the Northeast, still works at the shop.

‘He’s free!’ called out the cook, a family member.

She meant, ‘He has yet to find himself a boyfriend or girlfriend, so you can have him!’

I pretended not to hear.

Kew turned up late, after delivering flyers in the area, a part-time job which supplements his earnings as a security guard.

'How's your Mum?' I asked.

'She's at home,' he said, which is his usual answer whenever I ask after her health.

'I know she's at home...but how is she?' I asked, laughing.

About 1am, farang C and I left.

Kew grew teary, his usual reaction to drink.

'Come back again soon,' he said.

'I will..maybe two weeks,' I promised.

At Mum's shop, I feel like I have been reunited with family after ages apart...though another part of me feels as if I never left.

Why jostle for space with the crowds on busy Loy Krathong night, when you can float your own boat at home?

Maiyuu and I tried something new last night. Rather than join the crowds on Pra Ram 3, the closest revelling spot to our home, we conducted our own candle-lit ceremony in the bathtub.

While families and young couples cast their candle-lit banana boats into the Chao Phraya River, we decided to stay indoors and do it privately instead.

About 9.30pm, Maiyuu went out to buy two krathong, which you can see above.

‘Have you taken a shower yet?’ he asked. ‘Do it now, because we need to use the bath to float the krathong.’

I did as I was told. Half an hour later, we charged the bath, and lit the floats.

Maiyuu held his, the smaller one, momentarily to his head, and made a silent wish, presumably for good fortune in the year ahead. He cast it afloat.

I cast a silent wish for the boyfriend. ‘I wish you happiness in the year ahead,’ I thought as I held my float to my forehead.

I cast my boat in the bath to float about with its little brother, turned off the light, and kissed Maiyuu's head.

For Maiyuu, the romance of the moment passed quickly. As I sat watching the floats, Maiyuu inspected the wall. He had just bought a towel holder for the bathroom, and was figuring out where to place it.

The city puts on a fireworks display for Loy Krathong each year. Half an hour later, we stood on the balcony to watch as the firworks burst into the sky over Silom.

For us, Loy Krathong was quiet, but romantic nonetheless.

See blogger Nye Noona's explanation of Loy Krathong here.

Last year, I visited a canal close to our old place in Thon Buri to watch families set their leafy candle-lit boats into the river.

The year before, I mixed with kathoey, young gays and a bossy trader to float a krathong close to Mum’s shop in Pin Khlao.

-






A sample of Chef Maiyuu’s cooking over the last few days...roast beef/ salad, khao tom pla, chicken pasta, ham/egg croissant.

PS: US-born, Taiwanese singer Joanna Wang's Vincent...just to lighten the mood.

We now live in a gated community.

Tiring of youngsters on motorbikes and taxis passing through this condo on the way to the main road, the owners of this complex have now erected large metal green doors at one entrance.

After 11pm, they close the doors to stop vehicles getting through, so that residents inside are no longer bothered by the noise, and can sleep in peace.

The security guard abandons his post at that end, and goes to sit at the other entrance, manned by a wooden barrier. He keeps that closed, too.

If residents return after 11pm they must open the doors to let themselves in, which is fine if you are on foot, but less convenient if you have to get out of your car.

Still, it’s better than letting the public in.

During the day, non-residents are also being fined if they want to pass through the condo precinct – 10 baht for motorcycles, 15 baht for cars.

-




Maiyuu met a policeman as he left the condo on foot. He was carrying a tap fitting, which he had just bought at Klong Thom market, when a passing policeman stopped him.

The policeman asked him where he was going. ‘I am walking out to the main road to get a taxi, to see a friend,’ Maiyuu replied.

It was after midnight, and Maiyuu was in a residential area, so perhaps the policeman was suspicious.

Or maybe he just wanted to subject Maiyuu to a gay body search, which Thai police have down to a fine art.

I have seen police search young motorcyclists by the side of the road. They don’t just pat their pockets, or frisk them, but rub, as if trying to get themselves aroused.

‘Lift your shirt,’ the policeman ordered.

Maiyuu did as he was told.

Rub, rub over his chest.

Then he started on his pants.

Feel, feel.

The policeman, whom Maiyuu reckons was drunk, then asked to see his identity card.

Maiyuu handed it over, but still the policeman would not let him go.

‘You should come with me for a urine test,’ said the cop.

‘I am not going anywhere for a test, as I don’t drink and am going about my business. What is it that you want...money?’ asked Maiyuu.

‘I don’t want money,’ said the policeman, who was wearing uniform.

‘So why don’t you let me go?’

The policeman asked to search Maiyuu a second time. He refused, and walked away.

‘Hey...I said stop!’ barked the cop.

‘I am not stopping. If you want to take my ID card, then take it. But I am carrying on,’ said Maiyuu, who left, leaving the policeman standing there with his card.

At home, Maiyuu was angry.

‘He talked about calling a police friend to help him search me,’ he complained.

The encounter left my boyfriend feeling nervous. He peered out the window of our condo, and made several trips down to the forecourt to see if the policeman would come back.

‘The card is just about to expire, so I will make a new one,’ he said.

‘I might also ask the motorcycle taxi guys if they know the policeman, or where he works,’ he said.

Police here are a menace, because some act as if they are a law unto themselves.

Maiyuu has decided against visiting the police station to lodge a complaint, as that could provoke them.

He was needlessly harassed, lost his card, and subjected to a gay body search. But that was minor, by the standards of some Thai police.

Next time he could lose money or worse, so why tempt fate.